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Chapter 68: Guess What the Penalty is for Attacking a Professor?
The three, each with their own ulterior motives, quickly reached a consensus and walked out of the pub together.
Bypassing the pub's main passageway, the three soon turned into a secluded alley—the excrement at the base of the wall and the uncleaned vomit were ample proof of just how unpleasant this place was.
William, his head wrapped in bandages, turned around, trying to make his voice sound relaxed. But before the words could leave his mouth, the bandages muffled them into a strange noise.
"Gentlemen, we're out of the pub now—Expelliarmus!"
The two misbehaving students were clearly not self-aware and had no intention of having a proper conversation. They had already drawn their wands the moment William turned.
Unfortunately, whether in terms of magical power or combat experience, the two sides were too far apart. It was like how Muggles enjoy water gun fights; Azkaban had simulated battles where chocolate was on the line!
The boy in front was hit squarely by the Disarming Charm. Amidst the dazzling red light, he was violently knocked back several steps, stumbled, and sat right down on the ground. His wand flew from his hand, suspended in mid-air.
As the Disarming Charm took effect, William took half a step to the side, easily dodging a hex that arrived a moment too late.
With almost no pause, William cast an Impediment Jinx. The spell slammed heavily into the other black-robed boy who was still standing, smashing him against the base of the wall.
"Ugh!"
With a muffled grunt, the second troublemaker was out of the fight.
'I'm not so bad myself, but the combat skills of these students are truly terrible.'
As William thought this, he reached out and caught the disarmed wand. At the same time, he cast a nonverbal Summoning Charm at the other wand, catching it with equal ease.
Now, the battle was over.
Lowering his raised left hand, William shook his head at the two audacious little rascals. A loosely wrapped piece of bandage swayed with the movement, forcing William to reach up and secure it again.
Just as William was fixing his bandage, the first boy who had fallen scrambled to his feet and bolted towards the alley's exit.
"Alright, children—Locomotor Mortis."
The spell successfully hit the boy who was trying to escape. He immediately lost his balance but managed to brace himself against the wall. When he tried to take another step, however, his legs were locked tightly together; he could only hop.
William glanced around, confirmed they had no accomplices, and his tone reverted to its previous relaxed state.
"Don't even think about running off. Go on, pull down your hoods. I want to see which House has such bold students. Tsk, tsk, skipping school on a Wednesday. You two are really something."
The two boys, who had been trapped by the spells and incessantly exchanging glances, immediately gave up their little tricks. The regret that had just flashed through their minds vanished without a trace. So, this wasn't some black-market dealer, but a Professor.
There was nothing to worry about. Someone else might have been nervous for a moment, but the two of them were long used to this.
They pulled down their hoods almost in unison, and two identical faces appeared before William.
Red hair, exceptionally vibrant red hair. This was William's first impression of the two troublemakers.
Judging by their completely unabashed behavior and their expressions that said "do your worst," William determined that they were no novices when it came to getting into trouble. Even in Azkaban, such seasoned delinquents were rare. This was a pair of troublemakers!
"Names?"
They responded in near-perfect unison, with one saying "George Weasley!" and the other "Fred Weasley!" This meant that even if they were making up lies on the spot, they could cover for each other. Even without prior preparation, they could spin a perfect, deceptive story, one sentence at a time.
"Gryffindor?"
"Yes."
Although he received the expected answer, William wasn't happy at all. Professor McGonagall had specifically spoken to him because failing too many students at once would look bad. Now, he'd caught two students from her own House. Wasn't this directly opposing his immediate superior?
He had been at this school for less than four days and was completely unfamiliar with the staff. Why did something like this have to happen so suddenly?
Curse his meddling hands! Why did he have to go and catch students!
Feeling rather dejected, William continued his questioning.
"First offense?"
This question didn't get the quick response he expected. Right under William's nose, the two began to communicate with their eyes. Then, they answered, their voices a little slow—a hesitation most people would attribute to shame.
"Sorry, Professor, we really shouldn't have done this. We accidentally discovered a secret passage and then made a bet with some people. We got too impulsive, disguised ourselves, and came to the pub."
"Yes, Professor, we are willing to accept any punishment. Whether it's detention, cleaning duties, or writing a self-reflection essay, we are willing to take responsibility for what we've done."
