From Azkaban to Hogwarts.

He has plenty of tricks up his sleeve when dealing with disobedient students, but he really doesn't have a good way to deal with students who cry at the drop of a hat—students above the fifth grade are all very concerned about their image and would never cry like that. This is the first time he has dealt with this kind of situation.

'Why study science and engineering in university? If I'd known I wanted to be a teacher, I should have gone to teacher's college; the student-to-teacher ratio would have been more balanced!'

He complained to himself, then pulled a brand new, unopened towel from his suitcase—the school had given out a lot of them at once.

"Hey girl, crying won't help. You won't be able to do it anyway, will you? I glanced at it, and you've already passed. You know, most fifth graders would fail these questions—"

"I'm number one in the grade!"

Perhaps this contrast struck a nerve, because the crying girl finally agreed to communicate with William.

'Crying like this, even the top students have lost face. Fifth graders are usually so well-behaved; they could easily comfort themselves.'

However, this was obviously not something that could be said to his face—after things had finally calmed down a bit, William was still thinking about protecting his eardrums.

"Wipe your tears, passing this test is already pretty good." William waved his wand again and produced a hot chocolate—no matter what others said, he felt that this stuff was most effective when he was feeling down.

'Professor McGonagall is really something—this child is so frustrated, and she still brings her over to calm down, is she just looking for trouble?'

William refused to admit that his test paper could make someone cry like this. He began to wonder why Professor McGonagall had sent the child over—it didn't seem like the purpose of having the child take the exam.

"Tell me, although I'm taking a defensive magic course, I've prepared for quite a few other things as well. What happened today? Why are you acting so aggrieved?"

William gave a friendly smile—a smile he often used to quell disputes back in Azkaban, though it wouldn't be necessary for the story that follows.

"It's nothing, Professor."

"You don't get along very well with your other classmates?"

William made a guess—the top student in the grade is either exceptionally good at getting along with others or exceptionally bad at it; it's quite extreme, and it's generally fine to gravitate towards that direction.

"No."

That answer clearly shows he's guilty.

"Look ahead, little girl, at least you still have two good friends, don't you?"

William felt a pang of pain as he said this—'So good to me that you hate me after just a few words.'

"Geniuses are always rather lonely, and talented students are probably the same. Don't be petty. Either learn to get along with them or ignore them. You're the top student in your grade, so you won't be bullied. At most, you'll be isolated, but you have two good friends, don't you?"

The change in expression wasn't very obvious—that doesn't seem to be it.

"Having trouble with your studies? Don't be too ambitious. Learning some new knowledge ahead of time is already quite an achievement. Don't put too much burden on yourself. There's a reason why the school is divided into seven grades. You can't expect to finish learning the material of seven grades in your second year. Dumbledore studied for seven years. Do you really think you can graduate before the headmaster?"

William wagged his finger. "Don't even think about it, kid. Unless we get a different headmaster, like McGonagall—cough."

William quickly changed his tune—it was one thing to tell jokes about Professor McGonagall kicking Dumbledore to professors, but it was too irrational to tell students. He also had a pay raise that he had verbally agreed to, and if he missed it, it would be gone forever.

"Anyway, graduating early is impossible. You're thinking of absorbing seven years' worth of material in your second year. You know, some professors in the castle haven't even mastered some of the courses properly. For example, me—my divination class was practically idiotic."

William didn't hold back when he made fun of himself—after all, as far as he knew, the vast majority of professors in the castle were not good at divination, including even the professor of divination.

He felt no pressure at all about the fact that this thing wasn't up to standard, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it in public.

These words successfully comforted the crying student—a professor's willingness to reveal his embarrassing moments is a great comfort to any student.

'If she laughs, everything's fine. Soothing a child is exhausting.'

"Alright, take a good look at the test paper and see where you went wrong. You'll have to take it again in the higher grades, so you can't take it with you. But congratulations, you passed."

