A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 246: Neville’s Discovery

Chapter 246: Neville's Discovery

On the eve of Christmas, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was filled with the festive atmosphere.

The light in the waiting room had been replaced with golden and red crystal bubbles that hung from the ceiling, resembling giant Christmas baubles that twinkled incessantly.

Neville held his grandmother's hand with one hand, while tightly clutching his school bag with the other.

They climbed up to the fifth floor, passing by every ward adorned with holly trees and colorful ribbons.

"Neville, hurry up—"

Madam Longbottom urged him, and Neville quickly caught up with her. They entered the Janus Thickey ward and made their way to the innermost beds. Drawing back the curtains, they revealed a young wizard and witch lying in the beds.

Ignoring their pale faces and grey, withered hair, they looked like a young couple who had just overslept, with a natural smile gracing their lips. But Neville could only gaze at them with sadness, pulling out a bouquet of flowers from his bag and placing them in a vase on the bedside table.

Neville was about to dispose of the withered flowers when his grandmother took them from his hand with a stern look. She gave him a complex glance and said, "I'll take care of it." Then, without another word, she left.

Neville sat quietly for a while. He had tidied his mother's hair, adjusted his father's blanket, and neatly folded towels. Yet, after quite some time, his grandmother hadn't returned.

After a moment of hesitation, he stood up and walked towards the door. As he passed two beds, a woman with a furry face suddenly barked at him, startling him so much that he almost collided with the opposite wall.

Still shaken, Neville opened the door and looked left and right. There was still no sign of his grandmother. The golden stars atop the holly tree outside the door sparkled, making it hard for him to see down the corridor.

Neville's expression wavered as he debated whether to turn back, but then he heard faint voices coming from the staircase. He recognized the gentle voice—it was his parents' healer, the aunt named Miriam.

"Mr. Harp... Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom... two weeks..."

Upon hearing familiar names, Neville's curiosity got the better of him. He approached stealthily, trying not to make a sound. At the corner of the stairs, he saw Aunt Miriam with her back turned to him, engaged in conversation with another healer dressed in green robes.

"No one can be sure when they'll wake up. Mr. Harp is quite confident, and Madam Longbottom believes him..." Miriam said.

The other young healer couldn't help but ask, "But isn't it said that this Harp only published some articles in the newspaper? Who knows how skilled he really is?"

Miriam hesitated a bit before replying, "Madam Pomfrey also believes in him."

The healer retorted, "But, as you mentioned, it's been two weeks since that Harp last visited, and Madam Longbottom has been in a coma for two full weeks. What if he caused trouble and can't handle the aftermath?"

Miriam's expression grew more worried, but she still searched for reasons. "The patients' conditions are stable..."

"Who can be clear about matters of memory? Perhaps it's simply a prolonged slumber! This Harp is at best a Hogwarts professor, not a professional healer."

Seemingly convinced, Miriam conceded, "You make a valid point. Once Madam Longbottom arrives, I'll talk to her." The two of them left together.

Neville leaned against the corner of the wall, his smile fading. He strained to process the news he had just heard. Hogwarts only had one Professor Harp, so a professor was treating his parents? But why hadn't he ever mentioned it to him?

Neville thought, maybe he didn't want to worry me? But he recalled the conversation between the two healers just now—two weeks in a coma... His heart clenched suddenly.

He hurriedly returned to the ward, opened the door, and rushed back to his parents' beds—they were still peacefully asleep.

'Two weeks in a coma...'

Neville tentatively nudged his mother's arm, no response. He applied a bit more force, but she remained still, not even a change in the smile on her lips.

Suddenly, he felt a sense of panic. The words of that unfamiliar healer echoed in his mind like a poison corroding his heart—

"Who can be clear about matters of memory? Perhaps it's simply a prolonged slumber!"

Neville muttered, "A prolonged slumber—it can't be! The professor doesn't do things without certainty; he's so skilled and composed..." Yet he couldn't help but think again: that healer's words did make sense, Professor Harp never displayed any healing abilities.

Like Harry excelling in Defense Against the Dark Arts but struggling in Herbology.

Footsteps sounded from a distance—his grandmother's and another. There was something familiar about it... Neville glanced through the crack in the door and saw a pair of exquisite black-brown shoes—it was Professor Harp!

He belatedly realized he hadn't closed the door properly when he hurried in.

Neville hunched over his school bag at the foot of the bed, feigning unawareness, but his ears were pricked up.

"Professor Harp, we need to talk."

That was his grandmother's voice, and she sounded anxious. What had happened exactly?

"Nothing to discuss! I should've quit a long time ago. If you hadn't found Dumbledore, I wouldn't have come tonight," a man's voice said.

It was Professor Harp... Neville thought, why does the professor feel a bit strange to me, a bit... indifferent?

"Oh, Frank and Alice haven't woken up yet. They, they—"

Neville heard his grandmother choke back tears. His heart tightened. The words of the healer in green robes reverberated in his ears again, impossible to ignore.

The conversation outside the door grew quieter. Neville couldn't resist lifting his head. Through the window on the door, he could only see his grandmother's silhouette. She looked deeply saddened—a look he had never seen on her before.

In his mind, his grandmother had always been stern and proud.

"Don't cry! Someone might see. Let's find a secluded place and talk all at once." The man's voice sounded impatient.

A shadow passed across the window, and footsteps receded.

Neville's heart thudded, and he found it hard to believe the conversation he had just overheard. The man's voice sounded like that of a villain.

He leaped up suddenly, not even noticing he grabbed his bag, and tiptoed to the door. He peeked through the crack and caught sight of their backs as they turned at the end of the corridor.

Neville took a deep breath and hurriedly dashed out, locking the barking woman inside the ward. His face turned an unusual shade of red. It wasn't until he reached the end of the corridor that he realized his footsteps had been too loud; they might have heard.

He leaned against the wall, waiting in silence for a few seconds. No footsteps returned. He let out a sigh of relief. Like a thief, he peeked around and saw an empty row of rooms. The corridor was dimly lit.

Summoning his courage, Neville walked over. He didn't know which room his grandmother and the professor were in; he could only search one by one.

He pressed his ear against the first room's door, causing his ear to ache, but there was no sound from within.

He tiptoed to the second room's door. Before he could get close, he heard clear voices coming from inside—

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