"Tom? Are you in the back?"
A deep, oppressive voice echoed through the bar, and soon after, William saw a figure nearly four meters tall walking through the rear door toward them.
In front of the towering newcomer, Tom; who wasn't exactly tall to begin with; looked like a schoolchild. William didn't fare much better; next to this giant, he might as well have been a first-grader.
Giant. The word flashed in William's mind.
But he quickly dismissed the thought.
Giants weren't protected by wizards and wouldn't be seen in regular wizarding society. There were some wizards who enjoyed hunting giants or dragons for sport; Azkaban held a few of them.
More likely, the newcomer had been affected by some dangerous dark magic or a curse.
With that thought, William felt more at ease. Since this giant seemed to know Tom, there was no reason to expect trouble. That immense size, then, was no cause for alarm.
"Hagrid? What brings you here so early today?" Tom greeted the man warmly, and the name immediately jogged William's memory.
Because of the man's height, William hadn't really noticed his face at first. But now, with Tom's greeting, he squinted and recognized some familiar features beneath all that facial hair.
Well, scratch all earlier guesses. The man was indeed a giant; or rather, a half-giant, the offspring of a human and a giant.
William vaguely remembered reading about such cases somewhere. But now wasn't the time to delve into that.
Before he could decide how to greet him, Hagrid's next move startled him.
The half-giant bent down and gently patted Tom's shoulder with a hand four times the size of a normal person's. William swore he saw Tom's knees wobble slightly under the pressure.
"I'm heading to Diagon Alley to look for some hair-smoothing potion. The centaurs asked me to pick it up. They're holding a banquet soon, and a few young ones are worried their tails aren't looking majestic enough."
Of course. Trust Hagrid, the man who raised Blast-Ended Skrewts, to have good relations with centaurs. One of William's fellow inmates would probably cry from jealousy if he heard about this.
"Want a drink before you go?" Tom straightened his posture.
"No, better not. I'll grab what I need first. If I forget again, those young centaurs will complain for another three days."
"That works. Oh, by the way, let me introduce you to someone. He might be your colleague soon; he'll be working for Hogwarts this coming year."
"Oh? A new professor?" Hagrid glanced at William and extended his massive hand.
"I'm Hagrid, Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."
William looked at the giant hand in front of him, steeled himself, and reluctantly reached out his own. "Lee William. Haven't officially started yet. I'll be teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts class."
Hagrid gently shook William's hand, but it still made William feel like a child in comparison. Hagrid scratched his head with his free hand.
"Oh, Defense Against the Dark Arts; I remember now! Dumbledore mentioned you. He said you might be the best professor for the subject in the last five years."
Such high praise?
William figured that if he could survive the first year, his chances of being dismissed were slim; though that probably had more to do with the school's difficulty in finding new teachers.
Before he could offer any modest words, Hagrid continued talking, seemingly to himself. "If Dumbledore says you're the best, then you must be the best. I need to go buy those potions, but when I get back, we'll have a proper drink together."
Without waiting for William to respond or express any opinion, Hagrid strode off toward the entrance to Diagon Alley. He waved back at them before disappearing into the bustling street.
***
"He's always like that, hurried and brash; but he's not a bad person. You'll see once you get to know him," Tom said.
"I agree with the first part, but let me reserve judgment on the second." William hesitated for a moment before correcting himself. "After all, Defense Against the Dark Arts professors are a disposable commodity."
He stammered a little over the course title but firmly avoided mentioning its new name.
"Well, I sincerely hope you last longer. Teaching at Hogwarts is a good job, especially since there aren't many professions that take in wizards fresh out of Azkaban. I'd hate to see you go back to smuggling."
"Relax. Worst case, I can always sell potions to make a living," William said with a dismissive wave of his hand as he prepared to head back to his room.
His break time was about over; it was time to dive back into those books.
But Tom grabbed his arm, stopping him.
"You've been studying long enough. You finally mastered Apparition today; it's time to give yourself a proper break. Go stroll around Diagon Alley. If you're really looking to unwind, Knockturn Alley's side isn't a bad option."
Tom's sly grin spoke volumes, but his determination to stop William from heading back was clear.
William gave up on returning to his room to bury himself in books. A bit of rest wouldn't hurt, after all. If he kept pushing himself, he might burn out completely.
Besides, getting a custom robe tailored during this downtime wouldn't be a bad idea.
Although formal robes were only a recommendation, William felt it was necessary to prepare one for himself. He expected to stay at Hogwarts long enough to experience a few holidays, and blending in was essential.
Additionally, having a more formal set of robes seemed prudent; his youthful appearance might work for handling younger students, but it would be harder to command respect from the older ones with his boyish looks.
Since he had no personal experience at Hogwarts, he could only use typical high school students of a similar age as a reference.
From eleven to seventeen or eighteen years old, the range was vast; playful, rebellious, melodramatic, or trying to act mature. Students at this age were notoriously difficult to manage.
As he tapped his wand to open the entrance to Diagon Alley, William felt a headache coming on.
Up until now, he had been focused on reviewing, but now that he thought about it, dealing with these students might be just as tricky as handling that curse; it was all life-draining work.
"Why on earth was I so eager to get out of prison? I could've just stayed quietly with the Dementors; forget it. Compared to them, I'd rather deal with these big headaches."
At the thought of Dementors, William couldn't help but shiver.
No matter how challenging things got, they were still preferable to those soul-sucking creatures. At least here, he could still see a glimmer of hope. In Azkaban, even the few minutes when a Dementor fed were enough to strip a normal wizard of all joy and hope.
"I just hope teaching won't be too difficult. Otherwise, on the day my sentence officially ends, I'll tell all the students that joke."
Shaking his head to dispel the memories, William thought about the joke he had in mind and couldn't help but chuckle.