The next day, Kyle joined the new Gryffindor students on their way to the second floor of the castle for History of Magic. To say the class was dull would be an understatement, and Kyle spent most of the time dozing off. He couldn’t believe a lesson could be this boring.
Professor Cuthbert Binns, the ghost who taught the class, didn’t seem to care much about keeping the students engaged. There were no quizzes or discussions. After gliding through the wall, his milky-white form began reading monotonously from a textbook in a single, droning tone.
Ten minutes in, Kyle had had enough. It felt like a swarm of bees was buzzing relentlessly in his ears, making it impossible to focus on what Professor Binns was saying. He glanced around to see how everyone else was holding up.
The Gryffindors had completely surrendered. They were slumped over their desks, drooling, grinding their teeth, and even muttering in their sleep. The Hufflepuffs, on the other hand, were doing slightly better. Some, driven by a sense of duty (likely instilled by Mikel), tried valiantly to stay awake and take notes on every name and date mentioned. But soon, even they succumbed to the sheer boredom of the class. One by one, they rolled up their parchments and joined the rest in slumber.
If there was a class more dreaded by the students than History of Magic, it was Potions.
In the afternoon, Kyle and his classmates faced the torturous Potions lesson, notorious for being ruled by the severe and biased Professor Snape. While History of Magic might have been excruciatingly boring, at least the students could nap without consequence. Potions, however, was an entirely different beast.
Snape’s blatant favoritism toward Slytherin made the class unbearable for everyone else. Gryffindor, in particular, bore the brunt of his unfairness. While other Houses were merely overlooked when it came to earning points, Gryffindor students had points deducted for the smallest infractions—whether it was taking notes too slowly, failing to read during class, or even reading the wrong book. It was no wonder that Gryffindor always had the lowest House points by the end of each year, a fact that had fueled Fred and George’s desire to send Snape to the hospital wing.
That afternoon, Hufflepuff had their first Potions class, paired with Slytherin. After repeated warnings from the prefects, the young Hufflepuffs made sure to leave their common room early and arrived at the underground Potions classroom a full ten minutes ahead of time. Well, all of them except for Kyle.
Kyle had been summoned to the hospital wing by none other than Dumbledore.
“Kyle, you're finally here!” Mikel exclaimed as soon as he saw him, looking as if Kyle was his long-awaited savior. “You’ve come to pick me up, right? Please tell me you're here to get me out of this place!”
Mikel was clearly desperate. “You have no idea what I’ve been through,” he continued, his eyes wide with indignation. “This place is a nightmare! That nurse practically strapped me to the bed, wouldn’t let me move, and refused to give me any snacks. Then this greasy-haired man came in and forced me to drink some weird potion! I didn’t want to, but he used his wand to make me swallow it! Ugh, it tasted worse than... well, worse than shit!”
Kyle looked from Madam Pomfrey, whose chest was heaving in anger, to Snape, who was standing in the doorway on the verge of losing his temper. He realized, with no small amount of regret, that he had severely underestimated Mikel. In front of Madam Pomfrey, Mikel had insulted the hospital, claiming it was "no place for humans," and had just referred to Snape as an "oily freak." Kyle couldn’t help but wonder if the Sorting Hat had been drunk when it sorted Mikel—someone this bold seemed more suited for Gryffindor.
Without a second thought, Kyle let his instincts take over: he shut up, bowed his head, and quietly shuffled over to Dumbledore, trying to make himself as small and invisible as possible.
Who is Kyle? Just a quiet, obedient student passing by.
The atmosphere in the hospital wing immediately turned frigid.
Mikel, however, remained blissfully unaware of the tension and continued rambling about his unpleasant experiences. It wasn’t until he turned to grab some water that he finally noticed Madam Pomfrey standing there with a strained, forced smile.
“Yaaahhh!” Mikel screeched, diving under the covers and pretending to be dead.
"Ahem... this weather, terribly cold for September," Dumbledore said, rubbing his arms, breaking the icy tension. He turned to Kyle with a calm smile and said, "As you can see, Mr. Derrick has taken the Magic Suppressing Potion and will soon be ready to leave the hospital. Afterward, I’ll ask Professor Sprout to help him learn to better control his magic. But Kyle, the professor’s time is limited. The help of his friends will be even more important."
“I understand, Professor Dumbledore,” Kyle responded seriously. “I promise what happened in Charms class won’t happen again.”
Kyle didn’t need to be told twice. Mikel was his roommate, practically like a brother to him. There was no way he’d stand by and let Mikel risk becoming a Squib from magical exhaustion. Hogwarts didn’t need a second caretaker.
“Don’t look so grim, Kyle,” Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. “Our Potions professor may seem severe, but he’s more than capable. As long as Mr. Derrick takes his Magic Suppressing Potion regularly, magical exhaustion won’t be an issue. Though,” Dumbledore added with a smile, “you might want to stock up on candy for him. I recommend Cockroach Clusters.”
Kyle remained silent, his attention drawn to Snape, whose scowl had deepened at Dumbledore's last remark.
“Alright, take Mr. Derrick back,” Dumbledore continued. “You should get to class as well—don’t be late.”
“Wait a moment, Headmaster,” Madam Pomfrey interrupted. “This young wizard’s treatment isn’t finished yet. It’ll only take a little while longer.”
Dumbledore hesitated. “But…”
“I said, it’s not over yet!” Madam Pomfrey said, smiling but firm. “It’s just a quick check-up. Don’t worry, they won’t be late for class.”
Dumbledore nodded quickly, saying, “I’ll leave it in your capable hands, Poppy,” before striding out of the hospital wing.
Snape followed, muttering a snort as he passed.
Kyle wished he could leave too, but since he had to take Mikel back, he retreated to the corridor to wait. As he stood outside, he suddenly heard a loud, desperate wail from inside the hospital.
“I don’t want to drink this… Ugh… It’s even worse than that blue potion… Ugh… Help... Ugh…”
Kyle winced at Mikel’s cries of protest. His heart ached for his friend, but there was nothing he could do. If even Dumbledore had fled the scene, what could a mere first-year like him do? Resigned, Kyle quietly closed the door of the infirmary.
The corridor instantly fell silent.
Well… at least it’s peaceful now.