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I'm just a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, nothing more.

Just having crossed into the world of Harry Potter, Sherlock Forester, without a golden finger or memories of the original owner's life, regarded the offer letter from Hogwarts in his hand with a sneer. "It's just a professorship in Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts." ----------------- Years later, the Daily Prophet interviewed Harry Potter, one of the most outstanding wizards of the 21st century. "What was the happiest day of your life?" An involuntary smile spread across Harry's face. "The day after Professor Forester predicted that I would be taken by Voldemort." "Um… And the day you'd least like to relive?" Harry's face darkened immediately. "Every Christmas." "Why is that?" He covered his face in agony, letting out a sob. "Wu Wu Wu… Because on that day, Professor Forester would wish me Merry Christmas!" ----------------- This is a translation of '不过是黑魔法防御课教授罢了' by '大海船', you can support him on Qidian if you like.

_Riux · Book&Literature
Not enough ratings
176 Chs

Chapter 16: Hogwarts Express

Bright and early on the first day of September, Professor Sherlock Forester, the newest addition to the esteemed body of Hogwarts professors, eagerly packed his possessions into his suitcase.He would have to take a 30 minute train ride from Surrey County to Kings Cross Station, the scenery of country greenery was quickly replaced by the hustle and bustle of Central London, culminating in his arrival at the iconic King's Cross Station.

As per the instructions given to him by Professor McGonagall, Sherlock easily found the magical gateway hidden amongst the mundane, sandwiched between platforms nine and ten. He had barely ventured into the station when he was treated to an eclectic spectacle of oddities. Young wizards and witches eagerly accompanied their trunks, inevitably topped with a cage containing their chosen pet. Adults too were present, their choices of attire a delightful blend of the whimsical and the strange.

Their robes, too often in tones of midnight and shadow, flowed around them like twilight made fabric. An occasional pointed hat, as if fresh from a theatrical trove, made an appearance, drawing fascinated or bemused glances from the muggle population.

"Severill" grumbled a gentleman, his attire a comical mix of formal blazer and breezy beach shorts, to his hat-wearing wife, "I've told you to pack away that damned hat while we're in a Muggle Station. These Muggles do not find your hat attractive, they find it odd!"

Glaring at her husband the witch tucked away her hat with a disappointed sigh.

"Are you sure it's me they are staring at?" she risked a question.

"Absolutely! I for one have matched my attire to blend in perfectly with the Muggles. Isn't that right, Vic?" He asked, turning towards their plainly mortified son.

A fifth-year Hogwarts student, Victor, wished fervently for a sudden hole to swallow him whole. He had forewarned his parents, but alas, in vain.

This amusing theatricality would have lightened any observer's spirits, Sherlock included. Controlling his amusement though, a feat owed to his stolid professionalism, he turned his attention to the magical barrier.

In order not to attract attention, the wizards who came to send their children off to school did not gather together or form a line in front the barrier. Instead they spread around the station casually wandering around until, waiting for their turn to pass through the magical barrier separately. Despite their esoteric choice of clothing, their moment of crossing through the magical partition went unnoticed by the Muggles. This was the classic work of the Muggle-Repelling Charm, a powerful incantation designed to dissuade Muggles from acknowledging evidence of magic.

One by one, the families took their turn to cross over into platform nine and three quarters. Soon it was Sherlock's turn. Traveling fairly light with just a single suitcase and having already dispatched his postage owl to Hogwarts the day before, Sherlock braced himself to cross the barrier.

Facing what appeared to be a thoroughly ordinary wall, Sherlock took a deep breath and, clutching his suitcase, charged towards it. His eyes shut reflexively as he neared the wall, the anticipation palpable.

Suddenly he experienced a peculiar sensation, as though he had passed through something immaterial, leaving him on the other side. The bustling human noises were replaced by endearing chatter of owls, cats and rat, as well as the sound of parents bustling around their offspring.

Upon opening his eyes, Sherlock was met with the sight of a magnificent steam engine's thick cloud, blanketing the crowd of bustling parents and students. An array of colorful cats weaved in and out of the crowd, playing around the hems of the witches and wizards who were there to bid their children farewell some of which wore modern clothes, others choosing a traditional robed attire.

This peculiar sight, a world distinct and set apart from the Muggle community, inspired a smile on Sherlock's lips. With a shrug of his shoulders, he hauled his suitcase onto the Hogwarts Express.

Despite the abundance of vacant compartments towards the front, Sherlock chose to venture towards the train's rear. After finding an empty compartment, stowing away his luggage and settling down comfortably, he prepared for the day-long journey to the Hogwarts castle, where he'd be spending the next school year as a professor.

Taking this opportunity to relax, Sherlock retrieved a feather quill and a piece of lamb skin parchment from his baggage, thoughtfully placing them onto the table before him. Leaning back in his seat, he closed his eyes as he attempted to recall the storyline of the Harry Potter series.

He had only read the first book in the series and thus knew only little about the rest of the story, only remembering a few significant scenes and events. As such despite possessing a clear memory of the grand finale, where the brave protagonist defeated the notorious Dark Lord, Voldemort, his understanding of the series' specifics was muddled. With only a faint impression of the second movie left, he scribbled down two words onto the parchment - "Chamber" and "Basilisk".

He hoped that his memory would aid in unraveling the mystery surrounding the Basilisk, the serpentine villain, and its hidden lair within the school. The attacks on students throughout the year was a memory that clung to his subconscious, yet the finer details seemed to evade him, though at the very least he was sure that nobody died in this school year.

Deciding to halt his strenuous efforts, he raised his wand towards the lamb skin parchment inscribed with the two key words. Fluent in the execution of the 'Diffindo' charm, the parchment was transformed into fluttering fragments of discarded clues. As he swept the disintegrated paper remnants out of the window, his eyes widened at the sight of a blue Ford Anglia flying high above the train!

He could see the occupants' delight at their airborne adventure - unmistakably Harry and Ron. This reminded Sherlock of yet another key event from the series - Harry and Ron's unorthodox journey to school via a flying car.

Mesmerized by the spectacle, Sherlock watched as the tiny car ascended and faded into a speck in the vast sky. "Those youngsters sure know how to have fun," he said aloud, indulging a chuckle at the thought.

Looking down at his feathered quill, he mused out loud, "They did arrive safely, didn't they? I believe so."

Meanwhile, inside the floating car, Harry and Ron were in high spirits, bantering and laughing.

"Did you see that? I'm sure I saw Professor Forrester on the train!" Harry exclaimed excitedly.

Turning the wheel of the flying car with confidence, Ron replied, "He must be impressed by now!"

"And it's not just Professor Forester," Harry said, his eyes brimming with excitement, "Everyone in Hogwarts will be impressed when they hear about our adventure!"

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