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Night had fallen.
The corridors of Hogwarts Castle were much quieter and darker than during the day. The wall lamps were turned down to their lowest setting, their flames shrinking into pea-sized points of light, flickering feebly within their glass shades.
Lynn walked through the deserted corridor with three people following behind him.
"Are you really not going to reconsider?" Edgar lowered his voice. "That's Moody! Mad-Eye! Former Auror! There's no telling how many traps are in his office! What if he really is the one who entered your name? Wouldn't you be walking right into a trap? And if he isn't, and you knock on his door in the middle of the night to ask, 'Did you throw my name into the Goblet of Fire?' what do you think he'll think?"
"He might think I'm very honest." Lynn didn't look back.
"Honest my foot! He'll just think you're crazy!"
"That's perfect then," Lynn said as he kept walking. "He already thinks the whole world is crazy. Meeting a fellow patient, maybe we'll even find some mutual respect."
Edgar was left speechless.
William pushed up his glasses. "Lynn, logically speaking, you don't have any concrete evidence to prove Professor Moody did it.
"Your deduction is entirely based on 'his recent abnormal behavior' and 'he asks you fewer questions in class.' As a chain of evidence, these two points—"
"I know," Lynn interrupted him.
William paused. "You know?"
"I know the evidence is insufficient, I know I might be wrongly accusing a good man, and I know that if he really is innocent, I'll be docked fifty points tomorrow, get detention, and face a school-wide public reprimand."
Lynn glanced sideways at him. "But I also know that I've been holding this in for half a month, and if I hold it in any longer, I'm going to develop a tumor."
William opened his mouth, then closed it again, thinking to himself, Isn't that just twisted logic?!
Ollie hadn't spoken from the beginning. He just followed quietly at the very back.
Reaching the corner of the stairs, Lynn stopped.
He turned around and looked at the three faces behind him, each with a different expression.
"Alright, this is far enough."
Edgar wanted to say something more, but Lynn raised a hand to stop him. "Enough, enough, enough! Go back to sleep. If I'm not back for breakfast tomorrow morning, remember to reserve a burial plot for me."
The three of them: "..."
For whom? For you or for Moody?
...
Moody's office was at the end of the corridor.
Lynn stood at the door, looking up at the slightly worn door. There was no nameplate on the door panel, nor any decoration.
He took a deep breath.
And then—
Knock. Knock-knock.
Three knocks—not too heavy, not too light, neither rushed nor slow. Polite, standard, and impeccable.
Then he withdrew his hand, stood quietly, and waited for a response.
One second.
Two seconds.
Ten seconds.
Lynn raised an eyebrow. He pressed his ear to the door panel, listening carefully for any movement inside.
No footsteps, no coughing, no sound of a chair being moved.
"Why is there no sound? Could he have not heard me?"
He muttered to himself, took a step back, and raised his hand again—clenching it into a fist.
BANG—! BANG—! BANG—!
This time he used much more force. The knocking exploded through the empty corridor, even triggering a series of echoes.
However, the room remained deathly silent.
Lynn: (⊙_☉)
He stared at the silent door, several possibilities racing through his mind:
One, Moody isn't inside.
Two, Moody is inside but doesn't want to open the door.
Three, Moody is inside but fell asleep.
Four, Moody is inside but is waiting for him to open the door so he can blast him with a Spell.
He felt that the fourth was the most likely, but he couldn't just go back like this, could he?
He cleared his throat.
"Professor?"
No answer.
"Professor Moody?"
Still no answer.
"Are you in there? I'm coming in!"
No response.
"Coming in!"
Still no response.
"Here I come!"
Deathly silence.
"Ha!"
Lynn gave up.
He reached out and grasped the doorknob, hardening his heart—
Click.
The door was pushed open a crack, and the moment that crack appeared—his danger sense exploded.
"Whoosh—whoosh-whoosh-whoosh—"
Several arrows shot out from hidden compartments on both sides of the doorframe, the sound of them cutting through the air sharp and piercing!
Lynn's body reacted faster than his brain.
He didn't even see the trajectory of the arrows clearly; the passive warning of Peter's Jolt had already taken over his muscles. He jerked sideways, his whole body like a leaf blown by the wind, leaning backward at an angle that almost defied human mechanics—
The first arrow grazed the tip of his nose.
The second arrow passed under his arm, taking a small piece of fabric from his robe with it.
The third, fourth, fifth... they all missed.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud—!
The arrows embedded themselves in the wall, sinking deep into the stone, their tail feathers still vibrating violently.
Lynn steadied himself and glanced at the arrows.
Then he saw what was on the arrowheads—a layer of thick liquid that shimmered with a ghostly green light in the darkness.
Acromantula venom—the kind where a single drop is fatal.
"...Good grief."
Lynn was silent for a moment.
