Harry Potter: Reborn as a Prisoner in Azkaban

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"Oh, Professor William, Professor Adams," Filch looked at the sky uncertainly before finally adding, "Good morning."

"Ah—"

Filch spotted a third figure, his entire demeanor shifting from disappointment to combativeness. "Professors, did you catch a student breaking the rules?"

"Theoretically, yes. Professor Adams and I are discussing who should give him detention."

William replied with a smile—the experiment to capture the so-called sound had failed, but he didn't think Harry was lying. It was best to keep the boy with them; if he was sent to Mr. Filch, further investigation would be impossible.

"They should be given more detentions. Wandering around the castle in the middle of the night is bad enough, but using magic in the castle this early in the morning—" Filch seemed to lose all his sleepiness as he spoke, but realizing he might be implicating the professors, he quickly ended the conversation and found an excuse to continue his patrol elsewhere.

"Filch is very dedicated to his job, but I doubt any student likes him for it."

Adams shrugged as he watched Filch walk away.

"He's the caretaker. If students liked him, then there would be a problem. Think about the students getting detention this time; if they liked Filch, what kind of chaos would this school be in?"

"You're right." Adams remembered the students sent to him for detention and couldn't help but nod. "But speaking of which, who do you think is more unpopular, Professor Snape or Filch?"

"It shouldn't be Professor Snape, at least the Slytherins like him."

"I think it's Snape. At least there are people in every house who don't dislike Filch."

An unexpected interjection made the two habitually joking men pause, then exchange glances before looking behind them—the person who had just spoken was there, a genuine student, Gryffindor, second-year.

'How could you make that joke!'

'Didn't you notice either?'

The two accused each other with their eyes—there was no helping it. It was barely past four in the morning, and on a weekend. Even Adams, who had work, had only gotten up early to get one over on William. The two, terribly sleepy, had forgotten there was a student nearby.

"It's wrong to speak ill of professors. There will be no punishment this time, but if I hear any more badmouthing of professors in the castle, I guarantee I can give you half a year of detention, Mr. Potter."

"After half a year, I'll continue the detention. There are plenty of plants in the greenhouse that need caring for, and plenty of dragon dung that needs composting."

The two professors shamelessly threatened the student—with great success.

"Can I go now, Professor?"

"I'm afraid not. I'm quite curious about that mysterious voice you mentioned. Could you tell me about it?"

"Um, I first heard this voice when I was in detention with Professor Lockhart. Today is the second time I've heard it, and I was sleeping—it was a terrifying sound. Cold, murderous, it was saying, 'Tear you… kill you…'"

"A human voice?"

William paused—he had thought it was some strange noise, like the sound of glass marbles rolling that you sometimes hear in old buildings. But it was a human voice?

"Yes, it should be a human voice—a chilling, breath-stopping, cold, and malicious speaking voice."

It was strange—William could accept any odd sound, but a human voice? What was that about?

"Adams?"

William asked very concisely, and Adams's gaze replied, 'You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.'

"I haven't heard of such a thing. Animal sounds would be one thing, but a human voice, I don't think there's a precedent. Perhaps I can look into it—but don't get your hopes up too high."

William answered quite frankly, but with experts in the school, he wouldn't just brush off a student like that. "You can ask Professor Lockhart; he's well-traveled and knows much more than I do. He should be able to give you an answer."

Perhaps it was due to the dim light, but William felt Harry's face suddenly stiffen.

"Alright, you're off the hook for tonight. Don't boast, or you'll get at least triple the detention. Go get some good sleep. I'll look into that voice thoroughly."

Harry wrapped himself in the Invisibility Cloak and, after bidding farewell to the two professors, hurried away.

Estimating that he had gone far enough, Adams asked, "No one else?"

"No, I don't think so."

William yawned and checked their surroundings with his wand.

"Dumbledore really spoils this child—the Invisibility Cloak was given by the Headmaster, wasn't it?"

"Most likely. An Invisibility Cloak that's been passed down isn't something a child could afford. Besides, an Invisibility Cloak is nothing—the school's class schedule was specifically modified because Harry was enrolling."

"Modified?"

"Of course—otherwise, why are there four heads of houses in that year? Do you think Professor McGonagall can handle school affairs while also teaching multiple years?"

"That's true. Four heads of houses teaching one year simultaneously, that's quite a luxurious lineup. How are Harry's grades?"

"Not as good as I imagined. I thought he'd be first in every subject, but his friend is first—I always thought he was a genius before he enrolled. Speaking of which, William, do you think that so-called voice isn't something he made up on the spot to avoid detention?"

"I don't think so. He wouldn't make up something so outlandish. I suspect he's been cursed."

"Cursed?"

"Exactly. Hearing sounds others can't, and then being paranoid all the time. Otherwise, why can't others hear that sound? Is there a ghost specifically trying to scare him? What kind of ghost can neither of us see, but only a second-year child can?"

"But what kind of curse is that? I haven't heard of it—William, William?"

Adams nudged the stunned William, only to find a look of delight on his face.

"That's right, ghosts! Hogwarts has ghosts!"

"Even ghosts can't scare people in front of both of us. Not even Peeves!"

But William wasn't referring to Harry's curse—he was thinking of the two tragically dead chickens.

In the anomalous world of magic, deduction faced a challenge, but now he found the anomaly on his side—the wandering ghosts of Hogwarts knew no less than the portraits. If he asked them carefully, he might find a new breakthrough this time.

"William!"

Adams's shout brought him back to reality.

"What is it?"

"Harry's curse?"

"Report it to the Headmaster. There's no way Dumbledore can't solve it, right? Whether it's a curse or a concussion, it should be fine."

"'Concussion,' what's that strange pronunciation?"

He blurted out a Chinese word in a hurry… Good thing Adams didn't understand—William was a little embarrassed.

Mainly, he suspected Harry had some lingering effects from crashing into a tree when he arrived at school.

"Nothing, a Muggle term, a kind of illness."