HP: Professor From Azkaban

"Good morning, students…"

"Hello, students. I am your new…"

"Greetings…"

"Ahem, students, class is now in session!"

"…"

"…"

William, who had gotten up early, stood in front of the mirror rehearsing how to introduce himself to the students and deliver his opening lines for class.

He had everything planned out for the lesson, yet surprisingly, just figuring out the perfect opening lines consumed more than an hour of his time.

Fortunately, he eventually came up with a script he was confident wouldn't go awry. Feeling satisfied, he left his room and headed to the dining hall for breakfast.

The weather wasn't great today; overcast with thick clouds, but William didn't pay it much attention.

He had prepared two or three different approaches for teaching the sixth-year students, but he still hadn't decided which one to go with.

Perhaps due to the gloomy weather, most of the professors were either late risers or had outright skipped breakfast. The staff dining table was sparsely populated, and William couldn't spot any of the professors he'd had a pleasant conversation with the previous night.

Well, this isn't so bad. At least I can eat in peace; William thought as he added a slice of bacon to a piece of bread and assembled a sandwich with the items on the table.

It wasn't as good as a pub meal, but it was far better than anything in Azkaban.

If he hadn't agreed to come to Hogwarts, he'd probably still be eating prison rations in Azkaban, wouldn't he?

As that thought crossed his mind, he grabbed a bowl of porridge from the table. That's when the loud sound of hundreds of owls flapping their wings filled the air.

"Still during breakfast? You've got to be kidding me."

Before the thought had fully formed in his mind, over a hundred owls swooped into the dining hall.

What kind of school is this? Couldn't they let people eat breakfast in peace?

Quickly drawing his wand, William cast a spell to shield his food while glancing at the other professors. Unlike him, they were far more composed, effortlessly deflecting falling dust and feathers with casual spells. Judging by their proficiency, this kind of mass owl invasion clearly wasn't a rare occurrence.

After confirming his food was safe, William started scanning his surroundings.

In Azkaban, being oblivious to your environment could cost you dearly, and even now, William still enjoyed observing the commotion after any unexpected events.

The owls circled the dining hall, searching for their intended recipients before landing on their tables to deliver letters or packages.

While it wasn't as convenient as a telephone, the speed of owl deliveries seemed much faster than modern couriers. After all, owl deliveries were unlikely to encounter issues like a courier truck catching fire, right?

Would delivering owl feed via owls result in an accident midway?

Having rented owls to deliver letters several times before, William found his mind wandering to this amusing thought, and he couldn't help but chuckle quietly.

However, the brief moment of peace was quickly shattered by a thunderous female voice.

"…Stole a car, did you? If they expel you, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised. Just wait and see how I'll deal with you then!"

The voice, at least a hundred times louder than a normal person yelling at full volume, filled the entire Great Hall. William watched in amazement as a soup ladle, trembling from the deafening noise, slowly slid into the bowl of soup.

The sound echoed off the stone walls, and the sturdy construction of Hogwarts did little to dampen the reverberations, turning the hall into a cacophonous mess.

William hesitated briefly before realizing the source of such a terrifying presence; a Howler.

True to its name, a Howler was a letter filled with unrelenting malice from the moment it was sent. For the recipient, it was a choice between social humiliation or an explosive disaster. Most wizards resigned themselves to choosing one or the other, while only those who frequently engaged in activities frowned upon by the Ministry of Magic knew a few tricks to handle them.

As a former inmate of Azkaban, often referred to as the ultimate postgraduate course for dark wizards, William had, of course, heard discussions about such things.

In that wretched place, devoid of any news or external stimulation, even the most reserved people developed a habit of sharing stories. Those who kept entirely to themselves either harbored unspeakable secrets or possessed unshakable mental fortitude. The rest were either driven mad under the relentless watch of Dementors or desperate for any semblance of connection.

Still, William had no intention of stepping in to help the unfortunate student dealing with the Howler. The fact that such "methods" for handling them hadn't become widely known among wizards after all these years suggested they weren't exactly palatable solutions.

Pulling out his wand, William cast a spell to block his ears, silencing the torment to his eardrums. With the Howler now a distant concern, he turned his attention back to his bowl of porridge.

***

"Look, the new Professor."

At the Hufflepuff table, a group of witches huddled together, casting curious glances across the hall while chatting about their summer vacations, conversations that had been cut short the day before. The Howler's chaos provided excellent cover for their gossip.

Taking advantage of the commotion, ten or so students from the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables had sneaked over to join the conversation. The prefects, who were supposed to maintain order, were completely overwhelmed by the Howler and rendered entirely ineffective.

"What's so interesting about the Professor? He's a nobody. Sure, he's a bit good-looking, but he's just a pretty face. Professor Lockhart is the real deal, with both skill and looks."

"Exactly! Why is he teaching the sixth-years? I thought it would be Professor Lockhart!"

"That's just shallow thinking! Dumbledore must have had a reason for hiring him as a professor. Anyway, I'm signing up for the Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts class."

"And you call others shallow? You don't even know the course was renamed!"

The girl who had been criticized earlier found a strong rebuttal and, ignoring the Howler's roar, began teasing her detractor in return.

But just then, the Howler suddenly stopped, and the laughter that followed sounded out of place in the hall. As the prefects resumed their duties, the students who had been gathered together chatting quickly dispersed.

The chatter in the hall shifted back to the earlier topic; the Howler. The person involved barely paused, almost fleeing in a panic as they hurried out the Great Hall doors.

It was at this moment that William realized the incident had happened to someone he knew; if he asked for more details, would it be three more troublemakers?

After thinking it over, and finally deciding to abandon the dark humor that Azkaban had cultivated in him, William waved his hand and let the three students off the hook.

At that very moment, Professor McGonagall suddenly stood up from the table.

"Everyone, please be quiet. The sixth-year Gryffindor students who have finished their meal, please come over here to me to verify and collect your new timetables."

After that, the other three Heads of House stood up as well, each calling for their own students to come and collect their timetables.

Just like that, the atmosphere in the Great Hall shifted dramatically. The Howler's impact was quickly forgotten as it faded away.

So this is the power of an experienced old professor?

William sat at the table, watching the long line form, and absentmindedly set down the fresh cucumber in his hand.