William unusually encouraged her.

"Passed? Professor? Then I can see that crown?"

The word "pass" elicited a series of questions.

'You should have said so earlier! If you wanted to see the crown, then go see it. Why did I have to spend so much time coaxing the child?'

William's prepared remarks caught in his throat—he quickly thought of the influence of crowns on top students.

'Professor McGonagall, too, just tells me to agree without beating around the bush. Is she implying that the school hasn't swallowed its pride?'

“Let’s go to the headmaster’s office, Miss Granger. Because of Professor McGonagall’s recommendation, you passed the special exam. Can we get in touch with Headmaster Dumbledore and see what he thinks?”

William effortlessly uttered the most comforting words at that moment—'The brat is yours, Headmaster, I'm not going to bother with him anymore!'

Chapter 155 Trust and Sudden Ideas

'Where's the box?'

After seeing off the cheerful girl, William waited for a while but didn't receive a system notification. After some guessing, he came to a conclusion—his half-day of persuasion had been ineffective, and he had been taken advantage of by that brat.

'Well—at least I figured out a difficult point in Transfiguration, so it wasn't a complete waste,' William reached into his pocket, then stopped halfway. 'I can't eat anymore; I've had enough candy today.'

'Sigh, I wonder how Adams explained it to me—stuck in an office researching Transfiguration isn't a good job.' Scratching his head, William yawned and turned to the second page of the book.

Speak of the devil, and he appears; before William could solve the next problem, Adams' voice was already ringing out at the office door.

“William!”

“Stay put,” William replied with a yawn, “come in, Adams.”

"It's all settled, they've gone to find Dumbledore." Adams announced the good news to William with great excitement before he could even sit down.

...

Adams, you'll get beaten to death by the guards in Azkaban if you keep doing this.

William muttered a helpless complaint, putting his earlier act of passing the ball to the back of his mind.

"Why are you so tired—have you been reading History of Magic?"

As Adams asked questions, he skillfully rummaged through William's pile of books and soon found the candied fruit that William had placed there.

'You've only been here three or four times, yet you seem to know how to find things better than I do,' William said, pulling out a bookmark and inserting it into the pages of the book. 'No, I just see the extracurricular reading list and can't figure it out in a short time. I only read the general history of magic, so it's not that difficult.'

"That's typical of a pragmatic wizard. I doubt Professor Binns will like your opinion." Adams casually tossed him a small bag. "I brought you some herbs commonly used for processing phoenix feathers, just in case they spoil if not stored properly."

Right, the material still needs to be processed—William, who had never used such advanced materials before, suddenly remembered the theoretical part he had read earlier.

What were you thinking at the time?

"That's right—'You can't get fat in one bite. Practicality is key. High-level potion ingredients are simple to process and only require a glance. They're not needed for teaching, and even less so in real life. We can use the time saved to look at other things.'"

'I never imagined Hogwarts would be this outrageous!'

“Thanks, Adams,” William said, pulling open a drawer and stuffing in the herbs. “By the way, how are things going with you and Hagrid?”

William was referring to the cause of the incident, the presence that ran through the entire investigation—those roosters.

As far as he knew, Hagrid had bought a whole bunch of roosters, and Adams, as the cook, had been messing with those roosters that Hagrid had bought.

"We're still struggling with this. We haven't figured out what was written on that parchment yet. Miss Ginny Weasley almost lost all her memories from that time. We still don't understand what kind of strange ritual rooster blood would be used for."

Adams scratched his head in distress, clearly having been agonizing over the matter for some time.

"you?"

“Yes, Hagrid and I thought about it for a long time, and then we put a lot of protective magic on the chicken coop to prevent anyone from stealing the roosters’ blood,” Adams said quite seriously, as if he were guarding not a coop of roosters but a priceless treasure.

One student barely passed the self-defense exam (William subconsciously changed the course name), while the other was a half-giant who didn't even have a wand—although William knew it wasn't right to do so, he almost burst out laughing.

