HP: Professor From Azkaban

"Professor William, are you really not going to schedule another exam for the seventh-years?"

"I promised, Professor McGonagall."

At the staff dining table, William solemnly assured Professor McGonagall.

This morning was supposed to be William's first lesson with the seventh-years. However, during breakfast, Professor McGonagall uncharacteristically came over to sit with him. After chatting for a while about unrelated matters, she finally brought up the main topic.

Under no circumstances could the situation where all the fifth-years failed their exams be repeated with the seventh-years. Fifth-years still had a full year to recover, but the seventh-years did not!

Although Hogwarts was primarily an educational institution, the future employment of its seventh-year students was of paramount importance to the school.

Every Hogwarts student underwent a career counseling session in their fifth year to plan their future career paths.

Most professions had explicit requirements for OWLs exam certificates and, to some extent, NEWTs certificates. However, job-hunting wasn't something that started right after graduation.

That would be even more unreasonable than the strict 'no dating while studying, but get married and have kids immediately after graduation' expectations found in some Muggle universities.

For most students, after obtaining their OWLs certificates and studying for one year in the advanced classes, they could start looking for internships during the summer or the new school year. Except for a few high-demand professions like Aurors, which required additional training even after joining, most students spent half of their seventh year interning.

In theory, if a student had no need for NEWTs certificates, they could even apply for an extended leave of absence after their sixth year. This was one of the reasons why advanced classes were taught with students from all four houses together.

Of course, there were hardly any jobs that only required OWLs certificates.

Under such circumstances, failing even one student, let alone all of them, was unwise. It could severely impact the students' confidence in their internships. Some might even have to abandon their internships or quit job hunting altogether because they couldn't balance work and studies.

Thus, Professor McGonagall, who usually refrained from interfering with professors' teaching methods, took a tactful approach in offering this advice to William.

"Seventh-year students are already under the dual pressure of exams and employment; They're on the verge of collapsing. As their professor, please don't add to their stress by failing them arbitrarily."

Professor McGonagall's point was clear, and William made a solemn promise. Apart from the graduation and NEWTs exams, the seventh-years wouldn't see a single test paper from him.

He was here to take his teaching responsibilities seriously, not to torment the students.

The students who qualified for advanced classes had a strong foundation. They didn't need excessive drilling; Instead, they should broaden their knowledge to prepare for the evaluations they would face in the wizarding world.

Although William hadn't lived properly in wizarding society, thanks to his time in Azkaban, there was probably no place darker than what he had experienced—aside from the Ministry of Magic's inner workings, perhaps.

While sixth-years might need some advanced magical training, William had other plans for the seventh-years. He intended to share life lessons—cough, "experiences"—from his time in Azkaban.

***

"You're here?"

"Of course, it's the first class of the new term. Skipping it would be out of the question."

Although they weren't in the same house, being classmates for over six years had made them familiar with one another.

"How's the internship search going?"

"A bit challenging. The Ministry of Magic still isn't sure about accepting me. Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts classes have been so weak in recent years that they doubt whether I can handle the training required after joining."

"Are they joking? Nymph, you earned nine certificates back then. Seven of them with distinction. You were the undisputed top of our year! The Ministry won't hire you?"

"I have my doubts too. The threshold for becoming an Auror is high, and the elimination rate is terrifying. Getting accepted might not be an issue, but passing is incredibly difficult."

"..."

"…"

The students seized the opportunity before the professor arrived to exchange thoughts about their job prospects. The fact that the new professor was directionally challenged had already spread among the students. If they couldn't criticize his teaching methods, finding flaws in his daily habits became their default response; a universal human tendency, whether wizard or Muggle.

As they chatted, however, they suddenly realized that the bell for class had rung long ago, yet there was no sign of the professor.

"Did we come to the wrong classroom?"

"I don't think so?"

"This is the Defense Against—uh, I mean, the Wizard Self-Defense class, isn't it?"

"Do you think the Professor got lost?"

That suggestion elicited a round of knowing laughter. Understandably so; the rumors had been circulating, and the fifth-years had even come up with jokes about the new Professor.

But laughter didn't solve the problem. Once it subsided, everyone realized there was nothing they could do except wait.

"Hey, Nymph, you're a prefect, aren't you? Why don't you check the staff lounge or ask one of the portraits?"

"Alright, but you all better stay put. If the professor shows up, make sure to explain on my behalf. I don't want to lose points for seventh-year for no reason. This is the guy who managed to fail an entire grade!"

Just as she finished speaking, a figure suddenly appeared on the podium.

"Miss Nymph, it's inappropriate to badmouth a professor behind their back. I've told countless students before; the reason they fail is their insufficient knowledge, not my so-called deducting points on purpose. Gryffindor, five points off."

"Professor, you did that on purpose!"

Although the prefect didn't respond, the students below voiced their indignation.

"Yes, I did it on purpose."

William nodded at the student who had spoken, acknowledging their statement, then flashed a charming smile. "But what can you do about it?"

The classroom instantly fell silent. Not even Professor Snape would dare say something so brazen in public.

While Snape's point deductions were infamous for being arbitrary, he at least gave some pretense of justification. Even if he stirred up conflict, there was usually a reason, however flimsy.

"Why are you all standing there in a daze? I thought I made myself clear. I deliberately hid over there to see if you'd talk behind my back. I waited for someone to take the bait, and now I've deducted points. So, who here can tell me, what are you going to do about it?"

William spread his hands toward the students, wearing an expression that practically screamed, 'Come at me if you don't like it.'

After a long, awkward pause, one student finally managed a weak response.

"We'll report you to Professor McGonagall!"

"At most, Professor McGonagall will have a word with me. But afterward, I'll just find another way to deduct points. For instance, why aren't you all wearing hats in class?"

Deducting points for not wearing hats in class? This was the first time in seven years at Hogwarts that these kids had heard of such a thing; even a certain Potions Professor wouldn't stoop so low!

****

Translator: That is not Tonks, in case you were wondering.