Snape narrowed his eyes slightly and looked at Kayson, who was lying on the sofa vomiting rainbows. Dumbledore quickly noticed him as well.
Snape looked at Kayson, then at Dumbledore, and swiftly realized what kind of fucked-up mess was happening. With a wave of his hand, he drove everyone except Kayson out. After shutting the door, he turned to Kayson.
"Go on, then. What kind of stunt are you pulling this time?" Snape asked darkly, dragging over a folding stool and sitting down.
"Well, I ate too much spicy blood curd hotpot. Then Dumbledore disgusted me just now, and I accidentally threw it all up," Kayson said sheepishly.
"Oh... I meant, why do those people look like someone died?" Snape asked another way.
Kayson casually curled his lip and told him about how he had been diligently giving Cedric extra lessons in his office, all for Hogwarts to win the Triwizard Tournament. He had been fighting for Hogwarts.
But what about everyone else? Dumbledore, for example—stabbing him in the back behind the scenes? Was that right?
How was that appetite-killing move any different from eighteen imperial death warrants?
And, of all things, the Board of Governors' fine had landed on him for the fabricated charge of not writing lesson plans. Was that right?
The corner of Snape's mouth twitched uncontrollably. Looking at the endlessly rambling Kayson, he sighed helplessly. "Whatever makes you happy... So what am I supposed to say? That you're beyond saving?"
Kayson stared at the ceiling. "More or less. You're the expert at this sort of thing. It'd be best if you added something like, 'He mustn't be agitated,' or 'He mustn't be saddened,' or 'He's exhausted from overwork.' Make that old bastard Dumbledore suffer properly."
Snape nodded, rose to his feet, and pushed open the Hospital