I'm So Hungry

The atmosphere in the office was grave.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his fingertips pressed together as his deep blue eyes studied him through half-moon spectacles.

Professor McGonagall stood to one side, her face more stern and worried than ever before.

Like a black phantom, Professor Snape lurked in the shadows near the door, arms folded, his gaze as cold as poisoned daggers.

Madam Pomfrey was there too, holding a small vial of colorless potion, her brow tightly furrowed.

Even Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout stood nearby, their faces filled with shock and unease.

"Mr. Leoqi," Professor McGonagall spoke first, her voice tense from her effort to remain calm, "could you explain why you did what you did last night...? Sneaking into Professor Snape's bedroom, and appearing in that... manner?"

Skofot raised his head and looked at Professor McGonagall, his eyes utterly vacant.

Then the corners of his mouth suddenly stretched wide, revealing an extremely abrupt, soundless smile. Two short, hoarse chuckles leaked from his throat.

"What did I do?" he repeated Professor McGonagall's question, his tone strangely light, though his eyes had begun to lose focus.

"Calm down, child." Professor McGonagall tried to soothe him, taking a small step forward.

"Calm down?!" The smile on Skofot's face instantly twisted, and his voice abruptly rose, sharp and tearing. "How the fuck should I know why I did it—!!"

The roar exploded through the quiet office, making several portraits on the walls grumble in annoyance as they turned over.

The professors' expressions all changed.

Snape's wand silently slid into his hand, his gaze turning even sharper.

Madam Pomfrey tightened her grip on the vial.

Skofot seemed to have completely fallen into his own world. He leaned forward, and despite being restrained, gave off the powerful impression that he wanted to break free and pounce.

His eyes were bloodshot. His voice shifted from that earlier shrillness into a suppressed, hungry whisper, as if he were confessing some terrible secret:

"I want blood... I want to eat my own kind, but there aren't any here... not one..."

His voice grew lower and lower. His head drooped helplessly, his shoulders trembling faintly as though he were desperately restraining something.

The office fell deathly silent. Only his heavy, uneven breathing could be heard.

The professors exchanged shocked, grim looks.

Suddenly, he jerked his head up, the veins in his neck standing out as he used every ounce of strength to let out a crazed, heart-rending howl. It was filled with unfulfilled desire and the despair of a mind snapping completely apart:

"I'm so hungry—!!"

His hoarse cry echoed through the top of the tower.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Almost the instant his howl ended, Snape's cold voice rang out.

A beam of light shot from the tip of his wand, striking Skofot with perfect precision.

The boy's body instantly stiffened, frozen in the posture of throwing back his head and howling, as though he had become a stone statue. Only his chest continued to rise and fall violently, proving that he was still breathing. The madness that had not yet subsided was forcibly sealed within his rigid shell.

The office sank into oppressive silence once more.

Madam Pomfrey immediately stepped forward, swiftly checking Skofot's vital signs before making him swallow several drops of a powerful sedative.

"He needs to be isolated and observed, Albus," she said, turning to Dumbledore with a grave expression. "I have never seen a mental state like this... He has strong aggressive tendencies and a confused sense of self."

Professor McGonagall's face was pale. She looked at the petrified boy, her lips moving, but in the end she said nothing. She merely shook her head heavily.

Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout looked at each other, seeing fear in one another's eyes.

Snape put away his wand, but his gaze remained coldly fixed on Skofot, as if he were assessing an extremely dangerous alchemical object on the verge of exploding.

Dumbledore slowly rose from his seat.

He walked over to the petrified Skofot and lowered his head to gaze at the young face, twisted and frozen in madness. For a long time, he said nothing.

Those blue eyes, which always gleamed with wisdom, were now filled with complicated emotions—

—gravity, pity, and a deep concern, as though he foresaw some ominous future.

"The empty classroom Mrs. Ferwitch mentioned," he finally said, his voice low and steady but carrying an unquestionable decision, "will serve as an isolation room for the time being. Severus, Poppy, please assist with the transfer. Until we figure out exactly what has happened to him... he cannot be allowed to come into contact with anyone."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across every professor present.

"This matter is to be classified as top secret."

The deepest shadows of Hogwarts had finally been exposed before everyone in a horrifying way that could no longer be ignored.

And how to deal with this out-of-control "student," filled with unknown dangers, became a grave and urgent problem before every professor.

[Emotion Points +200] (From the professors' extreme shock, fear, worry, and emergency response)

[Emotion Points: 1965/100]

The empty classroom had been hastily converted into a prison-like cell.

Heavy curtains covered the windows, leaving only several fixed magical lamps on the walls to provide a dim, unchanging glow.

Skofot had been placed in a hard-backed chair in the center of the room, his wrists and ankles secured to the corresponding parts of the chair with magically reinforced straps, ensuring that he could not move freely without making him completely uncomfortable.

When he woke again, that heart-rending madness seemed to have temporarily ebbed away, replaced by an abnormal, almost obedient calm.

He simply sat there quietly, his hollow gaze fixed on the bare wall opposite him, like an exquisite doll without a soul.

Night fell. The lock clicked softly, and then the door was pushed open.

Minerva McGonagall entered carrying a wooden tray with that evening's meal on it.

Her steps remained steady, but an undispersable gloom hung over her brow as she looked at the boy in the chair with complicated eyes.

Hearing the movement, Skofot slowly turned his head.

In the dim yellow light, his face was so pale it was nearly translucent.

When he saw Professor McGonagall, the corners of his mouth lifted with extreme slowness into an almost "well-behaved" curve. His voice had returned to its usual soft lightness, even carrying a trace of politeness.

"Good evening, Professor McGonagall."

Under the circumstances, such a normal greeting seemed especially eerie.

Professor McGonagall's heart sank.

She set the tray on a small table that had been temporarily brought in beside him, doing her best to keep her tone steady. "Good evening, Mr. Leoqi. It's time for dinner."

She undid the restraint around one of his wrists so that he could eat.

Skofot flexed his newly freed wrist, his gaze falling upon the tray.

A standard Hogwarts meal: roasted chicken breast, boiled peas, mashed potatoes, and a small piece of bread.

Nutritionally balanced, normally colored.