Taking turns, one sentence at a time, the two began their explanation. Their confessions were sincere and their language plain, making them seem like impulsive youths who had slightly overstepped their bounds, but recognized their mistakes and still had hope for redemption.
Unfortunately, such tricks wouldn't even fool a slightly experienced professor, let alone William, who had spent nearly a year with a bunch of thieves and swindlers.
"Excellent. I'll go have a word with Professor McGonagall. How about washing the Hospital Wing's bedpans for a month?"
"That's not fair, Professor! We just snuck out when we didn't have class. Going to a pub doesn't violate school rules!"
The moment they heard the punishment, the two protested in unison.
Seasoned rascals, indeed. Normally, what student would study the school rules? Even if you memorized the entire thing, it would take a great deal of effort to figure out what was forbidden and what was permitted!
"According to the school rules, how long do you have to wash bedpans for attacking a professor? I seem to recall the maximum penalty is a year of detention, or perhaps suspension?"
The two instantly fell silent. Although William's methods bordered on entrapment, the fact that they had attacked a professor was undeniable.
Even though they had been thoroughly beaten by this unknown professor, it didn't change the fact that they had attacked him.
The two of them were like defeated roosters, completely deflated, which made William feel a little sorry for them. The point of punishment was education, not just punishment for its own sake.
"Forget it, washing bedpans is a bit too much. Let's change the punishment. Report to my office every weekend to copy *A History of Magic* for two hours. You're not allowed to use any assisting tools like a Self-Writing Quill, a Quick-Quotes Quill, or anything of the sort. I'll find a book of suitable thickness—hmm, on second thought, not just this month. You'll do this every weekend. Your detention will end once you've finished copying."
Studying history makes one wise. Copying *A History of Magic* was far more educational than washing bedpans. Even if they couldn't remember it all at once, the more they copied, the more they would retain.
"Alright, that's it. My decision is final. Here are your wands. Go back to the school the way you came. Once you're there, go find Professor McGonagall and report the details of your punishment. I will check with her on the time, so don't think you can get away with the delightful idea of spending the rest of the afternoon outside now that you've already been punished."
William waved his hand and left the alley, not even giving the two, who had suffered a heavy blow, any time to react.
PS: There will be a chapter tomorrow afternoon (perhaps a bit later?).
(end of chapter)
The three, each with their own ulterior motives, quickly reached a consensus and walked out of the pub together.
Bypassing the pub's main passageway, the three soon turned into a secluded alley—the excrement at the base of the wall and the uncleaned vomit were ample proof of just how unpleasant this place was.
William, his head wrapped in bandages, turned around, trying to make his voice sound relaxed. But before the words could leave his mouth, the bandages muffled them into a strange noise.
"Gentlemen, we're out of the pub now—Expelliarmus!"
The two misbehaving students were clearly not self-aware and had no intention of having a proper conversation. They had already drawn their wands the moment William turned.
Unfortunately, whether in terms of magical power or combat experience, the two sides were too far apart. It was like how Muggles enjoy water gun fights; Azkaban had simulated battles where chocolate was on the line!
The boy in front was hit squarely by the Disarming Charm. Amidst the dazzling red light, he was violently knocked back several steps, stumbled, and sat right down on the ground. His wand flew from his hand, suspended in mid-air.
As the Disarming Charm took effect, William took half a step to the side, easily dodging a hex that arrived a moment too late.
With almost no pause, William cast an Impediment Jinx. The spell slammed heavily into the other black-robed boy who was still standing, smashing him against the base of the wall.
"Ugh!"
With a muffled grunt, the second troublemaker was out of the fight.
'I'm not so bad myself, but the combat skills of these students are truly terrible.'
As William thought this, he reached out and caught the disarmed wand. At the same time, he cast a nonverbal Summoning Charm at the other wand, catching it with equal ease.
Now, the battle was over.
Lowering his raised left hand, William shook his head at the two audacious little rascals. A loosely wrapped piece of bandage swayed with the movement, forcing William to reach up and secure it again.
Just as William was fixing his bandage, the first boy who had fallen scrambled to his feet and bolted towards the alley's exit.
"Alright, children—Locomotor Mortis."
The spell successfully hit the boy who was trying to escape. He immediately lost his balance but managed to brace himself against the wall. When he tried to take another step, however, his legs were locked tightly together; he could only hop.
William glanced around, confirmed they had no accomplices, and his tone reverted to its previous relaxed state.
