Chapter 204: End Of The Holiday
“Don’t be naughty, Gilderoy…”
The Healer took Lockhart’s arm and settled him behind the chair, her face full of loving indulgence. “Signing autographs isn’t any dangerous activity; it can also exercise his brain and hands. We hope this little hobby of signing for people can help restore his mind.”
Lockhart behaved very obediently, sitting straight-backed in the chair, carefully writing his name stroke by stroke.
Melvin stepped forward and glanced at those autographed photos; they were all clipped from past magazines and publications, with Lockhart smiling to show his white teeth, especially radiant.
The Healer looked up and down at his face, hesitating before asking, “You must be Professor Levent, right?”
“You know me?” Melvin was instead a bit surprised.
“I’m also a Healer at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I know that the headmaster and professors from Hogwarts brought new potions. I’ve seen you coming and going several times these past couple of days. I know Headmaster Dumbledore, and I’ve also heard your name in the newspapers.”
After the middle-aged witch explained clearly and paused briefly, she introduced herself, “I’m Merlin Straus. I used to be the Healer in charge of Janus Thickey Ward.”
“Melvin Levent.”
Melvin also introduced himself and directly asked without beating around the bush, “You’ve seen the series of reports in the newspaper, so you should know what Lockhart did, that he’s a despicable fraud who resorted to any means. Why are you still taking such good care of him?”
“You’re talking about that…”
Merlin looked down at Lockhart and smiled gently, “I’m just a mediocre Healer. I barely got a Good in my N.E.W.T. exams. I have no way to cure these patients, so I can only do my best to take care of them and pray they recover on their own.”
Becoming a resident Healer at St. Mungo’s was as difficult as becoming an intern Auror; both required certificates in at least five subjects: Charms, Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Moreover, Healers needed sufficient patience and kindness.
Melvin glanced at the middle-aged witch. Being employed at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and in charge of a locked ward meant she had more patience than the average Healer.
She wore a gold and silver thread wreath on her head, green robes, and a crest on her chest of a wand crossed with a bone. She had a loving maternal quality, treating all patients equally, not just Lockhart. Previously, she had also taken devoted care of the Lumbardons.
“Do you want to cure him?” Melvin thought for a moment and asked.
“I don’t know…”
Merlin hesitated slightly, “If he remembers his past memories again, he’ll turn back into that fraud who stole others’ memories and face imprisonment in Azkaban. But that’s also the punishment he deserves. Adult wizards should atone for their wrongs. Staying in the locked ward forever isn’t a solution either.”
“Based on your professional judgment as a Healer, is there a high chance of him recovering on his own?”
“Very slim. His current mental state is already the result after treatment.” Merlin sighed, “A spell like Obliviate that affects the brain and soul, once it goes wrong, is often very serious and may never recover.”
Melvin nodded thoughtfully: “Are you aware of today’s consultation? Frank and Alice have similar symptoms. They might be able to recover their memories in the future, or at least their sanity.”
Recovering memories meant full recovery; recovering sanity would also allow leaving the locked ward. Either way was better than staying here indefinitely.
“They are heroes who bravely fought Death Eaters, and there’s the special potion from Hogwarts and the Malfoy family’s donation… So many experts helping with treatment. Gilderoy doesn’t have such good treatment.” Merlin said.
“I can’t provide other conditions, but I can sponsor a batch of special potions as a favor. Do you want to give it a try?” Melvin suddenly asked.
Merlin was stunned for a moment: “I… I don’t know, Professor Levent. I’m not an expert like Mr. Spring. I’m not sure if it can cure him. Besides, this is a side effect from Obliviate going out of control, different from the Cruciatus Curse, so we can’t use the exact same treatment plan, and…”
“So, do you want to give it a try?” Melvin asked again, his voice very soft.
An amnesiac, mentally impaired criminal, a patient serving a sentence—treatment prospects were dim. It didn’t seem like a bad thing. If cured, he’d atone for the past; if not, he’d remain foolish forever. It was hard to judge if such a case should be treated.
The kind-hearted Healer was full of conflict.
“I heard that Muggle doctors take an oath when studying medicine, putting the patient’s health and life first, excluding all external influences,” Merlin said.
