The Return to Hogwarts

Neville looked even more desperate than when he had mistakenly thought he had been fired. His lips trembled, his face was as white as a corpse submerged in water, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"What exactly should we say?"

boom--

Before Harry could finish his question, Neville, like a mad lion, rammed into Professor McGonagall, causing her to stumble, and galloped away in a cloud of dust.

Chapter 810 Not a Miracle

2024-03-18

Generally speaking, at St. Mungo's Hospital for the Injuries and Wounds, except for the ward floors that are still brightly lit for serious emergency patients, the lights on the other floors are turned off before 9 p.m. to create a good resting environment for the patients.

But the situation is different today.

The fifth-floor spell damage ward was brightly lit, where most of St. Mungo's healers, experts in treating spell damage, had gathered. Each of these healers was renowned in the industry and commanded respect wherever they went. Yet now, these learned healers had lost their pride, crowding the corridor with expressions of excitement and disbelief, desperately trying to get closer to a ward.

The healers who left their mark on the history of magic on the wall also looked the same. To squeeze into the frame closest to the ward, these legendary healers, most of them old and frail, fought fiercely.

"Incredible, Albus!"

As Dumbledore emerged from the firelight with a seemingly calmer Neville, a witch with long, flowing silver hair immediately appeared in the nearest picture frame, her cheeks trembling with excitement.

"Completely recovered, without a single flaw, I've never seen anything like it before. There's no such thing in the entire history of healing magical injuries. In my opinion, for this alone, the Merlin Order should award him another First Class Medal!"

Completely cured

Neville's body trembled, but Dumbledore didn't seem particularly happy. He put one arm around Neville's shoulder and half-pushed him up the stairs, while Delis de Winter followed their steps, constantly appearing in the picture frames on the wall.

"What did Amosta say, Delis?"

Dumbledore asked calmly.

"Oh, and he still won't say how he restored that Muggle to normal!"

The elderly Delis complained as she breathed heavily.

"Just like I told you, he kept everyone outside, went into that Muggle ward and stayed there alone for an afternoon, and then the Muggle regained his senses. Of course, he was still a little confused, but that's perfectly normal. The Cruciatus Curse must have caused him irreversible damage, but overall, he's recovered."

"Muggle?" Neville was a little confused. "Isn't it mine?"

Dumbledore glanced at Neville, but instead of answering his question, he continued,

"Where is Amosta now, in that Muggle ward?"

"Excuse me, could you please make way for me?"

Delis pushed aside a therapist blocking her way in the picture frame, and then followed closely behind Dumbledore, who was surprisingly agile and didn't look his age at all.

"That's right, he wouldn't let anyone into that ward, but he was chatting away with that Muggle like old friends."

Dumbledore twitched his brow almost imperceptibly, keenly sensing something.

"Neville!"

As soon as he stepped onto the fifth-floor corridor, a surprised shout startled the dazed Neville. He blinked and then saw a girl in a hospital gown running quickly toward him from the middle of the corridor. Her messy curls were flying in the air as she ran so fast.

"Oh, Professor Dumbledore, good evening!"

Good evening, Miss Granger.

Dumbledore's bright blue eyes shone as he gazed at Hermione for a few seconds, then smiled at her.

"Ah, I'm so glad to see you've regained your energy. If you had stayed here for another week, your friends at school would probably have stormed into my office in a rage and burned off my beard."

Hermione bit her lip, her smile revealing a touch of emotion and shyness. She clearly understood that Dumbledore was implying something.

“I think you must have a general understanding of the current situation, Miss Granger, but Mr. Longbottom is still confused. Perhaps you can clear things up for him while we catch up.”

“And what about you, Professor?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, Professor Blaine sent me a message, wanting to discuss the specific treatment plan with me before treating Mr. Longbottom’s parents. He said he might need my help.”

Dumbledore smiled and said this, then he greeted the healers who had found him and was quickly surrounded by an excited crowd.

“Come on, Neville, come to my room. I can tell you what’s going on.”

Hermione tugged at Neville's sleeve excitedly and said, "Your mom gave me a piece of bubble gum wrapper and asked me to give it to you on my way back to school. I can give it to you now, Neville?"

Hermione tugged at Neville's sleeve, intending to lead him to her ward. The corridor was incredibly noisy. However, as she walked forward, she felt a force resisting her. Turning back, she saw Neville standing there, his cheeks flushed a purplish-red, as if he had been caught stealing.

"You know, my mom and dad, Hermione—"

Navee said weakly, as if his spine had been ripped out.

"Come on, Neville—"

Seeing Neville's utter embarrassment, Hermione pursed her lips. She knew what Neville was worried about and afraid of, and she felt a lump in her throat.

"Let me tell you what Professor Blaine has done. Everything will be alright."

