"What is that thing?"
Cedric's heart was still racing as he raised his wand, illuminating the area ahead.
A thick branch, about the size of a bowl, lay smashed into the ground. He cautiously traced it upward with his eyes. There, right by the passage's exit, stood a massive willow tree, its sprawling branches swaying gently in the breeze like a nest of dormant serpents. Every so often, they whipped against each other, producing sharp cracks.
His face paled as he exchanged a glance with George, who was crouched beside him. "If I'm not mistaken, that's the Whomping Willow out there," Cedric whispered.
George nodded stiffly, picking up a battered tin kettle nearby and tossing it toward the exit. Another branch lashed out with lightning speed, crushing the kettle into a flattened disc embedded in the ground.
"I remember last year," Cedric said, wiping sweat from his brow, "a senior lost his quill near the Whomping Willow. It got caught in the wind, and after one hit, he was in the Hospital Wing for two months."
He stared at the ground, then added, "I used to think that guy was just frail. Now I'm thinking he's got a tougher skull than a troll."
Fred turned to Adam, who was quietly crouching, scribbling on a piece of parchment. "That's the Whomping Willow out there, and you're writing your will? Think that's gonna help?"
Adam didn't respond, focused intently on inscribing runes across the parchment until it was covered in strange symbols. He let out a relieved sigh, tapped the parchment with his wand, and watched the runes fade away.
When he looked up, three pairs of eyes were fixed on him, gleaming like Nifflers spotting gold.
"Is that how the Marauder's Map was made?" George and Fred asked, their gazes locked on the parchment.
Cedric, however, was focused elsewhere. "That's the first time I've seen an alchemical item being created. I always thought it involved a big furnace and heaps of glass instruments."
Adam scratched his head, pressing the parchment against the passage's exit wall. It blended seamlessly with the stone, invisible unless you looked closely. "Medieval alchemists worked like that, sure, but alchemy's come a long way since then. What I just made isn't technically an alchemical item—just an accessory to one."
Cedric leaned closer to inspect the wall, then turned back. "How do you know so much about medieval alchemy? And what's this thing for?"
"It's a warning system," Adam replied, dodging the first question. "If someone else passes through here after we leave, it'll alert me and show up on another map. Now let's go—I'm knackered. I hear you can catch a nap in Professor Binns' History of Magic class tomorrow."
As Cedric braced to yank Adam back from a Whomping Willow thrashing, nothing happened. The three peered out to see Adam waving them forward. "Come on, don't dawdle!"
George swallowed hard, cautiously tossing a rotten stick toward the exit. The usually ferocious Whomping Willow stood eerily still, its branches swaying gently in the autumn breeze.
Urged on by Adam, they stepped out, passing through the passage without incident. Cedric glanced at the tree and spotted a small paw pressing against a knot at its base. A Bowtruckle was perched there, one hand on the knot, the other clutching a strip of dried meat, munching away. It met Cedric's stare, waved the meat as if offering him a bite, and blinked curiously.
Cedric gave an awkward smile and waved it off.
Meanwhile, Adam pulled a handful of dirt from his coin pouch. With a wave of his wand, the dirt transformed into glass beads that matched the ground's color. He scattered them across the passage floor.
George's mouth twitched as he watched. He could only imagine the despair of the next poor soul who slipped on those beads, only to hear the Whomping Willow's branches whistling through the air.
Adam scooped up the Bowtruckle, which had scurried out from the ground. Cedric started to say, "Finally, we're back—hope we don't…"
George clapped a hand over his mouth before he could finish.
Guided by the Marauder's Map, they slipped past the greenhouses and back into the castle without a hitch.
Back in the dorm, Adam found his roommate Aiden already snoring, a copy of Magical Draughts and Potions draped over his face. Adam grabbed his small suitcase, headed to the bathroom, and released the Bowtruckle into a forested area. After a quick dip in the lake to wash off the day, he collapsed into bed and drifted off.
