The next day, Kyle joined the Gryffindor first-years for History of Magic on the castle's second floor.
There's not much to say about this class. As Hogwarts' most tedious course, he found himself dozing off the entire time. Never had he imagined a class could be this boring.
Professor Cuthbert Binns, being a ghost, skipped the usual intimidating introductory speech. There was no classroom interaction at all.
His pearly-white form drifted through the wall into the classroom, and he simply began reading from a book in the same monotonous tone throughout.
Kyle could only endure it for ten minutes before he couldn't take it anymore. It felt as if countless bees were buzzing around his head, creating such a racket that the old ghost's words became incomprehensible.
Looking around the room, he saw the little Gryffindor lions had completely given up, sprawled awkwardly across their desks — some drooling, others grinding their teeth, a few sleep-talking... all sleeping peacefully.
The Hufflepuffs were faring slightly better, especially those tasked with taking notes. Due to Michael's situation, their strong sense of duty had pushed their perseverance to unprecedented levels.
Even facing Binns's sleep-inducing lectures, they struggled to stay awake, determined to record every name and date.
Though it was all pointless. The old ghost was simply reading straight from the textbook, word for word, without a single deviation.
Upon realizing this, the little badgers couldn't hold on any longer. They quickly packed away their parchments and joined the others in slumber!
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If any class at Hogwarts was dreaded even more than the dry History of Magic, it was the afternoon Potions class.
While History of Magic was deadly boring, at least you could catch up on sleep — as long as your snoring wasn't too loud, Professor Binns wouldn't say anything.
But Potions was different; it was pure torture.
Due to a certain professor's blatant favoritism, no house except Slytherin enjoyed Potions class. Gryffindor suffered the most. While other houses simply didn't get points awarded, Gryffindor would lose points for all sorts of reasons.
These reasons included taking notes too slowly, not looking at books during class, looking at books but not at the professor...
It must be said that Gryffindor's perpetual last place in the house points standings was largely due to Snape's influence.
This was why Fred and George so desperately wanted to send him to the hospital wing.
They truly hated him!
That afternoon, Hufflepuff finally had their first Potions lesson, shared with Slytherin.
Following countless reminders from the prefects, the young wizards left their common room early, arriving at the dungeon classroom fifteen minutes ahead of time.
Except for Kyle... he had been summoned to the hospital wing by Dumbledore.
"Kyle, you're finally here!" Upon seeing him, Michael lit up like he'd seen a ray of hope, "You're here to discharge me, right? You must be here to discharge me! Good heavens, you have no idea what I've been through — this place is absolutely inhuman. That nurse strapped me to the bed, wouldn't let me move, wouldn't even let me have snacks. Then this greasy-haired man came in and made me drink some weird potion. I didn't want to drink it, so he forced it down my throat with his wand. Ugh... it tasted worse than excrement!"
Uh...
Kyle watched Madam Pomfrey's chest heaving violently, then glanced at Snape standing at the doorway, on the verge of explosion.
He realized he had underestimated Michael — saying the hospital wing was inhuman right in front of Madam Pomfrey, and calling Snape greasy-haired... the Sorting Hat must have been drunk. Shouldn't someone like this be in Gryffindor?
Without hesitation, Kyle acted on pure instinct, lowering his head and quickly moving to Dumbledore's side, trying his best to minimize his presence.
He's an honest and straightforward kid. He doesn't know that babbling creature on the bed...
Who was Kyle again? No one knew him; he was just an ordinary passerby.
The hospital wing's atmosphere instantly dropped to freezing.
But Michael hadn't noticed anything amiss and continued rambling about his experiences over the past two days. It wasn't until he felt thirsty and turned to get water that he finally noticed Madam Pomfrey's smiling face.
"Eek!" He let out a strange cry and immediately pulled the covers over his head, playing dead.
"Ahem... this awful weather, how did September get so cold already?" Dumbledore rubbed his arms, being the first to break the awkward atmosphere. He looked at Kyle and said, "As you can see, Mr. Drake has taken the Magic Suppression potion and can be discharged soon. Afterward, I'll have Sp... Professor Sprout help him learn to control his magical power. But Kyle, the professors' time is limited. For Mr. Drake, help from friends is more important."
"I understand, Professor Dumbledore." Kyle replied seriously, "I promise what happened in Charms class won't happen again."
In fact, even if Dumbledore hadn't said anything, he wouldn't have stood by idly.
No matter what, Michael was his roommate — like a brother. How could he watch him become a Squib due to frequent magical exhaustion? Hogwarts didn't need a second caretaker.
"No need to be so serious, Kyle." Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye, "Our Potions professor is quite trustworthy. As long as Mr. Drake takes his suppression potion regularly, he won't experience magical exhaustion again. Though you might need to prepare more sweets for him — I recommend Cockroach Clusters."
Kyle remained silent, noticing Snape's darkening expression.
"Alright, take Mr. Drake back now." Dumbledore said, "You should be heading to class soon, don't be late."
"Wait a moment, Headmaster." Madam Pomfrey suddenly spoke up, "This young wizard's treatment isn't finished yet, he'll need to wait a bit longer."
Dumbledore hesitated, "But..."
"I said it's not finished!" Madam Pomfrey said with a smile, "Don't worry, it won't take long, just a small check-up. It won't make them late for class."
"Then I'll leave it to you, Poppy."
Dumbledore quickly nodded and strode out of the hospital wing.
Snape gave a cold snort and followed him out.
Kyle wanted to leave too, but he had to wait for Michael, so he could only retreat to the corridor.
Soon after, desperate wails echoed from the hospital wing.
"I don't want to drink this... ugh... it's worse than that blue potion... ugh... help... ugh..."
In the corridor, Kyle listened to his good friend's desperate cries for help, feeling terribly uncomfortable.
He wanted to help but couldn't — even Dumbledore had fled. What could he, a weak first-year wizard, possibly do?
So he quietly closed the hospital wing's door. As soon as the door closed, the corridor fell silent.
Good, now he didn't feel uncomfortable anymore.
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