From Azkaban to Hogwarts.

"Has it been contaminated?"

“What a joke, who would target it?” Adams looked surprised. “Besides, it’s Gryffindor’s hat, something blessed by the four founders. At Hogwarts, unless you blow up the castle, don’t even think about destroying it.”

"What happened?"

"Let's wait and see."

...

This wait lasted for half an hour.

“Adams…” William hesitated for a moment, “I think it’s planning to put on an opera.”

“I think so too…” Adams looked bewildered—he had never seen this scene before.

But he soon cheered.

"Professor McGonagall has gone, everything should be fine now!"

Yes, Professor McGonagall is gone.

But the Sorting Hat showed no sign of stopping.

“I think so too…” Adams looked bewildered—he had never seen this scene before.

But he soon cheered.

"Professor McGonagall has gone, everything should be fine now!"

Yes, Professor McGonagall is gone.

But the Sorting Hat showed no sign of stopping.

Chapter 235 Danger! Danger! Danger!

"The school offers this service?"

On the side of the stage, William looked at the place in the center of the auditorium where the Sorting Ceremony was being held with a look of surprise, and turned to Adams to ask him a question.

"Never heard of that before. I've never heard of anyone being sent to Azkaban in all these years..."

Adams' eyes were full of confusion—after all these years, had he been reading a fake Hogwarts?

Should we specifically thank the Sorting Hat?

He wasn't the only one confused; Ginny's classmates, especially her roommate, were also bewildered, their mouths agape in astonishment—"An Azkaban prisoner is right beside me?"

The other Gryffindors weren't much better off; they were all prepared to applaud Ginny again with a welcoming ceremony for the new bride, but this is what happened?

Even the other three deans couldn't sit still. They got up and went to the location of the Sorting Hat, their faces full of worry—was the Sorting Hat broken?

'Azkaban?'

Professor McGonagall glanced at the Sorting Hat, then at Dumbledore. Although she was usually unfazed by anything, the astonishment that welled up within her was beyond her control.

"Albus, what have you been doing to it these past few days?"

Even though she knew Dumbledore couldn't possibly destroy the Sorting Hat, Professor McGonagall couldn't help but ask.

“Minerva,” Dumbledore’s face was no longer composed, even showing some embarrassment, “I haven’t touched it these past few days!”

"You know that too!"

After uttering that surprising name, the Sorting Hat shouted directly at Dumbledore, "You damn hat that's always pestering Ravenclaw—you weren't like this when you were an innocent eleven-year-old waiting for my Sorting!"

"I'll let those who talk nonsense know... I'm the best!" (Note 1)

The Sorting Hat mimicked the tone of a young boy—"You weren't like this back then!"

"But... I just can't get assigned to Azkaban."

Professor McGonagall tried to smooth things over, but to no avail.

“Oh, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor—good heavens, why is the professor so fierce…” (Note 2)

The Sorting Hat changed its tone and started spouting nonsensical nonsense.

However, the three deans who came up behind them suddenly stopped in their tracks, pretending to talk about the weather and trusting Dumbledore's ability to handle emergencies.

Although he didn't know what the Sorting Hat was talking about, the vague sense of danger he felt gave William an urge to forget what he had just experienced.

'Never bring up that question again!'

At the same time, William realized that asking the Sorting Hat about the unsolved question of Tom Riddle might be a good option—but that would have to wait until his Occlumency technique was several levels more advanced.

"So-called seniority is worthless to the Sorting Hat... Even Professor Machiavellian was admitted under the Sorting Hat's supervision..."

So, the reason the three deans are stalling is—well, it's better not to find out about this, it might affect their salaries…

The situation suddenly reached a stalemate because of the Sorting Hat's lack of cooperation.

The students, unable to get answers to their questions, began to whisper among themselves. Because of the celebration, there was plenty of snacks available and the atmosphere was great, so the auditorium was soon filled with buzzing discussions.

-

“Oh no, George, things seem to have gotten out of hand.”

Fred exchanged glances with his brother, but George's eyes held no hint of discussion. "We're doomed, Fred, we're finished."

"Isn't it a tradition to deceive freshmen in the Sorting College? We only said a few words, how did it really become Azkaban?"

"It seems like it was more than just a few sentences; I remember it was several times."

"To be precise, it started after Professor McGonagall told her about the Sorting Ceremony, we always said..."

The discussion continued to spiral into despair, and the two even stopped exchanging glances.

