The Evil Thoughts of Hogwarts and the Genie

Chapter 178 A Night Trip to Saint Mungo

Edmund was slightly pleased upon hearing this, while Ms. Jenkins' expression was quite complex.

"This—" She hesitated, but finally told the truth. "I completely understand your anger, Albus. It's just—it's really just a minor injury, Albus."

The implication is that even if the matter were investigated, it would be difficult to impose a substantial punishment on Carlo under the current laws of the wizarding world.

Dumbledore didn't reply. He turned his gaze to the old Malfoy and his group, who still looked dazed.

Dumbledore gave a wry smile.

He seemed to have completely let go of his anger, as if...

"It's alright, Eugenina."

The chief mage of Wizengamo nodded and said in a gentle voice:

"Upon reflection, Carlo's behavior was quite eccentric during his school days. He caused trouble for many classmates, and even for me personally."

Dumbledore looked up, as if lost in memories.

"But if they don't change their ways after graduation, they will eventually have to suffer the consequences."

"Albus," Minister Jenkins advised worriedly. "You—"

"Ah, please rest assured. I don't mean to say that I intend to punish any of them personally."

Dumbledore smiled gently, seemingly unaware that old Malfoy and his party had turned ashen-faced.

"I will properly follow the procedures to file an appeal and seek justice for my student and this child."

"I will go through the whole process. It may be troublesome, but I have plenty of time. Obviously, I am not content with being alone and do not want these bad boys to forget how difficult their old professor is."

Dumbledore clasped his hands together, resting them on his stomach, and smiled meaningfully.

Seeing this, Minister Jenkins swallowed all his advice.

Her foundation was very shallow, so she possessed an advantage that those pure-bloods did not have: she was sensible and could be considered a clear-headed person.

Jenkins knew very well that although he was the one who nominally held real power in the Ministry of Magic, someone like Dumbledore, if you were to make an analogy, would be like a Hungarian wasp that wasn't breathing fire at you but was still speaking politely.

No matter what status you enjoy in secular society, or how important you are, you should not easily challenge the Hungarian wood bee alone.

Anyone who disagrees is free to try it themselves, and Jenkins isn't going to stop them.

She was someone who valued her life highly, and seeing that even after she had offered some words of comfort, the conflict showed no signs of being resolved.

They then realized that Malfoy and his party had crossed Dumbledore's line.

Dumbledore said he would pursue the matter to the end.

But in reality, "Dumbledore wanted to get to the bottom of things," but what could he possibly get to the bottom of?

What's the big deal about this threat to these powerful and wealthy people?

Isn't that interesting?

Edmund clutched his wound, genuinely worried that if he delayed any longer, it would stop bleeding altogether.

To be honest, even the genie had some reservations.

In this bizarre and even somewhat deformed wizarding world, Dumbledore, who was trying to be a normal person, seemed really abnormal.

Of course, this is precisely what makes Dumbledore "extraordinary." In many ways, he acts like a wizard among wizards, practically embodying the term;

Yet at times, he seems to possess a humility that shouldn't belong to a wizard.

This is precisely why Edmund couldn't help but laugh when those idiots were being so rude.

This is absolutely outrageous.

A bunch of clowns, completely unaware that the reason they could dance on the edge of a knife was not because of their superior dancing skills, but because the steel knife was not sharpened and they had no intention of killing anyone.

Clearly, this does not suit the genie's taste.

Edmund was prepared to add fuel to the fire and exacerbate the conflict between the two sides.

He really wanted to know under what circumstances Dumbledore, who was practically pretending to be a moral saint, would want to kill someone.

He was prepared to betray them at that time and experience Dumbledore's wrath firsthand.

Then return it seven times to this powerful old wizard.

—Although Dumbledore's soul is far from "pure," the fact that he could maintain this resolve makes watching him fall back into chaos both valuable and interesting.

However, no matter how inhuman the plans the genie was contemplating were...

In reality, he was repeatedly trying to explain to Dumbledore that he didn't think it was a good idea to go to St. Mungo's for a medical examination at this time.

Just as Edmund had feared, the wound on his abdomen was almost completely healed.

But this still didn't change Dumbledore's mind. He was clearly preparing to make a big deal out of this.

A young Auror caught up with the two, and Dumbledore picked up Edmund again and Apparated to the front entrance of a Muggle department store.

This was an ugly building with a quaint and old-fashioned design. Dumbledore went to the window and explained his purpose to an ugly doll. The little thing nodded, as if it had noted down the question.

Then, the three of them walked straight through a floor-to-ceiling glass door and officially entered St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries.

"I have a bad feeling," Edmund said in a low voice. "Am I going to miss at least one herbalism class?"

Upon hearing this, Dumbledore glanced at him with a hint of surprise, his eyes seeming to say, "I didn't expect you to be so eager to learn." Edmund couldn't help but roll his eyes at him.

The old wizard, having successfully amused the child, chuckled twice. Their interaction eased the nervousness of the hesitant young Auror.

Edmund's question wasn't meant to lighten the mood. He had only just entered the waiting area of ​​St. Mungo's when he encountered all sorts of bizarre and unusual patients.

Some wizards had developed two large lumps on their Adam's apples that looked like tumors. They avoided the gaze of others, clearly afraid of being recognized by acquaintances. Another wizard's skin was dripping down his face like melted pudding, but he looked very calm and breathed slowly.

As for other patients who are missing two fingers, or whose eyeballs have moved onto their eyebrows, there are countless other cases like this—

And these patients actually wanted to come over and greet Dumbledore after seeing him, which was outrageous.

What's even more absurd is that I actually ended up here.

Edmund rarely regretted such petty strategies that hardly qualify as self-inflicted injury, but he felt extremely uncomfortable sitting with such a group of people.

But clearly, without Dumbledore's guidance, he couldn't return to Hogwarts. Unless he made up his mind to leave school and wander from the age of 12, he would have no choice but to continue enduring it.

"I'll reserve a hospital bed for you," Dumbledore said, seemingly finding his own words quite amusing.

He blinked. "Mr. Parker, please keep an eye on this child for me—no matter what sweet talk he gives,

"Don't let him run around, okay?"

"Hey!" Edmund hissed in displeasure. Dumbledore chuckled and got up to leave.

However, it's hard to say whether it's a "what a coincidence." Dumbledore had barely left when Edmund found himself in another amusing situation.

His gaze shifted, and he immediately saw a man in a Muggle trench coat, looking tense, angry, and confused, walking out of the St. Mungo's stairwell.

"Oh, here we go again," Edmund heard the witch in charge of reception complain.

"Mr. White! We told you, you are not allowed to leave the ward!"

The witch stood up, waved her wand, and cast a levitation spell.

Upon seeing this, the patient who had sneaked out became agitated. He struggled frantically, then ripped off his floating coat and ran away!

"You've all gone mad! You're all insane!"

The receptionist panicked and couldn't help but shout:

"Stop that Muggle!"

The Auror who was following Edmund and Dumbledore seemed to have been waiting for her to call for help, and quickly drew his wand. With a series of obstacles and a swift banishment, the Muggle fell to the ground.

However, perhaps because his methods were a bit too rough, the receptionist thanked him somewhat angrily and hurriedly ran over to help the Muggle up.

"I'm insane, I'm speechless," said the Muggle named White in despair.

"Please, have mercy on me!—God above—I'm not crazy!"

"You're the ones who're crazy!"