章 449: 0448 Concerns
Facing Hermione's inquisitive gaze, Harry opened his mouth, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.
What was he thinking about? The events of the night had left him with a whirlwind of thoughts and concerns swirling in his mind.
The Ministry and Professor Dumbledore had summoned Professor Watson at this critical juncture, no doubt to discuss how to properly handle the shocking attack at the Quidditch World Cup stadium. What would be the final outcome of this volatile situation? Harry couldn't help but wonder.
Voldemort's powerful minions had appeared at the Quidditch World Cup stadium tonight, with the purpose of kidnapping him. How had Voldemort managed to recruit a witch capable of engaging in such a grandiose duel with Professor Watson?? And what exactly was the history between Professor Watson and that dark witch?
The group of dark wizards who had initiated the commotion, Remus had said they were Death Eaters. But based on the information revealed by the words of the witch caught by Professor Watson among the three who had barged into the top box, their clear objective had not been Harry. Their target had been Sirius, with Melanov even mentioning that Sirius' head was worth ten thousand Galleons.
"I was thinking—" Harry began, his voice hesitant at first. He paused, then ultimately set aside the matters related to Professor Watson, focusing instead on the more immediate concerns.
"The three who broke into our box, their target should have been Sirius, not me," Harry said, his emerald eyes bright with realization.
"Of course, Harry!" Ron immediately affirmed, nodding vigorously. "The way they acted after getting in made it obvious - they were clearly out to kill Sirius!"
Reassured by Ron's confirmation, Harry became instantly energized, shifting in his seat to sit up straighter.
"I told you all that when Lucius Malfoy came into the box tonight, he threatened Sirius. And they left the stadium before the commotion even started - isn't that strange? That was the World Cup final, who wouldn't want to see the outcome? Sirius probably thinks the same way, I bet he won't let Lucius Malfoy off the hook!"
"That means!"
Ron's expression shifted to one of dreamy anticipation, his eyes alight with a mischievous glint.
"Maybe by the time school starts, we might see Malfoy lugging his bags and getting kicked out of Hogwarts, because his father plotted that terrible terrorist attack!"
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron!" Hermione interjected, her arms crossed over her chest as she spoke bluntly. "Even if Lucius Malfoy was involved in this, it doesn't have anything to do with Draco. The Ministry and Hogwarts won't expel him just for that--"
"Oh, Hermione, you're ruining my mood--" Ron said sulkily, puckering his lips in a childish pout, but Hermione simply ignored his reaction. She then turned her attention to Harry, her gaze shifting slightly as she spoke with less certainty.
"Harry, the wizard who appeared at the end and rescued that woman named Cliodna - how confident are you that he was...the You-Know-Who?"
'How confident?'
Harry's brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at Hermione, not fully understanding why she would ask such a question. Wasn't it obvious?
He had recalled certain details from his previous dream, where Voldemort and Cliodna had been plotting in an old house, and the core of their plot had been to capture him. Cliodna had explicitly stated that she wanted to take him, clearly to bring him to Voldemort to torture and kill him. And the searing pain in his scar tonight had definitively confirmed that the grotesque-looking wizard who had appeared at the end was indeed Voldemort.
Hermione seemed to get the answer she wanted from the confusion etched on Harry's face, but this did not make her relax her expression. Instead, her brow furrowed deeply, a clear sign of her growing unease.
"I don't quite understand—" Hermione murmured, her gaze shifting skyward, as if seeking answers in the vast expanse of the starry heavens above.
"It sounds reasonable, and Sirius seems to think so too, but just now, Professor Watson's demeanor..." She trailed off, her words laced with uncertainty.
Harry and Ron exchanged a perplexed glance, neither fully grasping the implications behind Hermione's cryptic statement.
"What about Professor Watson? Is there something off about him?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of concern and urgency, given the undeniable involvement of Voldemort in the night's events.
"Nothing--" Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I think Professor Watson probably won't explain your and Sirius' suspicions to the Ministry, Harry. Most likely, he'll want you to keep this discovery to yourselves."
"Why!" Harry's brow furrowed, his mind struggling to comprehend Hermione's reasoning. "Are you saying Professor Watson is afraid of Voldemort?"
If it were anyone else, knowing they were facing the most evil and cruel dark wizard of all time, and having soundly defeated him when he was in a weakened state, they might feel uneasy and fear retaliation in the future. But Professor Watson and Professor Dumbledore, Harry believed, were not the type of wizards to be swayed by such concerns.
"Of course not, Harry--" Hermione spoke calmly, her gaze sharp as she looked directly at him. "I think the reason Professor Watson will keep this a secret is not because he's afraid of Voldemort and retaliation, but because of you, Harry. Do you really think the Ministry would be thrilled to hear that tonight's events are connected to You-Know-Who who has disappeared for us and died for them for over a decade? If Professor Watson tells the Ministry about your findings, he'd have to provide evidence proving it was You-Know-Who. What evidence do you think he has?"
Harry immediately opened his mouth, wanting to share what he had seen in his dream. But the words were caught in his throat.
