From Azkaban to Hogwarts

Chapter 9 Schools Need Professors

The Hogwarts drop out selling illegal potions, the felon walking dead, the researcher who studies himself into his cell -- all sorts of magical people William thought he knew better, but he had no idea that the first non-human magical race he encountered was also a freak.

A house-elf dying for money.

In a series of introductions and fantasies, the big guy had shaped the character of the race for him, and then here was this guy destroying everything in two sentences.

I'm going to suck it up... The big one is a good guy and it's normal to have an accident once in a while...

'Cuckoo,' Willem couldn't hold it back.

He turned to Willem with a look of resignation, the kind of smile you can have if you want, but don't hold it in.

...

The new cellmate is the weirdest of house-elves, and he can fight.

After refusing to take responsibility for cleaning up, a few guys who were about to give the rookie a routine lecture were given a good lesson by the little guy with his quick fists and quick steps.

When the better fighters had been put down except for William and a few inexperienced fighters, the new ones became the second class -- petty criminals, less likely to fight.

After everyone had calmed down, the house-elf, named Gold Coin, described his dream.

He didn't want to do any of the things traditional house-elves were used to -- cleaning the house, cooking, and dealing with all sorts of household chores.

His dream was to be a great adventurer or, to say the least, a mercenary.

So far, he has studied a series of subjects useful in adventures, such as how to crack common magic traps, identify and deal with common wild magical creatures, magical heraldry, and wild survival, and is actively preparing funds for his own adventure team.

But it all came to nothing -- unwilling to perform domestic service and unable to pay for his freedom, he was sent to Azkaban.

"I tried to convince them that if I were to go out for a year, I could bring back the 300 Galleons I redeemed, but they wouldn't believe me."

Gold coins lean on the corner of the bed (nine fingers glad that the new did not force to change the bed), a look of melancholy.

"So, I'm a mercenary gold now, and if you have Galleons, you can hire me for all sorts of things -- except, of course, staying longer and cleaning."

What a personality.

William figured someone in the cell was tempted, because he was tempted, too.

A guy who can fight like that could be used by five or six prisoners in a prison. When no one has a wand, fists are the only reason, and a killer like that can be hired for money.

But soon Willem turned round and fell asleep -- no money, good-bye.

...

Hogwarts, Main Tower, Headmaster's Office.

An old man with a flowing silver beard was looking anxiously at the letter before him.

He is currently recognized as the strongest white wizard in the entire magic world, living legend, walking epic, what is more frightening is that the strength of the powerful at the same time with a head of flowing soft and even nearly long to the waist white hair.

It was from an old friend of his, and in it, the friend suggested a new solution to a problem he was facing, but it was this new solution that created more problems for him.

After thinking for a long time, the old man finally took up a piece of parchment and scribbled a few words on it.

Cleverly folded and waved with a wand, the parchment turned into a paper airplane and plunged into the flames of the fireplace.

In less than a quarter of an hour the door of the office opened and an anxious female voice came along, accompanied by footsteps.

"Albus, I'm glad to see you in your office at this busy time of year. To be honest, there's not a single pupil in the school at the moment, but we've got a lot on our plate. If you don't mind, I'd like you to review the grant application for the month after next and write one for the Ministry."

The tall, dark-haired witch in her emerald green robe spoke to the old man in a voice of advice, but her eyes told him firmly that if he did not do this, I would strike.

Minerva McGonagall, the vice-headmistress of Hogwarts, had at this moment finally caught Albus Dumbledore, the clean headmistress who had left his daily duties behind.

Albus gave a helpless look, smiled gently, and handed over the letter that had troubled him.

"Some fizzing bees, Minerva?"

Professor McGonagall frowned as she habitually glanced at the name at the end of the letter, but her eyebrows soon became tangled and she dropped the letter directly on the table.

"Are you kidding me? I don't know what you mean by calling me here, Albus, if you're asking for my advice, which is no!"

"Take it easy, Minerva. It's only an idea."

"What an idea to have prisoners from Azkaban come and teach at Hogwarts! Teach those boys how to get to Azkaban?"

"In fact, the prisoners in Azkaban seem safer to me than the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor did last year," said RON.

This calmed Professor McGonagall; she was one of the few people who knew exactly what had happened to the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts last year - the last year the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was the last person who should have been chosen to be a professor, and the Hidden You-Know-Who had been lurking at Hogwarts for almost a year, attached to the back of the professor's head!

"What's more, he doesn't seem to be able to control the curse himself."

"Can't you fix it, Albus?"

Professor McGonagall could not resist asking, but quickly realized her mistake -- if the curse could be easily solved, Hogwarts would not be recruiting professors so often.

In fact, all these years the professors were people who thought they had some insight into Defense Against the Dark Arts and wanted to make a name for themselves by solving a curse that even Dumbledore couldn't handle.

Each of them had been told what to expect before they arrived, but each of them thought it was just me.

But now there are fewer challengers -- indeed, the latter positions even require the use of the Order's valuable fighting power when they could be doing more outside school.

"Hold a council meeting and tell them about the school's current problems, and either put more money into the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, or get them to agree to take prisoners to Azkaban, or get them to supply someone - they've got to have a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor anyway."

Professor McGonagall expertly sought out endorsers for the new policy, and they agreed unanimously.