Until he reached Mr. Filch's office door, William remained skeptical about Filch's claim of catching a large group of troublemakers.
A student gathering wasn't a valid excuse to punish them. Even if these kids bolted at the sight of the caretaker and had a history of mischief.
Dragging them in for questioning was even less acceptable. Although William had never studied at Hogwarts, his own student days had taught him one thing--For habitual troublemakers, unless you had concrete evidence, they'd never confess to anything.
It was like when the head of student discipline caught a suspiciously large group of boys in a bathroom with far too few stalls. Without finding cigarettes, their excuse was always, "We're just here to chat." And if the smell of the bathroom was brought up, they'd retort, "Some people like the smell of gasoline. Why can't we like this?"
Smoking? Not a chance. Even if you brought the homeroom teacher, their story remained, "I was just here to pee. I'm an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire."
Filch, however, was far more seasoned in these matters than the students themselves. The excuses he'd heard over the years outnumbered all the lies these kids had told in their entire lives.
As for Professor McGonagall, she wasn't here to bail them all out either. Her main concern was whether there were any unlucky kids caught in the net unfairly. Surely, with so many Gryffindors detained at once, a few innocent ones might have been swept up.
But all of that changed the moment the door was opened.
The scene inside Filch's office threw everything out the window. His carefully protected office, fortified with all sorts of contraptions, had failed to deter the group of students. Those who had been caught sneaking around and eavesdropping froze in place, while McGonagall's initial intent to rescue any innocents was swiftly abandoned.
For these kids, Filch's office was more tempting to infiltrate than even the Forbidden Forest, the school's secret passages, or the Headmaster's office. The moment Filch had to leave to contact the professors about the surplus of misbehaving students needing detention, their collective curiosity could no longer be contained.
Could it be that Mr. Filch left on purpose to bait them?
The thought flitted through William's mind, but it was quickly driven out by the stern expression forming on McGonagall's face.
Her lips pressed tightly into a thin line, her gaze sharpening as she surveyed the scene. Under her watchful eyes, the students rummaging through files immediately halted their actions, closed the drawers, and stood there awkwardly. Their hands hung limply at their sides as if they didn't know where they belonged, looking as though they'd been caught red-handed.
As McGonagall's eyes swept over the room, the once-bustling chaos wilted like eggplants left out in the frost. Every student visibly deflated under her gaze.
"Excellent. Very good," McGonagall said. Her words of praise, however, carried an unmistakable chill that made it clear she was anything but pleased.
"Mr. Filch, these students are now in your capable hands. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will be delighted."
BANG!
The loud crash shattered the tense silence in the room. All heads turned to the source of the noise; a student had apparently climbed onto Filch's hammock in an attempt to play dead and avoid detection. Overcome by nerves, they'd lost their balance and tumbled off with a dramatic thud.
"Lee Jordan!"
Professor McGonagall's voice was louder than usual. The child who had fallen and remained motionless in a desperate attempt to play dead immediately scrambled to his feet, looking at her like a drenched quail.
William clearly saw McGonagall's throat move as she swallowed a few times. She seemed ready to announce some sort of specific punishment but ultimately held back.
"Well then, I leave these students to you," she said before quickly leaving. Judging by her uncharacteristically brisk pace, William suspected she was afraid that staying any longer would push her to personally punish the students.
As McGonagall's footsteps faded down the hallway, William heard the unmistakable sound of heavy sighs of relief coming from inside Filch's office.
***
Look at how scared these kids are; William thought, then turned to Filch. "How many of them are Gryffindors?"
"Three-fifths, maybe more," Filch replied gleefully, sounding like a farmer boasting about a bountiful harvest.
As he answered, Filch pulled out a parchment listing the professors' various requests for assistance and scratched off a few names with his fingernail.
"Lee Jordan, you'll clean bedpans in the Hospital Wing for a week," he announced.
William noticed that Lee's name had originally been listed as helping Professor Lockhart with fan mail.
Poor kid; William mused as he listened to Filch continue calling out names. As McGonagall had suspected, every student originally assigned to the Hospital Wing had been swapped out for Gryffindors.
Despite that, Filch still hadn't managed to assign all the students. Even after fulfilling every professor's request for assistance, over twenty students remained unassigned. For William, this was an unexpected boon for organizing the school's historical records.
"All right, the listed students may leave now. Make sure to report to the professors on time," Filch announced smugly.
"I told you, there's no way you can punish this many people at once," one student muttered.
"Shut up! If you'd kept watch, Professor McGonagall wouldn't have caught us rifling through the office!" another retorted.
"If they've picked all the tasks already, can we relax for now?"
"Relax? You think Filch will let us off? He'll just keep our names on record and punish us in a few weeks."
"Even a day's delay is better than nothing."
"..."
"…"
"No whispering!" Filch snapped, having just finished discussing the logistics with William when he noticed the students murmuring amongst themselves.
"It's fine," William interjected. "Tonight, all of you will report to the Wizard Self-Defense classroom for your first detention. With so many of you, we'll need a classroom to fit everyone."
"Professor, may I ask what we'll be doing?" one bold student dared to ask.
"Copying and organizing some records. You don't need to bring your own materials; I'll provide them for you. That's all, ladies and gentlemen. You're dismissed, but don't forget; tonight at eight o'clock, be at the classroom. I'd rather not have to discuss your absences with your Head of House."
William spoke with an unusually kind tone to these thriving young volunteers—ahem, students who had spontaneously come to help.
***
After leaving the office, a group of students who hadn't gotten enough sleep and had been dragged into detention began chatting among themselves.
"Wow, detention in a classroom with this many people? I'd bet Hogwarts hasn't seen anything this spectacular in thirty years."
"I thought we'd be let off because no professor's office could possibly fit so many of us. A classroom, though?"
"Come on, look on the bright side."
"Bright side? What bright side?"
"The Weasley twins said they didn't have enough people to handle the exams, right? Well, at least now we've probably dodged one exam."
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