The Savior in the Psychiatric Hospital

Surrey Royal Hospital, Psychiatric Ward.

Facing the doctor, Harry wore a sincere smile.

He had finally found a way to terminate the training plan.

A request generated by a non-hostile intelligent life unit carried greater weight than the training plan.

The fact that he was now in the hospital, rather than at the Dursleys', was proof of that.

"Obsessive-compulsive personality disorder?"

Vernon exclaimed in surprise while glancing through the transparent window at Harry, who sat calmly inside as usual.

"Yes." The brown-haired doctor adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses. "Insisting on doing things his own way, experiencing extreme anxiety or anger when plans are interrupted."

"Generally speaking, patients don't directly resort to violence, but long-suppressed anger can lead to such situations."

"Mr. Dursley, we suspect that your nephew's repeated exposure to high-pressure environments lacking understanding or filled with excessive control is a major factor contributing to the development of this disorder."

"Based on his mental health assessment and the evidence we've observed of a family environment detrimental to his healthy development, we are obligated to report this situation to the CPS (Child Protective Services)."

"We will recommend they initiate an emergency review process and will likely apply to place Harry under the custody of the local authority. A copy of the report will also be sent to the ACPC (Area Child Protection Committee)."

"No, you can't, you mustn't." Petunia was extremely anxious, muttering "Dumbledore" under her breath.

"Indeed, you cannot." Albus Dumbledore suddenly appeared, without any warning, like a ghostly figure in a horror film.

His attire was also completely out of place here—a long gray cloak and a pointed wizard's hat.

But what was most striking was his gaze, penetrating like an X-ray.

"Harry must stay with the Dursleys," Dumbledore said.

The doctor, facing those azure eyes, trembled as he spoke, "I don't care who you are, no matter how much power you have, but this child..."

The doctor's pupils lost focus, and his tone shifted abruptly, "Yes, Harry Potter can stay with the Dursleys. He does not have obsessive-compulsive personality disorder."

Nearby, Vernon and Petunia huddled together, trembling. At that moment, they finally grasped the power of wizards firsthand.

It wasn't like a magician pulling out a rabbit or creating flames—it was manipulating minds.

What would their fate be, having failed to treat Harry as their own son as Dumbledore's letter had instructed?

The two were now filled with extreme anxiety.

"You did not do as I asked. You never treated Harry as your own son. In your hands, he received only neglect and frequent mistreatment." Dumbledore's voice was incredibly calm, relaxed, but his body seemed to radiate a chill, causing the Dursleys to huddle even tighter, their faces pale.

Inside the hospital room, Harry also lost all color.

In fact, he was the first to notice Dumbledore's appearance.

At that moment, his heart was leaping with joy.

He had hoped that this strongest white wizard in the magical world, the Hogwarts headmaster with many honors, could find a way to take him away from the Dursleys and away from the tedious training plan.

Once in the magical world, the content of the training plan would most likely be about learning magic, not weeding or mopping floors.

Even if he had to stay with the Dursleys, at the very least, a wizard would be sent to teach him.

However...

[Ding ding ding! Detected obstacle to main quest [Strengthen the Body]... Albus Dumbledore, Gold-grade Friendly Intelligent Life Unit...]

--Main quest, where did that come from!

[A Savior must possess a tempered physique... Granting cognitive interference to Albus Dumbledore, duration... four years]

Harry's face lost all color completely.

This hell would continue for another four years!

He began to desperately look forward to the arrival of September 1, 1991.

Outside the hospital room, Dumbledore changed his tone, "I will leave, perhaps never to return, but you should understand how to treat Harry Potter from now on. Let things take their natural course."

The next moment, he vanished again, as abruptly as he had arrived.

Late at night.

After running and showering, Harry finally welcomed the thirty-minute pre-sleep period.

He summoned the [Savior Training Manual], and this time, time did not stop.

Of today's three time-stops, two were ten-minute electric shock punishments, and one was for removing Uncle Vernon as an obstacle.

The core purpose of this black-hearted book seemed to be for his better cultivation, along with an underlying training logic not yet displayed.

[Name: Harry James Potter]

[Age: 7]

[Address: Second-floor back room, Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey]

As the white paper showed, he no longer lived in the cupboard—he was staying in the luxurious guest room on the second floor, the one reserved for Aunt Marge.

Spotless, thick wool carpet with intricate patterns;

A mahogany bed spacious enough to fit two Uncle Dursleys, dressed in starched, crisp white linen sheets with delicate lace trim and a fluffy down comforter;

A polished wardrobe and dresser, heavy brocade curtains that perfectly blocked out the light;

An elegant brass reading lamp, a small round table covered in a lace tablecloth.

Compared to the cramped, narrow cupboard he had lived in for years, it was like heaven and earth.

But Harry would rather move back into the cupboard now, if only the so-called training plan would disappear.

That was when he noticed a new entry had appeared in the trait column.

[Elegant and Easygoing (Affinity +3)]

—So keeping precepts could earn him talent traits.

Harry grumbled inwardly.

He didn't regret casually picking foul language at all.

On the contrary, he was glad.

If he had randomly gotten a precept like never bathing for life, like some Christian saint, he wouldn't take it even if the trait ability let him soar through the heavens and burrow into the earth.

Not being able to curse, always having to smile—that was already good enough.

Especially since smiling could double as a test, a way to check if anyone was watching him.

Like right now, he could finally make faces freely and work the muscles in his face.

—Twenty-seven minutes of free time left. Can't waste it.

—Expand skill traits.

The white paper flipped its pages and projected the content onto a blue light screen, visible even with his eyes closed. If he wanted, he could even make this black-hearted book speak aloud.

[Iron]

[Weeding lv1—Proficiency 33/100]

[Eating lv2—Proficiency 49/100]

[Running lv3—Proficiency 45/100]

[Combat lv3—Proficiency 36/100]

—Why is Eating only level 2? Combat... is it because of [Gandalf's Combat Art]?

Harry grumbled as he continued reading.

[Bronze]

[Unstable Teleportation lv0—Proficiency 56/100]

He recalled the time he had teleported onto a chimney while being chased by Dudley and his gang, then let his gaze drift further down.

[Silver]

[Constant Bedhead Charm lv8—Proficiency 34/100]

Seeing this, he rubbed his messy, windblown hair—a hallmark of the Potter family, just like the Weasleys' red hair.

Aunt Petunia had tried to conquer it many times, forcibly shaving it off, only for it to return to its original state the next day.

He smiled and looked at the note at the very bottom.

[Note: lv10 allows rank advancement]

—So even weeding could be promoted into a magical skill?

Lying in bed, he finally felt a glimmer of comfort and drifted into sleep ahead of schedule.

—If that's the case, I can keep going.