From Azkaban to Hogwarts.

The odds and ends cost him quite a few Galleons, but compared to the outrageous prices in the prison, these things were incredibly cheap.

'Next, I'll head straight to the Ministry of Magic, and then transfer to Azkaban… I'm probably one of the few people who've been to Azkaban who entered through the Ministry of Magic's entrance…'

William headed toward the theoretical location of the Ministry of Magic, while planning his itinerary.

The letter said that someone would come to pick me up—right at the street corner…

He began searching for the so-called receptionist, which was not difficult. Although the Ministry of Magic employee tried his best to appear as a Muggle, his attire was still too strange, especially his wand—if he were in William's class, one of the houses would have already lost points.

"Hello, are you a receptionist from the Ministry of Magic?"

William walked up to him and asked politely.

“Ah~,” the young wizard, who looked to be in his mid-twenties, suddenly panicked. “Sorry, sorry, I was distracted—you’re Professor William’s assistant student, right? I’ve been waiting for you here for a long time.”

"Ah? What? I'm sorry, Professor, I really... I'm sorry, Professor."

"You are even younger and more accomplished than I thought. Ms. Marchban has praised you many times..."

“I’m not from the Examination Authority, but our offices are very close.”

"Yes, yes, I am Hufflepuff. The reception work is usually done by my Gryffindor colleague, but he had a problem brewing the 'Enjoyment Potion' on Friday and has to go to the hospital for a checkup."

"Over here, Professor—we need to register for a bit, and then I'll help you take care of everything."

"Yes, that's right. I was in charge of the whole process. I originally thought it wouldn't be easy to communicate with you, so I was going to talk to the student assistant instead. I just didn't expect you to be so young."

"It's a bit uncomfortable. This system is very old, but it's too difficult to replace it."

"This is..."

"Yes, that's over there... look at that statue."

"Donating to medical care, yes, it will be collected regularly and then donated, Professor. Usually, a Sickle is enough, ten Galleons is too much."

"Yes, that's right. We only have a few people on duty on weekends, so we have relatively fewer staff. As long as we can maintain normal operations, that's fine."

"..."

"Of course not, you've made history—this way, we've arrived at the hitter's office."

Chatting along the way, the student in charge of receiving William led him to the batter's office, and after several verifications, they arrived at the fireplace.

"There's no way around it, the verification process is stricter on the striker side, but the Auror office is actually..."

"Yes, of course you know that... There are some disagreements, but of course we can't tell anyone. Of course, you know it doesn't matter, it's an open secret anyway."

"I'm going to light it, Professor. The Floo Powder here is custom-made and slightly different from others, after all, it's been a long journey—but its stability is much better than regular Floo Powder."

-

When William poked his head out of the fireplace, he was immediately assaulted by the unique Azkaban air, a mixture of the fishy smell of the sea, the nauseating stench of Dementors, the stench of prisoners' daily life, and other mixed odors.

'This is it, the air isn't this awful anywhere else…'

His body instantly recognized the smell, but he didn't feel much aversion to it.

"Are you from the Ministry of Magic? Please show me your identification!"

The striker rushed over, wands pointed at them—but in that position, William seriously doubted that if he pulled out his wand and attacked again, the striker would only be able to complete the first attack.

'The batter is too weak...'

This wasn't because he looked down on the other side, but rather because—Hogwarts' self-defense education level had been so poor over the years. Over 99% of wizards in Britain graduated from Hogwarts, and these strikers were no exception.

'It's estimated that the quality of Auror has declined...'

While he was making his rather unfriendly speculations, the striker had already finished his inspection.

"Yes, we took over Azkaban from the Dementors this morning. They have all returned to their camps to rest, and all the prisoners are in stable condition, making it ideal for investigation."

During his narration, he glanced at William curiously a few times, but made no comment—since Minister of Magic Fudge had given the order that an expert would be coming today, he would agree that even if it were a whining troll, let alone a young wizard, he would definitely agree that it was an expert.

William had encountered the prison takeover situation before—even Azkaban couldn't keep prisoners locked up there all day long without food or water, and the hygiene and ventilation were inadequate. This place could be renamed the Azkaban concentration camp.

'Actually, if the Strikers hadn't taken over Azkaban, I'd really be looking forward to wandering around Azkaban with the Patronus on my back—and for good reason, I imagine the Dementors would be thrilled.'

This idea was so wonderful that William even ignored the basic fact that Dementors have no expression to look at.

Even if it doesn't scare the Dementors, he still has to use the Patronus Charm—he's here under the Hogwarts name, and it would be very embarrassing to play dumb to fool them.

A so-called expert is an expert indeed. As the most advanced self-defense magic, the Guardian's use of it carries immense persuasive power—even though the Dementors are not present, any wizard with a modicum of knowledge would understand that the so-called expert is not just a figurehead.

“Well, thank you for your hard work,” William nodded to the batter, then without pulling out his wand, he stretched out his left hand and gently tapped in the air.

