Chapter 210: Visiting The Patient
Hogsmeade Station.
Steam billowed from the chimney atop the train, the boiler hissed as it released pressure, and the gamekeeper stood a few meters from the track, calling the little wizards to line up and board. Occasionally, a student got separated from their friends and wandered the platform searching; he grabbed them by the collar and carried them into the carriage.
Professor Kettleburn was also taking this train to leave, saying it was a farewell to Hogwarts, a farewell to his decades-long teaching career. The other professors were there to see him off, the old headmaster was there too, and even Snape had come, standing by with an expressionless face, looking very reluctant.
But Melvin had seen just minutes ago the parting gift he gave the old professor: a bottle of Dreamless Sleep Potion with no side effects, specially tuned by the potions master, the kind that’s priceless.
“Don’t worry, these old bones of mine aren’t too old to move yet.”
“That’s exactly what worries me—your old bones aren’t left with much, so stop getting so close to fire dragon mouths.”
“Hahaha…”
Hagrid glanced over here several times, speeding up his carrying of the little wizards, trying to come over for a proper goodbye. Melvin and the others weren’t in a hurry, chatting idly.
Wizards’ lifespans are much longer than Muggles’, and with the Floo Network and Apparition, visiting relatives and friends is more convenient than for Muggles. Most importantly, Professor Kettleburn was settling in Hogsmeade, just a few steps away, so they could drop by the Three Broomsticks any weekend for a drink—plenty of time to get together.
Footsteps approached; it was a group of people.
Melvin turned to look. They were about the height of adult wizards: a group of seventh-year Muggle Studies Advanced Class students who had changed out of their standard wizard robes into clothes of various colors and styles. The witches had also changed into skirts, their hems swaying as they walked.
The clothes were adult wizards’ clothes, but their faces still held a touch of youthful innocence.
“Professor Levent, we’re off!” The one greeting him was from Gryffindor House, named Reginald.
“Not boarding yet? At this point, you’ll have to share a compartment with others.”
“Sharing’s fine—it’s the last time anyway.”
A girl from Hufflepuff waved her hand, looking indifferent. “The professor always said he’d tell us fascinating and interesting content, but he always just started and never followed through. Now it’s good—we’ve graduated, and we’ll never hear about those historical views, logic, social cognition, and such again.”
“Leaving school doesn’t mean you stop learning.” Melvin smiled too. “The rest of your lives will be even more exciting; you’ll have to explore it yourselves.”
“Blah blah blah, blah blah blah…” The girl mimicked his tone, but her expression was one of disdain. “The professor’s classes had no preaching, but afterward he always preaches. Anyway, enough of that—we came to thank you!”
“What?”
“Because of Muggle Studies class, we found suitable work!” The girl stood outside the carriage talking to him, tilting her head up slightly, steam wafting behind her. “The Daily Prophet is expanding, the Nott family is getting into the projection mirror business—they need a batch of wizards familiar with Muggles, with generous salaries, the pure-blood family kind of generous.”
Reginald nodded emphatically. “Our grades are just average; probably only our Muggle Studies certificates are worth anything. Getting such jobs is all thanks to you, Professor.”
The students behind also voiced their thanks. Not all had benefited from projection mirrors; some Muggle-born students had originally planned to stay in the wizarding world doing shop assistant or odd jobs, but inspired by Melvin, they gained new insights into technology and planned to return to Muggle society.
Some students had no plans yet and intended to decide after a graduation trip.
“…”
Melvin listened quietly to their future plans, generously offering his blessings and even giving travel tips for Romania and North America, but on career choices and life directions, he gave no specific advice.
“Whoo-hoo…”
The whistle sounded melodiously into the sky, and the Express Train headed into the fields, just like these graduates’ futures—more scenery awaited them to see for themselves.
……
After seeing off the Express Train, Hogwarts didn’t immediately quiet down. The corridors had no more chasing and noisy students; the wizards in the oil paintings gathered for a party, their noise much louder, and the ghosts floated recklessly, planning visits to relatives and friends elsewhere.
