A Conversation in the Sealed Ward

After filling out the forms and registering him, Myrtle had been busy for quite a while. She then completed the hospital admission procedures for Lockhart and prepared to place him in a closed ward.

Loren and Madam Pomfrey followed behind the female Healer, intending to visit the ward and understand the treatment plan before returning to Hogwarts, one to report to Dumbledore and the other to Deputy Headmaster McGonagall.

Myrtle led the three to the door of Jenas Sitch's ward, pointed at the door with her wand, and said "Alohomora!" The door opened in response.

"He doesn't know who he is, and if he goes out, he won't remember how to get back. It's too dangerous for him. So we have to put him in a closed ward to prevent him from running away," Myrtle explained with concern.

She held Lockhart's arm tightly as they entered the ward, settled him on a bed against the wall, and left him paper and pen to practice his signature quietly by the bedside.

Holding the notebook in her hands, she explained the follow-up treatment plan to the two of them, "His soul and memories are like freshly cooked oatmeal porridge, a chaotic mess. Problems with the soul and consciousness are very tricky. We can only rely on intensive treatment and luck to help him regain more consciousness."

"Even if he doesn't recover, don't worry. Someone will take good care of him. The generous Mr. Lucius Malfoy recently donated a large sum of money to the hospital." Myrtle smiled warmly, her eyes narrowed.

Loren listened silently to the Healer's instructions, Madam Pomfrey memorized some key points so she could report back to Professor McGonagall.

There were other patients in the ward: a male witch with a sallow complexion and a worried expression, and a Witch with a hairy face...

And in the two beds furthest inside, there was a male wizard whose body was a little swollen and whose eyes were dull, and Witch in pajamas whose face was thin and haggard. Her eyes were particularly large and her hair was mottled and dry white. She was clutching a piece of the wrapper for Bubbling Brew in her hand.

A dull knock came from outside the ward. Myrtle suddenly remembered something. She glanced quickly at the calendar on the wall and exclaimed, "Oh, I almost forgot, today is the day Mrs. Longbottom is coming to visit!"

Upon hearing the name, Madam Pomfrey let out a barely perceptible sigh.

"Coming, just a moment!" Myrtle greeted, hurrying to open the door to the ward.

Loren had a vague guess in his mind. Following the female Healer's gesture, he looked towards the door and saw two people walking in from outside.

An old Witch, who looked somewhat frightening, wore a green robe, unlike the Healer's green robe, this one was more vibrant in color and more ornate in its patterns. The old Witch was draped in a worm-eaten fox fur, and her pointed hat was decorated with a specimen of a vulture.

Behind her followed a shy little boy named Neville.

At the door, Neville's grandmother was talking to the Healer about Neville's parents' recent condition.

Neville clearly noticed the extra people in the ward. His gaze lingered on Lockhart for a long time before turning to Madam Pomfrey, and finally looking at Loren with a meaningful expression.

As the footsteps drew closer, Neville greeted Madam Pomfrey in a low voice, then, with a complicated expression and a somewhat dazed tone, greeted Loren: "Loren, I didn't expect to see you here."

He paused for a moment, unable to hold back his complaints. "So, just like Seamus said, you guys couldn't wait to get started as soon as the holiday started, and even sent Lockhart straight to St Mungo's Hospital?"

Um!?

Why did you say we were like some kind of dark wizard?

"What are you saying!" Loren retorted weakly, but the facts were there, and his rebuttal had little weight.

He muttered to himself, "We've dealt with the Basilisk, identified the heir to the Chamber of Secrets, Lockhart is just..."

Neville didn't hear what was said next, but he nodded knowingly. "Poor Seamus, he really missed it."

The patient's condition was stable, just as it had been for the past decade or so; there was neither good news nor bad news, and the conversation was over in a few words. Mrs. Longbottom approached, greeted Madam Pomfrey, and then turned her attention to Loren.

Neville's grandmother had obviously overheard their conversation and said kindly, "Is he your friend, Neville, my little darling?"

Being called by that name in front of his roommates, Neville had never understood Ron so well. His brothers had called him Ronnie in public countless times.

Neville's round face flushed bright red. He dared not look Loren in the eye and wished he could use some kind of magic to appear anywhere in the world, just not stay here.

"Loren, Loren ..." his grandmother repeated twice, then stretched out a withered, eagle-claw-like hand for him to shake. "Yes, yes, Neville told me about you. You taught him how to make Frozen Pear and helped him through many difficulties. You're a good boy, aren't you?"

"Hello, Mrs. Longbottom. Neville often mentions you to us, and he frequently says at school that he misses his grandmother." Loren shook hands politely and complimented Neville a couple of times.

But Mrs. Longbottom didn't hear this as a compliment. She looked down Neville's pointed nose with a stern gaze and said in a harsh tone, "You're such a good-for-nothing. You should be focusing on your studies at school. What are you thinking about me for! I must say, you don't have your father's talent, nor any ability whatsoever."

