From Azkaban to Hogwarts.

William put down the documents in his hand and looked at the elated Adams.

“Of course, the college team competition can’t all be put on the last day of the semester,” Adams said matter-of-factly. “The first semester is almost over, and the competition has already been postponed due to all sorts of things—if we don’t hold the competition soon, we won’t have enough time for the weekends to come!”

"Alright, alright, which two teams are it today?"

William was happy to change his mood; the stories the ghosts had been telling lately had been too heavy, and watching the school games was a good way to cheer himself up.

"Slytherin vs. Gryffindor - an absolutely brilliant and evenly matched battle! Gryffindor has all gotten new brooms and is in top form!"

"A new broom?"

"You forgot? During the exhibition match, they beat Slytherin and received a prize. It was only 2000 Nimbus, but it wasn't bad, was it?"

William suddenly remembered—because of that game, he had studied some basic Quidditch terminology for a while.

"Let's go then. When does the competition start?"

"At eleven o'clock, Singed and I even prepared lunch." Adams smiled with satisfaction.

-

"That's great!"

Perhaps because I haven't had a proper rest in a long time, Quidditch looked especially interesting today.

The Gryffindors, now equipped with new brooms, seemed extremely confident. Although their brooms weren't as good as Slytherin's, they used their skills to keep the score close and even had a slight advantage.

"With technological and equipment advantages, this is much more exciting than that exhibition match."

William expressed his sincere admiration, which was echoed by his two companions.

“That’s right, and I don’t feel any pressure watching their matches, since none of them are from our college,” Adams pointed to the commentary booth. “Look, that Gryffindor commentator is different; his emotions fluctuate too much.”

To be honest, that commentator wasn't just emotionally unstable, he was completely biased—but that's bound to happen when a student is doing the commentary.

"As long as the game is exciting enough," William said noncommittally, "but aren't those players over there being a bit too active with their ball movement?"

Normally, William wouldn't ask such a rude and laughable question in a game where he has even a slight understanding of the rules—he felt that if everyone in basketball were to make such a joke, his teaching career would end for such a bizarre reason.

But the wandering ball was behaving so strangely that he wasn't sure if it was due to a hidden rule or something else—the wandering ball kept hitting the same person and didn't seem to be changing targets at all.

"Who knows, the ball-traveling player is always so crazy." Adams said, glancing in the direction William was pointing. "Hmm, something seems off. He's chasing too closely, like he's under a curse."

“That’s right, it’s definitely cursed.” Singed observed for a long time. “I swear on my newly grown hair, that thing has definitely been tampered with.”

"Then why not suspend the inspection?"

"Are you crazy?"

William's questioning drew surprised looks from his two colleagues.

"They gave up the game because of a stray ball that got out of control?"

William was stunned by the incredulous looks on their faces—had he said something wrong?

"It's just a stray ball. We can find out after the game. If we pause the game now, whoever raises the issue loses. That's the rule."

"Why not just cast a Stun Spell on the referee? What kind of rule is this?"

William complained irritably.

"It's not that they can't, it's just that referees these days tend to avoid it—Slytherins can touch the ball, which is allowed by the rules, but it's remarkable that they managed to get away with it from Mrs. Hooch's inspection."

William found himself a little confused about the game—'Was that thing I was watching really the rules of the game?'

"Haha, you're obviously a newbie," Adams said with great interest. "Today's competition is a perfect example of utilizing the rules!"

"Among the ten prohibitions, three are directly related to the ball—prohibiting the destruction of the Quaffle, prohibiting non-Seekers from touching the Snitch, and prohibiting hitting the Loitering towards the audience. You see, there is never a rule that prohibits using the Loitering."

"Can I hit the referee with a moving ball?"

"Of course, otherwise why do you think a referee would die in a match?"

Adams responded as a matter of course.

"Die in the game—and you can still use a magic wand to attack the referee in the game?"

"No, no, no, you can attack the referee, but you can't use a magic wand to attack."

It's ridiculous—William thought he could understand the game, but it turns out he really doesn't understand Quidditch.

But Adams was clearly intrigued and began to tell him in detail about the interesting things that happened on the Quidditch field—such as the referee's broom being cursed with all sorts of weird curses, the referee's broom being replaced with a door key and then the referee being sent to the desert, and the already fouled acts of burning the opponent's broom or attacking the opponent's broom with a stick, leaving William dumbfounded.

As Adams described the amusing incidents of the match, the battle on the field intensified. The tampered ball relentlessly attacked Harry, the Seeker of Gryffindor, but Harry's flying skills were almost like a stunt, making the ball spin around in circles.

'His flying ability is like kiting the killer in the game; he's a top-tier flying genius.'

William watched with growing admiration—as someone who now faces the risk of crashing into the Black Lake during test flights, he was incredibly envious of Harry's flying skills.

