A Certain Magical Hogwarts

Faced with the sudden chaos, Madam Hooch appeared at a loss, her face pale as she struggled to figure out what to do.

William was starting to think that out of all the professors at Hogwarts, only Flitwick and Professor McGonagall were reliable. As for Snape and Tywin… well, they had only just been discharged from the hospital recently.

"Wingardium Leviosa~" William murmured as he raised his wand, casting the Levitation Charm.

Shabby's descent slowed down considerably. Although it didn't stop him from falling completely, at least it allowed him to land gently in the grass.

Madam Hooch quickly rushed over to him, bending down to inspect him. Her face, already pale, seemed even whiter—like she had powdered it with BB cream.

"Oh, Merlin… no major injuries. His limbs are bruised from being squeezed by the vines, but he's otherwise fine," she said after a quick assessment.

She straightened up and, looking at William, said, "Excellent Bluebell Flames and Levitation Charm, child. Five points to Ravenclaw!"

The students around them clapped enthusiastically.

William sighed. It seemed he'd been saving people so often lately that the professors had decided to standardize the points system. What once earned him fifty points now only got him five.

No doubt Snape had a hand in this. Lately, whenever he looked at William, his face was plastered with a disturbingly smug smile.

Madam Hooch turned back to the rest of the students, her voice stern. "I'm taking this boy to the hospital wing. All of you stay here in the training field and return the brooms to their proper places.

"Otherwise, you'll be kicked out of Hogwarts before you can even say the word 'Quidditch.'"

But before she could finish her sentence, the Devil's Snare erupted into action again.

It recoiled in fear from the fire William had conjured, pulling all its vines back into the ground, leaving behind only a single thick stem.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

It was as if someone were pounding on the earth. The ground trembled, and several magical waste disposal pits shook violently as the protective magic on them weakened.

Boom!

The Hogwarts microbial compost pit exploded.

Everyone scrambled to get away. Cho was the fastest—she mounted her broom and zoomed away from the stench engulfing the area.

William leapt and grabbed onto the tail of his broomstick. The old, worn-out broom sputtered as it flew, groaning like an ancient train, dragging him slowly away.

The overwhelming stench, carried by the wind, spread rapidly across the grounds…

The scene was utterly catastrophic.

….

Up in the Headmaster's office, located on the eighth floor, one could see most of the school's grounds from the windows.

Dumbledore stood at the window, gazing into the distance. Beside him was a large, deep red bird, almost as big as a swan, crooning a strange melody by the window.

Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon glasses and clapped his hands. "Fawkes, your singing is as beautiful as ever. With the Sorting Hat's lyrics and this performance, it's practically a musical… simply perfect!"

Fawkes gave a slight bow, basking in Dumbledore's praise.

Dumbledore reached into his pocket and pulled out a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, asking, "Would you like one? I've had some good luck recently—got a few strawberry-flavored ones. They're quite delightful."

Fawkes blinked his bright, shiny black eyes, staring at something in the distance. A moment later, without warning, the phoenix vanished from the office.

Dumbledore furrowed his brow.

That was unusual—Fawkes rarely left in such a flustered manner.

He opened the packet of Every Flavor Beans and pulled out one. Giving it a sniff, he hesitated, then took a deeper breath.

The scent was strange—strangely intoxicating.

Dumbledore took another long whiff.

What was this smell…? It's quite… overpowering!

Could it be that Bertie Bott's had introduced a new flavor?

...

At some point, a strange odor began to waft over the entire Hogwarts campus.

It came so stealthily, so unexpectedly—an overpowering, almost otherworldly scent, stronger than anything Zonkos Joke Shop had ever produced. It was far more potent than the stink bombs sold there—by at least a hundredfold.

Without exaggeration, this odor could practically be called lethal!

The professors couldn't quickly dissipate the stench. The enormous compost pits didn't just contain waste from magical creatures—they also held waste from all the students and staff. The massive contamination had soaked into the surrounding soil, and clearing it away was going to take some time.

As a result, all Quidditch training on the field was suspended!

The students were furious, and the teams wanting to practice had no choice but to start playing indoor Quidditch… Of course, there was one upside—the school had ordered a batch of new broomsticks overnight.

After all, the root cause of the accident had been the old, dilapidated brooms.

According to Shabby's version of events afterward, he had been flying since he was three years old, soaring freely at fifty meters by the age of five, and had received offers from various clubs by ten. He was clearly destined to be the next Viktor Krum.

But he had resolutely given up Quidditch to return to Hogwarts and join Hufflepuff. With such a gifted child, could anyone blame his talent?

Of course not. So the biggest issue was the poor quality of the school's brooms.

And so, countless students found their excuse.

It wasn't their lack of flying skill—it was the shabby brooms that were holding them back.

Naturally, when Cho had flown away from the stink on that old broom as gracefully as a bird, everyone conveniently ignored it.

According to Madam Hooch, Ravenclaw had finally produced a true talent.

William wanted to say, "I'm a talent too."

As the reigning three-point champion in the orphanage basketball tournament for six consecutive years, William didn't want to boast, but he had an incredibly sharp shot. If it hadn't been for his short stature, he was sure he could've been Asia's top point guard.

Unfortunately, thanks to Shabby's misadventures, the first flying class had been turned into an indoor lecture.

Madam Hooch didn't allow anyone to touch a single Quaffle, leaving William, who had been eager to showcase his skills in a fast-break, deeply disappointed.

Meanwhile, in Hagrid's hut, Fluffy—the three-headed dog—seemed to have undergone a growth spurt. In just a few days, it had grown to nearly the same size as Fang.

Hagrid spent most of his time hiding in his hut, complaining that the pervasive smell was affecting Fluffy's appetite...

But William didn't believe him. In fact, he noticed Fluffy eating more heartily than ever, and Fang seemed to be doing the same.

Hagrid still hadn't told Dumbledore about Fluffy. Especially with time passing and the situation with Malfoy unresolved, public demand for answers was growing louder.

The Ministry of Magic was struggling to keep up.

And so, Hagrid remained terrified.

William couldn't spend all his time comforting Hagrid, though, since the stench was just too unbearable.

Everyone started wearing masks—it almost looked like Hogwarts had been hit by a bird flu outbreak.

Filch even made Mrs. Norris a special mask and wore one himself as he prowled the halls with his broom, always on the lookout.

He constantly claimed that the smell was the work of the Weasley twins and kept demanding that Dumbledore punish them severely, or at least dock some points.

It had been just over a month since term started, and Gryffindor was already down 130 points, edging closer and closer to the lowest score in Hogwarts history!

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