Chapter 5: Mundungus Can't Take It Anymore
Author: I'm Just a Pigeon
Life in prison was dull and tasteless.
If it weren't for the Dementors' daily scheduled 'mealtime,' one could say that life here was as placid as still water. Unfortunately, no prisoner welcomed the Dementors coming over to 'spice things up.'
Even the smallest bit of new information was a rare treasure for the prisoners here. If a newspaper were passed in, the greedy prisoners wouldn't even let the ads in the margins escape their notice, let alone any fresh gossip that might arise between cells.
The prisoners' own stories were all just the same old tales, rehashed over and over, never straying from the usual patterns: theft, robbery, fraud, kidnapping, murder, and arson. When you first arrived, it was all quite shocking to hear. But after being cooped up here for two months, you could tell why a newcomer was in just by looking at them, losing even the desire to ask.
If, on a rare occasion, a fellow who committed a strange crime arrived, the neighboring cells would get as excited as if it were New Year's. For instance, half a month ago, a guy who had violated the law on the protection of magical creatures was moved into the cell next to William's.
Generally, people who violated this law had either harmed an endangered species or secretly bred creatures forbidden for private ownership. But this one was different.
He had gotten himself sent to Azkaban for conducting research, and with a ridiculously long prison term to boot. If someone hadn't put in a word for him before he was admitted, he'd surely be over with the high-security prisoners.
According to his own introduction, he had already published thirteen papers on centaurs, including a series of works such as 'A Study of Centaur Reproductive Behavior,' 'A Study of Centaur Offspring-Feeding Behavior,' and 'A Study of Centaur Embryonic Development.'
After these papers became famous, the enraged centaurs entered into negotiations with the Ministry of Magic, and he was subsequently prosecuted and sent to Azkaban. It was said that the Ministry of Magic officials had to search for a long time before they could find a legal basis for the prosecution.
This story alone became the topic of conversation in Azkaban for a full week, which just goes to show how lacking the daily entertainment was here.
And today, the prisoners in every cell found a new form of entertainment. The methods William's cell had used to deal with the newcomer last night had already spread through the adjacent cells to the entire low-security wing.
This new pastime of making newcomers repent out of boredom was adopted by almost every cell.
Azkaban was not a place for democracy. In a cell with eight people, tormenting one newcomer for the entertainment of seven old-timers was such a good deal that no one would refuse. As for the newcomer—it was best if he was willing. If not, the others would teach him to be.
Thus, when William gave up on studying the suddenly-appeared System and turned to researching magic instead, he unexpectedly received one System message after another.
[A magical creature has recognized you. You have obtained a treasure chest.]
...
Similar messages came twenty-one times. All twenty-one of these wooden chests were uniformly shabby and pathetic, nailed together with a few pieces of nearly-rotten wood, looking as if a gust of wind could blow them apart.
These chests, even more pitiful than the one Mundungus had provided, each yielded only two cards, and the skills they came with were utterly terrible.
Ignoring the different names and images on them, nineteen of the twenty-one cards were related to theft, and their success rate was an unbelievably vague 'a certain probability.' If William wasn't mistaken, the source of these chests was the prisoners currently being creatively tormented in the various cells.
This was because the character descriptions on those cards all came with suffixes like (Resentful).
As for the remaining two cards, one had a 'certain probability' of successful deception, and the other was the only item that wasn't a character card—its face was blue, depicting a blue meal coupon.
[Meal Coupon: You can use this to offset the cost of using a card one time.]
This was probably the only thing of any value from those twenty-one chests.
At the same time, William also gained a rough understanding of two things: how to obtain more chests, and whether they could only yield cards related to specific people.
But it was all for nothing.
Trapped in his cell with no way out, he had no way to 'farm' for more treasure chests. The System was of little help to him at the moment—unless he was willing to risk a prison break, becoming a wanted man who would be hunted down, and even then, success wasn't guaranteed.
William put away the System and continued his magic research.
————
It was once again the monthly yard time.
William again refused Big Guy's enthusiastic invitation and began to wander among the crowd of prisoners.
"Massages, get your massages! Massages with potions, two chocolate bars a person! Genuine service, no cheating young or old! Half price for female prisoners for a limited time!"
"Galleons for cigarettes! One Galleon for a whole cigarette, three Sickles for a cigarette butt!"
"Pages from periodicals for canned food! Four pages for a can, four pages for a can! Cheap, cheap!"
All sorts of hushed hawking cries were pitched just right—loud enough to be heard by the various prisoners, but not so loud that they would reach the ears of the on-duty Hit-Wizards. William stood amidst it all, soaking in this atmosphere so reminiscent of a normal market.
Although some of the transactions here wouldn't be seen in a normal market, this was just Azkaban's special brand of commerce.
However, humanity's other ancient profession—aside from assassination—was absent here. It had happened before, but the excessive joy in the air attracted the attention of the Dementors. And when those creatures can't control themselves, no one can stop them.
It's said that after the man involved was released from prison, he's still anxiously scouring the advertisements in various magical newspapers and magazines.
And just as William was wandering about, Mundungus, who had been scrubbing the toilet and standing guard against Dementors for a full month, furtively made his way to a corner of the prison.
The Hit-Wizards were animatedly discussing how much gold they could get for some worthless items during their shift. When they saw the prisoner approach, their expressions all changed at once. It wasn't that they were afraid of someone reporting their illicit dealings, but mainly because this new prisoner had challenged their authority.
Mundungus was instantly restrained with magic.
As he shouted, "I want to see Mad-Eye Moody!" a Hit-Wizard had already lashed out with a kick.
"You dare speak the great Moody's name?"
The tall, thin Hit-Wizard had a disdainful look on his face. Mad-Eye Moody was an Auror, the ace of aces at the Ministry of Magic. With his immense strength and outstanding track record, he was a towering figure to the Hit-Wizards, someone they could only look up to from afar. Although he was retired, he was still occasionally invited back to give lessons to the Hit-Wizards and was held in very high regard.
Don't be fooled by the Hit-Wizards' money-grubbing ways; it didn't in the least diminish their admiration for Mad-Eye.
"I've agreed to become an informant! Please, pass it on to Moody."
The two Hit-Wizards at the front exchanged a glance and nodded.
A man with no informants couldn't get anything done. It was common practice to obtain more information by granting leniency to certain individuals with minor crimes.
"I'm Mundungus Fletcher. Moody knows me."
Mundungus let out a long sigh of relief and spoke quickly to the Hit-Wizards.
He had known Moody for a long time and, through him, had done work for Dumbledore. But the jobs were too dangerous. His sentence this time wasn't long, so he hadn't wanted to contact Moody at all. This short prison term was nothing compared to those dangers.
Unfortunately, after a month of life in Azkaban, he suddenly realized that working for Moody and the others was actually pretty good.
(end of chapter)