Recovery

Life was a one-way journey. The scenery along the way, the people and events you encountered—whether you loved or hated them—they could only accompany you for part of the road. In the end, they would all gradually drift away from you.

Loneliness was the norm in life.

Invisible, Amosta floated a hundred feet in the air, quietly watching Louise laugh and joke with her colleagues behind the glass curtain wall. A faint loneliness showed in his eyes.

Let the innocent girl who had been dragged into this enjoy herself a little longer. As for Kingsley, he could wait before contacting her.

The gale at high altitude ruffled his soft gray hair. Amosta held down the top of his head, glanced up at the azure sky, then took a deep breath and stepped into the void, continuing his journey.

St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Whether it was a Muggle hospital or a wizarding one, busyness was always the eternal rhythm. Around noon, the Healers in dark green smocks did not even have time to sit down for a proper lunch. Leaning against corners in the corridors and wolfing down food from their lunchboxes had become routine for them.

Clang—

A loud shout from the fourth floor overwhelmed the hospital's bustle. The Healers eating in the fifth-floor corridor dropped their lunchboxes and rushed downstairs in alarm. The commotion woke Hermione, who had already grown accustomed to St Mungo's noise.

An extra desk had appeared in the otherwise plain ward. Golden sunlight streamed through the high window in the wall and fell neatly across Hermione's desk, illuminating every chaotic path of the fine dust stirred by her steady breathing.

Hermione turned to glance at the Healers running past in the corridor outside. Curiosity flickered in her eyes, but in the