Got Caught

His hands, face, even the front of his robes, were smeared with dark red blood and bits of flesh.

Hearing footsteps behind him, Skofot abruptly looked up and turned around.

His lips were stained crimson with blood, and a shred of meat still hung from the corner of his mouth.

There was no panic or fear at being discovered in those eyes—only irritation at having his meal interrupted, along with a lingering, bestial satisfaction.

He looked at the group of pale-faced professors before him and tilted his head, as if wondering why they had come to disturb him.

Professor McGonagall let out a sharp gasp and clapped a hand tightly over her mouth.

Professor Flitwick nearly fainted.

Hagrid's mouth fell open, his face full of disbelief.

Snape instantly raised his wand, but Dumbledore gently pressed down on his arm.

Dumbledore stepped forward. His gaze swept over the mutilated animal carcass on the ground before finally settling on Skofot's blood-covered face.

The old man's eyes were filled with heavy sorrow and bottomless concern.

"Skofot..." Dumbledore's voice remained calm, yet it carried a power that pierced straight into the heart. "My child, look at what you're doing."

Following his gaze, Skofot looked down at his bloody hands and the "food" beneath him. Then he looked back up, his face showing a mixture of confusion and innocence. His voice was slightly muffled by the food in his mouth.

"I'm eating." He paused, then added, with an almost indignant tone, "There wasn't any... cooked food. So I had to... eat this."

Those innocent yet cruel words sent a chill through every professor present.

Dumbledore fell silent for a moment. Finally, he slowly raised his wand.

This time, he did not have Snape do it for him.

"I'm sorry, my child," he said softly, as though carrying out something he deeply regretted but had no choice but to do.

A gentle yet incomparably powerful white light poured from the tip of the Elder Wand. Like a warm tide, it instantly enveloped Skofot.

The expression on Skofot's face froze. The bestial gleam in his eyes quickly faded, replaced by a heavy, irresistible drowsiness.

His body swayed and went limp forward. Before he could fully touch the cold ground, Dumbledore's Levitation Charm gently caught him.

He fell into an even deeper magical slumber, personally inflicted by the greatest wizard of the age.

The Forbidden Forest returned to silence, leaving only a scene of carnage and a group of wizards weighed down by utter heaviness.

As they looked at the sleeping, blood-soaked boy floating in the magical light, it was as if they were watching Pandora's box slowly open, revealing unknown horrors within.

[Emotion Points +250] (From the professors' extreme shock, fear, and helplessness upon witnessing the horrifying scene)

[Emotion Points: 2210/100]

Looking at Skofot, silently floating under the Levitation Charm, covered in blood yet sunk in deep sleep, Dumbledore remained silent for a moment.

The usual twinkle of humor had vanished from his blue eyes, leaving only the grave solemnity of the sea before a storm.

Even the air in the Forbidden Forest seemed to freeze beneath the invisible pressure radiating from the old wizard.

"Rubeus," Dumbledore finally said. His voice was not loud, but it carried clearly to everyone's ears. "Please clean this place up. Don't leave any traces."

Hagrid seemed not to have fully recovered from the shock. His enormous body trembled as he nodded vigorously, his voice choked with emotion. "A-All right, Professor... Leave it to me."

Dumbledore turned to the other professors.

"Minerva, Severus, come with me. Filius, please notify Poppy. Have her bring the strongest sedative and nutritional supplements, and wait at..."

He paused slightly, seemingly choosing a location. "At the top floor of the abandoned astronomy tower on the west side of the castle. It's secluded enough."

Professor Flitwick immediately acknowledged the order and hurried away at a trot.

Dumbledore gave the bloodstained clearing one final look, then turned around, raising his wand slightly to guide the floating Skofot toward the castle.

McGonagall and Snape followed close behind. The three passed silently through the deepening twilight, the oppressive atmosphere almost suffocating.

They did not return to the Hospital Wing, nor did they go back to that empty classroom.

Dumbledore led them directly to the West Tower.