He stood up straight, brushed off non-existent dust from his robe, and looked back at the now-open door.
The room inside was pitch black; nothing could be seen.
He stood at the door for a few seconds, carefully observing the doorframe, the threshold, the visible floor inside, the ceiling, the corners—everywhere he could think of where a mechanism might be hidden, checking them repeatedly.
Only after confirming there wasn't a second wave did he cautiously step over the threshold and enter the room.
The office was very dark.
The curtains were drawn tight, allowing no moonlight to filter in. The fireplace was cold, with ashes piled high. The air was thick with the scent of potions.
"Hmm? This smell is so familiar..."
Trying to recall where he had smelled it before, Lynn drew his wand. A soft glow lit up at the tip of the wand, dispelling the surrounding darkness.
He looked around.
An ordinary office... at least it looked ordinary.
A desk piled with clutter, several chairs, a crooked bookshelf stuffed with books and files related to Defense Against the Dark Arts. A few yellowed wanted posters hung on the walls, along with some magical instruments.
But no Moody.
Lynn lowered his wand and was about to turn and leave—
THUD-THUD-THUD!
A muffled thumping sound came from behind him.
The hair on Lynn's neck stood up. He spun around instantly, his wand pointing directly at the source of the sound—
A huge trunk.
The trunk stood in the innermost corner of the room, nearly as tall as a person, its surface covered in mottled scratches and stains.
THUD-THUD-THUD!
The thumping sound echoed again, clearer this time. Lynn was certain the sound was coming from inside the trunk.
He stared at the trunk, narrowing his eyes.
He slowly approached, his wand never wavering from the lid.
There was a lock on the trunk. A very ordinary lock, with no trace of magic on it.
He flicked his wand.
With a click, the lock opened, and the trunk lid was thrown back.
Then he froze.
"Dammit, why is there another trunk inside?"
The second trunk was a size smaller than the first, also locked, and also without any magical traces.
He flicked his wand again.
Click.
Lock opened. Lid thrown open.
A third trunk.
Lynn: (▽д▽)
He began to think this wasn't Moody's office, but the toy storage room of some madman who loved Russian nesting dolls.
He took a deep breath and first cast a Muffliato on the surroundings—it was late at night, and too much noise would disturb the professors' sleep.
Then he pointed his wand at the third trunk.
"Confringo!"
BOOM—!!!
A loud explosion erupted in the narrow space. Wood splinters flew, thick smoke billowed, and the pungent smell of gunpowder rushed into his nose.
Lynn waved his hand to fan away the smoke in front of him, the light from his wand tip piercing through the gray barrier.
Then he saw it.
The smoke cleared, revealing a person.
A figure bound hand and foot, curled into a ball, lying in a pool of blood.
His hands and feet were tightly bound by heavy iron chains that cut into his flesh, the blood that had seeped out having already dried into a dark brown crust. His mouth was sealed—not with an ordinary strip of cloth, but with some powerful Spell that prevented him from making any sound. His clothes were ragged, and his exposed skin was covered in bruises and scars.
But that face—
Lynn's pupils suddenly constricted.
That hideous face, that magical eye that was still slightly rotating, that signature wooden leg.
Moody.
It was Moody.
Lynn stood rooted to the spot, his brain directly crashing.
He stared at the man in the pool of blood, at the scars, at the magical eye, at the wooden leg, and his whole world turned upside down.
"...Holy crap."
This is Moody.
Then who is the one teaching class every day?
This thought struck his mind like a bolt of lightning, leaving him completely stunned.
He whipped his head around to look at the door—the pitch-black corridor was empty.
He turned back to look at the person in the pool of blood.
Two Moodys?
No.
The one in class... is a fake?
Then the person he'd been watching for the past half month, the person he'd suspected, the person he'd come to confront—wasn't Moody?
The one who entered his name—wasn't Moody?
He'd blamed the wrong person?
No, no, no.
Then why would the real Moody be in a trunk? Why would the fake Moody lock him up? Who is the fake Moody? Since when did he start impersonating him?
Lynn's mind felt like it had been stuffed with a tangled mess of yarn, every thought knotting itself up frantically.
The Moody in the pool of blood moved weakly.
Lynn suddenly snapped out of it.
He lunged forward, crouched down, and pointed his wand at the scarred figure.
He didn't know how long he'd been locked up. Didn't know if he'd been fed. Didn't know how those injuries had been sustained. Didn't know who had cast the Silencing Spell.
But none of that mattered.
What mattered was—
"Professor, hey~ You have to hang in there! I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing right now!!!"
He waved his wand, and two silver-white glows sank into Moody's body.
[Silver Radiance Flow]
[Blessing of Dittany]
The magically treated wounds didn't heal immediately—that would require more complex treatment—but at least his life was preserved.
"Dodo! Take us to the Hospital Wing!"