"Don't even think about running off. Go on, pull down your hoods. I want to see which House has such bold students. Tsk, tsk, skipping school on a Wednesday. You two are really something."
The two boys, who had been trapped by the spells and incessantly exchanging glances, immediately gave up their little tricks. The regret that had just flashed through their minds vanished without a trace. So, this wasn't some black-market dealer, but a Professor.
There was nothing to worry about. Someone else might have been nervous for a moment, but the two of them were long used to this.
They pulled down their hoods almost in unison, and two identical faces appeared before William.
Red hair, exceptionally vibrant red hair. This was William's first impression of the two troublemakers.
Judging by their completely unabashed behavior and their expressions that said "do your worst," William determined that they were no novices when it came to getting into trouble. Even in Azkaban, such seasoned delinquents were rare. This was a pair of troublemakers!
"Names?"
They responded in near-perfect unison, with one saying "George Weasley!" and the other "Fred Weasley!" This meant that even if they were making up lies on the spot, they could cover for each other. Even without prior preparation, they could spin a perfect, deceptive story, one sentence at a time.
"Gryffindor?"
"Yes."
Although he received the expected answer, William wasn't happy at all. Professor McGonagall had specifically spoken to him because failing too many students at once would look bad. Now, he'd caught two students from her own House. Wasn't this directly opposing his immediate superior?
He had been at this school for less than four days and was completely unfamiliar with the staff. Why did something like this have to happen so suddenly?
Curse his meddling hands! Why did he have to go and catch students!
Feeling rather dejected, William continued his questioning.
"First offense?"
This question didn't get the quick response he expected. Right under William's nose, the two began to communicate with their eyes. Then, they answered, their voices a little slow—a hesitation most people would attribute to shame.
"Sorry, Professor, we really shouldn't have done this. We accidentally discovered a secret passage and then made a bet with some people. We got too impulsive, disguised ourselves, and came to the pub."
"Yes, Professor, we are willing to accept any punishment. Whether it's detention, cleaning duties, or writing a self-reflection essay, we are willing to take responsibility for what we've done."
Taking turns, one sentence at a time, the two began their explanation. Their confessions were sincere and their language plain, making them seem like impulsive youths who had slightly overstepped their bounds, but recognized their mistakes and still had hope for redemption.
Unfortunately, such tricks wouldn't even fool a slightly experienced professor, let alone William, who had spent nearly a year with a bunch of thieves and swindlers.
"Excellent. I'll go have a word with Professor McGonagall. How about washing the Hospital Wing's bedpans for a month?"
"That's not fair, Professor! We just snuck out when we didn't have class. Going to a pub doesn't violate school rules!"
The moment they heard the punishment, the two protested in unison.
Seasoned rascals, indeed. Normally, what student would study the school rules? Even if you memorized the entire thing, it would take a great deal of effort to figure out what was forbidden and what was permitted!
"According to the school rules, how long do you have to wash bedpans for attacking a professor? I seem to recall the maximum penalty is a year of detention, or perhaps suspension?"
The two instantly fell silent. Although William's methods bordered on entrapment, the fact that they had attacked a professor was undeniable.
Even though they had been thoroughly beaten by this unknown professor, it didn't change the fact that they had attacked him.
The two of them were like defeated roosters, completely deflated, which made William feel a little sorry for them. The point of punishment was education, not just punishment for its own sake.
"Forget it, washing bedpans is a bit too much. Let's change the punishment. Report to my office every weekend to copy *A History of Magic* for two hours. You're not allowed to use any assisting tools like a Self-Writing Quill, a Quick-Quotes Quill, or anything of the sort. I'll find a book of suitable thickness—hmm, on second thought, not just this month. You'll do this every weekend. Your detention will end once you've finished copying."
Studying history makes one wise. Copying *A History of Magic* was far more educational than washing bedpans. Even if they couldn't remember it all at once, the more they copied, the more they would retain.
"Alright, that's it. My decision is final. Here are your wands. Go back to the school the way you came. Once you're there, go find Professor McGonagall and report the details of your punishment. I will check with her on the time, so don't think you can get away with the delightful idea of spending the rest of the afternoon outside now that you've already been punished."
William waved his hand and left the alley, not even giving the two, who had suffered a heavy blow, any time to react.
PS: There will be a chapter tomorrow afternoon (perhaps a bit later?).
(end of chapter)
