"Alright then, come out now, Mr. William. This isn't the place for practicing magic."
Professor McGonagall spoke as she led Leonard out of the room. Before stepping through the doorway, she waved her wand. The chains wrapped around the three-headed dog snapped apart one by one, crumbling back into piles of dirt across the floor.
Before the furious creature could lunge, Professor McGonagall quickly shut the door behind them.
The door shook from the impact, dust falling from above, making it seem as though it might not hold. But Professor McGonagall remained composed—she clearly had faith in the door's strength.
"That was a very good Levitation Charm, Mr. William," she said as they walked. "No wonder Professor Flitwick holds you in such high regard."
"I just used what I learned," Leonard replied modestly.
Professor McGonagall nodded, then after a brief pause, said tactfully,
"I mean no offense, but Mr. William... you've certainly had a busy day."
First rescuing Draco Malfoy from the Devil's Snare, then saving a Gryffindor from nearly being torn apart by the three-headed dog.
Leonard had no words. He hadn't expected the day to turn out like this either.
He might've been fine if he didn't think about it, but once he did, the weight of everything hit him—he was exhausted.
Professor McGonagall wasn't surprised by Leonard's silence. Her comment was more of a light complaint—she hadn't expected a response.
"Would you care to join me at the Hospital Wing, Mr. William? You could check in on those reckless students you saved," she offered.
"No, I've had enough for today. I'm wiped," Leonard said.
Food, sleep—nothing was getting between him and some rest.
"Alright then, but before you go, I need to inform you," McGonagall said with a sigh. "Hufflepuff gets 100 points for your heroic efforts. And... another Special Contribution Award. Yes, another one."
Two hundred points in one day, and two Special Contribution Awards to top it off. But Leonard couldn't have cared less. To him, a Special Contribution Award was about as useful as Wolfsbane Potion to a normal person.
Some people might be thrilled—but not Leonard.
McGonagall, having handed out two of those rare awards in a single day, looked completely resigned.
Special Contribution Awards were rare for a reason. It wasn't often that life-threatening situations happened at Hogwarts, let alone twice in one day.
And both were handled by the same student!
The rarity was on par with Dumbledore's phoenix.
Watching Leonard walk off with that same calm, indifferent expression, showing no excitement over the awards or the points, McGonagall couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy.
Damn it—why isn't this student in Gryffindor? If she had someone like him in her house, she wouldn't have to worry about Gryffindor ending up last in the House Cup every year!
The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. She marched off toward the Hospital Wing with a stormy expression.
Detention! Every single one of them! They can all go scrub the trophy room! Let those brats see what it's like when someone from another house earns two Special Contribution Awards in a single day—while they can't stop losing points!
It was clear things were going to get noisy once McGonagall arrived at the Hospital Wing.
But even before she got there, it was already lively.
"Well, if it isn't the little Malfoy heir. You look terrible—did a troll trample you? Stay away from us, will you? I don't want that stench rubbing off on me."
On a hospital bed, Fred Weasley, pale as a sheet, still managed to keep up his signature snark as he threw shade at the bruised and bandaged Draco Malfoy.
George stood beside him, joining in with Harry to mock Malfoy as well.
As for Neville... he and Hermione stood to the side, watching the trio's antics with a mix of helplessness and exasperation.
Wrapped like a mummy in bandages, Malfoy glared back, but the wrappings were so tight he couldn't speak—forced to take the abuse in silence.
Nearby, Crabbe and Goyle stood dumbly by his bed, too tongue-tied to say anything, just drooling as they stared at the snacks on the bedside table.
Once again, Malfoy regretted ever trusting those two.
Fred didn't get to be smug for long. Just as he was gearing up for another round of jabs at the Malfoy who looked down on the Weasleys, Madam Pomfrey strode into the Hospital Wing, holding a steaming bowl of green-smoke-laced potion.
"No shouting in the Hospital Wing! Don't disturb the other patients!" she snapped sternly.
As a professional healer, Madam Pomfrey didn't play favorites—not even Dumbledore got to break her rules, let alone a group of kids.
"Mr. Malfoy has several fractured bones from the Devil's Snare attack. You ought to show some sympathy, not mockery," she said, then handed the smoking potion to Fred.
"Here—drink it. Quickly!"
Fred's face instantly turned as green as the potion itself. The stench nearly knocked him out, even after narrowly surviving an encounter with the three-headed dog.
"Can I skip this, Madam Pomfrey? I really feel fine," Fred pleaded, pale and desperate.
"No! You must drink all of it." Madam Pomfrey stared him down.
Under her strict watch, Fred had no choice but to grimace and swallow the potion.
…
Fred's pained expression had Malfoy, wrapped head to toe in bandages, laughing so hard his whole body shook, punctuated by unmistakable chuckles.
Fred collapsed back onto the bed, eyes glazed over. Once Madam Pomfrey had left, he turned to glare at Malfoy with utter contempt, still wincing in pain.
"So you got hit by a Devil's Snare!" Fred exclaimed dramatically. "Unbelievable! What's wrong with your neck — got a hole in it or something? Can't even handle a Devil's Snare properly?"
Malfoy's laughter stopped instantly. Now he was trembling with rage.
George added mockingly, "Yeah, look at us — we barely got scratched by the Three-Headed Dog. Compared to that, you're just pathetic..."
"Oh? So you're saying you're super brave?"
A sharp, discordant voice suddenly cut in.
"Of course we are!" Fred answered reflexively from the bed — then froze. That voice... it sounded familiar, and there was no mistaking the anger in it.
He lifted his head with difficulty and saw his brother looking awkward, while Harry and Neville had both gone pale. Hermione stood nearby, looking utterly exasperated.
Fred, quick as ever, realized what was happening. He stopped resisting and flopped back onto the bed.
There was no hiding now — Professor McGonagall, her face dark with fury, had already walked up to his bedside.
"So I suppose I should give you a little reward, huh? You brave gentlemen?" she said through clenched teeth.