From Azkaban to Hogwarts.

Quickly banishing the thought from his mind, William glanced at the time.

"The timing is a bit awkward—it'll be too late to continue with the original classes, and we won't be able to finish explaining the theory. What should we do?"

"Talking theory? Professor, was that what you originally planned?"

"It's a hands-on class, you guys need to get your hands dirty. You're all sixth graders now, you can't possibly go a whole school year without using a wand, can you?"

The students, who had been so lively, fell silent almost immediately—the story was interesting, but how could it compare to a hands-on lesson?

It's important to know that sixth-grade students will gradually turn seventeen throughout the year—the age of adulthood in the magical world—meaning they will no longer be bound by the rule that minors are not allowed to cast spells outside of school.

However, the journey of a hundred miles is only half complete at ninety. For underage wizards, this period is the hardest to get through. They wish they could tie themselves to their wands. They are so upset about missing a wand class that they even forget they were woken up in the morning because they didn't get enough sleep.

"Alright, stop looking so dejected. There are still less than thirty minutes left. Let's go over the theoretical knowledge we'll be learning in the next class and give you some review homework. If you can submit a good enough paper before the next class, then we can use the whole class for practical exercises."

In the past, such a suggestion would certainly have been opposed by the students, but the idea of ​​the whole class doing it in the next class was just too appealing.

The sixth-grade students listened to the lesson with an attitude second only to the fifth-grade students who had been discouraged. They even forgot to answer questions as usual and were all focused on taking notes. Just as Professor McGonagall had said, these children who had obtained certificates in the OWLs exams were not bad learners.

"Alright, that's all the knowledge we'll be learning in the next class—it's a bit daunting, but we'll definitely be doing hands-on practice. get out of class dismissed. Remember the paper; if anyone forgets it for the next class, I'll regretfully have to make them finish it in this classroom."

William clapped his hands, stretched, and smiled as he saw the sixth-grade students off.

-

"Catching students who didn't come home at night so early in the morning—Percy's really going all out. I wonder if they've been delivered to Mr. Filch yet. Those kids are really pitiful."

William shook his head, deciding it was better not to join in the fun.

But he wasn't the only professor with a class in the first period of the morning.

When William walked into the faculty lounge, Adams had already mysteriously approached him.

"William, do you know what happened this morning?"

"I roughly know a bit. All the students are listless. The search started at five in the morning—if they hadn't found anything, I reckon the prefects would have been cursed to death by the students."

"Shh—that was just in name. Actually, it didn't start with checking for people not returning home at night. It was because Filch found drops of blood on the road outside the castle in the morning!"

"Ah! Who's injured?"

William suddenly perked up, and the laziness he felt after class vanished instantly.

'The curse has finally struck? Damn it, why is it targeting the students?'

"Keep your voice down!"

Adams frowned, then glanced at the professors around him before speaking mysteriously.

"So Mr. Filch went on a frantic search through the school's castle, and that's when he found Percy there."

"Percy?"

“Yes, Percy—it was not even five o’clock yet. Although Percy was a prefect, it was still too early, especially since he looked so lost. Filch rushed to ask him, but Percy said he hadn’t seen anyone strange all night.”

"All night? He didn't sleep?"

William asked curiously.

"Should you speak or I speak?"

Adams raised an eyebrow.

"Tell me, tell me."

"Well, Percy said he didn't sleep all night, and several other students who stayed up all night playing cards corroborated that. Then Percy suggested using the excuse of not returning to the dorms at night to check the students in the lounge in order to avoid panic, so that group of students was investigated."

"Yes, we caught a lot of people who didn't come home at night."

Yes, Filch's offices are full, but thankfully, no one was injured.

William became more and more confused. If no one was hurt—where was the blood?

"Are you wondering where the blood went?"

Adams asked mysteriously.

"Yeah, where did the blood go?"

"One of Hagrid's roosters died, probably bitten to death by some animal, and that's chicken blood."

Adams spoke quite calmly, but towards the end of the story, he couldn't help but laugh at himself.

Then the atmosphere in the office became lively—all the professors who were doing their own thing, or rather, appeared to be doing their own thing, started laughing.

“Professor William, you are the eighth person to be fooled—Professor Adams went out to gather information early this morning.”

Can't these professors have a proper job?

William rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"William, quick, find something to do! Professor Singed is here!"

Adams's eager laughter urged them on.

William immediately picked up a book from his usual desk and began flipping through it to a page he didn't even know he was on.

"The rooster was killed. Was it a weasel?"

Are there weasels in the British wizarding world?

'The bloodstains on the castle gate don't look like those of wild animals at all—Hagrid's house is so close to the Forbidden Forest, if it were a weasel, why didn't it escape into the Forbidden Forest?'

A rooster isn't a big problem—William himself had considered taking one.

He even told Hagrid that, if possible, he hoped to send a few chickens to Hagrid so that William could try out the recipes—the elf really couldn't cook many Eastern dishes, and William had been craving braised chicken for a long time.