Professor Binns floated at the front of the classroom, clutching a thick book and droning in his monotonous voice. "In 1637, the British Ministry of Magic established guidelines for werewolf responsibility, such as locking themselves up during the full moon to avoid harming others. This became known as the Werewolf Code of Conduct…"
Adam fought to keep his eyes open. Within minutes of Binns' lecture, he felt like he was back in his most sleep-deprived years. Just five minutes ago, the ghostly professor had glided through the blackboard, startling the young witches and wizards, and launched into his lecture without so much as an introduction or roll call.
Two minutes in, Adam thought he could hold out. Most students were still upright, barely. But by the five-minute mark, the Hufflepuffs had collapsed in droves, sprawled across desks in various states of slumber—some grinding their teeth, others mumbling dream-talk. A few clever ones, clearly tipped off by older students, had brought small pillows and were snoozing comfortably.
Only the Ravenclaws were still fighting to stay awake, their quills scratching messier notes by the second, heads bobbing as they drifted off and jerked awake.
Sherry, sitting beside Adam, propped up her slightly chubby cheeks with both hands, eyes firmly shut. Earlier, Adam had pointed at the desk and joked that it was probably coated in generations of students' drool from napping in History of Magic.
Cho, in the row ahead, finally set down her quill, unable to resist the wave of sleepiness. She glanced around, spotting Adam and another Hufflepuff as the only ones still awake. "How are you still going?" she asked.
"Made a bet with Aiden," Adam replied, forcing his eyes open. "First one to fall asleep owes the other a week's worth of snacks."
Cho glanced at Aiden, who was barely conscious, and sighed. "Is this some weird boy thing about winning?"
"It's about dignity," Adam said through a yawn, eyeing the classroom clock. "Why'd you stop taking notes? You were scribbling like mad earlier."
Cho flipped open her textbook and showed him her notes. "Check page 32 of A History of Magic. Top left corner—it's word-for-word what Binns is saying. I think he's just reading the book."
Adam flipped through his own copy, straining to catch Binns' words. His eyelids twitched. "You're right…"
"Miss Eva Campbell, please refrain from whispering in my class. History of Magic is a serious subject," Binns said, his tone shifting for the first time.
Several Hufflepuffs jolted awake, groggily packing their books to leave, only to be tugged back to their seats by kind Ravenclaws. They returned, faces flushed with embarrassment.
"Don't look around, I'm talking to you, the one in front of Adam!" Binns continued.
Cho pointed to herself, bewildered. "Sorry, Professor, my name's Cho Chang, not Eva Campbell."
Binns frowned, raising his voice. "Don't play clever with me, Miss Campbell. Ravenclaw, five points deducted!"
His ghostly gaze shifted to Adam. "This is a Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff class, not Slytherin's. Did you wander into the wrong room again? Get back to your own class!"
Adam blinked, whispering to Cho, "Did he mix us up?"
"Seems like it," Cho replied, her voice tinged with frustration.
Adam raised his hand. "Sorry, Professor Binns, I think your punishment's too light. Maybe dock me some points so I'll remember where my classes are next time."
Binns paused, a rare look of surprise crossing his face. "If you insist, very well. Slytherin, five points deducted! I admire your honesty, but don't let it happen again. Off you go, child."
Adam poked Sherry's cheek, grinning as he grabbed his books and slipped out of the classroom, leaving the other students staring in amazement.
"Professor, I think I'm in the wrong class too!" Aiden called out, panicking at the thought of losing the bet.
Binns glared at him. "Sit down, Miss Elena, and stop this nonsense!"
Cho buried her face in her hands, cheeks red, before bursting into laughter.
Adam's triumph lasted all of two minutes. At the corridor's corner, he froze, cold sweat soaking his back. Newt stood there, suitcase in hand, with Tina beside him, both staring at him with stern expressions.
"Little Adam," Tina said, "it's class time. What are you doing out here with your books?"