"Madam Pomfrey, I've got someone here who needs treatment!"
Link kicked open the doors, striding in with a band of vicious-looking hunters trailing behind him.
Everyone inside the Great Hall froze at the sight of this uninvited crowd, even Dumbledore and the others.
This had to be a joke.
Just moments ago, Dumbledore had said he was going to rescue Link, he had even been working himself into the right emotional state. And then Link just appeared like this, walking right in through the front door?
The whole Great Hall sank into a strange, uneasy silence.
Link didn't care. He kept moving forward with his people, limping slightly, but carrying an energy that was fierce and unbroken.
Frowning, he shouted again,
"Madam Pomfrey! Where are you? Hurry up, save them! Ah, "
His cry cut off sharply, because Emily, who had just been speaking with Dumbledore, suddenly blurred into a streak of motion and slammed into his arms like a cannonball.
The collision made Link feel as if the injuries he had only just started to recover from were tearing open again, his ribs sending a stab of pain through his chest that twisted his expression into a grimace.
But not the slightest trace of displeasure appeared in his eyes, instead, they were filled with tenderness and worry.
Because Emily, in his arms, was already crying so hard it sounded like her heart might break, her body trembling uncontrollably.
With his mastery of Legilimency, Link could clearly sense Emily's fear. For a moment, he even forgot all about calling for Madam Pomfrey, he simply held her tighter and patted her back gently, trying to comfort her.
Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey wasn't far. Hearing his shout, she forced her way through the crowd. The moment she saw Link, her expression darkened, and she briskly separated him from Emily, scolding,
"Emily, that was reckless! With that hug, you've just broken Link's ribs all over again!"
"What?!"
Emily gasped, her swollen red eyes widening in shock. She started mumbling incoherently, her hands flailing in the air, desperate to touch Link yet not daring to.
"Don't worry," Link forced out a faint smile, "I don't hurt!"
Emily's cheeks burned red, and she lowered her head, fidgeting nervously in place.
Madam Pomfrey, however, had already begun her work.
With practiced speed, she pressed her hands over Link's chest, arms, and other injuries, then flicked her wand rapidly, releasing waves of green light.
Finally, she pried open his mouth and poured in a huge bottle of thick, dark-brown potion that reeked of sour brine.
The taste made Link gag.
But truth be told, once the treatment was over, he really did feel much better.
"This is just preliminary care. You'll still need to be admitted for a proper recovery," Madam Pomfrey declared, then, expressionless, moved on to the next patient.
Link couldn't help but admire her skill and dedication. The only problem was, she didn't so much as glance at the three hunters who were badly injured. Instead, she went to check Harry and Snape, who had already been confirmed by Klee and the others to be in no serious danger, just unconscious.
Link's face hardened. He stepped forward, stopping her, and said gravely,
"Madam Pomfrey, Professor Snape and Harry aren't in serious condition. Please, see to my three brothers first."
At that, Madam Pomfrey turned, staring at Link in disbelief.
She still remembered the little Link from years ago, small, weak, and pitiful, someone who stirred people's sympathy.
And now he dared to order her around? With such a hard tone?
Anger flickered across her face.
But Link had already read her emotions, and before the anger could flare, he softened. Leaning in so only she could hear, he whispered,
"Please."
Her expression shifted again. After a moment's hesitation, she gave a cold snort and went to treat the three wounded hunters.
The hunters who had followed Link all sighed in relief at once.
For all their brutish, scarred appearances, they were still deeply respectful of Hogwarts. Most of them had graduated from here, trained under Dumbledore or other old professors.
And back in their student days, Hogwarts rules had been far stricter than they were now, leaving a shadow in their hearts.
The young hunter who had spoken with Link earlier was a perfect example. He had once studied medical magic under Madam Pomfrey before ending up a magical beast hunter by accident.
The moment Pomfrey recognized him, she roped him in to help, forcing him to assist with the injured hunters. And afterward, she even pulled him along to tend to other Hogwarts students.
Funny thing was, though his healing spells were only at a "barefoot doctor" level, he was still far better than the upper-year student volunteers.
Dragged around like this, he actually earned a surprising amount of praise. Some younger volunteers even served him tea and begged him to teach them a few tricks.
But that's another story.
Once the hunters' treatment was done, Link finally allowed Emily to help him sit down on one of the few sofas in the Great Hall.
After all the commotion he'd caused, he was now the center of attention.
Students and staff crowded around in tight circles, curious about what had happened to him in the Tournament, or how he had made it back. Cedric and John, of course, were truly concerned for his wellbeing.
But nobody dared approach, because Dumbledore was making his way toward him, clearly intending to speak.
Unfortunately, before Dumbledore even arrived, Link rolled his eyes at him.
He had already seen the devastated battlefield outside Hogwarts, which told him that Dumbledore had fought enemies just as fierce as the ones Link faced.
Still, Link couldn't suppress his anger.
