Dumbledore drew his wand, a straight, oddly shaped wand with small wooden knots along it.He tapped the locket gently with his wand, as if casting a spell.A faint white light flashed, but the locket remained unchanged.
Dumbledore shook his head and put it back.
"This is a very ancient object. The reason it has attached itself to you seems to be that it has mistaken you for its master. However, its magic is still in a recovery phase, which is why it cannot be opened."
"It can self-repair, or, to put it another way, self-recharge. Once its magic recovers to a sufficient level, it will be possible to open it and take it off."
Sherlock looked at the locket with sorrow.
"So, does it pose any harm to me now?"
"Before it recovers, it is certainly harmless," Dumbledore said. "But once it becomes a complete magical object, the outcome is uncertain. I suggest that even if you can open it, do not do so. Perhaps you could have Hilke return to the German Ministry of Magic to inquire about it and figure out what this thing is before deciding how to handle it."
Dumbledore's suggestion was very sound; without any other options, this was the best way to handle it.
"As long as it doesn't affect me for now, that's fine," Sherlock said miserably. "I have already completed the task you gave me; Hilke caught the murderer."
Dumbledore looked at him with praise.
"I will request a commendation for you from the Ministry of Magic. The German Ministry of Magic might not be able to publicly reward you because they need to cover up the incident, but I estimate they might privately award you a German Wizarding Friendship Medal."
"Speaking of which, what is the use of that thing? I already have one from the French Ministry of Magic."
Dumbledore explained to him.
"Foreign Wizards who possess this medal can use the Floo Network built by the local Ministry of Magic without application, or can apply to use some Portkeys issued by the local authorities when appropriate, as well as enjoy some minor benefits for residents."
Sherlock sat up from the table, his eyelids drooping as if he hadn't woken up yet.
"That sounds not too bad."
Dumbledore looked at his current state with some concern.
"Are you still able to teach?"
Sherlock scratched his head, constantly feeling a sense of sorrow, grief, and sadness welling up from the bottom of his heart.
"I have a fifth-year class this afternoon. I'll try teaching it. If it doesn't work, I'll have to trouble Lupin to substitute for me."
Dumbledore shook his head gently.
"Lupin is also not in good shape recently. You should teach this afternoon's class first. If you cannot continue, take a week off."
"Very well, Professor. I'll be going now."
Sherlock left the Headmaster's Office, hunched over and listless.
Back in his office, Sherlock held the locket that refused to leave him, studied it against the sunlight outside the window for a long time, and muttered to himself.
"It actually looks quite nice, so I might as well keep it."
He didn't go to the Great Hall for lunch, but instead napped on his desk to recover some energy. Then, checking the time, he packed up his teaching materials and headed to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom for the fifth years.
The students had basically all arrived before the bell rang. As soon as Sherlock walked into the classroom, his condition caught everyone's attention.
"Professor, are you sick?"
George, one of the Weasley twins, asked curiously.
Sherlock walked to the podium, found an extra chair, used Transfiguration to turn it into a high-backed chair, sat down, and rested his chin on his elbows on the podium.
"Don't worry, it's not an illness, just a small emotional problem. We can start the class now. Everyone, take out the test papers I graded and returned to you last time."
The students looked at each other below. Some were worried about Sherlock's current state, while others felt that Sherlock in this state was quite interesting.
"You didn't do very well on your last test. There were many types of questions that I had covered in class, but you didn't know how to do them just because I changed the way the questions were asked. This is very bad, and it made me very unhappy when grading the papers."
"Also, regarding the essay question on how to correctly view the three Unforgivable Curses, I have emphasized it many times. You can express your own thoughts, but while doing so, do not forget to focus the core of your answer on the erosion of the Wizard's mind by the Unforgivable Curses."
"This is the key point this question is trying to test. As a result, many Slytherin students actually wrote that power has no right or wrong, and that the Ministry of Magic's ban on Wizards using Unforgivable Curses is an incorrect decree."
"I won't even mention whether this kind of thinking has a tendency to become a Dark Wizard; just writing such rebellious thoughts directly on the paper proves that you have no brains. This makes me very worried that the next time I see you, it will be in the prison of Azkaban."(TN: I kinda like this version of him.)
