"I told my son, you should become a doctor like me. This profession not only pays well, but earns respect. Life is nothing more than blood pressure and weak electrical signals in the nerves. There is no Heaven, no Hell, and certainly no such thing as a soul. He was a good boy, always obedient. That was why I was so shocked when he suddenly left home."
The old Muggle, Richard Du, spoke dazedly. Other Muggle tourists passed by at that moment and, seeing the three of them, paid no attention and continued sightseeing on their own.
"Where did your son go?" Severus asked.
"The last I heard, someone had seen him in New York," Richard Du said. "I came to church to pray for him. I used to believe only in scalpels and haemostatic forceps. When I looked at all that blood, and at hearts beating inside chests, I would deliberately search for the place where the 'soul' was stored. But I never found anything. So I never believed in souls or ghosts. Now I do. I hope his soul can find peace."
"Why do you think his soul is not at peace?" Pomona asked.
"Because I told him that living a better life was what mattered most. But I saw more and more people struggling on the verge of death. To get a heart transplant, they would do anything. Do you know Aladdin? If you made a wish to it, the genie would grant it. They were like lamps shining in the dark web, bringing hope. Over all my years as a doctor, I had stood by and watched people die before, but this was beyond what I could bear. I fled to Italy and hid my identity... I wanted to repent. I wanted to tell him that