Harry was marveling at the size of the principal.

He believed that if Mrs. Maxim and Professor Dumbledore were allowed to fight alone on the premise that no one could use magic, even the three Professors Dumbledore would not be her opponent.

"Thank you for your concern, but with Professor Forrest here, we were safe along the way," Harry said.

Mrs. Maxim nodded, as if she had something else to do.

"At noon, you can go to the banquet hall to try the Provence fish soup (French mixed fish soup). I have always thought the craftsmanship of the house-raising elf in our school is pretty good. I'm going to handle some official business. I wish you all a happy time in school."

Looking at her leaving figure, Harry quietly approached Sherlock's ear and said.

"I think she might have a blood relationship with Hager!"

Sherlock directly bounced Harry's head, causing him to hold his head and wail.

"I said that you should stop talking about others behind your back and not make jokes about other people's special things. This is not good."

When facing Sherlock's teachings, Harry was still very honest.

They continued to wander around Boothbaton, and met a student who stayed at school and talked to her for a while about her usual life at school.

From her words, it can be heard that the atmosphere in this school is more serious than that of Hogwarts, with only a lot more rules.

Or in other words, Hogwarts was not as relaxed as it is now. It was only after Dumbledore became the principal that the atmosphere became relaxed.

At noon, they tasted the mixed fish soup recommended by Mrs. Maxim in the banquet hall in Boothbaton.

Harry and Sherlock were not used to drinking it, and they prefer to eat baked toast here.

The heat is good, the taste is great, and it is highly praised by the savior Mr. Porter.

After lunch, they sat in the garden for a while, sucked food, and got up and prepared to leave Boothbaton.

Sherlock's itinerary in France was temporarily planned.

For example, when he came to Boothbaton, he made the decision when he was in Caen.

And what they were going next was to listen to the opinions of Garrell, the chief affairs teacher who put them in Boothbaton.

"Next to the small town of Muggle called Saint-Godang at the foot of the Pyrenees, there is a wizard market town called Aspe. It is home to France, Portugal, Spain and some African wizards. You can go to the warm bar, where the wine and steak are very good."

After getting on the flying car again and walking north along the Pyrenees, Sherlock took Harry to find the wizard town named Aspe.

It looks more lively than Hogsmeade.

The main reason is that the Pyrenees are located at the junction of Spain and France. If it spans the ocean, it is not very far from Africa.

So not only French wizards, but also wizards from neighboring countries gather in this town to visit, with the most prosperous magical commercial streets in southern Europe.

Seeing that about one-fifth of the streets were black, Harry couldn't help but sigh.

“There are quite a lot of African wizards here.”

Sherlock patted his shoulder and asked him to listen carefully to the black wizards. Then Harry realized that most of these people actually spoke French.

"They are all French!" Harry asked with his eyes wide open.

Sherlock sat at him with a booing gesture, signaling him to lighten up.

"This is normal. The concept of pure blood of wizards in France is not as strong as that of Britain. Their mixed-race wizards and Muggle wizards account for a very large proportion. The French Muggle society is now increasing year by year, and the magic world is naturally affected. So don't just see a black wizard and think that they are African."

Harry nodded in a vague way and followed Sherlock on the streets of Aspe's Wizard Town.

It is indeed very lively and should be regarded as the main gathering place for wizards in southern Europe. Harry bought a lot of fun things along the street.

In the wizard society, there is no need for Sherlock to pay Harry.

According to the wizard, Harry's ancestors opened a shampoo company, and the property he left behind was much thicker than Sherlock's small vault, and he was definitely a big dog.

Just when Sherlock was being tangled by the owner of a potion store to sell him the antidote for love, Harry suddenly seemed to have made some major discovery, widened his eyes in one direction, and became dull.

The shop owner who Sherlock got rid of noticed Harry's strangeness and looked at him, finding him looking at a young wizard girl.

The witch had bright silver-white hair, delicate facial features, and white skin as white as snow. The most important thing was that she exuded a fascinating temperament.

The experienced Sherlock was not attracted by the witch. He knocked his eyes with a blank look and was stunned by Harry, and woke him up.

"Hey, hey, your saliva is going to be left to your chest."

Harry suddenly turned red and rubbed his mouth in a hurry, but found that there was nothing on it.

"You lied to me! Professor!" Harry said resentfully.

"If I don't wake you up, your drool will really flow out." Sherlock said, grabbing Harry's back collar, who was still reluctant to leave, and took him away. "The girl has a problem. She should have the bloodline of a special magic creature, otherwise she would not unconsciously exude that temperament. I advise you to be more sober."

