I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 204 Treatment Methods

A single style.

It only makes people think that the culture of wizards is truly lacking.

Therefore, almost all of Irving's clothes are made by Muggles; he is a long-time customer of major British clothing manufacturers.

Leading the way in international fashion, embracing a high-end lifestyle. A promising young wizard of the new era, rejecting the narrow-mindedness of traditional wizarding.

(The real reason is that Muggle clothes are cheaper than wizard clothes.)

(Pounds are common, but Galleons are not; the worldly-wise save Galleons and spend pounds.)

Of course, Muggle clothes are not durable.

Therefore, his shoes are usually dragon-skin boots made by wizards.

No matter how tough things get, we can't let the shoes suffer!

"Oh! No, child, we will not put the mysterious man's face on our heads." The old witch looked terrifying, just like the old witches in fairy tales.

In reality, however, she was quite elegant in her manners and spoke with great refinement.

A sense of historical weight, unique to pure-blooded families, immediately comes to mind.

"You're Harry Potter, right!" She suddenly scrutinized Harry closely, then extended a wiry, eagle-claw-like hand. "Your parents were heroes too, and you perfectly inherited their best qualities. I've heard about you in the newspapers; you defeated Vader, didn't you?"

"Nawi speaks very highly of you."

"Neville?" Harry shook hands with her.

Just then, Sirius Black's voice came from their right, "Mrs. Lombard?"

Sirius Black walked over step by step. "It seems you know them."

"Harry, Owen, Ron, and Hermione. They're all Neville's classmates."

"Yes, I know them. Neville told me about them." Mrs. Longbottom extended her hand gracefully to them all and shook hands with each of them.

She paused only briefly when shaking hands with Owen. "Neville told me that you are the most outstanding student in Hogwarts' history. You can even fight against the professors' spells. He said you have helped him a lot. I can see that the boy has made amazing progress in spells. He can even cast the Patronus Charm. So young—even his father at that age never accomplished such a feat."

"Neville has always been very talented, perhaps a little weak in spells, but his talent in herbalism is unparalleled. Professor Sprout even wanted him to transfer to Hufflepuff so he could take over her teaching position," Owen said quite politely, after all, she was Neville's grandmother! He was giving her face, and besides, he wasn't lying; the future Neville would indeed become the Professor of Herbalism at Hogwarts.

"As for the Patronus Charm, we have to thank the Ministry of Magic for sending Dementors to Hogwarts, and thank those dark creatures for providing all the support they could, except for help."

"That's definitely not a good idea," Mrs. Lombard said empathetically.

Nobody likes Dementors, one of the darkest creatures in the magical world.

"The Ministry of Magic is as foolish as ever," Sirius Black said bluntly.

As he finished speaking, Mrs. Lombard gave him a second look. She seemed to know that Sirius had been wronged, so she didn't pay any attention to his sarcastic remarks.

If an innocent person is imprisoned in Azkaban for more than a decade and is deprived of even the right to complain and curse, then this world is too cruel.

"Madam, may I go see them?" Sirius suddenly whispered.

"Of course~"

Mrs. Lombard did not refuse, and then turned and led them toward the wards at the far end of the corridor.

At the end of the corridor, they entered a door that no one had opened.

Compared to the constant stream of visitors to Professor Lu Ping's place, this place seemed much quieter.

Everything in the ward was white, and even the temperature was a few degrees lower than outside.

There are no entertainment facilities, only cold medical equipment.

There are two patients in the room.

Of course, there were originally three, and the third one was that idiot Lockhart.

However, due to Owen's interference, Lockhart in this world was not erased from his memory, so he was admitted to the lowest level of Azkaban instead of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries.

I don't know if he's still alive.

Harry immediately recognized the woman in her pajamas who was wandering around the ward like a rootless ghost. She no longer had the round, happy face that Moody had in the earliest group photo of the Order of the Phoenix.

Her face was now thin and haggard, her eyes were unusually large, and her hair was white, messy and dry. She seemed unwilling or unable to speak, gesturing timidly with her hands, clutching something.

The male wizard lay quietly on his sickbed, staring at the ceiling and muttering to himself.

"They are my son and daughter-in-law," Mrs. Lombard said haughtily, glancing at the young wizards beside her. "They've been driven mad by the mysterious man's henchmen."

"They are Aurors, highly respected in the wizarding world," she continued. "They are very talented, passing the Ministry of Magic's Auror exams at a young age. Oh—Alice, sit down, or you'll get moved."

"Good heavens!" Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at the two wandering spirits before her.

Harry and Ron also looked distressed.

Harry, in particular, had a group photo of early Order of the Phoenix members in the album Hagrid gave him, and because of his parents, Harry practically had that photo etched into his mind.