Neville opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything. His face, which had been flushed with embarrassment, gradually lost its color and turned pale.

Loren's eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. No wonder Neville lacked confidence and was always so timid. With parents like that and an educational environment like that, anyone would become withdrawn.

Seeing that his grandmother was about to scold Neville, Loren spoke up and retorted, "Mrs. Longbottom, Neville is not lacking in talent; he has his own unique abilities. In fact, he performed exceptionally well last semester."

"His Herbology grades have always been good, and after getting a new wand, his progress in Charms and Transfiguration has also been rapid. He passed the selection exam to enter Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration Club, and he has shown extraordinary ability in Dueling Club."

Loren turned to Neville, who was staring down at the floor and at his shoes, and raised his voice, "Didn't you tell your grandmother?"

Neville was at a loss, standing there speechless.

"Really? Oh, I mean, he never showed the slightest sign of it." Mrs. Longbottom was overjoyed, but not entirely incredulous, the horrifying vulture specimen on her hat swaying incessantly.

"I...I..." Neville had never encountered such a situation before and stammered, unable to speak.

Seeing this, Loren glared at him with exasperation, then turned to Mrs. Longbottom and began to argue. "Back in our first year, Neville was able to single-handedly overpower Vincent Crabbe of Slytherin. Mrs. Longbottom, if you're well-informed, you should know that he's a dark wizard, already in the Ministry of Magic's custody. At this year's Duel Club event, he dared to attack the boa constrictor summoned by that dark wizard, protecting the other students. He was practically the bravest of them all."

A sense of joy emanated from Mrs. Longbottom, but she restrained herself, not entirely believing Loren's story. She turned her gaze to Madam Pomfrey, the resident Healer at Hogwarts, seeking confirmation from her.

Madam Pomfrey nodded.

She and Neville were very familiar with each other; among the second-year wizards, Neville was the one who visited the Hospital Wing most frequently. Aside from the accidents in Potions class, just the falls down the stairs, being tricked by various plants in Herbology Class, and getting too close to Seamus in Charms Class —these incidents meant Neville encountered Madam Pomfrey almost every week.

Madam Pomfrey had a good impression of the little boy, added, "He is also very talented in the field of Healer."

That's right, long illness makes one a doctor...

"Oh—the ancestors' blessing!" Mrs. Longbottom was so excited she almost fainted. She steadied herself against the bed frame and staggered towards the two innermost beds, muttering incoherently, "I have to tell them this news, I have to tell them this news..."

"Grandma!" Neville called out, following after her and helping her inside.

Madam Pomfrey sighed softly.

Loren thought about it for a moment, then followed after them; he was also Neville's parents' condition.

When Mrs. Longbottom actually walked to the two hospital beds, looking at her swollen son and her daughter-in-law with her dry, white hair and emaciated face, she was speechless again.

She was too old, and the intense emotional turmoil was putting an unusual strain on her body. Mrs. Longbottom found a place to sit by the bed, breathing heavily, a smile on her lips that seemed to be both joy and sorrow.

When his mother saw Neville, her somewhat bulging eyes lit up. She seemed unwilling or unable to speak, but she timidly gestured towards Neville.

"Another one?" Mrs. Longbottom said wearily. "Very well, Alice, very well— Neville, take it, whatever it is..."

Neville was familiar with this gesture. He stretched out his hand, opened his palm, and presented it to Alice. His mother gently placed a Bubbling Brew wrapper in his palm and happily closed his hand.

Then she hummed an unknown song, slowly lay back down on the bed, a smile on her lips. It seemed that this simple action could bring her satisfaction and happiness in her mentally unstable state.

His father sat cross-legged on the bed, looking at the group of people, as if he had taken in everything that had just happened, and laughed foolishly, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth onto the bib pinned to his chest.

Loren observed the two of them. As adult wizards, their Magic Power was very weak, even weaker than Neville's, and even weaker Lockhart's.

It was probably due to the long period of not using magic, coupled with a twisted soul and a weak body, that the Magic Power within him continued to weaken.

However, there were no other traces of magic on them, which means that it was not curses or spells that were continuously at work on them.

Loren's eyes lit up with interest... It seems that without the interference of a long-lasting curse, if magic is cast again to piece together their twisted souls and shattered consciousness, there is still a possibility of healing.

Mrs. Longbottom, who had caught her breath, said, "You should be proud, Neville, proud! You should be proud!"

"I know," Neville said briefly.

She stretched her neck proudly, like a haughty swan or a smug crow, and declared to Loren and the others in a proud tone, "My son and daughter-in-law have been driven mad by the Dark Lord's men!"

After saying this, she began to pant again. Neville gripped the candy wrapper tightly in one hand and gently patted his grandmother's back with the other to help her catch her breath.

"Could you tell me more about their situation?" Loren asked gently.

Neville glanced at Loren, then at Madam Pomfrey, his eyes darting away, clearly not wanting to reopen that wound.

