Chapter 78: Special Contribution Award to the School

Xiwen watched Ignatius nervously and cautioned him, “Prefect Pruett, whatever you’re about to say, you’d better think twice before you speak!”

“Oh, I understand!” Ignatius replied with a knowing smile.

Just as Xiwen began to relax, Ignatius suddenly raised his voice, startling everyone, “Attention, all Slytherins! First-year wizard Xiwen Rosier has been awarded the Hogwarts Special Award for Services to the School for his actions during yesterday’s magical node incident, adding a hundred points to our House score!”

At his words, the Great Hall fell instantly silent. Every young wizard turned in unison to the entrance, their faces etched with astonishment as they stared at Xiwen.

“Well, that’s it. I’m done for,” Xiwen muttered, rubbing his forehead.

He had never expected Ignatius’s knowing look to mean he thought Xiwen wanted to make a grand announcement. Now he was truly in trouble.

After a brief moment of stunned silence, the Hall erupted into a flurry of excited whispers. The younger students debated the truth of the news. Some might not have understood the true significance of the Special Award for Services to the School, but a hundred house points was an undeniable fact.

“Ignatius, is that true?!” Abraxas grabbed Ignatius’s arm, his voice filled with shock.

“It’s true,” Ignatius replied, visibly pleased with Slytherin’s current score, a broad smile on his face. “If you don’t believe me, go look in the Trophy Room on the fourth floor! Professor Slughorn just had me place Xiwen’s medal there myself!”

“Let’s go see!” Mobley cried, rushing to Xiwen and dragging him out of the Great Hall by the arm.

“Wait, aren’t we going to eat?” Gomez, still bewildered, watched as Mobley pulled Xiwen away, Abraxas following close behind.

“Eat? Who cares about eating right now? This is the Special Award for Services to the School! We have to see it with our own eyes!” Abraxas called back.

“You’d think you two were the ones who won the award...” Xiwen muttered, bemused by their excitement.

Still, with so many students in the Great Hall aware of the news, staying would only invite trouble. He decided to go along—at least he’d avoid the worst of the attention.

But once they reached the fourth floor, both Abraxas and Mobley came to a baffled halt.

“So... do either of you know where the Trophy Room is?” Abraxas asked, glancing at Mobley.

“No idea.” Mobley shook his head and turned to Xiwen.

Xiwen covered his face, despairing at their helplessness.

He led them silently around a corner into a corridor lined with suits of armor. At the end stood a pointed archway, beside which hung a wooden sign reading “Trophy Room.”

A wrought iron gate served as the door. Through its bars, they could see glass display cases filled with crystal and an array of trophies.

The door wasn’t locked; sliding the bolt aside, they stepped easily into the spacious Trophy Room. Directly across from the entrance was a towering window, sunlight pouring through and setting the crystal cabinets ablaze with brilliance. Along both walls stood all manner of trophies, shields, medals, and statues, their silver and gold surfaces glimmering in the sun.

The three of them wandered the room, curiosity piqued, examining the many tokens of achievement.

“All the Quidditch Champion Cups from every year are here!” Abraxas exclaimed, pointing out several golden trophies adorned with delicate wings. “Next year, I’m joining the Slytherin Quidditch team and helping us win the championship. Then my name will be engraved on one of these!”

Mobley, who was famously inept at flying, had no interest in Quidditch. He was already searching through the medals, hoping to find his roommate’s Special Award.

Xiwen, meanwhile, was captivated by the records around the room. He stumbled upon a list of past Student Council Presidents, which he hastily copied into his notebook—Miranda might find it useful someday.

“Found it! It’s right on the outer row of the medal section!” Mobley suddenly shouted, drawing Xiwen and Abraxas’s attention.

They hurried over, eyes following Mobley’s pointing finger to a golden medal inscribed with Xiwen’s name. A label beside it detailed the reason for the award.

“Special Award for Services to the School — Recipient: Xiwen Rosier; Reason: For outstanding contribution in preventing the destruction of the school’s magical node,” Mobley read aloud.

He turned to Xiwen in astonishment. “You prevented the destruction of a magical node? What did you actually do yesterday while the rest of us had no idea?”

Abraxas added, “I do know Xiwen deduced that Professor Lorre was the culprit. He even had me help write letters to summon over half the Board of Governors!”

“But didn’t Professor Lorre realize something was wrong and go destroy another magical node? Your contribution can’t be that significant, can it?” he asked, puzzled.

Seeing he couldn’t keep the truth from them, Xiwen gave a simple explanation. “When Professor Lorre tried to escape yesterday afternoon, I held him up just long enough for Professor Dumbledore to arrive and apprehend him.”

“You? You stopped an adult wizard—let alone the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? Are you serious?” Abraxas asked in disbelief.

Xiwen chuckled, “It’s almost funny. I just used the Spark Charm Professor Lorre taught us to signal the other professors. Then I chatted with him to buy more time. Before long, Professor Dumbledore arrived.”

“That’s it?” Abraxas and Mobley exchanged skeptical looks, sensing something amiss.

“That’s right, that’s all there was to it!” Xiwen declared, slapping his knee. “So what does that teach us? It teaches us to pay attention in class—you never know when you’ll have to use what you’ve learned!”

“Yeah, right, as if!” Abraxas and Mobley rolled their eyes in unison.

...

At Xiwen’s insistence, they lingered in the Trophy Room a while longer, only returning to the Great Hall near the end of lunch.

By the time they arrived, the Hall was nearly empty. Xiwen breathed a sigh of relief—at least this way he wouldn’t be the center of attention, and trouble would be less likely.

But at Hogwarts, surprises never ceased—

“I’ve had enough of you, you lunatic!”

Suddenly, a loud shout erupted from the Gryffindor table.

Two students in red-trimmed uniforms leapt to their feet, wands pointed at each other, and the air crackled with tension...

...