This tower had long been abandoned. Its stairs creaked, and dust lay everywhere.

There was only one circular room on the top floor. The windows had been sealed shut, and the only door was made of heavy oak.

Madam Pomfrey was already waiting there, her face full of worry as she tightly gripped a crystal vial filled with deep purple potion.

"Put him there, Poppy." Dumbledore pointed to the only crude stone bed in the center of the room.

He carefully laid Skofot down on it.

"Albus, what exactly is this..." Professor McGonagall could not help asking, her voice carrying a faint, barely perceptible tremor.

Dumbledore raised a hand, signaling for her to wait. He walked to the door, lifted the Elder Wand, and began tracing extremely complex patterns through the air.

Streams of golden runes flowed from the wand tip, attaching themselves to the door, its frame, and the surrounding stone walls as though alive.

They formed an Ancient Runes Ward far beyond ordinary Protective Charms, containing powerful forces of confinement and concealment.

Snape watched coldly from the side. He recognized several of the runes as representing "Absolute Silence," "Spatial Anchor," and "Magic Isolation."

Then Dumbledore turned back toward the interior of the room.

On the floor around the stone bed, he inscribed an even more intricate Magic Circle, its lines glowing with a deep blue light.

It was a powerful calming and binding array, capable of continuously soothing—or rather, suppressing—the mind of whoever stood within it while restricting their movements.

By the time he had finished, a faint sheen of sweat had appeared on Dumbledore's forehead. The effort had clearly cost him dearly.

He turned to Madam Pomfrey.

"Poppy, double the dosage. Make sure he remains in a deep sleep until we find... a solution."

Madam Pomfrey pressed her lips together and nodded. She stepped forward and carefully fed the potion into Skofot's mouth.

Only then did Dumbledore look at McGonagall and Snape, his gaze ultimately settling on Snape.

"Severus," he said in an unusually grave tone, "I need you to use every connection and resource available to you to secretly investigate all records related to... transformations into nonhuman habits, complete mental alienation, or ancient curses and Dark Magic Contracts. Pay particular attention to cases described as 'irreversible' or 'accompanied by a devouring craving.' Do not alert anyone, including the Ministry of Magic."

Snape nodded darkly without asking a single question.

He understood the gravity of the matter. This had gone far beyond an ordinary student management issue.

"Minerva," Dumbledore said, turning to Professor McGonagall, "I need you to ensure that everyone who knows of this maintains absolute secrecy. The official explanation will be that Mr. Leoqi has been transferred to a special isolation ward at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for treatment of a sudden, highly contagious rare magical illness. His return date is undetermined. You will need to handle all paperwork and any inquiries from parents."

He paused. "If... if anyone claiming to be his family appears, notify me immediately."

Professor McGonagall agreed solemnly.

"I will personally contact several experts at St. Mungo's whom I trust, specialists in mental magic and curse studies,"

Dumbledore continued, his gaze sharp.

"I will ask them, in a private capacity, to conduct remote consultations. Until we determine exactly what has happened to him, we cannot risk allowing anyone to come into contact with him."

His arrangements were meticulous and calm, accounting for nearly every possibility.

Isolation, research, secrecy, outside assistance.

Every step reflected the old man's extensive experience and decisiveness in the face of crisis, but it also revealed his profound apprehension over the matter.

At last, his gaze fell upon the sleeping boy on the stone bed. His bloodstained face looked unnaturally young in the dim light—and unnaturally eerie.

"What we are facing may not simply be a sick child," Dumbledore said in a low voice, carrying an unprecedented weight.

"It may be... a phenomenon we do not yet understand. Or, perhaps, a threat. Until we uncover the truth, Hogwarts must ensure absolute safety."

Within the tower room, only the deep blue glow of the Magic Circle flickered faintly, casting its light across the incomparably grave faces of the witches and wizards.

Skofot Leoqi, that boy of mysteries, had truly become a living secret locked away at the highest point of the castle, unknown to all.

And the path toward the answer was destined to be shrouded in mist and thorns.