Chapter 8: The New Cellmate
Hogwarts is a fine school. While the income from being a professor there isn't particularly impressive, considering all the other aspects, it's a career choice that satisfies most people.
Except for the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.
After Hogwarts hired a string of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors at a rate that seemed like they were using them as ingredients, a rumor began to circulate that Hogwarts was devouring people—no, wait, that the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts was cursed.
Worse still, not only was this speculation never refuted, but Hogwarts also never stopped recruiting for the position.
So, Mundungus almost instantly swallowed the words "it's worth a try"—what kind of international joke was that? He had just used his connections to escape that godforsaken place, Azkaban. If he were to actually become the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, they might as well send him back. At least in Azkaban, with the Dementors on guard, his life wasn't in danger.
The thought of Azkaban made him shiver again. Those rascals had no morals, bullying a poor, down-on-his-luck middle-aged wizard like him. That was really not good at all, especially their methods of torment. They claimed it was just random messing around, but their routine of repentance followed by toilet scrubbing was clearly well-prepared. The youngest one, in particular, was full of wicked ideas; he thoroughly deserved to be locked up in Azkaban.
An idea instantly flooded his mind and refused to leave.
'What if those guys were sent to Hogwarts to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor?'
Publicly, it would solve Dumbledore's big problem. Privately, it would be his revenge. Even though they would likely leave Azkaban early because of this, no professor in that position ever lasted a full year, and they would most likely have to spend some time in the Hospital Wing upon their departure.
At this thought, Mundungus couldn't suppress a smile, his lips curling into a noticeable arc. "If you really can't find a suitable candidate for the professorship out here, you could try looking in Azkaban. The people in there have all dabbled in the Dark Arts to some extent. They'd surely be willing to become a professor for the sake of getting out."
"Become a professor to teach them how to get into Azkaban?"
Moody looked at Mundungus as if he had lost his mind.
"I think I've sent enough prisoners to Azkaban already. I don't need Hogwarts to supply any more talent."
"Not every prisoner is in there for life. As for those with minor offenses, they can still be taught some proper material."
Mundungus felt his idea becoming more and more plausible. If they had to treat the professorship as a disposable, yearly position—or even shorter—then those minor offenders were undoubtedly the best choice. Their crimes could be forgiven to a certain extent, and they wouldn't give up on themselves and fail to do their jobs properly.
And if they chose that route, the probability of his cellmates becoming the professor was extremely high. Whichever one of those bastards got the job, it would be a huge win for him.
One idea, two objectives. A huge win with no downside.
————
When William and the others returned to their cell, they found it had been robbed again.
This time, however, everyone was in high spirits, showing none of the dejection from last time. After all, the total loss was less than a Galleon—in prison, that was worth even less than the chocolate they consumed daily.
Their happiness wasn't about losing money, but because their cell would soon be getting a new prisoner.
This meant a flood of outside news and new entertainment, which was a cause for celebration in the monotonous daily life of Azkaban.
Although the supply ships occasionally smuggled in a newspaper, such a hot commodity was not only expensive but also rarely contained anything interesting. How could it compare to the breadth of information a living, breathing prisoner could bring?
And what if the new prisoner was as talented as William? Wouldn't that be double the fun?
William was also happy. A new person meant a new treasure chest. What if he could draw a card with a higher rarity this time?
Or maybe this time it would be a Hogwarts dropout, someone expelled for cheating on an exam or using magic off-campus. That would be great too. It could help him break through several levels in his increasingly slow magical research.
Unfortunately, everyone guessed wrong this time.
The new arrival wasn't even human...
Although he had long known that this Wizarding World was real and that it was filled with non-human beings, William was completely unsettled now that a non-human magical creature had become his cellmate.
It was a little monster, with two large, bat-like ears and two protruding eyes, not much smaller than tennis balls. Most importantly, it looked nothing like the word "cute."
It was short, its clothes were filthy, and when it entered, it was practically carried in and thrown down by a Hit-Wizard.
The Hit-Wizard didn't even bother with a witty remark. After tossing the creature in, he left with a dark expression, as if the little fellow owed him a large sum of money but couldn't repay it, so he had to settle for throwing him in prison to vent his frustration.
"Hey, William, our cell is in for a treat."
Big Guy patted William's shoulder conspiratorially, sparking an urge in William to make a sarcastic comment. Thankfully, Big Guy didn't say, "Our cell is rich now."
Suppressing his overflowing urge to retort, William pointed at the magical creature he didn't recognize. "What is that?"
"You're in the smuggling business and you don't even know what this is?"
*Where is this 'you're a farmer, how can you not know your crops' kind of attitude coming from?*
"Funny you should ask. I'm new to the business, so I really haven't seen one. What is it?"
"A house-elf. The most top-tier family assistant. Only pure-blood families have them. Tsk, they're a status symbol."
"Are they expensive?"
"You smugglers are all about money, money, money, day in and day out. No ambition at all. No wonder all your stories are about humans. Veela and centaurs are amazing too, you know?"
*You're the one who's not right!*
*Besides, you're in the black market business. What gives you the confidence to look down on a smuggler? We're both rotting in Azkaban, so the pot shouldn't call the kettle black, right?*
"Alright, let me put it this way for you. Not only do these guys not require a single Knut in payment, they eat little, work a lot, and are fiercely loyal. When serving a family, they would never dream of jumping ship to another. Their strength is also quite formidable; an average school graduate might not even be able to beat one of these house-elves."
As Big Guy spoke, he gazed up at the skylight, as if imagining having a house-elf of his own.
"The most, most, most important thing is, these guys work better than the best butlers. Whether you live in a normal house or a sprawling castle, it can manage everything in perfect order. It'll have a delicious meal ready for you when you get home, warm the fireplace, wash all your clothes, and polish all the furniture until it's sparkling new—and all of this, without costing a single Knut!"
Wow, even smart furniture isn't this convenient!
William couldn't help but feel envious.
Just as he was fantasizing about getting a house-elf for himself, the new cellmate stood up.
"Hello everyone, my name is Jinbi!"
The new house-elf tilted his head up, his expression serious.
"As long as you pay me enough Galleons, I will provide my employer with the most perfect service!"
(end of chapter)