One minute passed quickly.
For all the teachers and students of Hogwarts, that single minute had been pure happiness.
When Draco reappeared on the high platform, he lifted his head and stared blankly at the ceiling.
He truly couldn't understand how a punishment as simple as dancing — the easiest one — had turned into that.
Unlike Ron Weasley's internal organ–compression punishment, where pain was obvious just from his face, Draco wasn't in pain.
Yet he still wasn't happy.
He stared up at the bright ceiling, and a lone tear rolled down his cheek.
It was absolutely not because he was heartbroken.
It was absolutely not because he had just performed a tap dance wearing a Balala the Fairies outfit.
No.
It was because…
The light was too damn bright.
Yes.
That was the reason.
Definitely.
But no one was looking at him now.
The moment they returned to the [Live Broadcast Q&A System] space, Hermione Granger planned to answer immediately — even if she picked a wrong answer on purpose.
But someone acted faster.
"Sir, my choice is the first one."
Harry said loudly.
Then he turned to Hermione with a relaxed smile, looking strangely relieved — almost proud.
As if he had gotten the question right.
"Harry… you didn't have to do that."
Hermione's voice trembled slightly; her expression was complicated.
She could tell.
Harry had answered first so she wouldn't have to risk choosing wrong.
He intentionally left the correct answer for her.
"…Thank you."
The words were quiet, barely audible — meant only for him.
Some things were better kept close to the heart.
"Sorry, Harry. Your answer is incorrect."
Aiden glanced at the glowing text on the card before announcing the result.
"Since you answered incorrectly, you will now accept the punishment. And your punishment is—"
Before Aiden finished, Draco straightened, wiping away the remnants of his dramatic grief.
His eyes were wide with anticipation.
"Why would Harry do that?"
"Maybe he wanted to give Hermione the correct answer."
"He could have chosen the second answer…"
"Alright, alright — stop talking. It was his decision. He has the right to choose."
Whispers spread through the hall.
Some were confused.
Some understood.
Some were openly mocking.
"Look at that idiot Potter. Only he would do something so stupid."
The voice was loud — dripping with ridicule.
Wood immediately snapped back.
"That's because you're Marcus Flint — and only a Slytherin like you would fail to understand friendship, only chasing benefit like a mad dog."
"And Gryffindor will never be like Slytherin — willing to do anything for profit."
The two stared each other down.
If Professor McGonagall weren't present, spells would already be flying.
Dumbledore watched the young wizard and let out a faint sigh — but this time, a warm one.
Friendship.
And love.
These were things he had learned far too late.
He had made mistakes — terrible mistakes.
But now, seeing Harry walking toward values he cherished…
He smiled.
This time, he would not allow another tragedy like Tom Riddle.
Aiden cleared his throat and read the punishment:
"Your punishment is simple. Pick up your foot and smell it. Right now."
…
Harry blinked.
Then stared at Aiden.
Aiden stared back.
Harry's face flushed bright red.
This shame was beyond language.
Earlier, he had asked someone in Gryffindor if everyone at Hogwarts could see what was happening inside the Q&A space.
The answer had been:
Yes. Every single teacher and student could see.
Which meant—
His humiliation was about to go school-wide.
"It seems, Harry, that you don't want to do it yourself," Aiden said gently.
"But that's alright. The Q&A System can assist."
That "gentle" tone felt more horrifying than any demonic scream.
Harry desperately wished he could request Ron's organ-compression punishment instead.
Pain was temporary.
Social death lasted forever.
But before he could speak — his body moved on its own.
He took off his shoe.
Rubbed his fingers into his sock.
And then lifted his foot to sniff it.
Then he froze — staring into nothing.
A broken man.
A shattered soul.
His thoughts spiraled:
Who am I?
What am I doing here?
Where did my dignity go?
Gasps and horrified laughter echoed through Hogwarts.
The school population may have raised the global temperature by a full degree with the sheer volume of heated embarrassment.
Truly an impressive collective effort.
Watching Harry suffer, Draco felt hope return to his life.
If he wasn't the only one socially destroyed — then his pink outfit and dancing weren't so unbearable.
Even if Harry's was milder, it didn't matter.
Someone else had joined him in disgrace.
That alone made Draco's heart lighter.
"It's your turn, Miss Granger."
Aiden looked at her kindly — or at least, tried to.
Based on Hermione's horrified expression, the attempt… failed.
She now fully believed the Q&A system was a pervert machine.
Still, she took a deep breath.
"Sir," she said, voice trembling slightly, "My choice is the second answer. Based on the previous questions, we already know Professor Snape's unusual treatment of Harry wasn't random. So the second answer aligns best with the actual situation."
"A very good answer, Miss Granger."
The gentle voice soothed her panic.
"Your answer is correct."