From Azkaban to Hogwarts.

“Me? I’m a professor, I’ll definitely give you time to escape, Harry.”

William smiled and replied, half-seriously and half-jokingly.

“That’s not what I meant,” Harry said, a little seriously. “I meant, Professor, what if I run into Sirius Black when I’m out alone?”

“Neither the school nor the Ministry of Magic will allow you to go out alone, Harry,” William looked at him, but didn’t completely rule it out, “but we need to have contingency plans.”

"To put it simply, unless you absolutely have to sneak out using something like an invisibility cloak, the protective forces around you can easily buy you more than five minutes."

“Five minutes…” William pondered for a moment, “That should be enough time for rescue to arrive.”

"Of course, we can't rule out the possibility that those distress signals were blocked..."

He looked up at Harry. "Do you have any spells you're good at that can attract attention?"

"No, Professor."

"Then, are you skilled in spells that conceal your presence?"

Does an invisibility cloak count?

"That won't do, is there anything else?"

"No, Professor..."

"What about shapeshifting? It doesn't have to be a complete transformation. Changing your cheeks or something to help you breathe and hide underwater would be fine too."

"I don't think I've mastered that transformation..."

Harry felt a little ashamed; it was the first time he had realized how lacking he was in magic.

'If Hermione were here…'

"If you don't know any of those, then how about a simple method to cover up footprints with magic...?"

"Won't…"

Harry lowered his head deeply, feeling that he hadn't learned anything in the past two years at Hogwarts.

"You know how to concoct a simple potion to conceal your presence, right?"

"I'm sorry, Professor..."

……

"You can run, right?"

After half a day of questioning, Harry finally heard some good news, something he excelled at—he had been bullied by Dudley since he was a child, and if he wasn't fast enough, who knew what games those guys would play with him.

"I'm also quite good at..."

Harry regretted the thought as soon as it crossed his mind, and changed his mind before he could say it: "I can do a little, and I'm not bad at running."

"Let's start practicing with this, and then I'll try to apply for some other rights for you..."

William nodded. Being able to run was a good thing. Although it was too early to learn Apparition, a magic spell for escaping, being able to run was probably a way to fight against that Death Eater No. 1.

-

The next day, while Harry was sound asleep, there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it so early in the morning...?"

Harry paused for a moment, then suddenly remembered the conversation from yesterday that had left a deep impression on him.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I'll be right there."

He answered loudly, then got up and dressed faster than he ever had ever done.

Old Tom was standing at the door.

"Oh, sorry, I made a mistake, but where is the professor?"

“No mistake,” Old Tom said with a very kind smile. “William told me to wake you up at six, and I made sure to keep track of the time while I was busy in the kitchen.”

"And what about the professor?"

“Young people tend to sleep in, unlike me, I get up at five to prepare breakfast for the bar.” Old William chuckled. “William, are you still sleeping?”

Harry was at a loss for words...

“Oh, right,” Old Tom, who was about to leave, seemed to remember something, “Professor William instructed that for your safety, you can’t go for your morning run outside the bar. Yesterday, he specially asked me to renovate an old room, so you can go there to run.”

"Not on the street?"

Harry looked like he'd been hit by a frost—he'd had a great time outside yesterday, thinking that morning runs had their benefits, but what kind of morning run was it inside the house…

However, he didn't complain much and followed Old Tom to the so-called special room.

It's a little bigger than the other rooms, but is there enough room to move around?

Harry started running, puzzled. The floor beneath his feet slowly deformed and rotated backward as he ran, rendering his forward efforts futile.

'It's just like a hamster...'

For no apparent reason, he thought of hamsters running in circles on their wheels, and then he thought of Ron's mouse...

"Maybe I should get it a hamster cage; that might keep it active..."

Thinking about such jokes, Harry felt that the fatigue from running didn't seem so bad.

This exercise continued until 7:30.

Good morning, Harry.

The voice of the Defense Magic professor interrupted Harry, who was already a little out of breath, "How's the training going?"

The professor walked over with a smile and inspected the specially enchanted floor. "Hmm, not bad. Although it slacked off a bit, it still ran steadily for almost forty minutes."

