The last week of September, Wednesday, clear. Since he had no classes today, William simply hid in his office with a pile of documents, refu
The last week of September, Wednesday, clear.
Since he had no classes today, William simply hid in his office with a pile of documents, refusing to come out—the excuse was already prepared: the diadem matter was too troublesome, and he didn't want to go out.
"So you plan to just hide like this?"
Inside William's office, Adams, while unceremoniously devouring William's candied fruit, questioned William, who was across the desk.
"What else can I do?" William retorted, flipping through an old book he had borrowed from the library.
"That's one way to go. What would happen if you showed up in the staff room?"
Adams chuckled gleefully—in his opinion, since William had obtained the diadem from Ravenclaw, he should bear these happy troubles.
"Hmph!"
William gave him the middle finger. "The books are here, the tool-man has become useless. Dear Professor Adams, you should leave my office."
"Go burrow in your office, then," Adams returned the same gesture and left William's office without a second thought. "I'm going to play chess with them. You can just be a mushroom."
—
'This guy,' William shook his head in annoyance, 'he suspects I've been hit hard just because I got a few extra books from the library. Aren't you asking for death by getting involved in this?'
Although the curse turning into a meal voucher allowed William to get a free one, there was no doubt that the Dark Lord had indeed placed a curse on his background information. Anyone who investigated too deeply would silently fall victim to the curse and die.
Compared to the Hogwarts professors, whose positions were clearly defined, those who attempted to investigate died even more silently—because the curse's effect made their deaths look like accidents.
'Thinking about it, that Dark Lord is truly terrifying. A silent, accidental curse. If it weren't for the fact that the professor's position was cursed too obviously, perhaps no one would even know about the existence of this curse right now.'
'In other words, I actually indirectly possess the power of this curse now—if my deduction is correct, as long as I tell others what I've investigated, they will be subjected to the same curse.'
'But what good is it for me to possess this?'
William had no enemies at the moment, nor did he intend to use innocent passersby for experiments.
'I'll just keep it in mind as a backup. Even a piece of toilet paper has its unique uses; what if I really need it someday?'
Shaking his head and putting the curse matter aside, William began to peruse Horace Slughorn's records.
This old headmaster, who had been a Potions professor at the school until retirement, naturally left many records with Mr. Filch: club affiliations, leave requests for student detentions, applications for holding banquets, various messy material purchases, textbook selections, and scattered other forms.
'Too much—'
William rubbed his temples helplessly—although today was the first day of his independent investigation, the prospects for the investigation were quite grim.
Horace Slughorn had been a professor his entire life. Besides teaching and educating, he also had a hobby that was very much in line with pure-blood customs—collecting excellent individuals from all walks of life.
'Are you a hoarder? Collecting top students year after year without tiring—what's there to investigate in these records!'
In the disciplinary records of each year, Professor Horace Slughorn could be seen using his privileges to negotiate with the administrators or professors to release misbehaving students from detention early. The retired professor was practically omnipresent, like air.
Even though they had never met, William's resentment towards that professor had already soared through the roof—because there were too many clues, and he couldn't investigate at all…
…
'Another useless record,' William sighed, putting down the documents in his hand.
'No, if I keep investigating, my mind will explode from all this stuff.' William carefully noted the locations of the documents he had finished checking, piling all the materials together. 'I need to calm down, can't think too much. Hmm, I'll make a test to clear my head.'
—
"Nowhere to hide, are you? You still have class today."
On Thursday morning, Adams deliberately spoke sarcastically at the dining table.
'If it weren't for the after-effects of Azkaban acting up from staying away from people for too long, do you think I really couldn't just lie low until the diadem incident completely blew over?'
William rolled his eyes in annoyance—although he had tried many ways to convince himself, those documents wouldn't get thinner just because he tried to persuade himself or got angry. Even though the truth was right there, the only useful way was to spend time looking at them again and again.
