Umbridge was dumbstruck, but to Fudge and the others, she looked terrified.
"Rufus!" Fudge called to Scrimgeour. "Go help Dolores!"
Scrimgeour was irritated—Umbridge couldn't do anything right, and now she was causing trouble at random. He drew his wand, ready to subdue the werewolf.
But a moment later, he too froze, then turned toward Fudge and the others with a strange expression. "Minister, there isn't any werewolf here."
Fudge's expression changed drastically. He rushed to the doorway, peered inside, and was dumbstruck too:
Inside the room, Lupin lay in bed, wrapped in a dark blanket that covered him from his shoulders to his ankles, leaving only his pale, bloodless face exposed.
His hair was rather disheveled, and he looked utterly drained, as though he had been ill for a long time.
Most importantly, his curtains were open. Silver moonlight shone directly on him, yet there was nothing unusual about him.
"Professor Umbridge? Mr. Scrimgeour? Minister Fudge?" Lupin's voice was hoarse and weak. "Have you come to visit me? That's very kind of you."
He coughed a few times, his shoulders trembling slightly beneath the blanket.
"Excuse us. We still need to give Professor Lupin his medicine." Harry squeezed past them into the room.
Cedric had also intended to go inside, but his father caught his arm and shook his head, seemingly warning him not to get involved.
Cedric was much stronger than Amos Diggory. Without a word, he pulled free of his father's grip.
The two entered the room. Harry picked up a bottle of medicine from the bedside table and held it to Lupin's lips, while Cedric adjusted the blanket, wrapping it more snugly around him.
Lupin took a sip and let out a long, weary breath. "Thank you, Harry, Cedric. You're both good boys."
The scene of a