The two people in the photo have round, full cheeks, are happily snuggling together, holding hands, and smiling at the camera.

But now—their sallow complexions are a world apart from what they were back then.

"It's all my fault," Sirius muttered in anguish.

Seeing his former comrade-in-arms being tormented to this extent by his cousin, he felt more distressed than anyone else.

At that moment, he recalled what Irving had once told him.

If he hadn't been so impulsive back then, if he could have remained rational and vigilant against the Death Eaters, if he could have done more.

Perhaps this wouldn't have happened.

“No, it’s not your fault, Blake, you did your best.” Mrs. Lombard was tired; she had carried more pressure than anyone else over the years. “I’m proud of the health and sanity they sacrificed.”

"They are heroes," Sirius murmured.

His tone was even more pained than before.

Because of Mrs. Lombard's words, "You did your best."

After hearing his story, everyone would say with admiration, "You did your best, you really did your best."

But what they don't know is that what they fear most is hearing: "You've done your best."

Because only he knew that he hadn't tried his best.

He should try harder.

Just like what Irving told him in Azkaban, he wasn't hiding in prison to atone for his sins, but to escape; he couldn't bear the fact that he had caused the death of his best friend because of his mistakes.

He could not bear the tragic fate of his comrades.

If he hadn't learned that Peter was still alive, and if he hadn't been worried about Harry's safety, he should have died a rotten death in Azkaban.

Sirius Black will never forgive himself.

Even if everyone else, James himself forgave him.

He couldn't forgive himself either.

Because the pain will not be lessened in the slightest by forgiveness.

Whenever he thought of the happy and unforgettable summer he spent in Godric Valley, the pain would grow stronger and stronger like waves.

"Well, there's nothing much to see anyway," Mrs. Lombard sighed. "Now that you've regained your freedom and have the ability, you must live up to the responsibilities you bear, Blake. Don't let anger cloud your judgment again."

The group left the room.

After the old lady had left, Hermione spoke with tears in her eyes, "I never knew about Neville's parents."

"I don't know either," Ronan said hoarsely.

"Me too," Harry said sadly. "I only knew that the two of them were driven mad by the Death Eaters' Cruciatus Curse, but I didn't know they were Neville's parents."

"Hagrid told me about the original Order of the Phoenix. I have a group photo of them."

"The Cruciatus Curse?" Hermione exclaimed in horror, her eyes involuntarily glancing at Owen, which reminded her of a dark wizard Owen had once tormented.

"Why are you looking at me? That idiot deserved it." Owen naturally knew what Hermione was thinking.

He retorted directly.

"Now I finally understand why those curses are unforgivable. They've brought utter ruin to so many families," she said.

"But even without these three spells, there will be other dark magic to replace them. Even if you ban all dark magic, there are still ordinary spells like the Cutting Curse that can kill people. Even if you ban all of those, there is still the Levitation Curse that can kill people by falling."

Even if you ban wizards from casting spells, there are still Muggle weapons and all kinds of firearms that can kill people faster than spells. So what are you going to do then? Ban all weapons that can kill people?

Will things be peaceful then?

No, they still have sticks, stones, fists, and teeth.

Human conflict will never end.

Because hatred originates in the human heart, and the human heart is unpredictable.

Owen said in a low voice, "But the Three Unforgivables are indeed different from other kinds of dark magic."

His words plunged everyone into deep thought, and it took Hermione a long time to react before she finally said, "What's the difference?"

"The three unforgivable curses all affect the soul."

"The Crucifixion is no exception," Owen explained. "The reason the Crucifixion is so painful is because it destroys a person's soul."

"Navi's parents were less driven mad by torture and more driven by broken souls."

"Is there any way to fix it?" Hermione blurted out.

"There is still a way." Owen silently took out his wand. "I was just thinking of trying it, but because Mrs. Lombard was there, I was worried that if it didn't work, I would disappoint her again. The old lady has had a hard life."

He pressed his wand against his brain and then pulled out a strand of silver thread.

Then, he scattered the silver threads and silently chanted, "Call upon the gods for protection!"

The next moment, a little phoenix, much smaller than usual, flew out from the silver mist.

Like a swallow, it glided lightly through the air and disappeared back into the room whose door had been closed.

There, through the eyes of his guardian spirit, Owen clearly saw two weak and broken souls in the room.

As he expected, Owen saw two extremely powerful guardian spirits, curled up together like a cocoon, enveloping the broken soul inside without leaving a single crack.

This is probably the body's protective mechanism.

he guessed.

As he pondered, he felt as if a guardian spirit had descended with gentle emotions, a part of his soul, as if he were releasing those who had died.

As specks of golden light fell, both of their guardian spirits reacted in their own ways.

They weakly looked up at Owen, their eyes filled with confusion, doubt, and even more so, wariness.