"Neville! They sacrificed their health and sanity, not so that their only son would be ashamed of them!" Mrs. Longbottom said sternly, somewhat angrily.

Neville took a deep breath, a sense of powerlessness making him look up at the ceiling.

Mrs. Longbottom urged loudly, "Speak it out! Speak it out proudly!"

Loren regretted asking the question. He opened his mouth to skip it, but Madam Pomfrey patted his shoulder and stopped him.

Neville's eyes dimmed as he spoke with difficulty, "My mom and dad are Aurors, both of them."

"They are very talented, and both of them are highly respected in the Wizarding World!" Mrs. Longbottom added.

Neville continued, "They escaped Voldemort's clutches three times..."

Mrs. Longbottom's breathing became even more rapid upon hearing Voldemort's name... She herself dared not utter that name directly.

"After Voldemort's forces fell, they were captured by the Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange— " Neville's expression was pained, but he still gritted his teeth and continued, "Bellatrix used the Cruciatus Curse on them, which affected their souls, drove them mad, and they never regained their senses."

At this point, Mrs. Longbottom smiled with satisfaction. She finally accepted Neville's transformation and believed that he could inherit Lomberton's glory.

So it's the Cruciatus Curse...? Looking at the old Witch's smile, Loren insisted that Neville's family situation had serious problems.

After bidding farewell to the Longbottom Family, Madam Pomfrey led Loren away from St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and Onward on their journey home.

"Madam Pomfrey."

"Um?"

Does the Cruciatus Curse directly affect the soul?

"In fact, the mainstream view in academia is that the Three Unforgivable Curses all act directly on the soul, which is one of the reasons why they are considered unforgivable."

Half an hour later, Loren sat at his desk in the Headmaster's office and reported Lockhart's situation to Dumbledore, but the main content of his report was about Neville's parents.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, do you remember? I have a mirror that can reflect people's hearts and enter the depths of their consciousness. If we could use it to create a picture of Neville's parents' deep, fragmented consciousness and piece it back together, would it be possible to heal them?"

The silverware on the table was emitting white smoke, Fawkes was dozing on a perch, and most of the portraits of the old headmasters on the wall were also dozing off, except for Headmaster Dilys de Headmistress Derwent, who had once served as Healer at St Mungo's's.

Headmistress Derwent exclaimed excitedly from within the picture frame, "A brilliant idea! We have been helpless against the wounds of the soul in the past because the soul is too mysterious and ethereal, and we simply do not know where to begin!"

"If we project the soul and create a visible, tangible illusion, repairing that illusion can heal the patient's soul damage!" The usually composed woman almost cheered without regard for her image, but quickly frowned, looking extremely troubled. "It's just that I don't know what the projection of consciousness will look like. What if the self-protection within it becomes materialized? It might harm the person entering the illusion. You know, that's also damage at the soul level..."

The steam rising from the silverware swirled before Dumbledore's eyes as he leaned over his desk, watching Loren with a smug grin.

His intention was for Loren to learn something from Lockhart's tragic fate and to stay away from the path of prying into and manipulating people's hearts. Although Loren didn't seem to have any remorse for what happened to Lockhart, he did gain other surprising insights.

With this beautiful sentiment in mind, Dumbledore believed that Loren and Tom were fundamentally different.

The old headmaster brushed aside his somewhat cumbersome beard and generously pulled a box of Cockroach Clusters from his drawer. "Headmistress Derwent's concerns are valid. I will discuss this matter with some scholars who study the soul."

Why does this person suddenly seem happy?

Loren glanced at Dumbledore with a puzzled look, but his attention was quickly drawn to the Cockroach Clusters. Only when his cheeks were bulging did Loren remember, "Oh, right, there's one more thing. Voldemort came looking for me last night..."

He revealed Voldemort's plan to rescue people from Azkaban, only concealing some insignificant details.

Dumbledore blue eyes reflected the white mist, hazy and indistinct. With his wisdom and experience, he easily noticed that a part of the content was missing.

But he was at ease, as long as Loren's heart remained pure, having a little secret was no big deal.

"Well, if he wants to save him, then let him," Dumbledore said casually.

"Um?"

"I'm not a Ministry of Magic official, after all, and I can't stop him, can I?" Dumbledore spoke like a mischievous child.

Loren then understood; this old silver coin was trying to turn the tables on him...

Their attention gradually focused on the last few pieces of the Cockroach Clusters. They chewed faster while keeping a close eye on each other, afraid the other might eat one more than they did. They also occasionally talked to each other to distract the other and slow down the candy's consumption.

The young wizard asked hastily, "Hmm—are the distinctive traits of those famous wizards really related to magic? I mean, does the love you've always advocated really have Magic Power?"

The old wizard raised an eyebrow, quickly swallowed the candy in his mouth, and stuffed another piece in. "Of course, love in one's heart is the most powerful Magic Power."

The snow outside the window fell incessantly, as if trying to bury the whole world in pure white.

1992 drew to a close amidst the swirling snowflakes.