If Dumbledore hadn't been so late, Link might have had a chance to destroy Voldemort before he fully revived.
His men wouldn't have suffered such terrible losses. Emily wouldn't have been forced through such fear.
Link was furious beyond reason.
Dumbledore saw it too, and swallowed back the words he'd been about to speak.
But not everyone present was as wise or skilled in reading minds as Dumbledore.
One Beauxbatons boy, staring at Link and the hunters who were being treated, muttered discontentedly to his companions, "Those men all bear the Flamel family crest, they're Link Flamel's men! I bet he smuggled them into the Tournament and used their strength to win the championship!"
"And not just that, the Hogwarts professors and students are all in on it too! This whole thing was a sham! The Triwizard Tournament means nothing!"
His voice wasn't loud, barely audible in the noisy hall.
But Link, still under heightened sensory spells, caught every word.
His expression darkened. He stood, and began walking straight toward the boy.
The crowd parted instinctively, leaving the Beauxbatons student exposed, trembling as Link drew closer.
Link stopped right in front of him, glanced at his blue uniform, and asked coldly, "What's your name?"
"I…" The boy nearly blurted it out under the weight of Link's presence. But then, glancing at his schoolmates, he straightened his chest and said, "Why should I tell you?"
Link's brows arched, his anger flaring hotter.
Just then, Krell stepped up, pointing at the intricate bronze brooch on the boy's chest.
"He's from the Quisque family," Klee explained.
Link's expression barely changed. Knowing he didn't recognize the name, Klee continued, "A small wizarding family in France. Only six members left."
"The current head is just a low-level team leader in the Auror Office of the French Ministry, talentless, living on a meager salary."
"A bug like this, if you give the word, young master, we could have that man fired in minutes. And if you want, wiping the whole family off the map wouldn't be difficult either."
A dangerous smile curved across Link's lips.
The Beauxbatons boy went pale, hurriedly hiding the brooch that was usually his proudest possession.
Worse still, when he looked around, he found that the schoolmates he thought would back him up had all slunk away, pretending not to know him.
His panic grew, his mouth opened and closed soundlessly, unable to form words.
Thankfully, the professors from the smaller conference room arrived just then.
Madame Maxime pushed her way forward, quickly saying, "Link, Simar didn't mean it, it was just a small matter..."
But before she could finish, Lady Flamel appeared at Link's side. She slipped an arm around his shoulders and, smiling faintly, told Maxime, "Children's quarrels should be left to the children. We adults shouldn't interfere."
Maxime's face darkened immediately.
Because Lady Flamel's meaning was clear, if Maxime interfered, she would step in too.
But was that really "a matter for the children" when it involved threats of exterminating a family?
She was the headmistress of Beauxbatons. If she stood by and let her student be destroyed, how could she face her people after returning home?
The atmosphere grew taut again, ready to snap.
"Enough!"
Finally, Dumbledore broke in. With a wave of his wand, he pulled Link and the Beauxbatons boy apart.
"This ends here. Link, to my office. Alone."
With a snap of his fingers, Fawkes' flames rose around him, and he disappeared.
Link didn't hesitate. After reassuring Emily and Lady Flamel, and bidding Cedric and his friends farewell, he climbed the stairs.
At the entrance to the headmaster's office, there was no stone gargoyle, no ghosts or armored statues blocking his way. He simply walked straight in.
"Sit, Link."
Dumbledore, back turned, was fiddling with something. But as he spoke, a cushioned chair slid over for Link.
Expressionless, Link sat, staring hard at Dumbledore, determined to see what he would say.
The losses tonight had been severe. Maybe it wasn't all Dumbledore's fault, but Link was resolved, he would make him take responsibility.
No matter what excuses Dumbledore gave, Link intended to pin the blame.
Yet, to his surprise, Dumbledore didn't mention the battle at all. Instead, he pulled out a freshly prepared medicine kit and began treating Link's injuries.
It was agonizing work.
Link had expected as much. Resetting bones that had healed wrong meant breaking them again, and his internal injuries would take weeks of rest.
But as the treatment went on, Link was shocked, Dumbledore's healing magic was not inferior to Madam Pomfrey's. In fact, it might have been even better.
And unlike Pomfrey's harsh, efficiency-driven methods that taught through pain, Dumbledore's touch was unbelievably gentle. Link barely felt pain at all throughout the process.
Of course, Link suspected this was because Dumbledore was using precious medicines, like an entire bottle of freshly harvested phoenix tears, something Pomfrey would never waste.
"All right," Dumbledore said at last, brushing off his hands. "The rest will depend on rest. You'll need at least half a month in bed."
Link nodded, though he kept his scowl. The careful treatment had eased some of his anger, but not all.
"You owe me an explanation," he said flatly.
The office fell silent. Even the snores of the headmaster portraits on the walls stopped.
At last, Dumbledore sighed with a bitter smile.
"You saw what's happening outside. You must understand. I'm sorry, but compared to you and Harry, Hogwarts is more important."
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