But even this suppressed laughter was still noticed by Adams.

“Fine,” Adams muttered defiantly, “Laugh all you want. I often laugh at that idiot Singed for not knowing how to care for herbs at all. And of course, you too. You two probably can’t even tell the difference between a devil’s web and a regular bouquet.”

...

William was caught off guard—he really couldn't tell the difference. When smuggling teams encountered complex vines, they would test them with a series of quick, probing movements: if the vines moved, it was a devil's web; if they didn't move, it was just an ordinary plant.

This dangerous plant itself cannot be used as medicine, and William had no knowledge of it whatsoever.

“Right? Besides, it’s not like Hagrid and I haven’t researched protection.” Adams raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been at the school for so long, you should have heard about Professor Quirrell’s incident last year, right?”

……

How could I have forgotten?

William wanted to slap himself twice—although he was somewhat reluctant to investigate the death of his former professor, it was a matter of life and death, and he should ask his students for all the information about that Professor Quirrell!

“There are some things that the students don’t know clearly. They only know part of the story. Of course, because the information is rather chaotic, I don’t know everything either,” Adams said, seemingly misunderstanding William’s expression. “As you know, Professor Quirrell is dead, but the situation was actually quite complicated.”

"William, you won't tell anyone, right?"

Adams stopped describing and stared into William's eyes.

"Of course, I won't tell the students or Professor Lockhart, nor will I tell anyone else outside the school."

William responded quite seriously—the other professors all had tenure contracts and wouldn't casually discuss Hogwarts matters, but he and Professor Lockhart were the only ones with tenure contracts in name only; everyone knew that wasn't the case in reality.

Especially considering that Professor Lockhart is a well-known author who will reveal everything in his book, it is understandable that he would conceal some information from within the university.

"That's good, William. You probably know that Professor Quirrell died under the final trap of the Philosopher's Stone, but the problem back then wasn't so simple. As far as I know, the one possessing Quirrell was that mysterious person."

Adams lowered his voice and spoke softly.

"The mysterious man? You mean the Dark Lord?"

William was momentarily taken aback by the strange title, but he quickly realized it was related to something Dumbledore had told him.

“That’s right,” Adams nodded. “As expected, the professor’s class is full of experts in dark magic. William, you’d better be careful not to say that in front of the students.”

'How would I know? That's a common title used by prisoners in Azkaban. I've barely heard the term "mysterious man" since I entered the wizarding world.'

“Yes, I’m trying to be careful, Adams,” William nodded. “So, the Philosopher’s Stone is being guarded?”

'Wait, the Philosopher's Stone?'

William realized something was wrong when the name came out of his mouth—the Philosopher's Stone he had heard about from Hagrid on the day he enrolled had reappeared, and the Dark Lord worshipped by those guys deep in Azkaban had also appeared.

"We held on, but most of the mechanisms had been cracked. Only the last defensive mechanism bought us some time. Of course, the first mechanism also played a significant role – it was Hagrid who set it up."

The sheer volume of information threw William's thoughts into disarray, but fortunately, Hagrid had mentioned the Philosopher's Stone, which gave him some mental preparation.

"Hagrid arranged this?"

William would certainly believe that Hagrid could fight, but the traps Hagrid set up played a significant role—you're kidding!

“Of course, Hagrid set it up. Although the Philosopher's Stone incident was widely publicized, the design of those traps and the specific methods of passing through them did not spread.” Adams took a bite of candied fruit. “In fact, Professor Snape was bitten because he was tricked by Professor Quirrell at the first trap, and then he was bitten by Hagrid’s dog.”

"Teeth?"

William was starting to question his existence—today's news was too explosive; even a dog at Hogwarts was this powerful?

When he went to Hagrid for drinks on weekdays, he would pet the dog's head; it felt quite nice. But how come that seemingly timid fellow was so brave?