Just a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor

"Actually, I'm weird."

Sherlock, who had come out of the pensieve and returned to the normal principal's office, looked calm as he looked at Dumbledore and Moody.

"Bella's crime at the trial was to torture the Longbottoms, Neville's parents, with the Cruciatus Curse. So is this the only crime she is guilty of? If not, then add those people she killed before and the crimes she committed. Are all the crimes she committed not enough to get her a kiss from a dementor?"

Moody shook his head.

"You know, Sherlock, there is no death penalty in the magic world, and the Dementor's kiss is not a death penalty but it is better than a death penalty. But no one would ever think that this is the ultimate punishment. After all, the moment the soul is sucked, the dead person simply feels No pain at all.”

"So the maximum penalty in magical law has always been life imprisonment in Azkaban. No one can stand those dementors eating away hope and happiness day and night, and the more determined people are, the more they will Live longer, but also become more desperate.”

"This kind of torture has no end in sight. In that environment, there is no hope left for them, only endless pain."

With that said, Moody turned to look at Dumbledore.

"This is why Dumbledore has never liked the relationship between the Ministry of Magic and dementors. He always felt that wizards should not have contact with such monsters."

Dumbledore remained silent, acquiescing to Moody's words.

He turned to look at Harry, his blue eyes that seemed to be able to see more than the Magic Eye looked at Harry, and said softly.

"So, Harry, before you get sucked into the pensieve, what do you have to say to me?"

Harry had no hesitation. Sherlock and Moody were both trustworthy people, so of course he would not hide anything.

It's just that when he recalled such a dream-like scene, his memory had become intermittent.

"Yes." Harry said, "Professor, I was taking a Divination class, but I... I fell asleep."

He hesitated, expecting to be criticized, but Dumbledore said instead.

"It's understandable, let's continue."

"Well, I had a dream," Harry said. "I dreamed about Voldemort, and he was torturing Peter... Do you know Peter?"

"I know," Dumbledore said immediately, "Go on."

"Voldemort received a letter from the owl. He seemed to say that Wormtail had made a big mistake. He said that someone had died, and that Peter's blood was dirty and would harm him... He also said He mentioned my name and said nothing could go wrong with me, and then my scar started to hurt. It hurt so much that it woke me up. "

His retelling was very confusing, but all the key scenes were stated.

Dumbledore frowned after listening to his story, and Moody and Sherlock, who were listening on the sidelines, also fell into thinking for a while.

"Is this the second time? Harry." Sherlock looked at Harry and asked, "Except for the time you came to see me during the summer vacation, is this the second time you have encountered such a situation?"

Harry scratched his head and thought carefully for a moment.

"I had a few headaches in the meantime, but I never dreamed about the images like I did during the summer vacation and this time."

He looked at Dumbledore, who was still thinking.

"Professor, do you know why my scar hurts?"

Dumbledore looked at Harry carefully for a while, and then said: "I have only one guess, just a guess... I think when Voldemort is close to you, or when he has a particularly strong desire for revenge. When you wish, your scars will hurt.”

"But... why?"

"Because that failed spell bound you to him," said Dumbledore. "This is no ordinary scar."

When he said this, both Harry and Dumbledore turned their eyes to Sherlock.

Apparently both of them knew that the lightning-shaped scar on Harry's forehead was partly caused by Lily, and that Sherlock had done something with this magic.

But although Sherlock had improved this magic, he didn't know why it had such an effect and made Harry dream of Voldemort.

"This shouldn't be a problem with soul protection magic." Sherlock could only confirm this. "The problem should be with Voldemort. He used a failed death curse. This is the first case in the history of magic, so in fact It’s not surprising that Harry is experiencing any kind of sequelae.”

The office was quiet for a moment, and then Harry asked hesitantly.

"So...that dream...is it true?"

"It's possible," Dumbledore said. "Harry, from your perspective, do you see Voldemort?"

"No," Harry said honestly, "I only saw the back of his chair, but you couldn't see much, right? He has no body, right? But... then how could he pick it up?" Where's the wand to punish Peter?" Harry said slowly.

"Yes," Dumbledore murmured, "how is that possible..."

Sherlock and Moody couldn't give an answer, but at this time Sherlock had to think more.

He touched his chin and looked at Harry and said.

"If Harry can see what's happening on Voldemort's side, can Voldemort also see Harry's scene?"

Sherlock's words immediately stunned the other three people present, especially Harry and Moody, who instantly felt a creepy feeling in their hearts.

Moody's magical prosthetic eye was moving rapidly, and Harry opened his mouth wide, unable to make any sound for a long time.

Only Dumbledore slowly shook his head.

"Judging from what has happened so far, there shouldn't be. Otherwise, Harry wouldn't be able to escape so easily in the second competition event."

Even though he said that, Harry still felt hairy all over his body at this moment, always feeling that a cold gaze in the darkness was silently watching him.

"But let's not talk about why your scar hurts and why you have such nightmares."

When Dumbledore said this, he did not look at Harry, but looked at Sherlock.

"We have another thing to ask you about. I originally planned to call you over tomorrow to talk to you about it, but you came at the right time today."

Hearing Dumbledore's words, Harry was confused, and Moody, who didn't know about it beforehand, also frowned slightly.

Afterwards, the door of the principal's office was closed tightly, and the already drowsy portraits of the principal on the wall were snoring slightly, covering up the conspiracy in the room.