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Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
Professor Lupin looked out of sorts today. He stood behind the podium, his face paler than usual, the shadows under his eyes deeper, and the gentle smile at the corners of his mouth seemed a bit forced.
He coughed softly and patted a cage covered with a thick cloth beside him, trying to divert the students' attention from observing his complexion.
"Class, today is still a practical lesson," Lupin's voice remained gentle. "According to a certain professor... well, who reported to me, due to some special circumstances in teaching over the past two years, most of you might be lacking in the practical foundation of Defense Against the Dark Arts."
He phrased it tactfully, without naming names directly.
But a wave of knowing commotion rippled through the classroom.
A Ravenclaw girl sitting in the front row couldn't help but mutter, "Who says our foundation isn't good? We've defeated trolls, vampires, yetis..."
"...Hmm?"
That wasn't what Dumbledore had told him when briefing him on the situation.
Seeing the professor's confused face, the Ravenclaw girl suppressed a laugh and added: "In Professor Lockhart's stage plays."
"Pfft—"
"Hahaha!"
The classroom instantly erupted into a burst of laughter.
Lupin was stunned for a moment, then twitched the corners of his mouth. He waited for the students' laughter to gradually subside before shaking his head, not continuing the topic, but instead placing his hand on the cage's covering.
"Well, no matter how exciting those past 'adventures' were, today, let us face a magical creature that requires careful handling." As he spoke, he slowly lifted the thick cloth from the cage.
Inside the cage was a strange-looking bird.
It wasn't large, and its feathers were a discordant mix of colors, as if faded feathers from several different types of birds had been haphazardly stitched together.
"A Fwooper," Lupin introduced. "I specifically asked Professor Hagrid to find a relatively docile one from the Forbidden Forest. Does any student know what special ability of this bird requires the most attention?"
Almost as soon as he finished speaking, William raised his hand.
"Its song, Professor. Although it sounds unpleasant, it can disturb the listener's mind, causing them to gradually lose their sanity and fall into madness."
"Quite correct, Mr. Smith." Lupin nodded approvingly. "Five points to Hufflepuff."
He turned to the class. "The Fwooper's song is a subtle mental attack. In the wild, if you are unfortunate enough to encounter it and haven't mastered the corresponding countermeasure..."
He paused. "Then you'd better have downed a large glass of brandy beforehand. In that case, its song would at most make your head feel a bit more dizzy, rather than driving you mad."
Lupin then explained in detail the habits of the Fwooper, how to identify the signs that it was preparing to sing, and the most basic counter-spells.
He taught earnestly, but his speaking speed was slightly slower than usual, and he would occasionally stop to take a shallow breath.
"Alright, that's it for the theoretical part." Lupin clapped his hands. "Now, let's practice today's most important defensive spell."
He raised his wand, demonstrating the standard casting movement and clear incantation:
"Pay attention to my wrist rotation and syllable stress—Langlock!"
"Langlock!" The students recited in unison, their wands tracing through the air.
For the rest of the time, the classroom was filled with the rising and falling sounds of chanting and the whistling of wands being waved.
The class period passed quickly.
When the bell rang, Lupin seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
He briefly assigned an essay and then, looking slightly weary, tidied the lesson plans on the podium, picked up the Fwooper cage—now covered again—and slowly walked down from the podium, preparing to leave the classroom.
The students packed their things and left in small groups, chatting. Lynn also slowly packed his books, but the corner of his eye remained locked onto Lupin's back.
Just as Lupin was about to step out of the classroom door, Lynn suddenly quickened his pace, clutching a few books and "hurriedly" jogging toward the door, appearing as if he were rushing to his next class.
"Professor, sorry, let me through!" Lynn said, but his feet seemed to make an "accident" as he approached Lupin, his shoulder bumping solidly into him.
"Ugh!" Lupin was caught off guard and stumbled.
Lynn immediately steadied himself, an apologetic look on his face, and quickly supported Lupin's arm.
"I'm sorry, Professor! I was running too fast. Are you alright?"
Lupin caught his breath, looked at the "remorseful" student in front of him, and waved his hand.
"It's alright, just be careful next time. Don't run too fast in the corridors."
He didn't think much of it, assuming it was just a student being clumsy. After a word of caution, he carried the birdcage back to his office...
A few days later, one evening.
At the Hufflepuff table, Lynn was gnawing on a chicken leg.
Not far away, a group of Gryffindor students who had just finished Defense Against the Dark Arts class swarmed in, their faces full of indignation.
"Merlin's beard! Snape has absolutely gone mad today!"
Ron complained loudly, plopping down on a bench.
"He spent the whole lesson nitpicking! Harry's spell was clearly successful, but he lost ten points just for not saying 'Thank you, Professor'!"
Another Gryffindor girl said with lingering fear, "When will Professor Lupin be back?"
Harry Potter couldn't help but lament, "Snape's substitute Defense Against the Dark Arts class is more like Potions class than Potions class itself."
"Yeah, yeah, come back soon, Professor Lupin!" the Gryffindors chimed in, their longing for Professor Lupin evident in their words.
Their words were so sincere and their emotions so full that anyone who didn't know better would think Lupin had kicked the bucket.
Lynn's movement of gnawing the chicken leg paused slightly. He silently calculated the time—well, tonight was the night of the full moon.
He calmly pulled a parchment map from his pocket. The lines on the map were simple, mainly outlining Hogwarts Castle, the grounds, and Hogsmeade Village.
Lynn extended his finger and lightly tapped a tiny rune on the map that represented his own marker.
"Reveal."
The lines on the map shimmered, and soon, a faintly flickering dot appeared on the map.
It wasn't inside the Castle, nor was it in the Hospital Wing; instead, it was located on the edge of Hogwarts, in the direction of Hogsmeade Village.
"Shrieking Shack?"
If he remembered correctly, when he and the twins went through the secret passage last time, there was the smell of the wolfsbane potion he had brewed in the passage.
Now, Lynn's confidence in his deduction had reached ninety-eight percent; the final two percent was because he hadn't yet seen Lupin's current condition with his own eyes.
Thinking of this, he polished off the chicken leg in no time, dashed out of the Great Hall, and ran toward the secret passage under the Whomping Willow.