The room was a makeshift conversion of the warden's lounge, and apart from William, six other detainees were seated inside.
However, the warden had no intention of letting the prisoners communicate. Even though they were idle enough to start examining the room's decor, none of them chatted to pass the time, which made William feel uneasy.
If we're really here for recruitment, would just a handful of workers justify such an elaborate setup?
While his thoughts spiraled, the first prisoner had already been taken inside. The door shut firmly behind them, and not a single sound escaped.
This didn't feel like training prisoners; it felt like recruiting Death Eaters. But why would Hogwarts need Death Eaters? To form an army and attack the Ministry of Magic?
Before William could come up with a second theory, the door opened.
When the warden led him into the room, William realized he was next.
This put him at ease instantly. According to most story tropes, the first one always loses. Someone like him, going second in line for a test, was either a filler character or just there to make up the numbers. He didn't need to worry about his safety at all.
***
As he stepped inside, William quickly scanned the two interviewers and found them familiar.
One had white hair and a long silver beard, was tall and thin, and wore half-moon spectacles. He looked remarkably like Gandalf. William had seen this man's card in Chocolate Frog packs two or three times a month. He knew this was the current Headmaster of Hogwarts, the widely recognized greatest white wizard, Dumbledore.
On a side note, Dumbledore's card had an absurdly high drop rate in Chocolate Frogs. Despite William and his friends barely buying a few packs, they somehow ended up with four Dumbledore cards.
The other person, William thought he had seen as well. He guessed she was Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. But if she weren't standing next to Dumbledore, William wouldn't have been as confident in his guess.
To William, both of them were unquestionably important figures.
The Beaters could easily deal with any prisoner in Azkaban, but when these two were present, even the guards at the door didn't dare chat.
"Lee William, correct?" Dumbledore, dressed in a grayish-white robe, glanced at the papers in his hand and asked with a smile.
"Yes, Sir." William answered in the most upright manner he could manage.
"No need to be so tense. Please, have a seat here."
A chair floated over to him, guided by Dumbledore's magic.
Once William sat down, Professor McGonagall immediately began her questioning.
"You were imprisoned for smuggling, correct? Did you know it was illegal when you did it?"
"Yes, Professor."
"What was your reason?"
"My skills were too poor. After taking on a potion order, my success rate was too low, and I lost a large batch of herbs. I had no choice but to resort to smuggling," William answered, suppressing the urge to cover his face.
"But according to the Ministry's report, you had a significant amount of money at the time of your arrest. Was that still not enough?"
"The damaged herbs included many rare species from the Far East. During that time, there were no such herbs available in Britain. I needed to compensate with potions. Simply paying money wouldn't have worked; It would've ruined my future in potion-making, Professor."
"You never attended school?"
"No. Before I turned 11, my previous teacher took me from home. My parents received a large sum of money and happily sent me away. Later, I learned from historical records that back then, to ease conflicts, independent wandering wizards had priority over Hogwarts in accepting apprentices. It's just that nowadays, more people choose Hogwarts."
William dutifully recited his background, maintaining a blank expression since he couldn't fully relate to the story.
"Later, my teacher died in a failed potion experiment. The explosion left the lab in ruins, so I started taking potion orders to support myself. I failed several times in a row and had to go to the Far East to gather herbs and remake the potions."
"We've got most of this information already," Professor McGonagall said as she jotted down notes on the paper in front of her. Dumbledore simply smiled without speaking.
"Then I'll take my leave, Professors."
William bowed, turned around, and walked toward the door.
Even though these experiences belonged to the original owner, William couldn't shake the feeling that the silent old man could see through every lie. This gave him the unsettling sense that the next moment, he would be exposed for recounting a past that wasn't entirely his own.
Just as he was about to push the door open, Dumbledore's voice stopped him.
"Please wait a moment, Mr. William."
Dumbledore stood up and walked briskly to a cabinet against the wall. He pulled out a battered stone basin.
"I hope it's not too presumptuous, but would you mind sharing your memories of that experiment? I'm only interested in those specific memories and won't interfere with any of your other privacy."
The memories of the failed experiment?
William hesitated, quickly sifting through those memories in his mind. Could it be that the original owner had sabotaged the materials before the experiment, hoping to inherit his teacher's possessions?
The memories were extensive, and William had only skimmed through them, focusing mainly on how he ended up here and any information about learning magic. He hadn't paid much attention to anything else.
He thought about it again. What good would knowing the past do?
He was already in Azkaban. There weren't any internal dangers, and as for external ones; well, the Dementors outside would handle those.
After confirming that his predecessor had been too cowardly to cause trouble, William secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
"I'll need a wand."
"There's one over there. Feel free to use it," Dumbledore replied, his expression as calm as ever, showing no concern that William might try anything.
When the wand touched his temple, a thin, silvery strand emerged under the influence of magic. William pulled it gently into the basin.
Soon, the basin began to reveal every detail of the experiment, from start to finish, without omission.
A furious wizard, a timid apprentice, grumbled instructions, a cluttered lab filled with precious materials; and finally, the massive explosion that destroyed the entire lab.
William experienced the memories again. He knew the professors wouldn't press him if he refused, but after confirming there were no issues, he was eager to try out this magical device. A tool that could project memories; surely there weren't many of these in the wizarding world.
The magic within those memories paled compared to seeing it unfold in reality.
He turned, opened the door, and closed it behind him in one smooth motion.
It wasn't until he was seated among the other prisoners that he let out a long breath.
So this was a wand. This was what casting magic felt like.