Chapter 13: Interrogation
2022-07-14 Author: I'm Just a Pigeon
The room had been temporarily converted from the Hit-Wizard common room. Inside, besides William, sat six other prisoners.
However, the Hit-Wizards had no intention of letting the prisoners communicate. Even when they were bored enough to start examining the room's decor, they didn't chat with each other to pass the time. This made William's heart skip a beat.
If they were truly here to recruit workers, would a mere handful of them be worth such extensive trouble?
Just as he was lost in thought, the first prisoner had already been sent inside. The room door was firmly shut, not letting a single sound escape.
This didn't seem like prisoner training; it was more like recruiting death-sworn agents—but why would Hogwarts need death-sworn agents? To form an army and attack the Ministry of Magic?
Before William could think of a second possibility, the room door was pushed open.
Only when the Hit-Wizard led him into the room did he realize he was actually second in line.
This immediately put his mind at ease. According to most story tropes, the first one to go always loses. Someone like him, the second to take the test, would either be a background character or just there to make up the numbers, so there was absolutely no need to worry about his safety.
The moment he stepped through the doorway, he quickly scanned the two interviewers and found them familiar.
One had white hair and a silver beard, was tall and thin, and wore half-moon glasses, looking very much like Gandalf. William had found a picture card of this interviewer from the Chocolate Frogs he ate, which he only managed to acquire two or three times a month. He knew this was the current Hogwarts Headmaster, the recognized foremost White Wizard, Dumbledore.
It's worth mentioning that Dumbledore's card had an astonishingly high drop rate in Chocolate Frogs. William and his companions had only consumed a few packs in total, yet they managed to find four Dumbledore cards.
As for the other person, William seemed to have seen her too. He could roughly guess she was Hogwarts' Deputy Headmaster, Professor McGonagall—but if she weren't with Dumbledore, William wouldn't have been so confident.
To the current William, both of them were undeniably important figures.
Even though Hit-Wizards could easily discipline any prisoner within Azkaban, when these two were present, the Hit-Wizard at the doorway didn't even dare to chat.
"Li William, correct?" Dumbledore, dressed in his grey-white robe, glanced at the information in his hand and asked with a smile.
"Yes, sir." William replied with an impeccably proper attitude.
"No need to be so nervous. Please, take a seat here."
A chair was pulled over by Dumbledore using magic.
After William sat down, Professor McGonagall, who was nearby, began to rapidly ask questions.
"You were brought in for smuggling, weren't you? Did you know it was illegal before you did it?"
"Yes, Professor."
"And the reason?"
"My craftsmanship was too poor. After taking a potion order, my success rate was so low that I ended up losing a large batch of herbs, forcing me to resort to smuggling."
William resisted the urge to cover his face as he answered.
"But I learned from the Ministry of Magic's report that you already had a substantial sum of money when you were arrested. Wasn't that enough?"
"Many of the damaged herbs were specialties from the Far East, and at that time, Britain simply didn't have those herbs. What I needed to compensate for was the potion itself; simply paying money would ruin my future potion business, Professor."
"You never attended school?"
"Yes. Before I was eleven, my former teacher took me from home. My parents received a large sum of money and happily sent me away. Later, I learned from historical records that after Hogwarts was established, to ease tensions, independent unregistered wizards taking apprentices was prioritized over Hogwarts admissions, though now more and more people simply choose to go to Hogwarts."
William honestly recited his background information. Lacking any sense of immersion, he could only maintain an expressionless facade.
"Later, my teacher passed away after a failed potion experiment, and the laboratory was also ruined by the explosion from the failure. I simply started taking on potion business myself to support myself, but after several consecutive failures, I had no choice but to go to the Far East to acquire herbs and remake the potions."
"Alright, we've basically understood all of this."
Professor McGonagall scribbled notes on the paper in front of her. Dumbledore smiled without speaking.
"Then I'll be leaving, Professor."
William bowed, turned around, and walked towards the doorway.
Although those events were experienced by his original body, for some reason, whenever he described them, he always felt that this silent old man could see through every lie.
This gave William the illusion that he would be exposed at any moment while recounting a past that wasn't entirely his own.
Just as he was about to push the door open, Dumbledore suddenly spoke from behind him.
"Please wait a moment, Mr. William."
Dumbledore stood up and quickly walked towards a cabinet by the wall, pulling out a dilapidated stone basin from within (Note 1).
"Although this might be a bit presumptuous, would you be able to share the memory of that experiment? I only need those memories; I won't interfere with any of your other privacy."
The memory of the failed experiment?
William paused, then allowed those memories to rapidly churn in his mind—could it be that the original body had tampered with the ingredients before the experiment, waiting to inherit his teacher's estate?
Those memories were too extensive. He had only skimmed through them, more concerned with how he got in and questions related to learning magic. As for anything else, William didn't really care.
He was already in Azkaban; what was the point of understanding the past? There were no internal dangers, and as for external dangers—there were so many Dementors guarding outside.
After quickly confirming that his original body, who had died of fright, had no guts to cause trouble, William secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
"Then I'll need a wand."
"It's right there. Please, feel free to use it."
Dumbledore's expression was as relaxed as ever, completely unconcerned that William might have any strange ideas because of the wand.
When the wand touched his temple, a slender thread was extracted under the influence of magical power, then pulled by William into the basin.
Soon, all of William's memories regarding that experiment began to surface in the basin, from beginning to end, not missing a single detail.
A scolding wizard, a timid apprentice, grumbling instructions, a chaotic laboratory overflowing with precious ingredients—and at the very end of the memories, the great explosion that destroyed the entire laboratory.
William also re-experienced the memory. Although he knew that even if he refused, the two professors in front of him wouldn't say anything. Once he confirmed his memory was fine, he was very willing to try out new things in the Wizarding World—something that could reproduce memories like this probably wouldn't have much stock even in the Wizarding World.
The magic existing within those memories was not just a little bit worse compared to the magic truly displayed before his eyes; it was a huge difference.
He turned, opened the door, and closed it, all in one smooth motion.
It wasn't until he sat back among the prisoners that he finally exhaled a long breath—so, this was a wand, and this was what it felt like to cast magic.
My typing speed doesn't seem to have improved at all; I'll make up for it tomorrow morning.
(end of chapter)