Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Kane ignored Neville's grumbling, simply holding him tightly and quickening his pace.

Neville wanted to ask more, but seeing Kane's serious expression, he shut his mouth and dared not speak further.

Soon, the two arrived at the infirmary. Head Nurse Mrs. Pomfrey was sitting at the table organizing medicines.

She looked up when she heard the door being pushed open.

Just as Kane was helping Neville slip away towards the medical wing, Madam Pomfrey's roar echoed from the infirmary: "It's you again, you brat! Mr. Longbottom, are you treating this hospital bed like your dorm room?"

Neville scratched his head somewhat sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Pomfrey, I..."

"Okay, stop talking now, come and lie down."

Mrs. Pomfrey interrupted him, pointing to the bed beside him. Neville obediently went over and lay down.

Mrs. Pomfrey came out carrying an automatic dispensing spoon, and the medicine bottles bounced wildly on the tray in fright.

Then she poked Neville's leg with her wand, which instantly emitted a sharp, whistling sound.

"My arm is broken in three places! There are also abrasions, bruises, and a sprain!"

The ceiling of the medical wing instantly turned red, and a traction device with a skull warning sign automatically descended. "These injuries look like they've been brutally beaten by a troll!"

"What exactly happened to you out there, child?"

Neville quietly recounted what had happened.

Just after Mrs. Pomfrey finished her examination, the medicine cabinet next to the bed suddenly popped open, and a swearing plaster cast flew out.

"Merlin's stinky socks! This is the fourth person to fall and get hurt this week! Hodge really should put a Muggle airbag in the broom!"

While cursing, he wrapped Neville up like a mummy, leaving only his nose and mouth to breathe.

They even put a "Fragile" label on his forehead.

After treating Neville's wounds, Mrs. Pomfrey packed up her medical supplies.

Turning to Kane, he sighed helplessly and said, "Kane, why have you been bringing Neville here so often lately? This infirmary is practically your 'private base'."

“Ms. Pomfrey,” Kane held up three fingers, “I promise this is the last delivery of the week.”

"Those two Weasleys said the same thing!"

The head nurse pulled a bubbling memory ball from her white coat. "Look! Fred got bitten by the vixen on Tuesday, George got hit by his own curse on Wednesday—and it's only Thursday!"

Neville weakly raised his hand: "I really won't be coming this week..."

"Shut up and drink your potion!" Madam Pomfrey shoved an arm-length vial filled with green potion into his mouth. "If you little trolls could behave for even half a day, I could run for Minister of Magic!"

Kane casually opened the chocolate frog in his pocket, about to hand the wizard card to Neville.

Suddenly, Mrs. Pomfrey's logbook was flashing an eerie purple light—the latest entry read: "Quirlo Quirinas, last night 23:47 PM, complaining of severe pain in the back of his head..."

"Is the professor... alright?" Kane asked, feigning curiosity as he poked the glowing notebook.

The parchment suddenly transformed into a screaming groundhog and scurried into the drawer.

Mrs. Pomfrey shoved another cup-sized pill into Neville's mouth: "For minor headaches, you should wear less garlic scarves—oh, I mean drink more energy drinks. After all, energy drinks can relieve fatigue and headaches."

Mrs. Pomfrey paused briefly before continuing, "But he specifically asked for a calming agent. It's a medication to relieve stress; perhaps he's been too stressed lately."

When Kane heard about the calming agent, he realized that it also had another function: to stabilize the mental state and thus solidify the soul.

It seems Voldemort expended a lot of energy yesterday, or was it to better hide himself from Dumbledore?

Madam Pomfrey tapped her wand, and Neville's plaster cast suddenly began to tap-dance: "Final warning! If you break your leg again, I'll stuff you into a mandrake pot!"

The bandages automatically folded into little top hats and hopped back into the medicine cabinet.

Before long, Neville was able to sit up and move his limbs, which had recovered completely.

"Alright, Neville, you can be discharged now, but remember, don't be so reckless again," Madam Pomfrey instructed.

Neville nodded repeatedly and jumped off the bed.

At the corner of the corridor, Draco slumped his head like a frostbitten mandrake, his platinum hair withered like pickled bean sprouts.

Draco's eyes were filled with disappointment, his steps were heavy, and his usual arrogant demeanor was completely gone.

"What's wrong, Draco?" Kane asked with concern.

Draco looked up, bit his lip, and said, "I heard that Harry Potter was chosen by Professor McGonagall to join the Quidditch team as the Seeker. I should be happy for him, but now..."

Draco's voice trailed off, his eyes filled with frustration.

Just then, Harry and Hermione happened to pass by.

Hermione had previously taken Harry to see his father's medals.

Harry was in a particularly good mood

Harry saw the group, a bright smile spreading across his face, and quickly walked over.

"Hey, you guys are here!" Harry greeted them warmly.

Draco snorted and turned his face away.

"Hmph, what's there to be so smug about? He's just a Seeker. Remember to buy personal insurance from my company; last year's Seeker fell into the Black Lake and fed to the giant squid!"

"Shut up, Draco!" Kane smacked Draco on the back of the head. "Threatening classmates gets you locked up in jail!"

Kane knew perfectly well that if Harry had bought Draco's insurance for those dangerous stunts while riding the broom, his family would be in huge financial trouble.

Kane sighed helplessly as he looked at Draco's awkward expression.

Turning to Harry and Hermione, he explained, "Don't mind him, Draco actually loves Quidditch. He's always dreamed of shining in Quidditch matches since he was a child, of becoming..."

Draco opened his mouth as if to interrupt Kane's revelation, but was stopped by a look from the other.

That one glance sent Draco's thoughts drifting back to the past.

He was planting into the rose bush for the third time from the Nimbus 1001.

"Perfect landing," Kane clapped as he approached, the memory of him eating a green apple. The sweet and sour taste of the green apple mixed with the pungent aroma of artificial flavoring hit his bleeding knee. "Next time, remember to use your face to brake, it'll save you three Galleons in broom cleaning fees."

The pungent smell of medicine suddenly transformed into the rich aroma of hot cocoa, and the scene shifted to a rainy night when I was eight years old.

Draco shivered as he tied knots in his torn robe in the broom shed, a warm current of the drying spell suddenly bursting forth amidst the damp, musty smell.

"The Malfoy heir is actually learning to sew patches like Hufflepuff?"

A young Kane stands backlit, a waterproof lantern casting a swaying, giant shadow on the wall.

A brand-new silver-green robe was suddenly pulled over his head.

Then a cup of hot cocoa was shoved into his nose.

"After you finish this drink, burn the beggar's outfit—I can't stand mud spots on my carpet."

At the age of nine, Draco's palm was cut by iron thorns in the manor maze.

Kane pinched his wrist and applied medicine: "If you dare to catch the ball with your bare hands again, I'll tie you up and feed you to the peacocks in the yard."

He turned around and used a permanent adhesive spell to wrap the broom handle with a dragon-skin pad, the dark green color of which was exactly the same as his eyes.

......