"Teaching is my job, and the students like it. Why would I skip class?"
Although his mind was still pondering those documents, William had no intention of revealing a single word to anyone else.
"Students like it too?" Adams looked teasingly. "I heard the fifth-year students brought back quite a few more exams this time."
"What's wrong with exams? Do you believe me if I promise them that the best-performing student can discuss the diadem's use with the Headmaster for two hours, they would even abandon other professors' homework?"
William raised an eyebrow, shamelessly retorting.
"Don't kid me, two hours—those professors would go crazy. They haven't even decided on a procedure yet, and Professor Dumbledore has been holding back, not allowing casual experimentation."
"It's fine, it'll cover your usage time. If I talk to the Headmaster, he'll agree."
William said shamelessly, grinning—Adams, as a professor skilled in Herbology and whose loss of control in combat wouldn't cause too much damage, had already gained experimental access to the diadem ahead of other professors.
This time, Adams was speechless.
—
"Class, class, perk up! It's only Thursday. You can sleep as much as you want on the weekend."
When William entered the classroom, half of the seventh-year students were slumped over their desks, as if they had just experienced an all-night ball.
"Good morning, Professor."
The students greeted William weakly.
"What's wrong? I don't recall any balls recently. Did you seventh-year students have some secret gathering yesterday?"
William simply walked down from the podium, pulled a chair to the center of the classroom, and sat directly among the students.
"No, Professor."
The child closest to William hesitated, "It's just that we heard you got the diadem and promised the fifth-years that the first place in the OWLs would get a period of use—you see, we seventh-years have exams too, don't we?"
…
'I haven't even worn this diadem myself—why are both teachers and students fixated on it?'
Undoubtedly, upon hearing that fifth-year students had a chance to use the diadem, these seventh-year children were also envious. To be precise, seeing how tired they were, William even suspected these guys had stayed up all night discussing what would happen if they got the diadem.
'You are a group of mature seventh-year students. Can't you think about things adults should think about? Like career and love?'
William looked at the surrounding students with a look of disappointment, finding their eyes more focused than ever.
'If that diadem really has a problem and has to be destroyed, can it really be destroyed?'
Such a question suddenly appeared before William, but William forced himself to ignore it—to put it bluntly, even if he were to destroy that diadem, he might not have the ability to do so.
'I can't even see the problems on it—what does destroying it have to do with me? I'd probably be killed by the hidden trap on it before I even made a move.'
"Do you all like the diadem?"
William asked softly.
"Of course!"
The students answered in unison, with immense confidence.
"Supreme wisdom," William looked around at the students, "who could hate it? But there's always a price—there's never something for nothing in the magical world. I'm not referring to you obtaining the diadem, but the wisdom the diadem brings."
"If gaining wisdom from the diadem requires a price, what might that price be?"
William quickly clapped his hands, his tone quickening: "Now! Everyone! Immediately write down a guess, imagine what the diadem might require as a price, and hand it in. If anyone can write a price I haven't thought of, then it's very likely you'll get to touch the diadem before graduation. But if everyone lacks originality, then I'm afraid—"
William looked at everyone. "You might lose the only chance you have to touch it."
Without any wasted words, all the students pulled out paper and pens from their bags and quickly began writing.
"Be original and concise—anyone who tries to use wordplay is out!"
William added the rules directly, but no one had any complaints.
'Although these guys' obsession with the diadem is a bit surprising, it also ties into the lesson.'
William stood up and scanned the students.
What he had originally planned to teach was about the concept of cost—many magical traps successfully injure wizards not because they are subtle, but because the bait placed on them is enticing enough. Seventh-year students are about to enter the magical world for work, and William planned to impart his observations of the magical world to his students.
'Although I've only been in this so-called magical world for almost a year, that experience in Azkaban is enough lifelong experience for both me and these children. There's just too much darkness there, too many setbacks…'
William sighed and began to ponder the diadem's problem—whether he was willing to admit it or not, his name was now firmly tied to the discovered diadem.
