After the Quidditch "brawl match," the Malfoy family was placed under investigation.
Harry and Malfoy going to the hospital wing also happened right after that insane game.
Everyone on the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams was sporting injuries—anyone who didn't know better would've thought they'd been dueling.
Harry and Malfoy were the worst off. Harry's arm was broken because Malfoy smashed him into the railing; Harry's head was injured because he and Malfoy clung to each other and rolled all the way to the ground; and Harry's leg was in a cast because he kicked Malfoy so hard he went flying several meters.
The Gryffindors were buzzing about it, but most people considered it "normal competition."
Wizarding "savagery"?
That was what Sean thought.
When Justin and the others reached the hospital wing, they could peek through the crack in the door and see Harry with his left arm and right leg in plaster, and his head wrapped in bandages.
Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey, though kind, was also extremely strict.
"Just five minutes, ma'am—we're really worried about him," Justin pleaded.
"Absolutely not," Madam Pomfrey refused.
"But you let Sean go in earlier…" Ron frowned, exaggerating his tone.
"Yes, of course. Young Mr. Green was delivering potion—completely different. Now leave. Patients need rest."
Madam Pomfrey walked away, but she didn't fully shut the door.
"Excuse me—what are you doing?"
A familiar voice spoke up while their heads were stacked in layers at the crack.
Four heads turned at once, and they blurted:
"Headmaster Dumbledore."
"Ah, yes. I'm aware of my name," Dumbledore said, blinking benevolently.
"Come along—shall we go in and have a look?"
Their faces lit up, and they hurried in around him.
"Merlin, Harry! That was reckless!"
The moment she entered, Hermione cried out. She ran to Harry's bedside and locked eyes with the one eye he had uncovered.
"Malfoy…" Ron ground out through clenched teeth.
Their arrival interrupted Sean as he was setting down potions. He looked at Harry—plastered and bandaged—and then at Malfoy, who was wrapped up like a mummy, and for a moment couldn't decide who had it worse.
Following Sean's gaze, Ron and the others fell silent.
Malfoy was bundled so tightly that only one furious, resentful eye was left uncovered, glaring at them.
"Malfoy—Malfoy… oh… he looks awful," Ron stammered, hurriedly changing his tune. "But he deserves it," he added.
"You're just in time. If you'd been a few minutes later…"
Sean gathered up the now-empty bottles—bruise-removal potion, Pepper-Up potion, and the like—that Harry had already drunk, then turned back to them.
"Sean—what do you mean? What's wrong?" Ron demanded, frantic.
"If you'd been a few minutes later, Harry would've been discharged."
Sean said, then tapped Harry's plaster cast with his wand. It crumbled into rubble, scattering across the floor.
The broken bone was completely healed.
Madam Pomfrey had once told Harry—after his bones had been vanished—"I can mend bones in a second."
Apparently, she hadn't been exaggerating. She really had reset Harry's bones in a second and forced them to heal just as quickly.
"Is that so?" Ron scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. Then he glanced at Harry and asked softly, "The whole school's talking about the match. We couldn't see properly from the stands—what actually happened?"
The real story was even wilder than any rumor, which was rare. And this was one of those times.
Harry told them everything, start to finish—how he and Malfoy fought a terrifying battle for the Golden Snitch midair, and kept attacking each other the whole time.
Neville, Ron, and Hermione listened with absolute focus. Every time things got dicey, they sucked in breath through their teeth.
"You did amazing!"
Ron finished by pumping his fist, thrilled.
Just then, Madam Pomfrey charged in.
"You've been in here nearly fifteen minutes. Out—now. And you, Harry, dear, I sincerely hope you haven't forgotten how to walk."
She was adamant.
They helped Harry—fully healed but still a bit stiff—out of the hospital wing.
Harry walked like a victorious hero. He loved the feeling: after what Malfoy had done to Ginny, he'd finally gotten payback.
And just look at Malfoy—he'd be stuck in the hospital wing for ages.
But instinctively, Harry still wanted to see Sean.
Sean hadn't said a word. What did he think?
They still had a lot to tell Sean—why the fight started, how Lucius tried to kill Ginny…
But for some reason, once Sean had put away the glass bottles, he ended up walking alongside Headmaster Dumbledore. They were talking about something. Harry could only see Dumbledore's beard trembling and his eyes narrowing.
Even after they disappeared around a corridor corner, Harry couldn't help himself—he quietly followed.
By then the others had split up, and the hallway was hushed.
…
The Headmaster's Office.
The door wasn't shut properly.
Sean glanced toward it—just as it was slammed open with a bang, smacking the wall behind it.
Lucius Malfoy stood there, livid.
Tucked under his arm, trembling, was Dobby—wrapped in bandages all over.
"Good evening, Lucius," Dumbledore said pleasantly.
Lucius stormed into the room, making the torches shudder and flicker.
Dobby stumbled after him, hunched and cringing, eyes fixed on the seams at the back of his master's robes, his face twisted with helpless, hopeless fear.
"All right, Dumbledore," Lucius said, enunciating every word.
"It's over, Lucius—rather surprisingly, much as the reports have said," Dumbledore replied.
"Oh?" Malfoy snapped. "And who was the culprit?"
"The same one as last time, Lucius," Dumbledore said. "Only this time, Voldemort meant to act through someone else—through his diary."
Dumbledore glanced at Sean, who was holding the small black book with a large hole punched through its middle, then watched Malfoy's reaction closely.
"So that's how it is…" Malfoy said slowly.
"Aren't you curious, Lucius—how the diary came to appear?" Dumbledore asked, his tone mild, his gaze still fixed on Malfoy's eyes.
"And how would I know how that stupid little girl got her hands on it?" Lucius sneered.
"I rather think you gave it to her," Dumbledore said, narrowing his eyes. "That information comes from a wizard who cannot lie."
~~~
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