'Could the bloodstains at the castle gate have been left by students?'

'But if they were students, why did they only kill the rooster and not take the rest of the chicken? It's edible food.'

'No, Hagrid's rooster might also have been stolen—we'll have to ask. If it wasn't stolen, then we need to investigate; maybe those naughty kids want some chicken blood.'

During this time, William read a lot of books about using blood to unleash dark magic, and his mind began to drift in that direction.

'If people play with Ouija boards, then those funny magic book rituals can't possibly be ignored. I need to keep an eye on things.'

William recalled the paranormal enthusiasts he had met before. In the magical world, a world where magic truly exists, there were even more paranormal things.

"I don't even understand this knowledge—who knows if those strange magic books might deceive souls?"

Chapter 113 William's Investigation

"Hagrid, Hagrid, are you there?"

Near the hunter's cabin, William called out loudly before even getting close—he was a man of action, and since there were no classes today, he might as well investigate the matter thoroughly.

Although theoretically, the death of a rooster at school is not a big deal, he is now carrying a curse, and a professor died last year because of this curse, so he can't afford to be careless.

Although theoretically there was Professor Lockhart, that unlucky fellow, to keep William at ease, he was far from reassured—the latter being a renowned adventurer and recipient of the Order of Merlin, while William was merely a prisoner recently released from Azkaban, capable of traversing prisons even if he wanted to.

Compared to this, even if William was very confident, he didn't think Professor Lockhart would take the fall for him. Therefore, he was extremely cautious about any unexpected events at the school.

'If I don't investigate, I can't expect someone else to do it, can I? How foolish would I be to entrust something of life-or-death importance to someone else?'

As William thought this, he called out towards the cabin from afar.

The surrounding roads were a bit messy, and William was really hesitant to step on them—he had spoken with Professor Kettleburn a few days ago, who had spoken highly of Hagrid, claiming that Hagrid possessed a spirituality in caring for magical creatures that most wizards lacked.

This is probably the most terrifying compliment Hogwarts has ever received. Professor Kettleburn lost two and a half limbs because of a magical creature…

Normally, William would have the courage to break through, but now that he's lost his chicken, he's not sure what trap Hagrid might have set up—they can lose their own legs playing with magical creatures, so how much do they care about other people's legs?

"Hagrid, Hagrid, are you there?"

William shouted again—he didn't think his hearsay knowledge could break the trap of someone who had lived half his life in the Forbidden Forest.

"Is that William? Why aren't you coming over?"

“I heard you lost a rooster. I saw that the surroundings were a mess, and I was afraid you had set a trap.”

"No clips—" Hagrid raised his voice a little, but he didn't control it very well.

William felt as if a thunderclap had struck his ears. Although a gentle breeze swept by, the leaves on the ground clearly fluttered and swirled.

'If you don't have it, you don't have it. Why are you yelling so loudly?'

William used his吐槽 (tu cao, a Chinese internet slang term for sarcastic or critical comments) to suppress the awkwardness that came from somewhere, and quickly walked over.

"Why is the surrounding grass all messy? I thought you had set a trap."

He waved and greeted them, taking the opportunity to rub his slightly sore ear as he returned—by the way, does Hagrid usually keep a low profile?

"No traps were set. When Dumbledore recommended me to be the gamekeeper, he sternly told me that setting traps was strictly forbidden at Hogwarts, as it would hurt the children."

As Hagrid spoke, he pointed to the surrounding bushes, "Those are the bushes that Toothflakes have dug. It probably thought the killer was still there, so it searched through those bushes all morning."

Searching?

William paused for a moment, then strode over and looked around—he had been hoping to find some human or weasel hair inside, but now the place had been ransacked beyond recognition; even Sherlock Holmes would be moved to tears, let alone a complete novice like him.

Undeterred, he looked through the papers again and finally realized he didn't have the talent. William stood up.

"Hagrid, where's the chicken?"

"Haha, don't worry, it'll be cooked soon. I've checked it carefully, it's not poisonous. Don't go back to the castle for lunch, I just got a bottle of good wine."

"stew?"

"What, you want it roasted? But there's not enough meat if it's roasted—there's only one rooster left, and I need it to wake me up, so I can't kill it."

William suddenly stopped talking. He walked quickly to the stove and lifted the lid.

Yes, the rooster was dismembered quite perfectly.

How did it die?

"It was bled dry, so it must have been killed by a fox or something else. I should probably buy another one, otherwise I'll only have one rooster left."

……

William exchanged pleasantries with Hagrid for a while, then decisively declined Hagrid's invitation to stay for lunch and returned directly to the castle—although Hagrid had destroyed the evidence of the murdered rooster, his suspicions were still confirmed.

This was definitely not done by animals, but by humans.

'It's a pity Mr. Filch and the house-elves were too diligent; otherwise, the blood at the castle gates could also serve as evidence.'