A burst of laughter erupted from the Gryffindors below.
They had always been at odds with Slytherin, so naturally, they laughed the hardest.
Sherlock rolled his eyes at them listlessly.
"Are there no fools in Gryffindor? What are you laughing at? I won't say who, but how did many of you answer this question? 'A brave Wizard should face the Unforgivable Curses heroically; a real man is never afraid of the pain of Crucio; Imperio is useless to a true man; at worst, after being hit by a Killing Curse, I'll be a hero again in eighteen years.'"
"What kind of reckless thinking is this? Truly, ignorance is fearless. At least I might still see those Slytherin students in Azkaban. What about you? Are you waiting for me to chat with you in front of your tombstones?"(TN: Oh wow that's hilarious.)
Now it was the Slytherin students' turn to laugh mockingly.
"Truly, each generation is worse than the last. You are really the worst class of students I have ever taught. This makes me very worried about your final exams this semester. If you don't do well, and your seniors from the previous year had excellent grades, how will you find jobs in the Wizarding World after graduation?"
Sherlock sighed melancholically.
Hearing his words, a Gryffindor girl said weakly.
"But Professor, counting us, you have only taught two classes of fifth-year students, haven't you?"
"Even if I've only taught two classes, you are still the worst."
The students below were not ashamed of this, but rather found it even more interesting. Fred asked loudly.
"Are you doing this to motivate us, Professor? Or will you say the same thing to the next class of fifth-year students?"
"Stop with the smart-aleck remarks. Quickly spread out your test papers; we are going to start reviewing the questions."
When it was time to actually start learning, the students' attitudes became solemn. By the fifth year, they knew that the last three years at Hogwarts were the days they should be striving the hardest.
Sherlock read the first question on the test paper.
"How to reasonably counterattack or escape when facing a Werewolf's pursuit."
"I have told you the core of the easiest points to score for this question. The Ministry of Magic's policy on werewolves has always been extremely friendly in propaganda, but very direct in actual action."
"You can add some of your own thoughts when answering, but you also need to include something practical. In the class about werewolves, we talked about it: the best way to deal with a Werewolf is to Apparate away immediately. Do not try to cast spells on it. Their resistance to magic can even rival that of a Giant; ordinary spells will not have any effect on them."
"So, if you have the ability to use Apparition, use it at the first opportunity. If you don't have the conditions or don't know how, then... then..."
When he got to this point, a strong sense of sorrow suddenly welled up in Sherlock's heart.
It made him feel that everything in the world was grey, that people would always die, and that dying early might mean being reincarnated early.
So, he continued dejectedly.
"Then just lie on the ground and wait for death."(TN: He is now a nihilist.)
Immediately, the students below all raised their heads from their test papers in shock and looked at Sherlock.
"Are, are you okay, Professor?"
"Are you serious, Professor? Is this the correct answer to this question?!"
Sherlock patted his face, wanting to cheer himself up, but it had no effect.
He looked at the classroom ceiling in a daze and said sorrowfully.
"Sorry, everyone. You can have a self-study session for this class. It seems I need to take a good week off. Or I need to find Lupin and see if he has time to substitute for me for a few days."
The sorrow potion had seriously affected Sherlock's mood. He certainly couldn't continue the class; otherwise, he didn't even know what other depressing things he might say.
Sherlock let the fifth-year students study on their own in the classroom, then went sorrowfully to Lupin's office to ask if he had time to substitute for a few of his classes.
As it turned out, when he found Lupin, he was just about to go out himself.
"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I have things to do recently, too. I was just about to come find you to ask for help to see if you had any time."
Lupin's face was also visibly pale, not looking like a normal person's.
The two miserable brothers bumped into each other.
Sherlock said miserably.
"That is really unfortunate. It seems neither of us can teach Defence Against the Dark Arts this week."
Lupin sighed.
"How about we ask Snape for a favor? He should be very willing to help teach a few Defence Against the Dark Arts classes."
"Snape? Are you sure he would really be very willing?"
"If it were asking him for help with other things, he would definitely refuse, but if it's teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, he should readily agree."