Hold On a Little Longer

Harry jolted awake and looked toward the source of the voice.

A little girl was cowering beneath a table. Wrapped in an oversized coat, she tremblingly held out a bottle.

It was Essence of Dittany, incredibly effective against external wounds!

Harry's face lit up, and he hurriedly took the bottle.

But Hermione immediately snatched it away.

Steadying herself, she forcefully pulled out the stone knife.

As blood gushed from the wound, she poured a heap of white powder over it.

Gradually, the wound stopped bleeding.

At the very least, the bleeding had been stanched.

Feeling Ron's faint breathing, Hermione collapsed onto the floor and casually set the bottle down.

The little girl cautiously glanced at it. Seeing that it had all been used up, she could not help making an expression as if she were about to cry.

Seeing this, Harry picked up the bottle and handed it back to her.

"Don't worry. We'll compensate you for it."

The little girl looked somewhat flustered and instinctively accepted the bottle.

But dark-red blood, carrying a foul stench, flowed down her hand.

Harry frowned and grabbed her hand, pushing up her loose sleeve. What he saw made even this man, who had gone through decades of battle, suck in a sharp breath.

The skin along the girl's entire forearm had rotted into a mess, and it was still eating away at the flesh underneath, turning it into pus.

"It hurts."

Her sleeve seemed to have brushed against the wound. The little girl bit down through tearful eyes.

Watching a child far younger than his own daughter endure such pain, Harry could barely breathe.

"What happened?"

The girl sniffled twice.

"There was an explosion at the magical factory. Dad was killed in it, and my hand touched something. It's been rotting ever since.