The air rippled like water, and within the silvery ripples, a tiny hummingbird materialized, circled William's hand, gently pecked at the pointed finger, and then landed directly on William's shoulder.

"Necessary precautions are necessary. If we are too impatient, we may miss something important. The aura left by the Dementors is not so simple."

William nodded to the Ministry of Magic personnel and the batons who had come with him. "Time is of the essence, and I imagine you don't want to spend the night here. Let's go."

-

"Give me a piece of fish fillet!"

"Three pages in exchange for my remaining half-chocolate, will you trade?"

The prison cell was as lively as if it were Christmas—or rather, it wasn't even this lively at Christmas.

"Keep your voice down! A very important person is coming today. If you make any more noise, you'll have to go to the back and appease the Dementors!"

The temporary guards pounded on the prisoners in the two cells attempting to make a deal, issuing vicious threats—although the Dementors were cooperative, this did not prevent them from becoming agitated and restless when the guards temporarily took over.

If any unlucky soul is indeed captured and taken away for appeasement, then for the next month he can forget about recalling even the slightest bit of happiness.

Such intimidation silenced the prisoners who were trying to make the deal.

They started making noise again once the strikers had gone far away.

"So, what important person is coming today?"

"Who knows, but he's definitely a big shot—" a prisoner picking beans replied casually. "There was nothing going on yesterday, and today the thugs suddenly took over the prison and gave us all this food. This is the kind of treatment we get for Christmas."

“Let me tell you, this situation was most likely caused by someone’s spur-of-the-moment decision. Otherwise, we could have stayed away from those black guys and cleaned the cells yesterday.”

“That makes sense.” The prisoner in the next cell replied with difficulty—communication between cells was already difficult enough, and he was much more advanced than a normal wizard, so he looked extremely frustrated.

However, he didn't look aggrieved at all. "Do you think that important person will hire someone to fix the house? I think my height is quite suitable for that."

"Come on, big guy," the cell next door didn't respond, but the tall guy's cell erupted in laughter instead, "You think you're a Muggle? If you're really picky about prisoners, gold coins are the best choice, and house-elves are much more popular than wizards."

“That’s right, that’s right,” another prisoner chimed in. “Just hang in there. Today is much better than before. Blackie’s out catching Sirius Blackie, and Blackie’s only coming to collect taxes twice a week. You should learn to be content!”

"No!"

The person in the next cell chimed in, "Nine Fingers is right. We need to learn to be content. If Sirius hadn't escaped, would those black guys have gone so far as to leave here to go and catch people?"

"Impossible, right? We should thank Sirius. Although the newspapers all say he's a devil, all the good things we've had this year are thanks to him!"

"Yes, yes!"

When Sirius Black was mentioned, everyone's spirits immediately rose.

"Praise Sirius!"

"Praise Sirius!"

"May Merlin protect Sirius and bring him good fortune. May all the pursuers never find him!"

"... "

"May those Aurors never even touch the hem of his robe!"

"... "

Led by one man, the prisoners began to pray fervently for Sirius Black, their voices sincere, their expressions earnest, and their wishes beautiful.

Chapter 301 The Journey to Azkaban

As the wizarding world’s undisputed number one Death Eater, Sirius Black naturally resides in the deepest part of Azkaban.

Although William was somewhat interested in seeing how his former cellmates were doing, he had to get down to business first.

"I need to go deep into Azkaban to see those Death Eaters, is that alright?"

He asked the Ministry of Magic staff member next to him.

"Of course not. You can do anything except release or kill prisoners—"

Before the receptionist could even speak, the beaters next to her had already started answering.

As he answered, he winked at William, clearly implying that there was plenty of room for maneuver.

“Please follow me,” the striker said, leading the way. “The Death Eaters are guarded very strictly. Many of them are influential figures. If anything serious happens…”

He didn't say the rest, but the meaning was already very clear.

During the last war, due to the sudden disappearance of the Dark Lord himself, the Death Eaters who originally followed him were defeated one by one, sent to trial, and then imprisoned in Azkaban.

But here's the problem: due to the Dark Lord's own slogan, the core members of the Death Eaters are almost all wizards from pure-blood families. And in the magical world, pure-blood is a point that most problems cannot escape.

The death penalty does not exist in the laws of the British magical world; the greatest offense is Azkaban's life imprisonment—but the imprisonment of other prisoners is different from that of the Death Eaters.

Although the Death Eaters are kept in the deepest part of the prison, if any of the other Death Eaters are clearly mistreated, except for those prisoners who are certain that no one will help them, the outside world will immediately take notice.

"Don't worry, it's just some simple questions, maybe with a little truth serum."

"If you're using truth serum, please control the dosage appropriately, sir, otherwise..."

-

"Antonin Dolokhov, Bellatrix Lestrange, Labastan Lestrange..."

William followed the enforcers while keeping an eye on the list of serious offenders.

Then his gaze settled on the name at the very bottom.

Barty Crouch (deceased)

'This name…why does this name look so familiar?'

He began to desperately try to recall—he seemed to have seen the name somewhere before.

'Have I really seen this name before?'

"professor?"