The weepy Moaning Myrtle had no friends, crying and shrieking in her shrill voice to vent, saying Nearly Headless Nick was going to Kent to visit his widow friend.
Aside from a few professors with nowhere to go, the school kept only the caretaker and gamekeeper over summer vacation. The professors had packed their luggage too, discussing travel routes planned since last year.
On the way upstairs to his office, Melvin ran into Dumbledore, who casually asked:
“Melvin, any plans for summer vacation?”
“Mm…”
Melvin’s eyes narrowed slightly; he’d spotted him on the previous platform, as if waiting there early. He considered his words. “Planning to go to Paris to visit former colleagues.”
“When do you leave?”
“Next week…” Melvin slowed his tone, watching Dumbledore’s expression, then decisively changed. “No, tomorrow—leaving tomorrow.”
Dumbledore smiled like an old fox. “That’s perfect—plenty of time to accompany me to St Mungo’s.”
……
Melvin stood on the bustling street, looking up at the sign for Taota Company, then scanning the passing crowd.
Affected by magic, they subconsciously ignored the shop. Occasionally noticing the two at the door, they’d look puzzled, glance up at the sign, then walk off dazed for hundreds of meters, completely forgetting the memory.
Dumbledore leaned close to the shop window, speaking to the old-fashioned plastic mannequin. “Hello, we’re here to visit Frank Longbottom and Alice Longbottom.”
The plastic model’s stiff joints moved, nodding and waving, as a layer of magic quietly covered the shop window glass.
The glass looked the same, but the inner space was now open to them. Melvin followed the old headmaster into the shop window; passing through the glass was effortless, just a cool rush of magic.
Inside was a cramped waiting room, the reception desk labeled “Inquiries,” chairs along the walls held waiting patients—much like a Muggle community hospital, except their conditions looked more startling: facial features flying about, missing arms or legs, extra arms or legs—nothing major, and some wizards had limbs and features from other species.
The back wall was covered in warnings and notices:
「Scrub cauldrons clean after brewing, lest potions turn to poison」
「Don’t misuse antidotes; potion masters aren’t healers」
Melvin’s last visit used the headmaster’s privilege passage straight to the fifth-floor room’s fireplace; this time, like other wizards, he took the normal route, looking around and finding it quite novel.
“Augusta Longbottom is already here, waiting for you in the secure ward.” Dilys Derwent smiled from the portrait. “I’ve checked—Dean Sprout is out, so no one will disturb you.”
This witch was dutiful; in life, she’d been hospital dean and school headmistress, and in death, she still held her post.
“The potions from Golden Goblet are very special—remarkably effective for Dark Magic damage aftereffects. Dean Sprout told me Frank and Alice’s first-stage treatment is going very well…”
Dumbledore led the way to the fifth-floor secure ward, eyeing the door plaque reading Janus Thickey, and lightly tapped the stone door with his wand.
The stone door rumbled open.
An old witch stood in the doorway, wearing a dark green robe and a pointed wide-brimmed witch hat adorned with a vulture specimen, draped in moth-eaten fox fur. Her skin was shriveled and gaunt; compared to last time, her furrowed brow had relaxed, her face showing more smile.
“How are they, Augusta?”
“The healers say there’s great hope. Thank you for your concern, Headmaster Dumbledore, and you… Professor Levent.” Old Mrs. Longbottom turned her head low. “Neville, little darling, come say hello to the professor?”
Melvin then noticed Neville standing behind her.
In everyday robes, his slightly chubby face showed traces of crying, clutching a candy wrapper in his hand. Caught looking weak by the headmaster and professor, he was a bit embarrassed:
“Headmaster, Pro… Professor.”
“The Express Train got here this early?” Melvin pretended not to notice the tear stains. “I thought it wouldn’t reach London until evening.”
“Neville didn’t take the Express Train,” Old Mrs. Longbottom explained. “After leaving school, he went to Hogsmeade; Uncle Argus took him straight home. I brought him to the hospital. Neville just told his mother about school, and I told him about the treatment plan. Thank you so much for looking after him…”
These situations were the most troublesome to handle.
