Harry Potter’s Natural Villain

"Maybe." He sighed.

Now, it is quite different from the one who likes to show off, makes all kinds of exaggerated events, and grandstands.

He felt the heaviness of life.

"All the gifts from fate have already been marked with prices secretly."

Maybe this is the price for his power?

After he left Hogwarts, he held many signing parties, attracting the attention of many young girls and even middle-aged women.

Then he suddenly fainted at a signing event, and after being sent to the hospital, faded out of people's sight, and finally disappeared.

Looking at the terribly aging man in front of her, it seemed that a string in Hermione's head was suddenly connected, like a current swiftly passing through it.

The memory that was sealed in the box by someone seems to be bouncing around and may rush out of a closed corner at any time.

She took a deep breath, then prepared to ask more in-depth questions.

Like the truth about the secret room back then?

She still wanted to try to retrieve that distant memory.

"What happened in the back room at that time?" Hermione asked directly.

Lockhart's face froze suddenly.

Dumbledore's warning was vivid in his mind.

And he didn't know the truth very well at first, but vaguely felt that the truth was something he couldn't bear.

"You're sharp, Miss Granger," Gilderoy Lockhart praised, but unfortunately, I don't know more, sorry. ' he apologized.

"Luo..." Hermione was about to say something, but was startled by a sudden sound behind her, and her unspoken words were interrupted.

"I found you, Hermione, why are you here? We are all worried about you." This was Ron's voice, with the Weasley brothers standing behind her, and she was hurried away by the three of them. , did not even say goodbye to Lockhart.

Ron and the twins looked flustered, perhaps being scolded by Mrs Weasley.

They didn't even notice the patient inside the door,

It's their former teacher.

They went down to the second floor lightly and quickly, and the patient's wailing could be heard from time to time.

"Biological Injury?" Hermione frowned.

Then she learned that Mr. Arthur was attacked by a snake.

But in fact, her inference was not wrong, it was not a snake, it was just a derivative of Transfiguration, and the essence was still the damage caused by the spell, just for the convenience of management, Arthur Weasley still lived on the second floor .

But not quite.

This is a composite spell derived from polymorphism and cursed magic.

Wounds are extremely difficult to heal.

The ward on the second floor is quite small and dark, with only a narrow window on the wall opposite the door. It seems that the light of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries and Injuries is provided by that crystal bubble. Gentle and not harsh.

There are several beds side by side, covered with clean white sheets.

On the oak-panelled wall hangs the portrait of a wicked sorcerer, with the inscription: Uktra Haro (1612-1697), inventor of the gut-pulling charm.

"Sorry for causing you trouble." Hermione buried her head, apologized, and walked in slowly.

"It's all right," said Mrs Weasley kindly.

Mr. Weasley's bed was at the far end of the room, next to the small window, and he was leaning comfortably on a few pillows, carefully reading a publication.

Not the Daily Prophet.

Looks like "The Quibbler"?

It was brought by Mrs Weasley on purpose.

It seemed that Mrs Weasley had spoken to her husband and was sitting quietly on a sturdy wooden chair, raising her knife and slowly slicing the fruit.

"Mom, where's your peeling spell?" George reminded.

Only then did Mrs. Weasley realize that she had done something stupid, and hurriedly patted her forehead in annoyance and waved her wand.

For a complete apple, the skin was peeled off, and then it was quickly unloaded into eight pieces, and it was quietly returned to the bowl.

Mrs Weasley has a unique insight and ability to housekeeping spells.

Then she took a plate, stuck a toothpick in chunks of apples, and fed her husband.

Arthur's arms were both strangled, with thick white bandages wrapped round and round, as well as his neck, except for his legs that were lucky to escape, the whole person looked like a big giant. white rice dumplings.

"Oh dear, you might have to drink again." Mrs Weasley glanced at the quartz clock hanging on the wall, then quickly moved the apple block away.

In his hand, he put on a bowl of red, bright, slightly bloody liquid.

"Blood Medicine". It's actually made of pure herbs that help him to grow blood.

Every time I removed the bandage and changed the dressing, there was a huge amount of blood that was almost unstoppable.

This is a very vicious curse.

"Children, we should go and give your father a good rest. According to the therapist, he has been very sleepy recently." Mrs Weasley said worriedly.

Then he walked out of the ward with a group of people.

A big rock fell in their hearts.

Although he was still a little worried about him, there was still a difference between known and unknown worries, and he finally managed to control his worries within a certain limit.

Mrs Weasley was going to show them around and go shopping.

After all, this is their holiday, and they are idle and idle, and the vicinity is the most prosperous place in London.

It's not too good to worry too much, right?

The Weasleys were barely able to cheer up.

"Sorry, I may have something trivial and I can't go with you." Hermione said apologetically.

It's actually not trivial.

She was going to ask Professor Lockhart again.

After explaining her excuse, she trotted all the way, and she set foot on the fifth floor, in the ward where Professor Gilderoy Lockhart was.

"Miss Granger?" Lockhart put the newspaper back on the bedside table and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"You're very persistent," he said, not sure if it was a compliment or some other emotion.

"It's just that I really don't have any extra information to tell you."

Lockhart said continuously, and then took a few breaths. He was so old that he would gasp sharply for a few words.

"Would you like to hear my story? When someone is about to die, it always feels like they would like to remember them." Lockhart chose to change the subject.

"Actually, I have nothing to remember." He shrugged and made a helpless expression.

Hermione looked at the man in front of her sympathetically. Compared with Mr. Weasley's serious injury, this kind of aging was even more hopeless.

She nodded.

She is compassionate.

"Oh, you can find a place to listen to my nagging, it might be long and tiring to stand."

Hermione then pulled out a stool and sat down, ready to listen to Lockhart's story in silence.