'Two heads are better than one. Perhaps these wizards, who are theoretically adults, will have different insights—'
'A diadem that grants unprecedented wisdom and was cherished as a treasure by Ravenclaw certainly wouldn't be as terrifying as I've made it out to be, but the magic attached to it is unpredictable. What if these people suddenly come up with a guess?'
But whether they guessed it or not, William intended to simply hand the report over to Dumbledore—perhaps a student would inspire the Headmaster. It was just the right to use the diadem, and William didn't feel bad about something he got for free.
It was best if there was a hint, but no loss if there wasn't. Anyway, William wasn't going to grade this exam.
—
"Have you all finished writing? I'll send it to Dumbledore for personal evaluation. If it doesn't pass, don't say I'm too harsh," William said with a smile as he collected the papers, then began to delve into the topic—the students, who had just written down their various thoughts, finally entered class mode.
"Alright, everyone just made their guesses. Although I haven't had time to look at your responses, judging by your answering state, I've discovered something quite sad."
"Alas—" William drew out the sound, but then quickly said in a rather cheerful tone, "After so many lessons, I found that this was the most serious you've ever been in answering."
The students below burst into laughter.
"Alright, alright, I remember some of you have set your sights on becoming Aurors?"
"Of course, Professor!"
Three students raised their hands simultaneously.
"An excellent choice," William praised without hesitation—he might have to consider Strikers, but he had no prejudice against Aurors.
"Then you should know about all the messy, liver-aching certificates Aurors need, right?"
"Liver?"
The students' voices were slightly confused.
"Haha, my mistake, that's a local idiom. To be precise, I mean—dazzling. Those requirements are incredibly complex, aren't they?"
Almost all the students nodded—that they could self-study subjects like Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts to the point of joining advanced classes left no doubt about how much they liked this subject. And as a profession that utilized this subject to its fullest, no one would overlook it when considering employment.
"There's a somewhat old-fashioned saying that those certificates are the price you pay to become an Auror. Of course, becoming an Auror requires far more than just those—I believe you understand no less than I do."
"You've probably been tired of hearing this saying since you were little, but I still have to repeat and tell you again: before considering what to do, firmly remember the word 'cost'."
"Believe me, at any time, knowing how to weigh gains and losses is a virtue for a wizard, no less than profound knowledge. After your internship, you'll find that the entire magical world places fewer restrictions on you than you think—at that time, you'll have much more to consider than just school."
The laws of the magical world are neither perfect nor strict, and many laws even have intentionally left loopholes.
But this doesn't mean those loopholes can be exploited freely. As someone who came out of Azkaban, William knows very well what kind of people end up in Azkaban—the proportion of those who try to exploit legal loopholes is not low at all.
…
"I hope that when you do anything, you consider it carefully: why am I doing this, what will I have to pay for doing this, and what can I gain from it—is it worth doing this?"
"If it's worth it, do it. If not, choose to give up. Although it's not a spell, I personally believe it's a remarkable self-defense magic. It's no worse than the Shield Charm."
"Alright, class dismissed. Review the textbook on your own, and hand in an essay next class—" William raised the collected speculation papers in his hand and smiled at the students. "I'll also hand in your homework for you. Good luck."
"Professor!"
Just as William was about to leave, a student in the back suddenly asked a question.
"Won't it be too tiring to consider everything?"
"That's a work attitude. Work is work, and life is life. The two cannot be mixed."
"Then what about life, Professor?"
"Life is always different, always full of messy things that can't be judged simply. Occasionally, there are even things that don't need to be judged." William pressed one hand against the doorframe. "Too many surprises, who said it? Perhaps—"
William paused, then smiled, "Is it the blooming mistletoe and the moonlight of late summer?"
----------------------------------
To read 20 advanced chapters you can visit my Patreon:"https://patreon.com/TheKindOne"