“Hippocratic Oath…”
Melvin wasn’t surprised. Influenced by himself, Britain’s wizards were no longer as closed off as before. “So what’s your answer?”
“I want to try.”
Merlin’s expression gradually firmed up, “Gilderoy should face his own life.”
……
Saturday, seven in the evening.
Harry and Hermione arrived on time outside Professor Levent’s door as agreed for tutoring class, but this time they had an extra tail with them.
Neville felt a bit uneasy in his heart; he had already heard from Harry that Professor Levent might not be at school for a while.
But they were lucky tonight. After knocking, they soon heard a response from inside—a flat “Come in”—which immediately put their suspended hearts at ease. Harry and Hermione both breathed a sigh of relief.
Melvin looked up and saw the three figures, not feeling surprised. Seeing Neville still a bit reserved, he smiled and teased, “Isn’t this the head of the Drama Club? The Drama Club’s performance is going to be shown on the Projection Mirror tonight. You can’t stay this shy; show some Gryffindor courage.”
Neville’s face flushed red with shyness as he lowered his head, but he soon lifted it, mustering courage and saying, “Yes, Professor!”
The suddenly raised volume surprised the others a bit. Harry and Hermione looked at him with very strange expressions.
A knowing look showed in Melvin’s eyes: “It seems you’ve already heard about St. Mungo’s.”
“You’re right, Professor.” Neville tried hard to overcome his shyness, his chubby face full of solemnity. “Grandmother wrote to me. She said you brought the special potion, and the Healers at St. Mungo’s have confirmed a specific feasible treatment plan…”
“Grandmother said the results are very optimistic. Even if they can’t fully recover, Father and Mother can show obvious improvement, be discharged, and live like normal people.” The courage Neville mustered didn’t last long; when mentioning his parents, it quickly faded, his voice distorting from choking up. “Thank you, Professor… Thank you very much…”
He remembered Professor Levent’s teaching and didn’t cry out loud, just messily wiped his face and swallowed the sobs back into his throat.
Harry and Hermione felt a bit at a loss, wanting to comfort Neville but feeling it wasn’t the right time, so they could only stand awkwardly nearby, trying hard to control their gazes.
Melvin sighed: “Adults’ matters should be left to adults. Though I don’t want to say it, Neville, the treatment at St. Mungo’s is very time-consuming; there are no short-term results. Your most important task right now is to study well.”
“Yes… Professor.” Neville sniffed.
“Since you’re here, join their tutoring lesson tonight.” Melvin turned to the other two. “Harry, Hermione, you two explain the basics of duelling tactics to Neville and practice duelling with him.”
“Okay.”
Harry and Hermione nodded obediently.
Over the next two hours, Harry and Hermione each taught Neville for half the lesson, each covering different styles of duelling tactics.
Harry hadn’t noticed yet, but Hermione clearly realized that in the process of explaining to Neville, she had gained a deeper understanding of duelling. The process of rephrasing knowledge was like digestion; Neville’s occasional questions helped her review and fill in gaps.
“So it was right to guide and teach them when we first started school.”
Hermione nodded thoughtfully.
……
Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor.
The castle’s main building had gone dark. The manor’s master, Lucius, sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace, leaning back against the cushions, gazing at the Projection Mirror in front, which was engraved with the Malfoy family crest. There was a faint sound from behind—Lady Narcissa removing her headdress and letting down her hair.
Perhaps even they themselves hadn’t realized that their original living habits had unknowingly changed. This lifestyle was very similar to Muggles’.
“This is rare. The Daily Prophet did a late-night news preview, and tavern owners spread the word…” Narcissa said without turning her head. “What program is on tonight?”
The atmosphere was a bit subtle. The last message from that Professor Levent had them prepare to shoot a film to restore the Malfoy reputation, and as Lestrange relatives, issue invitations. Out of their long-cultivated cautious nature, they agreed to the professor’s arrangement but didn’t fully follow through.
They issued invitations but delayed shooting, with progress stalled at the preparatory stage.
“It’s apparently the Hogwarts Drama Club’s performance.” Lucius said, “The publicity and scale are actually very small, nowhere near that year’s first-years stay. The Daily Prophet and tavern owners are promoting it on their own initiative.”