As the time approached, the sky was getting darker. Sherlock took Harry directly to find the warm bar recommended by the old witch Garrel and walked in.

The warm bar is just like its name. The atmosphere inside is indeed very warm. The warm yellow lights and soft music make the whole bar look very stylish.

Sherlock took Harry to find an empty seat by the window and sat down, and ordered two steaks and a bottle of red wine.

"Do you want to try it this time?" Sherlock opened the red wine and signaled to Harry.

Harry waved his hands repeatedly to refuse. Last time he tasted a sip of red wine at Somir, he vomited it out. This thing was not the kind of grape juice he imagined.

Sherlock ordered him a glass of orange juice. As Garrel said, the steak here was indeed very good, and Harry and Sherlock were both satisfied with the food.

When they were halfway through, Harry suddenly touched Sherlock's arm and signaled him to look at the bar door.

The silver-haired girl they saw on the street just now was pushing the door and walking in.

She was not alone, and there was a young witch who looked very attentive and almost as big as Sherlock.

Sherlock just glanced, turned his head, knocked Harry's plate with a fork, reminding him.

"Don't look at your meal."

"She should be a student of Boothbaton." Although Harry turned his attention back to the steak, he obviously still thought of the fascinating girl in his mind.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows and said.

"How did you know?"

While they were talking, the girl and the witch who followed her came to their seat next to them, which was the last empty seat in the bar.

Ha used his eyes to signal Sherlock. Sherlock looked at the direction he was directing. Sure enough, on the sleeve of the girl's robe, he saw the cross-crossing badges of Buspatton's two golden magic wands.

Sherlock shrugged at him, signaling him that he would better eat honestly.

I have eaten too much delicious food in France recently, and her stomachs have been stretched a little.

One steak per person can no longer satisfy their appetite. After eating, they ordered an extra baked snail and two bowls of onion soup.

"Where are we going next? Professor." Harry asked while chewing on the snail.

Sherlock took this time to take out the French map he had been carrying and looked at their next trip.

"Well... we'll go north next. If we continue to go south, we'll go to Spain. We'll go around Switzerland in the northeast, walk to Lyon and Geneva, and then visit the small town of Interkenner, and finally go to Paris."

“Is there time for us?”

"Of course there is still time. As long as we arrive at our residence in Nickle Mai in Paris before August, we can go anywhere before that."

Just as they were chatting, a somewhat arrogant but light and nice voice suddenly interrupted in English with a strong French accent.

"You are going to find Mr. Nick Lemay, too?"

Sherlock and Harry turned their heads and looked at the person who interrupted, which was the silver-haired girl.

When Harry heard that she came over to talk about the topic, he couldn't wait to answer the conversation immediately.

But after seeing Sherlock's gaze, he lowered his head and drank onion soup with guilt.

Sherlock persuaded Harry to retreat with his eyes, and he looked at the girl with a blank expression.

"Who are you?"

The girl raised her head and exposed her slender and white neck.

"Furong Delakull, Busbaton's sixth grader."

Sherlock nodded.

"At the invitation of an elder, we do want to go to Paris to find Mr. Nick Lemay."

"Borrowed! Sir, sorry, I borrowed it!"

At this time, a fairy in a gray robe walked through between their two dining tables, and accidentally encountered Furong's chair.

Sherlock frowned slightly and looked at the fairy walking over without saying a word.

Furong continued to say with great enthusiasm.

"I'm going to visit Mr. Nick Lemay soon, and Mrs. Maxim said that there seemed to be something good to send out..."

When she said this, Sherlock had already stood up from his seat. He put on his coat and picked up Harry, who was pretending to be drinking onion soup but actually pricked his ears and eavesdropping on Furong's words.

"Sorry, Miss Dragul, we have something to leave first." Sherlock glanced at the fairy who was walking towards the fireplace quickly. "Before leaving, I suggest you check if you have any important things missing, and finally good luck."

As she said that, Sherlock pulled Harry out of the bar with a confused look on his face.

Before Harry finally left, his eyes looked at the girl named Furong, full of pity.

"Professor, are you sincere in your blessing to Miss Dragul just now?"

After leaving the bar, Harry followed Sherlock's butt and asked.

Sherlock curled his lips.

"I don't know that unlucky guy was stolen. Of course, I really hope she will have good luck in the future."

Harry could only mourn Furong in private.
Chapter completed!