Everyday Life of a Top Student at Hogwarts

Chapter 53 Reflections Afterwards

As Karen left the principal's office, he still felt a lingering pain below his right shoulder blade, as if a red-hot needle was piercing his muscle with each breath. He instinctively reached out and pressed his hand to the injury, his fingertips able to feel the burning sensation emanating from the skin beneath his robe.

The stone walls of the corridor gleamed with a golden luster in the afternoon sun, making the corridor bright and warm, but it could not dispel the chill that was spreading in his heart.

Everything that had just happened was like a scene permanently imprinted in his mind; it was still firmly etched there.

Karen thought she should go to the artifact room to check on the injury on her shoulder first.

The double oak doors of the infirmary were ajar, from which came the hurried footsteps of Mrs. Pomfrey and the clinking of glassware, interspersed with Professor McGonagall's low, Scottish accent. Karen stopped at the door, hearing fragmented conversation inside: "...a comminuted fracture of the tibia...it needs to be removed first, then Bone Regeneration..." "...That Eisenberg is too much...the Unforgivable Curse!..."

He took a deep breath and gently tapped the door frame with his knuckles. The door hinges creaked slightly, and the strong smell of disinfectant immediately hit him, making his eyes slightly moist. Dozens of crystal bottles containing different colored liquids hung from the ceiling of the infirmary.

Four Slytherin students lay side by side on the innermost bed, under a powerful sedative spell, in a deep, drug-induced sleep. Their legs, wrapped in magical bandages like four glowing cocoons, hovered in mid-air, slowly rotating, pale yellow bone-regenerating potion seeping from the gaps in the bandages.

Selwyn's light golden hair was soaked with sweat and stuck to his pale forehead. His lips, which always wore an arrogant sneer, were now loosely parted. Although he was asleep, his face still twitched from time to time.

"Mr. Hawthorne?" Professor McGonagall turned abruptly, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. A few strands of her usually impeccably styled hair were loose, and the silver strands at her temples were stuck to her cheeks with sweat. Golden shards of healing charm still lingered on the tip of her wand. "You're injured?" Her gaze fell on Karen's hand pressing on her shoulder.

"I was grazed on the shoulder by Selwyn and the others' curse." Karen released her grip, revealing a charred tear in her robe. "My muscles are slightly burned."

Mrs. Pomfrey immediately put down the cauldron that was emitting purple smoke, and as she walked quickly over, the hem of her treatment robe fluttered in the wind, knocking over a box of bandages on the worktable.

Her wrinkled fingers gently touched the wound, and the tip of her wand glowed with the silver light of a diagnostic charm. "Partial triceps muscle fiber tear, accompanied by mild magical burns." She turned and took a jar of ointment from the third shelf of the medicine cabinet. "A mixture of dictamnus and dragon's blood; it's more effective than regular dictamnus."

The moment the ointment touched her skin, Karen gasped – it felt like immersing her entire arm in an icy stream, then into a hot spring, the pain dissipating like the receding tide with the alternating hot and cold.

"Headmaster Dumbledore has decided to have me stay with you for solitary confinement every Monday night, Professor McGonagall," Karen reported softly, watching the ointment form a transparent film on her skin.

Professor McGonagall's tightly pressed lips deepened into finer lines. With a flick of her wand, she repositioned the scattered bandages, her movements laced with suppressed anger. "I want you to remember this, Mr. Hawthorne. Next time something like this happens..." Her gaze swept over the floating hospital beds, then fell on the wound on Karen's shoulder. Her voice lowered, her Scottish accent deepening, "I'm not blaming you for acting in self-defense, but breaking four people's leg bones is really..."

Karen nodded quietly. He knew Professor McGonagall was acting out of concern, but he also clearly understood that in the magical world, sometimes demonstrating power was safer than following the rules. The ointment began to take full effect, and a slight tingling sensation came from his shoulder—the muscle tissue was regenerating rapidly.

As Karen left the infirmary, she glanced back one last time. Sunlight streamed through the high window, casting distorted shadows on the bed as Selwin's dangling legs dangled in the light. The once arrogant pure-blooded young master now looked as fragile as an ordinary boy, his eyelashes casting spiderweb-like shadows on his pale cheeks. Then Karen turned and left.

Lunchtime in the Great Hall was drawing to a close, and the silverware on the four long tables began to clear itself away automatically. Only a few seventh-year students remained at the Ravenclaw tables, discussing the NEWTs exam; the clinking of cutlery echoed softly in the empty hall. Karen, unsure if Wesley and the others were finished, sat down alone, ate a quick lunch, and returned to her dormitory.

The dormitory was filled with the lazy afternoon sunlight. The blue curtains of the four-poster bed fluttered gently in the breeze, casting wavy shadows on the floor. As Karen took off his robe, the fabric stung his wounds, causing him to wince. He tossed the robe onto the bedside table, and exhaustion overwhelmed his senses like a burst dam, quickly plunging Karen into a deep sleep.

"Merlin's stinky socks! You're sleeping in the dorm?!"

Karen was awakened by a noise and opened her eyes to see Wesley's magnified face close at hand, while Fabian and Ernesto stood at the foot of the bed.

"It's only three in the afternoon!" Wesley gestured animatedly, the blush from the Quidditch pitch still lingering on his cheeks. "You didn't practice at the Eagle's Nest until dinner time? That's even more surprising than Peeves voluntarily cleaning up!"

Fabian pushed up his glasses, which had slipped down to the tip of his nose, the lenses reflecting the afterglow of the setting sun outside the window: "Your robe..." He noticed keenly the charred and torn garment hanging on the bedside table.

Ernesto had already drawn his wand, its tip flashing a dangerous white light. He was wearing his dark blue robe embroidered with silver stars today, but the cuffs and collar were stained with mud, clearly indicating he had just returned from the stadium. "Who did this?" The simple three words were like shards of ice squeezed from between his teeth.

"Don't worry, my injury is nothing, it'll heal soon. But those guys who attacked me are still lying in the infirmary!" Karen sat up and then recounted his morning's events in detail. When he mentioned Castor's Cruciatus Curse, Wesley gasped.

"...So Selwyn and the others are currently having their bones set in the infirmary, and Dumbledore has punished me by putting me in solitary confinement with Professor McGonagall one night a week for two months." Cullen omitted some details about Castor but truthfully relayed Selwyn's threats to his parents.

Ernesto strode to his oak desk and pulled a roll of parchment from a hidden compartment. "I must write to my father immediately. Selwyn's threat could very well come true. Those kinds of people are despicable. I will ask my father to help me keep an eye on their movements."

Karen's heart suddenly felt like it was being gripped by an invisible hand, which was exactly what he was worried about.

"My family..." Karen's voice became somewhat hoarse.

Fabian Wesley plopped down on the edge of Cullen's bed and patted him on the shoulder: "Hey, don't worry too much! If all else fails, we can go to Headmaster Dumbledore, or Professor McGonagall and the others."

Fabian pushed up his glasses: "Or tell Professor Flitwick? He seems to admire you, and as the Duel Champion, he should have some influence."

Karen looked gratefully at his three roommates, the heavy pressure in his chest easing slightly. But deep down, he knew these methods wouldn't work; he needed a more powerful, more direct solution, and that person would give him the answer tonight.

"Thank you," Karen said sincerely. "But I already have some ideas. I'll go talk to Professor Eisenberg tonight."