Melvin sighed. “Let’s see the patients first. You say treatment’s going well, but you still called me and the headmaster specifically—must be some trouble.”
The group walked to the bedsides, now with a few pots of green plants added. Last time, both patients were asleep; today, they were finally awake.
The couple looked somewhat better: Frank’s swelling had reduced, his face still pale but more spirited overall. Alice’s cheeks had filled out a bit, her gray-white hair slightly less, no longer vacant-eyed—her gaze held more life, especially seeing Neville.
These were subtle changes, but their states were completely different.
“The treatment plan is indeed going smoothly,” Old Mrs. Longbottom said softly. “The potions are dispelling the residual Dark Magic in their bodies. They no longer have nightmares, sleep soundly at night, and their daytime appetites have returned to normal levels. Dean Sprout says at this progress, they’ll be discharged by autumn.”
The two patients stared at her moving lips; they couldn’t understand the content, just found her opening and closing lips like amusing worms and grinned vacantly together.
“But… their memories show no sign of recovery.”
Old Mrs. Longbottom listened to their laughter, her eyes complex, feeling bittersweet. “For two deranged patients, reaching normal state is already great—but I still hope they recover their memories, become the old Alice and Frank… I know it’s greedy, but I still hope… hope you can help them.”
Neville threw himself into the witch’s arms, soaking her white hospital gown.
The witch, not understanding, panicked and patted his back to comfort him, pulling more colored candy wrappers from her pocket to stuff in his hands. Nearby Frank crowded in too, fumbling to console him.
The ward was quiet save for the boy’s stifled sobs. This time, the dignity-conscious Old Mrs. Longbottom didn’t stop him, letting the family’s softest side show before outsiders.
After the fuss, the family of three huddled together and fell deeply asleep.
Melvin stood by Dumbledore, watching him cast a few diagnostic spells—quite properly. The advantage of age was broad knowledge; an ordinary healer’s treatment magic might not match the old headmaster’s.
“The disordered magic is sorted; a wizard’s magic nourishes the body. They might not need to wait till autumn—could be discharged by summer’s end.” Dumbledore laid them flat, summoning the quilt to cover them.
Melvin glanced at the old witch by the bed and asked softly, “What about memory recovery?”
“Memory recovery will depend on you.”
“?”
Melvin was stunned; he hadn’t known he had such ability.
Dumbledore said leisurely, “This is Dark Magic damage, Dark Magic aftereffects—of course consult a Dark Magic expert. Luckily, we know a master of Dark Magic.”
“You mean Vol… Tom?”
Melvin caught on, pondering a moment. “I can find a chance to mention it to him, but extracting a treatment plan will take time—no quick results.”
“Take it slow.” Dumbledore paused, his deep blue eyes profound. “It’s been over a decade; they’re anxious but patient enough to wait.”
……
Melvin left the ward alone; the old headmaster stayed to talk with Old Mrs. Longbottom, keeping her hoping without revealing Horcrux or Voldemort info.
Before the stone door closed, Melvin saw the old headmaster’s mysterious expression, wondering if he’d misunderstood—thinking him skilled at persuasion, especially gaining Horcrux trust.
“…”
Melvin’s mood was subtly off.
He didn’t leave immediately, walking the corridor to the next ward, finding the door half-open and unlocked, so he entered directly.
This was a multi-bed ward. Entering, he saw a frowning male wizard by a bed, lost in thought, sighing repeatedly, ignoring passersby. Two beds over lay a witch covered in long hair, burying her head in the pillow at the footsteps.
Further in was Lockhart’s bed, surrounded by his photos with signature brilliant smiles.
“Mr. Levent!”
The healer checking him looked up; Merlin Stroul smiled like the gold and silver flowers on her head, chattering away. “Here to visit Gilderoy? Good thing about your potion—he’s improving fast, now remembers things from two days ago. Memory not recovered, but he can sign his name properly again and recall some simple little spells.”
Melvin turned to Lockhart, who lifted his head, squinted his blue eyes, and grinned, flashing a mouthful of big white teeth.
