Just as Professor McGonagall led Draco and Hermione away from the scene, Madam Pomfrey escorted Ron Weasley to a bed in the infirmary, with Harry Potter following alongside.
Come to think of it, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley could practically be called regulars of the infirmary. Over the past few years, it seemed that every single year, without fail, they would end up here at least once.
It was hard not to wonder whether the two of them were afflicted by some kind of strange curse that required them to be carried in here…once every year.
On the hospital bed.
Ron Weasley, awakened by Madam Pomfrey's special potion, lay there staring blankly at the familiar ceiling above him. Beside him, Harry Potter watched him anxiously.
Seeing Ron Weasley's odd reaction, Madam Pomfrey shook the empty vial in her hand, her expression tinged with concern.
"Dear, are you feeling unwell anywhere else? That shouldn't be the case… Could it be that I missed something during the examination?"
Although she had great confidence in her medical skills, Ron Weasley's almost petrified expression made the diligent Hogwarts Healer lean in again, preparing to give him a full-body check.
But in the very next instant, Ron Weasley suddenly snapped back to his senses as if jolted awake, shouting at the top of his lungs,
"How could I lose to someone like that?!"
"Ron?!"
"......"
The outburst startled not only Harry Potter at his side, but also Madam Pomfrey, who had just been walking toward the bed.
After a few seconds of stunned silence, she finally understood what had happened.
Since he was a patient, the school nurse didn't get truly angry. On the contrary, she let out a small sigh of relief.
"Good. You still have plenty of energy. But if I hear you shouting that loudly again, I'll have you leave the infirmary."
Once she was in work mode, Madam Pomfrey wouldn't even give Dumbledore special treatment. Naturally, she wouldn't allow anyone else to break the infirmary's rules either. Her earlier leniency toward Ron Weasley was only because he was a patient lying in a hospital bed.
After confirming that Ron Weasley was indeed fine, Madam Pomfrey withdrew her warning gaze and left the ward, leaving only Harry Potter and Ron Weasley behind.
"Ron, what exactly happened? Why did you—"
"Don't ask, Harry. I don't want to talk about it right now. Besides, the Yule Ball isn't over yet. Don't stay here with me. You should go back."
"Ah… okay. Then get some good rest."
Noticing Ron Weasley's clear desire to be left alone, Harry Potter, though still worried, felt it wouldn't be right to stay any longer. He stood up and left.
What the Chosen One didn't know was that, behind him, a pair of flickering eyes were watching his back.
And at the very moment he stepped out the door, the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead began to ache once more.
The sudden, searing pain nearly made the unprepared Harry Potter cry out loud…
…
Trophy Room.
This was the place dedicated to storing and displaying trophies, shields, medals, and statues. The moment one stepped inside, massive crystal glass display cases lined both sides of the room, each holding symbols of honor and achievement.
At the very center of the hall stood another display, bearing the signatures of students who had received the "Special Award for Services to the School" over the years, along with their corresponding trophies.
Although Hogwarts boasted a long and storied history, the number of trophies displayed here was surprisingly small. A single glance was enough to count them all.
That alone made it clear just how difficult it was to earn the "Special Award for Services to the School," and how astonishingly prestigious it was to have one's name appear here.
In fact, almost without exception, the names engraved on these trophies belonged to people who had gone on to hold important positions and notable achievements in the wizarding world.
Which meant that any wizard whose name appeared here undoubtedly ranked among the very best, whether now or in the future.
And such an honor was irresistibly tempting to Hermione…
"Special Award for Services to the School… Draco, come look! I know this witch. She's the author of Fifty Charms Explained! And over here, isn't this Headmaster Dumbledore?"
"…Is that so? Let me see."
Seeing Hermione so animated, Draco stepped closer as well. As for the task of cleaning the Trophy Room, it had long since slipped their minds after Filch had been lured away by Peeves, who was up to his usual mischief again.
If Hermione was completely absorbed by the Trophy Room itself, then Draco, from the very beginning, had never taken the detention or punishment seriously at all….
...
Come to think of it, this wasn't Hermione's first time here.
The first time had been back in first year, when Harry Potter had chosen this place for a duel with Goyle and Crabbe.
No one had expected that Goyle and Crabbe wouldn't show up at all. After freezing in the cold for nothing, they were spotted by Peeves and Filch and chased all over the place, which eventually led into the whole affair surrounding the Philosopher's Stone.
Back then, she hadn't had the slightest interest in examining the trophies or the medals displayed here…
"Draco, do you know how these wizards earned the 'Special Award for Services to the School'?"
"Want to know?"
"Huh? You actually know?!"
Catching something in Draco's tone, Hermione immediately lit up with anticipation and, without thinking, looped her arm through his. The ease of the gesture suggested it wasn't the first time she'd done so.
Perhaps at this moment, Hermione had slipped back into her glass slipper, becoming the beautiful princess who appeared only at midnight…
When Hermione started acting spoiled like this, very few people could resist. Draco was no exception.
"I don't know for sure," he said, "but there is a way to find out."
"Hm?"
In a good mood, Draco raised an eyebrow, stepped up beside Hermione, and reached out to lightly tap one of the trophies with his fingertip.
Before Hermione could even voice her question, she noticed something strange happening beneath the trophy. The surface rippled, just like water disturbed by a stone tossed into a lake.
"This is…?!"
"Pretty clever, isn't it?" Draco said. "This way of recording things."
"Mm-hmm!!"
Hermione nodded vigorously, her eyes shining as she watched the words slowly emerge across the trophy's surface.
Under Draco's fingertip, the year the honor was awarded, what deeds had been accomplished, and the achievements made during their time at school were all recorded in detail on the small trophy.
But before long, Hermione's excited expression turned into stunned disbelief. Beside her, Draco, who had deliberately chosen this one, grew serious as well.
Because the trophy Draco had touched…belonged to Tom Riddle.