Harry Potter: Reborn as a Prisoner in Azkaban

"Good morning, kids."

William walked cheerfully into the classroom. During breakfast, Adams had told a particularly hilarious joke about trolls and goblins, which had landed exceptionally well; even Professor McGonagall had nearly cracked a smile.

This managed to lift William's otherwise gloomy spirits, as he wasn't fond of overcast days, and today was yet another cloudy one.

But as he greeted the students, he was surprised to find their energy noticeably low.

"Huh? What happened? You all look pretty drained."

William considered his classes engaging enough not to warrant this kind of reaction. Everyone had seemed quite spirited at the end of the last lesson.

"Professor, if you'd been in the common room, you wouldn't find it strange. We've been undergoing inspections since five o'clock this morning."

"Inspections?"

William was puzzled by this student's response. If his memory served him right, he had spent the morning laughing at Adams's jokes.

"Yes, inspections, Professor. Gryffindor started it early this morning, inspecting for students who didn't return to their dorms. It was only five o'clock then!"

An early-morning dorm check at five A.M.?

It made some sense—though the timing was a bit late for such a task, and dragging students out of bed early on a Monday seemed unnecessarily cruel.

"Gryffindor started it. Why are you all so worn out?"

"Well, Gryffindor caught three pairs, and then the prefects informed each other. After that, the other houses started conducting their own checks."

"Then…" William had just started to wonder why he hadn't heard about this at the breakfast table when it dawned on him. Of course, the results of such inspections would be known only to each house's Head of House. There was no way such matters would be casually discussed at the dining table.

While other professors might hear about it eventually, no one would willingly bring it up as gossip fodder.

"Alright, I get it," William said, suppressing his curiosity and moving on. "But regardless of what happened, class must go on. Get your books ready. Let's begin."

"Professor, aren't you curious why Percy suddenly decided to conduct an inspection?"

Percy? William paused for a moment. Is this his way of doubling down on his duties after being praised yesterday? Or is he trying to make up the numbers after feeling he hadn't supervised enough students?

However, this was an internal student matter. William had no intention of interfering or even asking about it. A prefect catching rule-breaking students was perfectly reasonable.

But the students below him were growing anxious. If the Professor wasn't curious, they certainly were. It was as if someone had cut the melon, handed out half, and then stashed the rest in the fridge without letting anyone eat it.

"I'm not curious at all. Let me offer you all a piece of advice; curiosity killed the cat."

William responded seriously, setting his textbook down as he spread his hands to press firmly against the lectern. Leaning forward, he continued, "No matter the time or place, if you hear an unusual sound, your first instinct shouldn't be to look curiously. Instead, draw your wand, scan all the nearby spots where someone could be hiding, keep your back to the wall, and be ready to counterattack. Doing so can help you avoid more than seventy percent of the dangers you might encounter."

"Professor, why only seventy percent?"

"Because the magical world is dangerous. You're not just dealing with people; even the wall you're leaning on could be a threat."

This unconventional theory immediately caught the students' attention. Those who had chosen to continue with this class in their sixth year often had a streak of adventurous curiosity.

"Professor, tell us more! You must have plenty of thrilling adventure stories!"

Sorry—those stories were all secondhand tales. Not a single one were my own, and who could even tell how much truth there was in the boasts of that lot in Azkaban?

Still, as a professor, William felt obliged to maintain his credibility. He decided to shift the focus to someone more publicly celebrated.

"Adventure stories? Professor Lockhart is the real master of adventures. My own experiences are limited, and many of the things I know come from other seasoned adventurers. These are stories passed down by word of mouth."

"You know how it goes. When those people talk, you could wring half a bottle of Firewhisky out of their words."

But this modest deflection did little to dampen the students' enthusiasm. On the contrary, their eagerness to hear stories only grew. After all, what could be more entertaining than tales of daring adventures during a dull class?

"Alright, alright. I'll tell you one. If it's not good enough, we'll go straight back to today's lesson."

William didn't mind; it was just a matter of reframing the lesson plan into a story format. If he fell behind schedule, he could always catch up later with a few extra tests; a thought that momentarily made him forget his usual rule of restricting tests to the fifth years.

