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"Professor Lupin is in the School Infirmary, and Madam Pomfrey has strictly forbidden anyone from visiting."
After hearing this, the students looked like frost-beaten eggplants, their heads drooping. Worry was written all over their faces, but Madam Pomfrey's ban held an authority at Hogwarts second only to the Principal and Professor McGonagall.
They could only swallow their concern and pray, "I hope the Professor gets well soon."
Lynn stood where he was, his brow furrowed. Something happened to Lupin at the Shrieking Shack?
This was illogical.
He remembered the Shrieking Shack clearly; Dumbledore had set up strict protective magic there. Once an anomaly was triggered, the Principal should have been the first to know and rush to the scene.
Under Dumbledore's nose, how could Lupin be so seriously injured that he needed to stay in the School Infirmary and be barred from visitors?
Something was wrong, very wrong. Could he have been attacked as well? Should I go take a look?
To think was to act.
Lynn turned to look at Edgar and the other two, who were about to head to their next History of Magic classroom:
"Ouch... I suddenly don't feel quite right, like I've caught a cold, feverish and all... Edgar, you guys go to class first. I need to go to the School Infirmary. Help me ask Professor Binns for leave, just say I'm feeling unwell."
Having said that, without waiting for the three to react, he clutched his forehead and ran quickly toward the School Infirmary.
Edgar, William, and Ollie stopped in their tracks, watching Lynn's back as he clutched his forehead but kept his back straight and his steps light.
"That acting of his..." William pushed up his glasses and whispered a complaint, "...is far worse than Lockhart's."
"His complexion is rosy and glowing, and his eyes are bright enough to be used as a Lumos Charm," Edgar curled his lip. "Claiming he's feverish now? Who is he trying to fool? If Madam Pomfrey can't see through that, I'll eat the quaffle."
Ollie said nothing, only nodding repeatedly...
Lynn jogged all the way, heading straight to the floor where the School Infirmary was located. He stopped at the door to steady his breathing and adjust his expression.
Preparations had to be thorough.
He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out half a suspiciously colored candy that emitted a faint mixed scent of mint and chili.
This was the "Skiving Snackbox (Fever Version · Prototype)" developed by the twins.
"I hope the side effects aren't too ridiculous," Lynn muttered, tossing the half candy into his mouth.
The candy melted quickly, and a strange warm current, accompanied by a slight stinging sensation, spread from his throat, rushing straight to the top of his head. The effect was instantaneous:
His cheeks flushed with an abnormal crimson at a rate visible to the naked eye, and fine beads of sweat even broke out on his forehead; it felt truly hot to the touch.
The whites of his eyes were quickly covered in bloodshot veins, and his eye sockets became slightly red and swollen, making him look as if his eyes were sore and uncomfortable from a real fever. His lips also became dry and peeling.
"Hiss... that's strong enough." Lynn took a breath, feeling his throat become dry and itchy, his voice naturally taking on a nasal tone.
The fever symptoms simulated by this candy were quite realistic, even bringing a sense of heaviness to his body.
The effect was realistic and quick to take hold, but the process was truly uncomfortable, as if he were actually burning up. However... considering this was still a prototype, some small flaws seemed barely acceptable.
Ready, Lynn pushed open the door to the School Infirmary and walked in.
"Madam Pomfrey? Are you there? I... I don't feel well, I think I have a fever."
The School Infirmary was unusually quiet, with only sunlight spilling through the windows onto the clean floor.
Usually, Madam Pomfrey would appear at the reception desk immediately, or busy sounds would come from the dispensing room inside. But at this moment, there was no response.
Lynn blinked his "bloodshot" eyes and raised his voice slightly:
"Madam Pomfrey? Are you here? My head really hurts..."
There was still silence.
He waited for a few seconds, then cautiously walked in a few steps, his gaze sweeping over the main ward area. Several beds were empty and neatly made. He didn't see Professor Lupin anywhere.
"Damn!" Lynn cursed softly, his expression collapsing. "I 'fevered' for nothing! No one's here, who am I performing for?"
Without hesitation, he pulled out the other half of the candy, a slightly different colored "antidote" part. This was also a prototype, and the twins had vowed it was effective.
He stuffed it into his mouth. A cool, pungent breath instantly dispelled the previous heat, and that weak sense of heaviness receded like a tide. Except for the strange lingering taste in his mouth, it was as if the "high fever" just now was merely an illusion.
Lynn's gaze scanned the entire space.
There was nothing unusual in the ward area. The door to the dispensing room was closed, but there shouldn't be anyone there. Then, his eyes fell on Madam Pomfrey's desk.
An open parchment document caught his attention. The handwriting of the title was clearly legible:
"Emergency Treatment Protocol for Hypovolemic Shock and Organ Failure in Werewolves (Individual Case)"
Werewolf blood loss? Organ failure?
Lynn's heart rate quickened slightly, and his gaze turned toward the deeper part of the School Infirmary.
There were several closed doors there, usually used for special examinations, isolation wards, or storing sensitive medical supplies.
He lightened his steps, and as he passed one door that looked exceptionally thick, a conversation faintly drifted out from inside.
One voice was Madam Pomfrey's, carrying an unprecedented gravity and confusion:
"...Are you sure you were attacked by a Vampire? This wound... this residue... it doesn't quite resemble the methods of any known Vampire clan; it doesn't even look like traditional Dark Arts..."
A brief silence followed, then another weak, raspy voice. Lynn could recognize it as Lupin's voice:
"I... I'm certain, Poppy... that... Vampire... used a strange blood droplet... and hit me..."
Lupin's voice paused, his breathing becoming heavier:
"If Dumbledore hadn't arrived in time... I... I'd probably be..."
The subsequent words became even more blurred and faint, as if Madam Pomfrey were asking about more detailed symptoms.
But Lynn had already heard enough key information.
Strange blood droplet. Hit. Blood-sucking. Dumbledore arrived in time.
This almost confirmed his suspicion.
Lupin had been attacked at the Shrieking Shack, and the method the attacker used was highly consistent with the attack characteristics of that alchemical Vampire vessel in the Forbidden Forest last night.
It wasn't a coincidence. This was definitely not a coincidence.
Lynn turned without hesitation, his footsteps silent as he quickly exited the School Infirmary, gently closing the door behind him.
He didn't go back to the History of Magic classroom but returned straight to the Hufflepuff Dormitory. Slipping into his room, he then lifted the lid of his trunk and climbed inside...
Buzz, buzz, buzz—!!!
The moment the Werewolf blood touched the "Conversion System," that network of "blood vessels" suddenly roared to life!
The injected Werewolf blood was frantically drawn, decomposed, and transformed. The blood was seen gradually disappearing, and in the next moment, blood mist began to roll.
Lynn raised his wand, guiding the blood mist to condense into a blood droplet. He looked at a goat used for feeding Opal.
"Sorry about this."
Without any psychological burden, Lynn flicked his wand, and that suspended dark red blood droplet accurately shot toward the goat in the cage.
Sizzle—!
The moment the blood droplet touched the goat's fur, the goat's body suddenly stiffened, unable to even let out a single bleat!
Immediately after, the same scene as the tragic state of that Acromantula hit by the blood in the Forbidden Forest reappeared.
A few seconds later, the goat had completely turned into a light, dry corpse, collapsing to the bottom of the cage.
And that ball of blood, as if drawn by something, slowly merged into the large expanse of blood mist, making the color of the mist seem a bit darker.