Life in prison was both dull and tasteless.
Without the Dementors coming by every day for their regular meals, the life here could be described as plain and uneventful; unfortunately, however, no inmate welcomed the Dementors' visits, even for a bit of excitement.
Even the tiniest bit of news was rare and precious for the inmates. If a newspaper happened to be passed in, the greedy prisoners wouldn't even spare the ads in the gaps, let alone the new happenings in the cells or the surrounding areas.
As for the prisoners' own stories, they were always the same; stale and repetitive. The usual crimes were stealing, robbing, cheating, kidnapping, murder, and arson. At first, when you heard about them, it was shocking, but after a couple of months, when you saw the newcomers, you understood why they were here. Soon, no one even cared to inquire about their crimes.
Occasionally, someone with a bizarre crime would come in, and that would get the nearby cells all excited, like it was a festival. For example, a couple of weeks ago, the prison next to theirs had a guy who had violated the Magical Creatures Protection Act.
Usually, people who broke this law either harmed endangered species or secretly bred prohibited magical creatures. But this guy was different.
He had sent himself to Azkaban with his research, and his sentence was absurdly long; if it weren't for the heads-up he'd received before coming in, he would be in the high-security section right now.
According to his self-introduction, he had already published thirteen papers on centaurs, including titles like Research on Centaur Reproductive Behavior, Research on Centaur Feeding Habits, Embryonic Development in Centaurs, and other works.
After his papers gained some attention, enraged centaurs and the Ministry of Magic clashed, and the man was eventually prosecuted and sent to Azkaban. It was said that the Ministry officials spent a long time looking for grounds to charge him.
This story became the topic of conversation in Azkaban for a whole week, giving a sense of just how little entertainment there was here.
Today, however, the inmates had received new entertainment; last night, the method William and his group had used to deal with the newcomers had spread to the nearby cells in the minimum-security area.
This new "make the newcomers confess" routine was quickly adopted by nearly every cell.
Azkaban wasn't a place that respected democracy. There were eight people in each cell, and using one newcomer to entertain seven old-timers was a great deal, so no one would refuse. As for the newcomers, it was best if they were willing. If they weren't, the others would teach them how to be willing.
Thus, after William gave up on researching the suddenly appearing system and shifted his focus to magic, he unexpectedly received a series of system notifications.
[A magical creature has recognized you. You have received a treasure chest.]
[…]
[…]
Similar messages arrived twenty-one times, and all twenty-one wooden chests were uniformly shabby, nailed together with a few rotting planks, as if a gust of wind could blow the wood apart.
These chests were even worse than the ones Mundungus provided, each containing only two cards. The attached skills were so terrible they were laughable.
Ignoring the different names and images, nineteen of the twenty-one cards were related to theft, with success rates that were almost unbelievable. If William guessed correctly, these chests came from prisoners in other cells who were being "entertained" in various ways.
The characters on these cards all had tags like 'Resentment' attached to their names.
As for the remaining two cards, one was a card that guaranteed success in deception, and the other was the only non-character card; its blue design featured a blue meal voucher.
[Meal Voucher: You can use this to offset the cost of using one card.]
This was probably the only somewhat valuable thing in the twenty chests.
At the same time, William roughly figured out how to obtain more chests and whether they could only open character-related cards.
But it was all for nothing.
Stuck in his cell, he couldn't open more chests.
This system didn't offer him much help in his current situation—unless he was willing to risk being hunted down and escaping from prison, and even then, there was no guarantee he would succeed. William stored the system away and continued his magical studies.
***
It was time for the monthly outdoors time.
William once again rejected the big guy's enthusiastic invitation and started wandering around among the prisoners.
"Massage! Massage! With potions, two chocolates per person, genuine and real, no cheating, half price for female prisoners for a limited time!"
"Galleons for cigarettes! One galleon per cigarette, three sickles for a cigarette butt!"
"Canned goods for newspapers! Four newspapers for one can, four newspapers for one can, cheap, cheap!"
Various voices shouted out perfectly; just loud enough for the prisoners to hear, but not so loud that it reached the ears of the overworked guards. William, in the middle of it all, felt the atmosphere of a market that almost resembled a normal human one.
Although some of these transactions wouldn't be seen in a regular market, they were considered special trades in Azkaban.
However, there was no other ancient trade in Azkaban aside from assassination; the kind that had occurred before, but the excessive joy in the air had drawn the Dementors' attention. Once those creatures couldn't control themselves, no one could stop them.
It was said that the man involved in one of these trades, after being released, was still anxiously searching through various magical newspapers and magazines for advertisements.
As William wandered around, Mundungus, who had spent an entire month cleaning toilets and standing guard against the Dementors, sneaked into a corner of the prison.
The guards, excitedly discussing how much gold they could get by trading worthless items during their shift, immediately changed their expressions when they saw the newcomer; no one feared someone would report them for black-market dealings, but they did feel their authority had been challenged by this new prisoner.
Mundungus was quickly controlled by magic.
When he loudly shouted that he wanted to see Mad-Eye Moody, one of the guards kicked him.
"You dare shout Mad-Eye Moody's name?"
The tall, thin guard sneered; Mad-Eye Moody was an Auror, the best of the best in the Ministry of Magic, strong and accomplished. He was a big shot among the guards, someone they admired greatly. Though he had retired, he was occasionally invited to teach the guards, his reputation was incredibly high.
Even though the guards were making money on the side, that didn't affect their reverence for Mad-Eye.
"I've agreed to be an informant. Please inform Mad-Eye for me," Mundungus said quickly.
The two guards at the front exchanged glances and nodded.
It wasn't uncommon for informants to make a difference; offering lighter sentences to those with lesser crimes in exchange for more information was a regular occurrence.
"I'm Mundungus Fletcher, Mad-Eye knows me," he added, sighing with relief and speaking quickly to the guards.
He had known Mad-Eye for a long time and had worked for him helping Dumbledore; though the work was too dangerous. His sentence here wasn't long, and he had no intention of contacting Mad-Eye; this short sentence was far less dangerous than those tasks.
But after a month in Azkaban, he suddenly realized that helping Mad-Eye and the rest wasn't such a bad deal.