"How did you figure that out, Professor?"

Harry couldn't help but ask curiously—was the professor watching him the whole time, to see if he would slack off because no one was supervising him?

"A counter is set up here. Every time the magic is activated, a mark is engraved here. You can calculate it by doing the calculation. It's just a simple polymorph spell with a few incantations. It's nothing to a wizard."

William spread his hands. "It's a failure if you can only mechanically cast those basic spells. You have to learn to combine spells together, Harry."

"Combined? In combat?"

“That would basically only lead to an even faster death,” William shook his head. “The existing spells used for dueling and self-defense are designed to be simple, to set up defense and attack in an instant.”

"It's not that no one in history has ever studied long spell magic, but those who tried to use those spells in battle were basically killed by their opponents."

“Killing a wizard is easier than you think, it can be done with a knife—” William waved his wand to restore the floor he had modified with magic last night to its original state, preventing it from breaking. “In fact, many wizards in history have died in this mysterious way.”

“Read the History of Magic carefully, Harry,” William said seriously. “History makes one wise.”

"But…"

"But Professor Binns's classes aren't that interesting?"

William turned his head. "But even Dumbledore wouldn't dare say he's more knowledgeable than Professor Binns in the history of magic."

“Professor Binns was a witness to most of the history of magic, and his memories are far more real than those magic books—for example, if I were to write some history of magic, I would certainly write better about my teacher.”

"what do you mean?"

"Of course, I'm not saying those things are fake, but the records of magical history have always been selective. Of course, it's hard to say about history books, let's talk about newspapers—like the Daily Prophet, you will never see any propaganda attacking the Ministry of Magic in it."

“Those things that are real and unreal… well, I’m getting off topic,” William paused, seeing Harry’s confusion. “Anyway, what you need to remember is that Professor Binns knows more than you think, as long as you learn to accept it.”

Harry was a little stunned; he was too young to understand these things.

“Forget it, focus on your history of magic…” William shook his head. “You’re only in third grade after summer vacation. You should learn how to escape first. It’s time for breakfast!”

-

"Professor, do we have to practice after finishing our homework?"

Harry stared blankly at the room he used for running that morning.

After finishing breakfast, he went to do his homework as William had instructed. After finishing his homework, he was just about to go out for a walk when the professor called him back.

"Of course, otherwise how would you be able to escape?"

William said matter-of-factly, "It's perfect to go sightseeing right after training."

"But it's time for lunch..."

"Go for a walk after lunch, then come back to study the theory. Isn't that perfect?"

"Alright, just stand there. Your application to use magic is still in the weekly process, and it's uncertain whether it will be approved. So we need to complete the training that doesn't require you to cast spells."

"Do I have to cast a spell?"

"Otherwise, what do you think your wand is for?"

"Remember, your wand is your most reliable partner. Even the most skilled wizards who are proficient in wandless spellcasting will not abandon their wands. In critical moments, the Ironclad Charm only needs to be slightly stronger, and that can be the difference between life and death."

William gripped his wand, his face serious. "Prepare to dodge. I won't use William the Great's magic. Even if it hits, it won't hurt, but it will itch—like being bitten by ten mosquitoes."

This description took Harry out of the story quite a bit, but he quickly realized it.

The professor standing opposite him merely waved his wand slightly, and he felt as if he had been struck even before he could see the spell.

Then, the feeling that made him want to immediately take off his wizard's robe to scratch the itch spread from the cursed spot on his shoulder.

"First attempt, failed."

William remained expressionless. "Remember this feeling. It will be even more painful if you get hit next."

"Yes…"

Before Harry could finish speaking, he saw William's wand begin to swing, and he reacted immediately, lunging to the side.

"It's alright, continue."

Harry had just gotten up and was about to say something when William's next spell came.

"Keep your dodging movements small. If you're dodging one-sidedly, you're doomed once you lose control of your body."

William cast another spell, "The guy who tries to curse you won't stop after just one spell."

"Of course, theoretically, it's impossible to keep facing those hopeless and invincible beings. But Sirius right now is definitely not someone you can fight against."

The next spell struck Harry squarely in the chest.

"Stand up, it's just an itch."