Just a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor: No More, No Less

Chapter 10: A Tool for the Job

One of the busiest streets in London.

The crowd bustled around, but there was something out of place among them—a young man dressed in a black robe, completely incompatible with modern fashion. Sherlock stood on the side of the road, his eyes fixed on the address he had copied from a book in his hand.

The strange stares of passersby didn't bother him in the least.

While not socially inept, Sherlock was thick-skinned enough to completely ignore the curious glances.

The address he had from The Wizard's Travels was accurate, and before him stood a dilapidated bar that seemed completely out of sync with the surrounding modern shops. The bar's door was open, but oddly, no one on the street appeared to notice it. Not a single person glanced in its direction.

After spending over a month studying magic at home, Sherlock had a basic understanding of most spells in the magical world.

The reason the people ignored the bar was clearly because of the Muggle-repelling charm that wizards frequently use to make their locations invisible to non-magical folk.

This charm only affects Muggles, so for Sherlock, a wizard, the Leaky Cauldron was as conspicuous as anything.

Leaving the house was a risky decision for Sherlock.

He didn't know anything about the original owner's connections in the magical world. If he ran into any familiar faces in the Leaky Cauldron or Diagon Alley, it would be a major risk to his cover.

But the trip to Diagon Alley was unavoidable.

He needed to purchase various magical supplies for Hogwarts, and he also had to access the original owner's vault at Gringotts to withdraw some money for daily expenses.

Even though he knew the risk, Sherlock had no choice but to go out.

It was something he would have to face sooner or later.

Fortunately, the original owner had kept to himself, so the chances of running into someone Sherlock knew were low.

Ignoring the shy advances of a girl in the street, Sherlock crossed the road and walked into the old Leaky Cauldron.

Inside, rough wooden tables and chairs, creaky bar doors, primitive brick fireplaces, and simple chandeliers gave the place a distinctly timeless feel. It was as if Sherlock had traveled back in time as he stepped into this world.

In the bar, his attire didn't stand out at all.

Most of the patrons were dressed like him, and there were even a few elderly witches with ridiculously oversized pointed hats that would make them the focus of attention if they went outside.

Sherlock's arrival didn't make much of an impression. Most of the wizards in the bar were too preoccupied with their drinks to pay him any attention. The only person who seemed to notice was Tom, the bartender and owner of the establishment.

"Ah, a fresh face," Tom said. "What can I get you?"

Although no one in the bar recognized the original owner, Sherlock still kept up his cold, distant demeanor.

It was always best to remain cautious.

"Butterbeer, please."

He ordered the drink with "beer" in its name but not an ounce of actual alcohol, and then made his way to an empty table in the corner.

Soon, Tom brought the butterbeer over. Sherlock, being the reserved person he was, kept to himself and didn't engage in conversation.

He took a light sip of the sweet, but greasy, drink. It wasn't quite to his taste, and after just one sip, he pushed the glass aside and sat quietly at his table.

Sherlock didn't want to go directly into Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron, but he didn't know how to enter Diagon Alley in the first place.

He had found the Leaky Cauldron without trouble, but he remembered that the entrance to Diagon Alley was located in the bar's backyard, hidden behind a wall.

All he had to do was tap a brick on the wall with his wand, and the entrance would open.

But which brick was the right one?

Even though the details were mentioned in the book, Sherlock couldn't remember them exactly.

Of course, he could try tapping each brick one by one, but that would be embarrassing if any other wizards happened to show up and catch him.

They might think he was a Muggle undercover agent!

So, Sherlock needed to find a better way to get into Diagon Alley.

After sitting for about fifteen minutes, a couple walked into the Leaky Cauldron, accompanied by their daughter. They seemed to be shopping for their child's school supplies for the new semester.

The couple didn't look like wizards. In fact, they seemed more like Muggles, but their daughter, who had curly hair, carried a wand in her pocket, making it clear she was a little witch.

The family didn't stop at the bar but went straight toward the backyard of the Leaky Cauldron.

Seeing this, Sherlock immediately stood up from his seat, pulled out a few coins from his pocket—some copper nuts he had found in the study at home—and paid for the drink.

He then followed them to the backyard of the bar, where the little girl's family was standing by the wall, counting bricks.

"Do you remember which one it is?" the mother asked.

"Of course I do! How could I forget such an important thing, Mom?" the girl replied confidently.

She stood tall and began counting the bricks, her finger running along the wall.

"Three down... two across... yes, that's it!" she said, then pulled out her wand and tapped the identified brick.

The brick she tapped trembled, and slowly, a small hole began to open in the wall. The hole expanded until it revealed a wide archway, leading to a narrow, cobblestone street that twisted out of sight.

Sherlock, who had been quietly observing, made a mental note of the exact brick the girl had tapped.

Then, he casually walked past the "helpful" family.

"Sorry, just borrowing this," Sherlock muttered.

The family, oblivious to how they'd just aided Sherlock, continued to marvel at the magical world. It was their second time visiting Diagon Alley, and everything still felt incredibly surreal to them.

Sherlock maintained his distant, aloof air and walked through Diagon Alley, heading straight for Gringotts. He didn't hear the conversation behind him as the little girl spoke.

"Where should we go first, Hermione?" her father asked.

"I'm meeting Harry and Ron here in Diagon Alley today. We'll have to wait for them by the gates of Gringotts."

It was second-year student Hermione Granger speaking to her father.