This battle had been anything but fair.
Unless magically enhanced, wizards didn't differ much in physical strength from Muggles—one good hit with a brick could knock most of them down.
Caught off-guard, Tywin had almost no chance to react to William's sneak attack.
If not for his Foe-Glass and Secrecy Sensor, he would have been knocked out cold by William's "Stupefy."
Then, when the bookshelf came crashing down on Tywin, it dealt him a nasty injury that left him vulnerable. He never could have anticipated a first-year would wield such formidable skill.
But that was the nature of combat: fairness was rarely a factor.
Tywin had lost from the very start. Even if he hadn't been hit by the bookshelf and William couldn't take him down quickly, did he truly believe the other professors at Hogwarts would sit idly by?
Hogwarts was home to some of the best in British magical prowess, and it wouldn't take long for them to converge on the scene.
William's wand fired snake-like tendrils that automatically coiled around Tywin's mouth, wrists, and ankles, securely binding him.
He then picked up Tywin's ebony wand and slipped a Time-Turner off his neck.
With the essentials taken care of, William began scouring the floor for anything else valuable—like the notes Tywin had mentioned.
Unfortunately, the battle had been intense, and most of the books had been destroyed.
William didn't mind much; no matter how good Tywin's notes were, they couldn't be better than what was in the Hogwarts Restricted Section.
Next, he set his sights on The Three Books of Occult Philosophy. That was the true treasure worth keeping.
But after a quick search, he couldn't find it anywhere on the shelves.
His mind worked quickly. A book like that wouldn't be left out in the open… Then it struck him: during his final moments, Tywin had died in the bathroom.
Why would a severely injured Tywin drag himself to the bathroom unless he was hiding something?
He hurriedly opened the door to the bathroom and entered.
The space was immaculate, so William walked over to the toilet. It was spotlessly clean.
He then opened the tank lid—only water inside.
Pressing the flush, he heard the usual gurgling. But when he tried another switch, a soft thud sounded from the tank.
With a grin, William opened the tank lid once more, revealing a hidden compartment within.
A cleverly concealed space, thanks to an Extension Charm.
He was at once impressed and amused. It seemed like everyone these days used this charm—if you didn't have one, could you even call yourself a wizard?
Inspired, William decided to use the last few months of his first year to create a personal Extension-Charmed chest of his own. It didn't matter whether he had precious items to store; as a proper wizard, appearances were everything.
Inside Tywin's box, there was ample space, though not many items: a golden key, two additional Time-Turners, a stack of parchment, and a large bottle of Polyjuice Potion.
The key was clearly from Gringotts, meant for Tywin's vault.
But William left it untouched.
Why would he need it? To take out all of Tywin's gold?
William was a first-year student with a legitimate ID, with a dentist father and a professor mother—solidly middle-class and comfortable.
As a distinguished young scholar who'd received twenty years of socialist education in his past life, William was a proud defender of Marxist principles.
He wasn't a thief or a Dark wizard. He wasn't some bandit looking for a big score before skipping town.
Besides, William had just taken down a wanted criminal who'd attacked the Ministry, protecting the young witches and wizards of Britain.
If nothing else, this act could earn him some serious recognition—maybe even a Merlin Medal.
Taking Tywin's key would be meaningless. If he wasn't caught, then great, but if he was? That would be another story altogether.
Most importantly, a Gringotts vault required more than just a key to access. Otherwise, Ministry officials would have emptied the vaults of every old family sent to Azkaban ages ago.
If the Ministry couldn't do it, neither could William—unless he wanted to rob Gringotts itself.
If he had that kind of skill, he wouldn't care about Tywin's vault in the first place.
But The Three Books of Occult Philosophy was worth taking.
Using a Duplication Charm, William created an identical copy.
For a text like this, the value lay in its knowledge. The replicated version would be as good as the original and entirely undetectable.
He shrank the duplicated parchment and slipped it into his pocket.
He didn't touch the Time-Turners either. They were items the Ministry would be tracking closely. Besides, he had no use for them.
At that moment, McGonagall came zooming in on a broomstick, pushing its speed to the limit with no sign of slowing down.
She was a force of nature, her eyes focused and unwavering.
Right as she reached the doorway, McGonagall pulled off an acrobatic leap from the broom—a feat that seemed impossible for someone her age.
Her worn-out Cleansweep 1700 crashed headlong into the wall with a deafening crash, wood splintering in every direction.
One half of the wall collapsed under the impact.
Ignoring the broomstick, McGonagall transformed into her tabby cat form mid-air, softening her fall with feline grace.
She rolled once on the ground, then sprang back up, morphing back into her human self, wand firmly in hand.
The whole sequence was flawless and left William in awe.
She was fierce! McGonagall was the epitome of Gryffindor spirit; no other House could contain her.
McGonagall's eyes fell on the unconscious Tywin, her expression darkening. "Who's in there?!"
"It's me, Professor!" William called, emerging from the dust-filled bathroom with his wand in hand.
"William, what are you doing here?" McGonagall demanded. "Did you see who attacked Professor Tywin?"
"That was me."
"What? You—"
"Tywin's a Death Eater, Professor. Check his arm if you don't believe me."
William's wand flicked, lifting Tywin's left sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark.
McGonagall's face grew even grimmer. The Dark Arts professor, a Death Eater?
Flitwick was the next to arrive, out of breath and looking thoroughly alarmed.
He had been in his office, just about to enjoy breakfast, when Robert had pulled him out to investigate the commotion. It explained why he was a bit slower to the scene.
"On Merlin's beard, what on earth happened here?" Flitwick asked, his eyes wide with shock as he caught sight of the Dark Mark.
Moments later, Dumbledore appeared, casting a quick glance over the unconscious Tywin and then at William, who was standing there casually.
"Let's go," Dumbledore said with a hint of a smile. "I imagine you have much to tell me."
As William reached the door, he noticed Snape standing there, clutching his left arm with a sour look on his face.
William, who hadn't seen Professor Snape in nearly two years, couldn't help but laugh. "Professor, you're still as dashing as ever."
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