"Let's see, where should I start this story? How about from the middle of an expedition (smuggling)?"

Clearing his throat, William began.

***

"At that time, most of the usual routes had been blocked..."

He proceeded to weave a tale, transforming a smuggling gang's decision to reroute through the mountains to avoid law enforcement into a thrilling adventure story. It was one of the most vivid tales he had overheard in Azkaban, and it worked perfectly to entertain the students.

"So, Professor, did they really run into a Wampus cat?"

William froze mid-story. He had just been describing a gruesome ambush at a campsite under the cover of night, and now someone had ruined the climax by blurting out the ending.

It was like spoiling the punchline of a joke or revealing the culprit on the first page of a Detective Conan manga.

Punch him.

That was William's instinctive thought. But he quickly reminded himself; This isn't Azkaban.

He glanced to see which student had been so bold but quickly noticed that the culprit was already under the hateful glares of the other students.

Forget it.

William thought to himself and decided to shift the topic.

"Yes, it was indeed a Wampus cat; a creature officially acknowledged by the Ministry of Magic as one of the most dangerous magical beasts. It's a XXXXX-rated creature, an assassin of the mountains. Its eyes have the power to hypnotize and invade thoughts. If you encounter one, run as fast as you can. Immediately Apparate, or call for backup. If you can't do either, then face it with confidence and flash a self-assured smile."

"But, Professor, we learned in Care of Magical Creatures that Wampus cats aren't afraid of wizards, even if they're facing two skilled wizards armed with magic!"

"I didn't say it would scare them off, child. Doing so would at least ensure you die with some dignity." William responded warmly, which sent the entire class into uproarious laughter.

"Alright, although our story got interrupted, I must solemnly repeat this. If you ever decide to go on an adventure, there are four things you must always keep in mind. First, always have your wand at the ready. Second, choose your companions wisely; a good teammate will guard your back better than the sturdiest wall. Third, prepare adequately for food and shelter. Fourth, and most importantly, bring enough money, but not so much that it tempts greed."

Several students eagerly jotted this advice down, leaving William feeling a bit sheepish. He was more of a theorist, with little actual experience to back it up.

If I can find the right companions during the summer, maybe I should try an adventure myself—wait, I'm still cursed. Wouldn't adventuring be like walking straight into death?

Quickly shaking off that thought, William checked the time.

"We're at a bit of an awkward time now. Starting the original lesson plan would leave us short on time, and theory discussions would take too long. What should we do?"

"Theory? Professor, what were you planning to teach us originally?"

"Practical lessons, of course. You're sixth-year students, you can't possibly go an entire school year without using your wands, can you?"

The previously lively students suddenly fell silent. Listening to stories was enjoyable, but it couldn't compare to a practical lesson.

After all, sixth-year students were at the age where most would turn seventeen, the magical world's age of adulthood. This meant they would no longer be restricted by the rule forbidding underage wizards from casting spells outside school.

However, the final stretch was always the hardest. For underage wizards, this waiting period felt unbearable. They wished they could bind themselves to their wands, and skipping even one practical lesson left them feeling as restless as if they'd been dragged out of bed early in the morning.

"Alright, stop looking so glum. We've got less than thirty minutes left, so let's cover some theory that you'll need to master for the next class. I'll also assign you some review homework. If you can submit excellent essays before the next class, we'll dedicate the entire session to practical work."

Normally, such a proposal would have met with resistance, but the prospect of a full practical lesson was too enticing to pass up.

The sixth-year students, second only to the fifth-years who had been drilled hard, focused intensely on the lecture. They even forgot their usual habit of interjecting with questions, instead devoting themselves entirely to taking notes.

As Professor McGonagall often said, these students who had earned certificates in their OWLs weren't lacking in learning capability.

"Alright, that's everything you need to master for the next class. It's a bit intimidating, but we're definitely going to do some practical work. Class dismissed! Remember your essays. If anyone forgets to bring theirs next time, I'll regretfully have them finish it right here in the classroom."

