Chapter 9 Hogwarts Needs a Professor
2022-07-14 Author: I'm Just a Pigeon
A Hogwarts dropout who sold illegal potions, a zombie-like felon, a researcher who had studied his way into a prison cell—William thought he had already met all sorts of people from the wizarding world. But he never imagined that the first non-human race he encountered would also be such an oddball.
A money-grubbing House-elf.
Big Guy had built up an image of this race for him through a series of descriptions and fantasies, but the creature before him shattered it all in two sentences.
I have to hold it in... Big Guy's a good person, it's normal for there to be a few surprises now and then...
'Kukuku,' William couldn't hold it in any longer.
Big Guy turned to look at William, his expression full of helplessness, as if to say, 'If you want to laugh, just laugh. Don't hold back.'
——
The new fellow prisoner was an oddball among House-elves, and a surprisingly good fighter.
After refusing to take on the cleaning duties expected of a newcomer, a few prisoners preparing to teach him the usual lesson were instead taught one themselves by the little guy's swift fists and agile footwork.
Once the tougher inmates were all knocked down, leaving only William and a few others with little fighting experience, the newcomer logically rose to the second tier. They were all minor offenders, so there wasn't much serious violence anyway.
After everyone had calmed down, this House-elf, named Jinbi, described his dream.
He was unwilling to do any of the things traditional House-elves were accustomed to—cleaning the house, cooking, or handling various household chores.
His dream was to become a great adventurer; failing that, being a mercenary would also suffice.
He had already taught himself a series of subjects useful for adventuring: methods for disarming common magical traps, how to identify and handle common wild magical creatures, the study of magical crests, wilderness survival, and more. He was also actively raising funds to form his own adventuring party.
However, all these preparations were dead in the water—because he was unwilling to work as a servant and couldn't pay the fee to buy his freedom, he was sent to Azkaban.
"I tried to persuade them. I told them if they just let me out for a year, I could bring back the three hundred Galleons needed to buy my freedom, but they refused to believe me."
Jinbi leaned against the bed in the corner (Nine-Fingers was relieved the newcomer hadn't forcibly demanded to switch beds), a melancholic expression on his face.
"So, I am now Jinbi the mercenary. As long as you have Galleons, you can hire me for all sorts of tasks—of course, I won't do anything that would extend my sentence, and I don't do cleaning."
Quite the character.
William guessed that someone in the prison cell must have been tempted, because he was tempted as well.
In prison, a guy who could fight this well was worth five or six other prisoners. When no one had a wand, fists were the ultimate authority. Who wouldn't be tempted by such a powerful weapon that could be hired with mere money?
But William quickly turned over to go to sleep. No money, forget it.
————
Hogwarts, the main tower of the castle, the Headmaster's Office.
An old man with a flowing, silvery-white beard was staring worriedly at the letter before him.
He was currently acknowledged throughout the wizarding world as the strongest white wizard, a living legend, a walking epic. What was even more terrifying was that, on top of such immense strength, he also possessed a head of flowing, silky white hair that almost reached his waist.
The letter was from an old friend. In it, his friend proposed a new solution to a difficult problem he was facing, but this new solution only brought more problems.
After pondering for a long while, the old man finally picked up a piece of parchment and hastily scribbled a few sentences on it.
After a few clever folds and a wave of his wand, the parchment transformed into a paper airplane and shot into the flames of the fireplace.
In less than a quarter of an hour, the office door opened, and an anxious female voice was heard, accompanied by footsteps.
"Albus, I am so glad to see you in your office during the school's busiest time. To be honest, even though there isn't a single student here at the moment, we have far too much to do. If you wouldn't mind, I'd hope you could approve next month's funding request and write a formal request for funds to the Ministry of Magic."
The tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes spoke to the old man in a suggestive tone, but her eyes firmly told him, 'If you don't do this, I'm going on strike.'
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts, had finally cornered the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, who had a habit of completely shirking his daily duties.
Albus gave a helpless look and a gentle smile, then handed over the letter that had been troubling him.
"Care for some Fizzing Whizbees, Minerva?"
She habitually glanced at the name at the end of the letter, which made Professor McGonagall frown. But soon her eyebrows knitted together, and she threw the letter down on the desk.
"What kind of joke is this! Albus, I don't understand why you've summoned me. If you are asking for my opinion, then my answer is an absolute no!"
"Relax, Minerva, it is merely an idea."
"Letting a prisoner from Azkaban teach at Hogwarts? What sort of preposterous idea is that! Is he going to teach the children how to get into Azkaban?"
"Actually, compared to last year's Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, I think a prisoner from Azkaban might be safer."
This statement calmed Professor McGonagall down. As one of the few people in the know, she was well aware of the situation with last year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—he was the last person who should have been chosen for the post. The long-hidden Mysterious Person had been attached to the back of that professor's head, lurking inside Hogwarts for almost an entire year!
"What's worse, it seems even he himself couldn't control that curse."
"Albus, can't you solve it?"
Professor McGonagall couldn't help but ask, but she immediately realized her mistake. If the curse could be so easily broken, Hogwarts wouldn't have to recruit a new professor so frequently.
In fact, all the professors in recent years were individuals who believed they had unique insights into Defense Against the Dark Arts, hoping to make a name for themselves by breaking the curse that even Dumbledore could not handle.
Each of them had been warned of the potential consequences before accepting the post, but every single one of them thought, 'I'll be the one to succeed.'
But now, the challengers were becoming fewer and fewer. Eventually, the position even had to be filled using valuable fighters from the Order of the Phoenix, members who could have been doing much more off-campus.
"Let's call a meeting of the Board of Governors. We'll tell them about the school's current predicament. Either they invest more funds in the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor position, agree to us recruiting a prisoner from Azkaban, or provide a candidate of their own—one way or another, Hogwarts must have a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
Professor McGonagall expertly found an endorser for this new policy, and the two of them unanimously agreed.
(end of chapter)