Irving didn't care; as long as there was a reaction, that was good. He was just afraid there wouldn't be any reaction at all.

As he spoke, he manipulated the phoenix to fly back into the corridor.

"It can be cured, but not now; it will take more time." Owen opened his tightly closed eyes again.

Seeing this, Hermione hurriedly asked, "Why? If you have the ability to save those poor people, you should do it immediately instead of waiting."

"Alright, Miss Granger," Owen glared at Hermione, annoyed. "Are you planning to drain me dry and then stuff me into Neville's parents' bodies?"

"Do you think soul energy is like the leeks at Hogwarts? You can cut one crop and it will grow back?"

"That consumed all of my essence!" Owen continued, "Do you think it was like when we dealt with the Deadborn, we just lured them into accepting their own death?"

"Do you want to see them die?"

"If you don't want to, then don't say such foolish things!"

Owen gave Hermione a good scolding, and the little witch fell silent after being rebuked, no longer saying a word.

She didn't take it to heart; she was used to being mocked, and her current level of attack was nothing to her!

"Oh! Okay!" she said in a low voice, then lowered her head and remained silent.

Sirius Black glanced meaningfully at Owen, then slowly spoke.

"Should I get you a Christmas present?"

"Although I don't want to give it to you at all, you have saved Harry several times after all."

"Don't force yourself. If you don't want to give it, that's fine. I'll just not save Harry next time," Owen said nonchalantly, spreading his hands.

"Uh—" Harry, who had been shot for no reason, stared helplessly at Owen.

This guy is just stubborn and never admits defeat; he's never seen Irving ever give up.

"We should still try to save him if we can," Harry muttered under his breath.

Sirius Black paused for a moment, then slowly said, "Come with me!"

After saying goodbye to Professor Lupin.

The group left the hospital.

Standing on an empty street where a light snow had suddenly begun to fall, Sirius told them, "I'm going to an unpleasant place first, a place that's not connected to the Floo Network."

"An unpleasant place?" Harry paused for a moment.

"Yes, although I don't really want to go back, there really isn't anything more suitable as a Christmas gift for Owen and Hermione."

"Without the Floo Net, how will we get across?" Ron asked.

Sirius Black, without a second thought, pulled out his wand, the tip of which glowed and stood upright in front of him.

While Harry was still in a daze, something suddenly seemed to squeeze out of the thin air in the distance.

The four people hurriedly dodged, and the bus braked abruptly where they had just been standing, making a deafening noise.

Ticket seller Stanson Parker jumped onto the sidewalk, pulled out his wand as well, and cautiously looked them over.

Only after he saw Harry's face clearly did he regain his enthusiasm and come over.

"Harry Potter! You're Harry Potter, the hero who saves the world once again! I recognize the scar on your forehead!" Stan became excited and exclaimed, "You know what? Your picture is everywhere in the newspapers, the picture of you stalemate with the spell on the Dark Lord."

As he spoke, he pulled a stack of the Daily Prophet from his pocket. On the front page, Harry's picture was clearly visible in the most prominent position.

It was precisely when he connected with Voldemort's Flashback Charm.

It's no surprise that Colin took that photo; the little guy probably ripped off the Daily Prophet again this time.

"Could you sign your name for me?" Stan asked, panting heavily as he lifted his left arm, ignoring the cold wind and sub-zero temperatures.

His skin was exposed, sallow, rough, and dirty.

He pointed to his left hand and said, "I'll sign here."

"Uh," Stan looked around excitedly, while Harry looked embarrassed.

This was the first time he had ever met such enthusiastic "fans".

And he didn't really think he had done anything wrong.

It was Dumbledore and Grindelwald who drove Voldemort away, and in that great battle, if we were to say who truly saved the Aurors and the poor wizards of Hogsmeade, it would definitely be Owen.

His contributions far exceeded his own.

But Dumbledore said that the wizarding world was not yet ready to receive the truth, so he did not publicize Owen's achievements, which made him feel guilty.

He always felt like he stole the credit from Irving.

"Please, it's just an autograph, it won't take long." Stan pressed on, leaving Harry bewildered and forced to retreat.

"Get out of my way!" Sirius Black grabbed Stan by the collar with one hand and shoved him aside.

Owen stared at Harry with a hint of schadenfreude.

Then he got into the car with Hermione.

There were very few passengers on the bus.

There were only two people besides the driver.

They were all lying on the beds of brass pillars as if they were asleep.

Owen, however, took the initiative, extending his wand and conjuring several metal chains to securely lock the bed he was sitting on to the car.

"Hey buddy, you're famous again," Ron said to Harry with a look of envy.

"Although you were already quite famous, you're even more famous now."

"I don't want to be famous at all!" Harry said irritably.