William clapped his hands, stretched lazily, and smiled as he sent off the sixth-year students.

***

"Up at the crack of dawn to catch students out all night; Percy's really putting in the effort. No idea if he handed them over to Mr. Filch. Those kids must've had a rough time." William shook his head, deciding not to involve himself in the commotion.

But he wasn't the only professor with a morning class.

When William reached the staff lounge, Adams was already there, looking mysterious as he leaned in.

"William, do you know what happened this morning?"

"I have some idea. All the students look like they're half-asleep. Searching the castle at five in the morning. If they didn't find anything, I bet the prefects would've been cursed out by the students."

"Shh—that was just the official story. It actually started because Filch found bloodstains; tiny drops, on the road outside the castle this morning!"

"What?! Who was hurt?" William immediately perked up, the post-class sluggishness vanishing in an instant.

So the curse really came, huh? Damn it, why is it targeting students?

"Keep your voice down!"

Adams frowned, glancing around at the other professors, before continuing in a hushed tone.

"So Filch went on a rampage, searching all over the castle. That's when he found Percy."

"Percy?"

"Yes, Percy—this was before five in the morning! Sure, he's a prefect, but that's ridiculously early. What's more, Percy looked absolutely shaken. Filch rushed over and questioned him, but Percy claimed he hadn't seen anything strange all night."

"All night? He didn't sleep?" William asked, curious.

"Do you want to tell the rest, or should I?" Adams raised an eyebrow.

"You go ahead. All yours."

"Well, Percy said he hadn't slept all night, and a few of the oil paintings around him, who had been staying up playing cards, confirmed it. Then Percy suggested using the excuse of checking for students out of bed at night to avoid causing panic. That's why those students were rounded up for questioning."

"Ah, so they caught quite a few students out of bed?"

"Exactly. Filch's office is completely full. But fortunately, no one was hurt."

The more William listened, the more confused he became. If no one was hurt… then what about the blood?

"Are you wondering where the blood came from?" Adams asked with a sly grin.

"Yes, exactly—where did the blood come from?"

"Hagrid's rooster died. It was probably bitten by some animal. That blood you heard about? It was chicken blood." Adams spoke with a calm demeanor, but by the end of his story, even he couldn't help but laugh.

The atmosphere in the office instantly became lively. All the professors who had appeared absorbed in their own work suddenly joined in, chuckling and shaking their heads.

"Professor William, you're the eighth one to fall for it. Professor Adams has been fishing for reactions all morning."

Can't these professors ever be serious? William rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"William, quick! Look busy! Professor Singed is here!"

Adams's urgent, amused voice spurred William into action.

William immediately grabbed a book from his usual desk, flipping it open to a random page without even checking what it was.

A rooster, bitten to death. Was it a weasel?

Are there even magical weasels in Britain?

And those bloodstains leading to the castle doors; it doesn't seem like the work of a wild animal. Hagrid's hut is so close to the Forbidden Forest. If it were a weasel, why wouldn't it have escaped into the forest?

A single dead rooster wasn't a big deal. William himself had once thought about borrowing a few chickens from Hagrid.

He had even discussed it with Hagrid, asking if he could keep a few chickens at his hut for culinary experiments. The house-elves couldn't quite manage certain Eastern dishes, and William had been craving a proper chicken stew for a long time.

But bloodstains at the castle entrance... Could it have been done by students?

If it was students, why would they only kill the rooster but not take it? That's perfectly good food, after all.

No, wait. Hagrid's rooster could also have been stolen. I'll need to ask about that. If it wasn't stolen, then I might need to investigate further. What if some troublemakers needed chicken blood for something sinister?

Recently, William had been reading a lot about the use of blood in dark magic. His thoughts began to drift in that direction.

People play games with spirit boards, so it wouldn't be surprising if someone dabbled with those bizarre rituals described in shady magic books. I'll have to keep an eye out.

Images of paranormal enthusiasts he had encountered in the past floated through William's mind. In a magical world like this, where real magic existed, those supernatural tricks would undoubtedly multiply.

I don't even understand all this knowledge myself. Who knows if those strange magic books could really steal someone's soul?

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