Just a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor

This year's Halloween dinner at Hogwarts was very lively.

The auditorium was filled with pumpkin-headed lanterns specially cultivated by Hagrid, and black bats transformed by magic flew around in groups below the ceiling.

It's just that the usual ghosts in the castle did not appear on Halloween, the closest day between the ghost world and the human world.

Anyone who knows the inside story knows it.

Today is not only Halloween, but also the 500th anniversary of the death of the ghost of Gryffindor, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Popington (Nick for short).

A day like this is a big day to remember with every ghost, so Nick invites ghost colleagues from all over Hogwarts, as well as other ghost friends outside the school.

After obtaining Dumbledore's permission, he borrowed a basement classroom in the castle and held his own 500th birthday dinner.

Therefore, the ghosts who should have been active at the Halloween dinner in previous years did not appear in the auditorium tonight.

Rumor has it that the enlightened Headmaster Dumbledore will invite a troupe of skeleton dancers to entertain everyone tonight.

But rumors are rumors after all. After the students came to the auditorium, they did not see the so-called skeleton dance troupe.

But even without the ghost and skeleton dance troupe, Halloween is still a holiday that students love.

The dishes and meals at the dinner were more plentiful than at the opening dinner, and after the dinner was over, every student could get candy that couldn't fit in the two pockets of their robes.

This is undoubtedly a great attraction for lower grade students.

"What did that old Slughorn say to you last time after we left? Sherlock."

Hagrid asked with a big tongue at the professor's long table, as if he had drunk some wine.

Hearing his question, Sherlock hadn't replied yet, but Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick couldn't help frowning.

"Don't ask Hagrid about this kind of thing." Professor McGonagall said with a displeased face, "We don't need to inquire about their private conversation."

Hagrid also came to his senses at this time, scratching his hair in embarrassment, and giggling twice.

"Sorry, it's easy for me to say the wrong thing after a few sips."

Sherlock waved his hand indifferently, took out the pendant hanging on his chest, and said.

"There's nothing that can't be said, he just gave me a small bottle of Fuling Elixir."

In the small potion bottle, the slowly flowing Fuling agent is indeed like a work of art, shining brightly under the reflection of the candlelight.

A voice that was even more indifferent and hollow than Sherlock suddenly sounded aside.

"This kind of potion is very troublesome in the process of brewing. If a little mistake is made, there will be irreversible consequences. He is really willing."

The speaker was Snape.

He rarely joined the professors' chat, but his tone was still so impolite, as if he was deliberately picking on things.

Sherlock put the Flux back in his robe and nodded flatly.

"He's a lot more generous than Professor Snape. We've known each other for so long, and we haven't seen you give me anything."

Snape was stunned by him, and was speechless for a while.

Professor McGonagall still had that serious face, but the corners of his mouth were slightly curved, obviously with a slight smile.

Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout made no secret and laughed on the spot.

Even Dumbledore said with a smile on his face.

"Horace is only generous to you. I have been in a relationship with him for almost seventy years, and I haven't seen him give me gifts every Christmas."

Then he looked at Snape teasingly and blinked, "Of course, I haven't received Severus either."

"Humph!" Snape snorted coldly.

"I never miss Christmas," said staunchly.

Dumbledore laughed.

"It doesn't matter, today we all celebrate Halloween, how about a drink together?"

Every professor at the long table, including Snape, raised the glass in front of him, and everyone raised the glass together.

"Happy Halloween!" said the professors.

"Happy Halloween." Sherlock also secretly shrugged.

Then they drank the wine or drink from the cup.

It has been two months since he came to Hogwarts, and Sherlock has discovered during this time that Dumbledore is the magician of this magic school.

Not only did the students trust their principal, but all the professors had a lot of respect for him.

Or that Dumbledore has absolute authority in Hogwarts, and this authority is convincing from the heart of everyone in the castle.

He murmured something secretly in his heart.

No wonder the original owner had a brainwashed worship mentality towards Dumbledore.

He has never had a complete family since he was a child, and he has always regarded Hogwarts as his second home, so he naturally respects the pillars of this "home" to the extreme.

While the teachers and students in the middle of the auditorium were enjoying the Halloween dinner happily, Harry Ron and Hermione were not so lucky.

The ghost's death anniversary dinner is really not something that living people can participate in.

Not to mention the gloomy environment and the sour tug-of-war music, the so-called "food" at the death anniversary dinner was not something that Harry and the others could eat.

The three of Harry, who had survived nearly the entire dinner, finally decided to return to the normal Halloween dinner in the auditorium after the ghosts of the Headless Hunters messed up the scene.

"Hopefully there's some pudding left for us." Ron said shivering, wrapping his robe tightly.

They tried their best to smile politely to the ghosts around them, and then walked out of the venue of the death anniversary dinner.

Just as they were rushing to the auditorium.

A familiar, cold, murderous voice sounded in Harry's ears again.

"...rip you...tear you...kill you..."

Harry's face froze, and he stopped subconsciously.

Hermione and Ron noticed his abnormality and couldn't help asking suspiciously.

"What's wrong Harry?"

Harry leaned against the wall, motioning them to stop talking, squinting to find the source of the voice.

Fortunately, the voice did not disappear directly this time, but it became weaker and weaker.

Harry was sure it was moving—upward, staring at the dark ceiling with a sudden feeling of terror and excitement.

He took Hermione and Ron all the way up the stairs, climbed to the third floor, turned all the corridors on the third floor, and finally turned a corner and came to the last empty hallway.

Just as Ron was panting and ready to ask Harry what the hell was going on, Hermione suddenly pointed forward and took a deep breath.

"Look!"

Something was shining on the wall in front of them.

They approached slowly, squinting to make out in the darkness, between the two windows, on the wall a foot above the ground, smeared with some writing, shimmering in the light of the burning torches.

[The secret room is opened. 】

[Those who are enemies of the heir, be vigilant. 】

And just beside these writings, above a puddle, a boy was as hard as a stone sculpture, lying on the ground silently!