NOVEL NEXT Chapter 9: Chapter 9. The School Needs a Professor
A Hogwarts dropout selling illegal potions, zombie-like hardened criminals, and a researcher who experimented himself into a cell; William thought he had encountered all sorts of strange figures in the magical world. But he never imagined his first non-human cellmate would be such a bizarre one.
A money-hungry house-elf.
Big Guy had given him a detailed rundown of house-elves, building up their many traits with a series of explanations and fantasies. Then, in just two sentences, the creature in front of them shattered it all.
I need to hold it in… Big Guy's a good person. Slip-ups happen…
"Ku-ku-ku." William couldn't hold back any longer.
Big Guy turned to look at him, full of resignation, his expression practically inviting William to just laugh it out instead of bottling it up.
***
The new inmate was indeed a strange one among house-elves; and he could fight.
After refusing to take on the usual chores expected of new arrivals, the elf gave a lesson to a few seasoned inmates who had planned to "welcome" him with a beating. With swift punches and agile movements, he knocked them all down.
When the more experienced fighters were laid out, leaving only William and the others, who lacked fighting skills, the newcomer naturally assumed his place as a second-tier leader. After all, among the light offenders, there wasn't much room for violence.
Once everyone had calmed down, the house-elf named Jinby shared his dream.
He didn't want to do any of the traditional tasks that house-elves were known for; cleaning, cooking, or handling household chores.
His dream was to become a great adventurer. At worst, a mercenary would do.
So far, he had self-studied useful skills for adventuring; disarming common magical traps, identifying and dealing with magical creatures, magical sigil studies, wilderness survival, and other relevant subjects. He was also actively saving up funds to form his own adventuring team.
But all those plans were cut short. Refusing to serve as a servant and unable to pay the fee for his freedom, he ended up in Azkaban.
"I tried to convince them," Jinby sighed, leaning on the corner bunk bed. Nine-Fingers felt relieved the newcomer hadn't insisted on a bed swap.
"If they let me out for just a year, I could have brought back 300 Galleons to pay my ransom. But they wouldn't believe me."
"So now, I'm Mercenary Jinby. As long as you have Galleons, you can hire me to do anything; Except sticking around here longer or doing cleaning work."
What a character.
William guessed someone in the cell was already scheming, because he sure was.
A fighter like this was worth at least five or six inmates in a place like this. Without wands, fists were the only authority. Having such a powerhouse for hire was tempting for anyone.
But William soon turned over and went to sleep; No money, no deal.
***
At Hogwarts, in the main tower of the castle, inside the Headmaster's office, an elderly man with a flowing silver-white beard was staring at a letter, deep in thought.
He was widely recognized as the strongest white wizard in the magical world, a living legend, a walking epic. Even more impressive, this powerful figure sported long, flowing white hair that nearly reached his waist.
The letter he held was from an old friend, offering a new solution to a pressing problem. However, that very solution only brought more complications.
After pondering for a long time, the old man finally picked up a piece of parchment and hastily scribbled a few lines. With a skillful fold and a wave of his wand, the parchment transformed into a paper airplane and flew into the fireplace's flames.
In less than a minute, the door to the office opened, accompanied by hurried footsteps and a woman's anxious voice.
"Albus, I'm delighted to see you in your office during such a busy time. Honestly, even though there are no students in school right now, we have far too much to handle. If you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you could review next month's budget proposals and draft a funding request for the Ministry of Magic."
The tall, black-haired witch in a green robe spoke in a polite tone, but her determined gaze clearly conveyed her intent, 'If you don't do this, I'm going on strike.'
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, had finally caught the ever-absent Headmaster Albus Dumbledore shirking his responsibilities.
Albus gave her a resigned look and smiled warmly before handing over the letter that had been troubling him.
"Would you care for a sherbet lemon, Minerva?"
McGonagall habitually glanced at the name at the end of the letter, frowning slightly. But as she read further, her expression turned into a scowl, and she tossed the letter onto the desk.
"Are you serious? Albus, I don't understand why you called me here. If you're asking for my opinion, my answer is absolutely not!"
"Relax, Minerva. It's just an idea."
"Hiring Azkaban prisoners to teach at Hogwarts? What kind of idea is that? Are we trying to teach the students how to get sent to Azkaban?"
"Actually, compared to last year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, an Azkaban inmate might be safer."
That comment made McGonagall pause. As one of the few people privy to the truth, she knew exactly how dire last year's situation had been. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had been the last person who should have been chosen, harboring the Dark Lord himself on the back of his head and lurking at Hogwarts for nearly a year.
"The worst part is, it seems even he couldn't break that curse."
"Albus, can't you do something about it?" McGonagall couldn't help but ask, but she immediately realized her mistake. If it were an easy fix, Hogwarts wouldn't be constantly searching for new professors.
Over the years, many had taken on the position, each convinced they had unique insights into Defense Against the Dark Arts and could make a name for themselves by breaking the curse Dumbledore couldn't lift.
They were all warned of the risks but believed they would be the exception.
However, the number of willing challengers had dwindled. In fact, the school had to draw on the Order of the Phoenix's resources, using members who could have accomplished more outside the school.
"Let's convene the Board of Governors. We'll present the school's current dilemma; either allocate more funds for the position, approve recruiting from Azkaban, or provide suitable candidates. One way or another, the school needs a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
McGonagall deftly found a way to shift the burden of responsibility. The two of them reached a unanimous decision.