Upon tiptoeing back to the Hufflepuff common room, Wentworth was taken aback to find Cedric and Prefect Green waiting for him.

Both were curled up on a sofa, intermittently navigating a wizard chess set spread before them.

An unexpected warmth blossomed within Wentworth’s heart at the sight of his friends.

“Have you two been waiting for me?” Wentworth inquired with a mix of surprise and amusement.

As he approached, he felt a wave of emotion at the camaraderie he shared with Cedric and Prefect Green.

With a yawn, Prefect Green, his expression fatigued, answered, “Of course! Were you caught up with Professor Dumbledore’s punishment? Is it still ongoing?”

Cedric chimed in, agreeing, “You look pretty alert!”

“I was with Professor Dumbledore on a trip. By the way, I brought you a small gift!” Wentworth announced as he took out two golden snitches from his pocket and presented them to Cedric and Prefect Green.

The snitches bore the engraving: “1990 Quidditch World Cup Final.”

Cedric and Prefect Green exchanged contemplative glances before simultaneously rushing toward Wentworth.

They pressed him down onto the sofa, with Cedric asking hushedly, “Tell us everything! What did you do?”

As Wentworth recounted his experiences, Cedric seemed unfazed, but Prefect Green appeared to harbor regrets.

“I should’ve hexed Waring right in front of the Headmaster. I should’ve known that his punishment would be this.”

“You really think you’re Wentworth? Professor Dumbledore is giving him special treatment,” Cedric pointed out.

“Alright, now that Wentworth is back, it’s time for bed,” Cedric suggested.

Prefect Green, however, interjected, rejecting the idea. “Sleep now? Have you lost track of time? The morning is just around the corner! Trust me, you won’t get up in the morning if you go to bed now. We should pass the time with something and rest properly at noon.”

Wentworth, with his fair share of overnight experiences, nodded in agreement.

Seeing Wentworth and Prefect Green on board, Cedric conceded, though he asked, “So, what are we playing? Wizard chess?”

Prefect Green shook his head vigorously, explaining, “Not wizard chess. Wentworth and I are no match for you, and besides, how can three people play?”

As Prefect Green and Cedric pondered, Wentworth posed an alternative. “Have you heard of ‘Slave Owners’?”

Thus, as bleary-eyed Hufflepuff freshmen emerged from their dormitories the following morning, an unfamiliar sound emanated from the common room.

“Rob the slave owner!” and “Don’t rob!” were being traded, sparking the curiosity of those who entered the room.

Following the source of the commotion, they found Wentworth, Cedric, and Prefect Green seated in the common room, sporting heavy dark circles under their eyes.

They were engaged in a spirited game, surrounded by early risers from their house who formed a circle to observe the unfolding events.

The outcome of their all-nighter had repercussions in the North Tower’s Divination classroom that morning.

As they entered the room, Wentworth directed his gaze toward the crimson light and, spotting a small room with a blanket, sat down and unexpectedly fell asleep.

When Professor Trelawney arrived, she began mysteriously, “Dear students, you are all new to Hogwarts. Can anyone tell me the key to excelling in Divination?”

A beat passed, yet no one volunteered an answer. Trelawney continued enigmatically, “In Divination, it’s all about talent.”

Her words elicited a flurry of reactions among the students, sparking various discussions.

“Goodness, so much emphasis on talent. What if I lack it? Will I fail?”

“Don’t be absurd! I’d heard our Divination Professor was eccentric, but I didn’t think she’d be this extreme.”

“How do we even test for this talent?”

As the chatter escalated, a peculiar noise gradually filled the air.

More students noticed it, and upon closer listening, they discerned that the sound was undulated, originating from a distance yet continuously resonating.

As discussions waned, the persistent, distant noise gradually consumed the room.

All eyes converged on Wentworth, who lay sprawled across a table, unaware of the spectacle he was creating.

A crystal droplet glistened at the corner of his mouth.

A stifled laugh broke through the silence, and soon the room erupted in unrestrained amusement.

Amidst the laughter, Professor Trelawney exhibited her typical eccentricity.

Yet, Professor Trelawney’s behavior appeared erratic even for her.

The students’ laughter abated as she approached Wentworth, replaced by curiosity.

Professor Trelawney seemed on the verge of uttering something, her eyes gleaming, but the words eluded her.

As a student prepared to nudge Wentworth, Professor Trelawney issued a command with unexpected fervor. “Stay away from him! He’s a rare Dream Diviner! Do not disturb his slumber!”

Professor Trelawney observed Wentworth, her words punctuated by animation.

Bafflement gripped the Hufflepuff freshmen, their gaze shifting between Wentworth’s snores and Professor Trelawney’s enthralled voice.