-

"We're doomed, it really is Azkaban..."

Ginny even felt like crying. She had been worried about this issue, but why did she really go to Azkaban?

George and Fred, those two big bastards!

He keeps claiming he caused a series of incidents, including an attack on Professor Filch. Although he's forgotten the details, those crimes remain, so he's very likely to be assigned to Azkaban…

-

“Alright, I admit I’ve been too focused on that crown lately, and I apologize for that,” Dumbledore said quietly to the furious Sorting Hat. “Look, you’re the best hat in the world. Ravenclaw’s crown can’t even talk; how can it compare to you?”

"Of course! I'm the coolest hat ever!"

The Sorting Hat's proud reply—a hat that writes itself a long poem of praise every year—is just as easily angered as it is easily appeased.

"But why was Ginny assigned to Azkaban?"

"Is this our problem? That little girl keeps thinking about Azkaban, and Minerva keeps telling me to sort into different departments. How am I supposed to sort?"

"Gryffindor, it's fine as it is. Of course, someone as handsome as you wouldn't change their mind so easily."

Dumbledore gently persuaded him, as if coaxing a child.

“Well, Albus, you have a point,” the hat conveyed, suddenly emitting a loud voice, “then, Gryffindor!”

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Although there were several mishaps during the professor's farewell ceremony, the celebration was ultimately completed as scheduled.

The little story about Ginny being assigned to Azkaban circulated for a while, but then it didn't really spread—after all, Ginny herself was always running around the school, and nothing happened that could involve her.

Of course, there's something even more important: the final exams are coming up.

Just like the old professor who said before I left school—the exam paper is ready.

While the professors breathed a sigh of relief at the end of the two major exams, it did not mean that final exams for students in other grades would be taken lightly.

However, this busyness had nothing to do with William. It was a tradition to leave students time to review before exam week, and he had already prepared the final exam papers long ago. During this time, he was working hard to solve the curse problem that had been bothering him for a long time, and he was very busy.

“William!”

As William pondered the details of the curse, Adams suddenly knocked on his office door.

"This is not good, William!"

After knocking on the door, Adams looked flustered. "Several important members of the Board of Trustees have arrived. Dumbledore is calling a meeting with the Deans. I was working with the professors in the greenhouse when I overheard something about you—something like your dismissal..."

The professor Adams was referring to was naturally the Dean of Hufflepuff. Since the information he overheard was intended for the Dean, it was unlikely to be false.

"Don't panic—what happened? Did you hear more details?"

William brought Adams a cup of tea. "I think I've done a good job this year. I shouldn't be like this."

“Think carefully—you didn’t teach the students any obvious dark magic, did you?” Adams frowned and thought for a moment. “I heard a voice similar to Azkaban’s in there—the headmaster deliberately avoided me, so I didn’t quite understand it.”

What are you standing there for?

Adams finished speaking and then turned on William, yelling, "Get the teaching materials sorted out. If it's about teaching black magic, we can get the school to help suppress the matter if we don't have enough evidence. Stop daydreaming and get the relevant materials sorted out!"

"It doesn't exist. Even in the advanced class, there are no black magic spells. They're not on the exam. I've looked at the exam scope, and I haven't taught much of the content that doesn't earn extra points. Even when we're broadening the horizons of older students, we're only teaching the special applications of ordinary spells."

William stated definitively, "It's definitely not a problem with the scope of the course; I suspect..."

He almost instantly connected the school board member's visit with what Professor Marchban had said some time ago.

"It's highly likely they're still investigating the issue of one's background. I spent some time in Azkaban, and I suspect they're using that as a starting point to cause trouble—but that shouldn't be the case, with such a big commotion, surely the school board didn't know about it?"

"What about your origins—Azkaban?"

"Wait?"

"William, you said you were in Azkaban?"

Adams' mouth was wide open, big enough to fit a whole chocolate frog.

"Huh?" William stared at him. "No, so many professors know. I thought you already knew, but just didn't want to tell me—aren't you always well-informed?"

William was equally curious—Adams was a chatterbox, and with so many people recruiting from the prison, it shouldn't have been impossible to keep it a secret from professors.

“No wonder the old professor always forbids us from discussing your field…” Adams shook his head. “You really spent time in Azkaban?”

"Nonsense... Is it really that prestigious to go to that place...?"

William responded listlessly – so the old professor had been helping him all along.

"Then how did you get in?"