Harry Potter: Reborn as a Prisoner in Azkaban

The staff lounge.

William slumped over the desk where he usually sat, his upper body sprawled out. His face showed neither joy nor sorrow.

"What's wrong, William?" Adams asked, his voice full of cheer. He had just dominated a card game, winning a small pile of snacks.

"Candied fruit? Sweets? Biscuits?"

Before William could respond, Adams dumped the snacks onto the table and began sorting through them, offering each item.

"Leave me alone. I just went through a disaster," William said weakly, lifting his head slightly.

In the past two hours, he had endured what could only be described as a nightmare; one only slightly less unbearable than taking another tour of Azkaban.

Appointed by Professor McGonagall to guide him, Professor Lockhart had spent the entire two hours boasting incessantly, opening William's eyes to the fact that such a type of person could exist in the world. He had encountered many liars in his life, but someone who could brag nonstop for two hours without pausing? That was a first.

Even drunkards at the bar aren't this absurd; William thought helplessly, pulling a packet of candied fruit from the pile. He finally understood why the senior professors at the dining table always made a swift exit upon seeing Lockhart.

"Got what you need? I'll share the rest with the others," Adams said cheerfully, grabbing the snacks and walking away, leaving William to recover some energy with the help of candied fruit and internal complaints.

William savored a piece of candied fruit, watching Adams' retreating figure and offering a heartfelt blessing in his mind; hoping Adams' admiration for Lockhart wouldn't shatter before the man left Hogwarts.

Honestly, that hope seemed slim. Lockhart would seize any opportunity to flaunt himself, sparing no one. Not even a new professor like William.

Taking another bite of the candied fruit, William began to ponder the rooster incident that had been troubling him for an entire week.

While he still felt uneasy, the matter was now in McGonagall's hands. Her intent to swiftly resolve the issue was clear, and William trusted her judgment.

Hopefully, she'll catch whoever's responsible and settle this mess once and for all; William thought. He had great faith in Professor McGonagall. If she could manage all the unruly Gryffindors, what challenge could truly stump the Deputy Headmistress?

***

"Well, that concludes today's conversation. You may leave," Professor McGonagall said, her voice as steady as always.

The student sitting across the desk looked as though they had just been pardoned, hurriedly offering a polite goodbye before quickly leaving the office.

This sight only deepened McGonagall's displeasure.

Today had been one of the most frustrating days in her career as Head of Gryffindor House. She had conducted subtle interviews with thirty students over the course of four hours and had come away with nothing.

Normally, even the most mischievous and troublesome children would straighten up as soon as they entered her office. But today, everyone had stubbornly held their tongues; a first for her.

Problems didn't simply disappear into thin air. While William no longer had to deal with it, the burden had now shifted to her.

The students who've been interviewed should grasp the seriousness of the situation by now. I should also consider adding some protective enchantments to Hagrid's chicken coop; she thought, rubbing her aching temples.

She sincerely hoped this matter would end here and not escalate further. It was no longer just about the killing of chickens. Attacking the guardian of the Gryffindor common room was a serious violation. If it continued, she feared she might have to issue her first expulsion letter of the year.

***

Human joy and sorrow are not connected; Gryffindor was hosting a small feast.

It was impossible to keep such a large-scale summoning by McGonagall under wraps. By the time the second student returned, the entire Gryffindor common room was buzzing with the news.

Just as Harry and Ron had been treated like heroes after crashing the flying car into the Whomping Willow, the Gryffindors began spreading the story with great enthusiasm. While McGonagall had withheld details, such as the attack on the Fat Lady's portrait, everyone quickly pieced together that it was connected to the recent chicken-killing incidents.

Faced with the students' spontaneous gathering, even the prefects were powerless. To be fair, most of the prefects were having just as much fun.

Harry and Ron found themselves caught in the crowd, watching as upper-year students entered one after another, each receiving a hero's welcome.

"Harry," Ron whispered, pulling Harry closer, "I keep feeling like a Howler is about to fly in from somewhere."

"Didn't they say they haven't actually found out who did it yet?" Harry maneuvered through the crowded common room, his tone full of barely restrained glee.

The lively atmosphere filled him with enjoyment, especially since, for once, neither the troublemakers nor the center of attention was him. After enduring Lockhart's endless antics lately, Harry felt an immense sense of relief.

"I think it's Fred and George. Professor McGonagall must have gotten something wrong, or else this would've been solved ages ago," Ron said, casually throwing his brothers under the bus without hesitation. He scanned the crowd—maybe the next people to walk back in would be the culprits, Fred and George.

Harry didn't respond. While he also suspected the twins, he didn't feel comfortable openly passing the blame like Ron did.

"Hey, Harry, look, it's them!"

Ron nudged Harry and pointed towards the corner of the common room.

There stood Fred and George, along with a group of fourth- and fifth-years. The lot of them had broken away slightly from the main celebration and were huddled together, whispering about something.

Before Harry could react, Ron dragged him over through the throng of students.

"Evening, Harry," Fred greeted cheerfully, his gaze drifting back to the common room entrance as he scribbled something in a small notebook.

"What are you doing?"

"Secret," George replied succinctly, cutting off Ron's inquiry.

Suddenly, a roar of cheers erupted from the crowd.

Everyone immediately turned to see what the commotion was about, Harry and Ron included. When they saw the cause, their mouths nearly fell open.

"Hermione? You've got to be joking!"

Ron overheard George mutter a curse under his breath before scribbling another name into the notebook.

But Ron didn't care about the notebook anymore. A growing number of Gryffindors were showering Hermione with praise, declaring she was finally acting like a true Gryffindor.

"Come to think of it—it's not impossible," someone whispered nearby. "Harry and Ron made a huge splash flying the car to school. It's only fair Hermione gets her turn making headlines."

Harry heard the murmuring but ignored it as George and his group returned to their scribbling. He had more pressing concerns. Grabbing Ron, he pushed his way toward Hermione.

Thankfully, with so many students being called in for talks, it wasn't hard to pull Hermione aside.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked impatiently.

Hermione's face was a mix of complicated emotions. Glee and frustration mingling together, as if she were both celebrating and annoyed, like discovering your rival's house was being demolished along with yours.

"The Professor said I'm an exceptional student and just wanted to check on my academic progress," Hermione replied, her tone laced with both pride and exasperation.

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