"...Yes, you can hand them over to me, and I’ll give these misbehaving little witches some unforgettable memories."
Filch rubbed his hands together, now that the situation didn’t involve William, and seemed exactly what the latter wanted, he became instantly excited, "Just in time, the mess in the corridor is too difficult to clean up, Headmaster, I need more slav... helpers."
The man’s dried lips curled, deep-set eyes making him resemble a creepy old pervert.
...Weren’t you about to say slaves?
Ginny’s eyelid twitched, so she looked at Professor McGonagall with hopeful eyes... then changed her mind and looked back at William, her deep brown pupils shimmering.
"...Repeated physical labor isn’t effective."
William’s voice paused, though Filch looked disappointed, he said nothing. William pondered for a moment, "Professor—" he turned to look at Professor Sprout, "I remember that not all fully matured Mandrakes were used to cure those who were petrified?"
"Oh, yes."
"Then perhaps they can help a bit—"
Mandrakes need replanting in new pots once they’re mature, a particularly tedious task requiring hands-on attention in almost every step. The complexity of the task made even Professor Sprout a bit lazy. The greenhouse was filled with a dozen or so Mandrakes urgently needing care.
"But won’t they be too..."
Too small? She looked at the two first-year young witches and frowned.
"...They’re both smart, I believe they can handle it—it’s also a learning experience, and those Mandrakes should keep them quietly occupied until the summer holidays."
"...Alright, then, you’ll head to Greenhouse One every afternoon after class."
Professor Sprout nodded at the two girls.
"...Understood."
Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, as long as she wasn’t handed over to Filch—she had heard from the Weasley Twins, or rather their older brother had scared her by telling her that Filch’s office was filled with the "tools of discipline" left by previous castle managers, even stained with blood from former students.
"...Hmm."
Luna nodded too, but she seemed lacking in regret, perhaps even... disappointed?
William narrowed his eyes, watching this girl who clearly hadn’t realized her mistake yet, and after a brief contemplation, he continued, "And, a 2000-word reflection paper to be submitted to me by this weekend... one each."
Submit to you?
Professor Meow raised an eyebrow. She seemed on the verge of saying something but refrained, looking at Dumbledore, who was just staring at the ceiling without comment. She held back her authority as the Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor—after all, William was now Assistant to the Duel Club, and rumor had it Professor Flitwick even proposed a salary for him.
So, is he considered Hogwarts staff?
"...What are you looking at?"
After this "perfect" resolution, Professor McGonagall led the two young witches back to the tower; Professor Sprout, half-asleep already, yawned and returned to her office; Filch, as if suddenly remembering something, dragged Mrs. Loris along in search of Peeves, who had just bragged about throwing dungbombs.
The Great Hall was left with only Dumbledore still gazing upward, and William standing beside him.
"..."
Silence lingered for a long time, and finally, the old man’s voice broke it, "My neck’s sprained."
"...Awesome."
Helping the "stiff-necked" old man to a seat, William grinned, "Oh, and Hagrid could find a chance to get rid of the chickens around the castle. Maybe organize a student cleanup as well. There’s too much chicken mess for a Squib to manage alone, and since we have slav—, I mean, manpower, let’s use it."
"...I’ll speak to Minerva about it later."
Dumbledore grimaced, rubbing his neck. Ever since William’s reveal of a different guise, their interactions never adhered to formalities. Both seemed to relish it—at least William did.
"I’m off then."
"No hurry. I didn’t fault you for raising Fire Dragons, Acromantulas, and such, but the Basilisk..."
Dumbledore, comprehending William’s underlying point instantly, both knew why the chickens roamed the castle. Now, with their removal, the implications were obvious.
"Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on them."
"...That’s not the core issue."
"Then what is?" William waved it off, continuing as he walked away, "Don’t fret, don’t fret. As I’ve amassed many debts, a few lice won’t bite. Even if the Ministry of Magic catches me, having one less Basilisk won’t change a life sentence in Azkaban to a fixed term..."
Saying this, he departed the Great Hall, slipping away quickly with a brush-off, leaving Dumbledore alone at the long table, rubbing his neck.
"...Sigh."
The old man sighed, his silver beard trembling gently.
If William wasn’t known not as a Black Wizard and was so powerful, Dumbledore would never allow such a "dangerous character" in the castle—but the Secrets of the Vault under the castle... as Headmaster of Hogwarts, Dumbledore, of course, knew of the battle a century ago at Hogwarts.
Many professors involved had left behind quite a bit of record, even if only orally.
With William’s appearance, he saw another possibility—
"We’ll have to take it one step at a time..."
The old man slowly stood, still holding his neck.
...
Exiting the Hall, William didn’t return to his quarters. Instead, he took out the Marauder’s Map, heading up the spiraling staircase until he stopped on the eighth floor.
"Mischief Managed—Good, you can take it off now."
Securing away the map, William glanced at the air behind him, moments later, a green fire appeared from nowhere, followed by a boy’s head, body, and feet.
"Where’s this?"
Harry folded away the Invisibility Cloak, dusting off his somewhat dusty cloak. He looked up at the tapestry of a troll clubbing clueless Barnabas, puzzled.
"Don’t rush—"
William tapped the boy’s forehead, a deep blue mark impressing on his skin only to fade quickly, "Now, think about ’Room belonging to William Richard’ in your mind, then walk back and forth three times—"
Harry blinked, unsure of the purpose but nodded and complied.
As he briskly passed in front of the tapestry, a beautifully intricate stone door slowly emerged on the opposite side.