Sirius Black and Tonks were standing guard at the front of the ward. Mrs. Longbottom was also supposed to be there, but she had to go back to take care of her son and daughter-in-law.

"Dumbledore."

Sirius's face was pressed against the square glass mirror on the door, peering into the room, when Tonks patted him on the shoulder to bring him back to his senses.

Dumbledore raised his hand to stop Sirius, who was about to say something, and Amosta, who was inside the room, seemed to sense something as well. He stood up, went over, and turned the doorknob.

"Please wait a moment, everyone. I need to observe whether the patient's condition is stable."

Amosta smiled gently at the healers whose eyes were filled with longing, and then welcomed Dumbledore in.

Looking at the Muggle leaning back on the soft pillows, looking radiant, Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. Only now did he realize that Amostella wasn't joking; he had truly healed a Muggle whose heart had been shattered by the Cruciatus Curse.

“You have undoubtedly accomplished another miracle, Amosta—”

Dumbledore smiled with slight surprise and spoke in an appreciative tone.

"Whether it's a miracle or not is hard to say, Headmaster Dumbledore, but you don't need to lie. You certainly know it's not that simple."

Amosta lowered his voice and spoke quickly, then a smile spread across his face as he looked at the hospital bed.

"Let me introduce you, Jitter,"

Amosta said in a light voice

“Mr. Albus Dumbledore, he is the director of this hospital. My achievements are largely due to his ‘mentorship’. I heard that I cured your illness, so I came here to see you and to give you a check-up.”

"what!"

The hospital director was undoubtedly a very important figure, and he also owed Amostella a debt of gratitude. The patient frantically tried to get out of bed, but Dumbledore stopped him.

"You should rest in bed. May I call you Jitter?"

“Oh, of course, no problem, Mr. Dumbledore!”

Old Gidden smiled awkwardly. He found Dumbledore's robes a bit strange, and at the same time, the unique aura of this old man, who looked much older than himself, made him feel intimidated. It was like that of a high-ranking government official who occasionally came to inspect the orphanage.

“I must thank you for mentoring Amor, Mr. Dumbledore,”

Old Jitter swallowed hard, looking at Amosta with a smile, and said with a mixture of nervousness and joy,

"It has made him a skilled and promising doctor. If Ferrena knew, she would be very happy about it."

“His achievements come from his hard work, Jitter.”

Dumbledore cooperated perfectly; his deep blue eyes gleamed with an unusual light.

"Well then, I'm going to give you a check-up, Jett. You need to close your eyes and relax."

Gitte glanced at Amosta to the side, and seeing him nod, she finally relaxed, lay down, and closed her eyes.

Dumbledore then deftly flicked his sleeve, causing the 'Gitt' to fall into a deep sleep.

Amos Tower blurred the transparent glass panel on the door, then blocked out all sound from the ward. Dumbledore's pleasant smile vanished, and he stared at Amos Tower, his expression turning solemn.

"You erased all the memories of this Muggle named Onisto Pastore, didn't you, Amosta?"

Chapter 811 Dumbledore's Breakthrough Experience

2024-03-18

Two soft chairs emerged from the void. After sitting down, the weariness in Amosta's eyes became more apparent. He gently rubbed his temples without saying a word.

Just as Amos Tower had invaded Onist Pastore's mental world, Dumbledore gently pried open the eyelids of the sleeping Muggle on the sickbed. He removed his half-moon-framed glasses, and his clear, azure pupils instantly shone as brightly as the blue moon rising over a river.

"Just as you said—"

About ten minutes later, Dumbledore straightened up, his brows furrowed in thought, and slowly sat down on another sofa beside the bed. Amosta spoke at that opportune moment.

"I erased Onisto Pastore's memories, along with the malice and magic that ravaged his mind. These things were intertwined with his memories, and I had to do it this way, otherwise, given the mental strength of a Muggle, his consciousness would soon dissipate and his body would be exhausted."

This was very difficult for me because it involved the power of the soul. Fortunately, he was a Muggle, so it wasn't too difficult to manipulate his soul. I rewrote Gitte's personality into his memories. Gitte was a cleaner at my orphanage who died the year I graduated from Hogwarts. In the last few years of his life, Gitte's mind wasn't very sharp, and he often forgot who he was.

But you know, it's impossible for me to figure out everything that happens in a person's life, so this fabricated personality isn't complete.

Perhaps due to exhaustion, Amosta's voice sounded weak, and Dumbledore did not interrupt, but listened in silence. Even after Amosta finished speaking, he did not rush to offer any further opinions.

“Let me think, Headmaster Dumbledore—”

Seemingly realizing that Dumbledore's silence was unusual, Amosta raised an eyebrow and smiled at Dumbledore opposite him.

"You probably think that completely erasing someone's original memories is equivalent to killing them, and you think I shouldn't use this method to bring this Muggle back to his senses?"