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Hogwarts Castle, School Infirmary.
The familiar scent of disinfectant mixed with herbs. The familiar white sheets.
And the familiar—Madam Pomfrey.
When Lynn and Ollie were "escorted" here by Professor McGonagall, they exchanged a glance, both seeing the same helplessness in each other's eyes.
They had long since lost count of how many times they'd ended up here because of "accidents."
At this point, the School Infirmary was practically their second common room.
"You two!" Madam Pomfrey stood with her hands on her hips. "The Forbidden Forest again? Another 'little accident'? Let me see if you've been injured—or tainted by any foul curses!"
Her tone was sharp, but her hands were already moving with efficient precision.
Without protest, the two were pressed into yet another thorough, head-to-toe examination.
Soft glows of diagnostic magic swept over them, checking for wounds, traces of Dark Arts, and even signs of mental trauma.
Madam Pomfrey even pulled down their eyelids to inspect their pupils and had them open their mouths to examine their teeth and throats.
Worried about werewolf contagion through saliva or airborne exposure?
After confirming that neither of them had so much as a scratch—only lingering excitement—Madam Pomfrey finally let out a small breath of relief, though her expression remained stern.
She turned, retrieved two bubbling vials of suspicious-looking potion, and set them down on the bedside table with a firm thud.
"Drink."
No room for argument.
"Calming Draught," she added. "No matter what you've been through, this will help you sleep—and clear away anything that shouldn't linger in your minds."
Her eyes sharpened slightly.
"Especially you, Mr. Lynn. That excitement in your eyes hasn't faded at all."
Lynn and Ollie stared at the strangely colored potions.
Their expressions twisted in unison.
With visible reluctance, they lifted the vials—
—and drank.
The effect was immediate.
Lynn felt his taste buds scream as the liquid hit his tongue, his stomach churning in protest.
"Merlin's old socks…" Lynn croaked, his tongue nearly numb. "Where does Madam Pomfrey even get these recipes? This taste… no human should be capable of brewing something that violates the limits of physiology like this!"
(At that moment, in his office, Professor Snape—who was supervising Edgar in processing slug livers—suddenly sneezed.)
He frowned slightly.
"It seems some ungrateful troll is 'praising' my potion work."
Edgar shuddered, nearly slicing his finger with the knife in his hand.
Madam Pomfrey ignored their suffering entirely.
She collected the empty bottles, nodded with satisfaction, and gestured toward the beds.
"Lie down. Sleep. No leaving the ward without my permission."
Just as Lynn was still battling the lingering "aftertaste of death," the ward door opened quietly.
Dumbledore stepped inside.
Urgency and concern were clear behind his half-moon spectacles.
His first glance went to Professor McGonagall, who stood nearby.
"Minerva, how are the children? Are they injured?" he asked, his voice quicker than usual.
Not long ago, he had been deep within the distant forests of Albania, searching for clues about Lord Voldemort and his Horcruxes.
When Professor McGonagall contacted him via mobile phone, the message she delivered had made his heart tighten instantly:
"There are a large number of werewolf wizards—and students—in the Forbidden Forest…"
Before she could finish, Dumbledore had already ended the call and returned to Hogwarts at top speed.
The students had to be safe.
Now—
He saw Lynn lying on the bed, still grimacing from the potion.
Dumbledore paused slightly.
Then asked his second question since entering:
"Children… I am relieved to see you safe and unharmed."
A brief pause.
"Now, tell me—those werewolves… what is their… 'situation'?"
Another pause.
"Nothing… 'happened' to them, did it?"
Lynn: "…"
His expression froze.
The corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
Why does that sound like he already knows something…?
And why does it feel like my reputation in the Headmaster's mind has taken a strange turn…?
---
The next day — Hogwarts Great Hall.
Sunlight streamed through the tall windows as students enjoyed breakfast, preparing for a new day of classes.
As usual, some students glanced toward the four House point hourglasses.
Then—
They froze.
The Hufflepuff hourglass—
The one Professor Snape had heavily deducted from the previous night—
Had not only fully recovered—
But seemed to have gained even more.
"…What?"
"Am I seeing things?"
"Hufflepuff's points—weren't dozens deducted last night?!"
"How did they come back overnight?!"
"Not just back—they increased?!"
"Merlin's beard! Did they donate a vault to the school overnight? Or did they go out and capture You-Know-Who?!"
Shock spread across the Great Hall—Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, even Slytherin.
Meanwhile—
The Hufflepuffs themselves were equally stunned.
They looked at one another in disbelief.
Are you serious?!
Points deducted yesterday… and doubled today?!
Since when does the Hogwarts point system work like this?!
…
Time flowed like a stream under an acceleration charm—
Carried along by Quidditch matches, quiet hours in the library, laughter in classrooms, and hurried footsteps in the corridors.
In the blink of an eye—
The End-of-Term Feast arrived.
The Great Hall was magnificently decorated.
Students sat at their respective House tables, though nearly every gaze drifted now and then toward the hourglasses.
The sand inside them had stopped moving—
Frozen at the final tally of the school year.
At the High Table, the professors wore varied expressions.
Finally—
As the last desserts vanished from golden plates—
Dumbledore stood.
He tapped his goblet lightly.
The clear note silenced the entire hall.
"All eyes forward."
"Another year," Dumbledore began, his warm voice carrying effortlessly throughout the hall, "and once again we gather to celebrate its end—along with friendship, knowledge, and… the rewards of hard work."
His gaze swept across the four tables.
It lingered just a moment longer on Hufflepuff.
A faint smile deepened at the corner of his lips.
"The giving and taking of House points are small reflections of these efforts," he continued, gesturing toward the hourglasses.
"And now, after our splendid feast, it is time to reveal the final results of this school year."
He paused deliberately.
Though the outcome was already obvious.
"Fourth place—Gryffindor House, with three hundred and fifty-two points."
A few groans and resigned sighs rose from the Gryffindor table.
"Third place—Ravenclaw House, with four hundred and twenty-six points."
Polite applause followed.
"Second place—Slytherin House, with four hundred and eighty-seven points."
"And first place—"
Dumbledore's voice rose, filled with warmth and celebration.
"With an outstanding total of five hundred and sixty-seven points…"
"The winner of this year's House Cup is—"
"Hufflepuff House!"
"YAY—!!!"
"Hufflepuff! Hufflepuff! Hufflepuff!"