Why did it pause?

Just as William was calculating how long it would take him to master this skill, Harry's agile movements on the field slowed down, and the wildly moving ball immediately found an opportunity, rushing towards Harry's arm.

"bingo!"

William quickly drew his wand, ready to rescue Harry—he could keep Harry suspended in mid-air before he hit the ground.

Adams and the others also drew their wands, but the one who was hit by the ball held on and moved forward in a strange manner.

"The thief!"

Adams's exclamation reached William's ears, and he then noticed a glint of gold in Harry's hand—before the broom descended to the ground with a swift and steady motion.

The referee, Mrs. Hooch, blew her whistle throughout the stadium, but the wandering ball showed no sign of stopping. It gathered its strength and crashed down downwards at a speed like a cannonball.

“That’s too ruthless,” William said, putting down his wand—Mrs. Hooch was over there, so the Wandering Ball couldn’t hurt anyone.

"Boom!"

A tremendous impact resounded throughout the field, spreading to every corner of the stadium.

William saw it clearly—just now, Lockhart on the other side of the court hit the wandering ball with a spell, shattering it to pieces.

The students cheered, while Lockhart stood there, smiling at those around him, clearly quite proud of his spell.

'The cheers should be for the victors, what's he doing running around like that!'

Singed whispered in William's ear—Adams is a Lockhart fan, something that couldn't be said publicly.

"At least we solved one of the problems," William said in a low voice as well.

After saying that, he glanced at the other side. The magic that broke the ball just now wasn't shattering it into pieces, but dark magic. Professor Lockhart is even this good at dark magic?

-

"Foolish and ambitious."

A few more lines appeared in the diary, which infuriated Lockhart.

"I, Professor Lockhart, saved a student from a dangerous ball and was then cheered for by the entire audience. What's wrong with that?"

"Any wizard will do. When did a wandering ball become a topic of conversation? Even Hogwarts students don't talk about it for long, let alone the Daily Prophet."

The diary entries appeared slowly and deliberately: "Ah, Professor William is dealing with Ravenclaw's crown, and our Professor Lockhart is dealing with an out-of-control wandering ball! Good heavens, this is sure to be tomorrow's headline!"

Lockhart felt the veins on both sides of his forehead throbbing wildly.

Even his most demanding fans wouldn't send such sarcastic remarks, but this book did.

“Fine, then tell me, what could be greater than Ravenclaw’s crown?” Lockhart retorted sarcastically. “You tell me, give me your opinion. Do you expect me to go and catch a phoenix? Gryffindor’s hat is there, but the school has used it for almost a thousand years, so it’s not exactly a discovery. You can’t possibly say that you’re greater than a crown, can you?”

"Of course, I am the greatest book!"

The diary presents the words as quickly as possible.

"Oh, really?"

Lockhart's handwriting returned to its original beautiful style. "Heavens know, how can something that isn't from the founder compare to the relics of the founder of Hogwarts?"

"Yes, I do, but you? Do you dare?"

"What's there to be afraid of!"

Lockhart responded with a quill.

"If you can uncover Slytherin's secret, not only will you gain the attention of the entire school, but you'll also have no problem earning the Order of Merlin, First Class. But—do you dare?"

The final words, especially the question mark, were bolded and clearly provoked Lockhart.

-

"What? You mean the person who was waiting for you when school started has been found?"

William stared in shock at Harry, who had suddenly run over and sat down across from him at his desk.

What a joke—this matter just faded away without any further clues?

"How did you find it?"

He was indeed curious. Logically speaking, since so much time had passed, would the criminal be so foolish as to come to him on his own?

"It found me; it was Dobby who did it."

Did they really deliver it to themselves?

"Dobby?"

"Yes, a house-elf, I don't know where it came from, found me and tried to persuade me to leave school at Christmas and not get involved in the magical world anymore."

Harry made a joke with a serious expression.

William knew Christmas was coming soon—but which wizard would be willing to put down their wand if they stopped getting involved in the wizarding world?

"Are you sure? It's not a school sprite?"

"No, Professor, the clothes don't look like it, and I was tricked by that little elf during my vacation."

"Have you spoken to Professor McGonagall about this?" William asked with interest. "As far as I know, such things are reported to the Ministry of Magic. The first offense results in a warning, the second in expulsion. If it can be found out that it was Dobby who did it, at least you'll get a warning as a backup."

"Not yet, Professor."

Harry was annoyed—he was angry with himself.

Although his owl was locked up at the time, if he had told Professor McGonagall afterwards, perhaps there wouldn't have been so many problems later.

“You have to learn to trust Professor McGonagall.” William stared at Harry. “She’s your headmistress, and while she can be intimidating, she cares about you more than any other professor in the entire school.”

"Okay, Professor."