Narcissa finished adjusting her clothes and hair and sat down beside Lucius to watch together.
Only to see a preview appear on the Projection Mirror: Please enjoy the drama performance below, 《Sir Cadogan the Round Table Knight》.
Then the screen dimmed, silver mist swirled, and lines of different colors outlined the picture. It was still the familiar Hogwarts Great Hall, the familiar house tables, and faces of a few professors and students could be seen.
The audience in front of the Projection Mirrors felt as if they had returned to that thousand-year-old castle, back to their student days.
The choir members holding toads exited the stage. Following were Drama Club members with lanterns. The perspective stayed fixed, with slightly noisy background sound—students whispering could be heard.
“It feels different from last time…” Lucius frowned slightly.
“No immersive atmosphere; it’s more like a performance. It’s really a stage play.” Narcissa voiced her thoughts.
With doubts and curiosity, the two watched the entire performance. Narcissa’s doubts went unanswered, but Lucius vaguely grasped something and frowned in thought.
Compared to the film shown in taverns last time, this stage play was much cruder, whether in lines and acting, or props and background music—all carried a heavy sense of performance.
If the first-years stay created immersion and mystified it as adapted from a true story to make the audience believe it was reality.
The stage play plainly told the audience: this is a stage play, this is acting, this is fake.
The plot had no ups and downs, relying entirely on the children’s fun performances to attract. Lucius had heard the name Cadogan before—a titled wizard, knighted by the king himself, something the Malfoy family once dreamed of.
After watching the whole stage play, Lucius didn’t have much impression other than knowing this was a typical Gryffindor fool: ignorant and fearless, blindly charging ahead, then blessed by the goddess of luck to succeed.
“…”
Lucius suddenly froze, eyes widening. “I get it!”
“What?”
“Professor Levent’s suggestion is this: use films to leave impressions on others, guide with content!”
……
For most wizards in Britain, this Easter Holiday was nothing special.
The Projection Mirror aired a short stage play. Some thought the little wizards performed convincingly, comical yet fun, letting many learn about this knight from hundreds of years ago. Others thought the stage play was crude and simplistic, with plot and performance lacking originality, just giving bored patrons some talking points.
But everyone felt this format was novel. If the story and performance were polished, it might present an even more wonderful play.
The holiday passed quickly.
Early morning, Muggle Studies Office.
Melvin pushed aside the piled files on the desk, picked up the young snake that wouldn’t leave, placed the newly arrived letters on the desk, and opened them one by one.
「Greetings to you, kind and generous Professor Levent. Throughout the Easter Holiday, St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries has been busy. When I write this letter, I’ve just finished the report on Mr. Spring, and I still need to write three case files later.
Gilderoy’s treatment is showing initial results. The magic from the Obliviate in his brain is gradually being removed bit by bit. His previous brain couldn’t hold any new memories, but now he can remember things from the last ten minutes. I believe this is a sign of improvement…
Frank and Alice’s conditions are more severe, with effects not yet obvious, but Mr. Spring remains optimistic, believing they will improve soon.
This is all thanks to your generous donation of potions.
Gratefully yours, Merlin.」
After accepting the donated potions, this kind Healer seemed to have taken it as a mission, starting to report progress regularly.
Melvin didn’t pay too much attention, shook his head, and set down the envelope. The Golden Goblet would inevitably be destroyed. His original thought was just to try his luck. If cured, it was the blessing of the goddess of luck and Helga Hufflepuff; if not, it was the goddess of fate toying with them.
「Cordial greetings to you. It’s me, your faithful partner, Lucius Malfoy（[Omitting twelve inches of meaningless false pleasantries]）…
Regarding the film shooting mentioned last time, I’ve already had someone write the script, planning to shoot over the summer vacation, but there are still many difficulties. I hope to seek your advice, Professor.」
The suggestion given two months ago was only now being implemented. This Mr. Malfoy was too concerned with pros and cons, lacking the boldness to go all in.
To get the Projection Mirror going, it seemed he’d need help from other pure-blood wizards.
Melvin curved his finger and tapped lightly on the desk, his gaze falling on the Golden Goblet not far away.