The most reliable evidence wasn't his scar, but the contents of his dream. However, would the Minister of Magic readily believe the visions of a young wizard? To be honest, even Harry himself hadn't been fully convinced at first, and besides...
"I see, Harry--" Hermione's confident tone had disappeared as she explained, replaced by a worried one.
"Are you planning to tell the Ministry about your ability to see You-Know-Who in your dreams? That would mean many people might know about this incredible thing, even You-Know-Who himself. How do you think he would react upon learning of this?"
Harry didn't really care how Voldemort would react - after all, Voldemort wouldn't spare him even if this hadn't happened. But Hermione was right, if his ability to dream about Voldemort became known throughout the wizarding world, Harry could imagine having to endure many strange looks and unwanted attention at Hogwarts once again.
"I thought it was a really cool thing!" Ron blurted out, his voice laced with shock, having finally grasped the full implications of Hermione's reasoning.
"Hermione's right, mate, I think you better keep this quiet. Oh, tomorrow I'm going to say hi to Fred and George, I'll make sure they don't tell Lee Jordan - you know, he's their good friend and can share almost any secret, but he's definitely not the one to help you keep one."
Harry gratefully nodded at Ron, but then became pensive once more.
During his second year at Hogwarts, on the night the Chamber of Secrets troubles were finally resolved, Dumbledore had mentioned that after Harry had thwarted Voldemort's attempt to obtain the Philosopher's Stone in his first year, the Dark Lord had been in hiding in the forests of Albania. But now, Voldemort had returned to Britain and recruited a witch nearly as powerful as Professor Watson as an accomplice, and they were currently plotting to kill him.
Although Professor Watson had made them retreat empty-handed tonight, Harry wasn't naïve enough to think Voldemort would glumly retreat back to the deep forests and not come out again. He could imagine a whole new set of troubles finding him next school year!
Seeing Harry fall silent, Hermione gave Ron a pointed look, and the redhead quickly understood her intention.
"Oh, don't be gloomy, Harry, no matter what, You-Know-Who and that Cliodna woman can't just barge into Hogwarts to get you, they'll only be walking into a trap!"
Ron said excitedly, his eyes alight with a determined spark.
"Think of something positive, Harry, we won a huge amount of money tonight, oh, it feels like a dream!"
It took Harry a moment to realize what Ron was talking about. Indeed, the two of them had correctly predicted the outcome of the Quidditch World Cup final at Ludo Bagman's, winning a full one thousand Galleons!
With the fairly substantial inheritance left to him by his parents, this sudden wealth was more than enough to sustain him comfortably through his time at Hogwarts, so his personal attachment to galleons was far less intense than Ron's. But still, five hundred Galleons was no small sum, and this was certainly an exhilarating and unexpected event.
"I'm going to buy myself a new broom!" Ron exclaimed joyfully as he reached into his pocket, feeling around for his hidden purse.
"Of course, I definitely won't get a Firebolt, but a Nimbus would be perfect. Oh, and I'm going to clear out the shelves at Honeydukes and Zonko's, I've always dreamed of this day coming. What are you waiting for, Harry, get your purse out, it's time to divvy up the money!"
Finally finding his purse, Ron grinned widely as he started to dig it out, his excitement palpable.
"Coming right up!" Harry also immediately began searching himself, eager to claim his share of the winnings.
Watching the two boys suddenly become so elated and preoccupied with the prospect of their newfound wealth, Hermione rolled her eyes with an exasperated expression.
"My purse can't hold that much money, I borrowed it from Charlie!"
Ron proudly displayed a purse embroidered with a moving dragon pattern, then reached his hand inside, preparing to scoop out the mesmerizing, gleaming Galleons. But...
"Oh, are you trying to get me to leave, Weasley?"
Seeing Ron's expression crumble as he maintained his digging posture, Hermione rolled her eyes once more. The next moment, Ron suddenly jumped up from his seat, turning the purse upside down and shaking it frantically, his pale face flushed with eye redness.
"What's going on?" Hermione frowned as she realized something was clearly amiss.
"It's gone, the money is gone!" Ron wailed, his voice laced with despair. "The Galleons Bagman gave me, not a single one left!"
On the other side, Harry also abruptly stood up, his expression one of bewilderment as he held his own purse.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione quickly asked, her concern palpable. "Your money is gone too?"
"It's my wand!" Harry cried out in a panic. "My wand is missing!"
"You lost your wand, Harry?" Hermione's brow furrowed deeply, her amber eyes wide with concern. Her bushy brown hair seemed to bristle with worry as she leaned forward, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "What exactly happened? Where did you drop it, in the forest?"
For a wizard, the importance of a wand was as self-evident. In the three years since entering the Wizarding world, Harry had never once let his wand leave his side. It had been his constant companion, a bridge between his old life and his new identity as a wizard.
Suddenly realizing he had lost it, a sickening feeling of weakness and helplessness welled up inside him, momentarily overwhelming his senses. He gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he carefully scrutinized through the chaotic memories of their hasty escape from the Quidditch pitch, desperately trying to pinpoint the moment when his wand might have slipped from his grasp.
"My Galleons!" Ron's anguished cry cut through Harry's concentration. Ron seemed to be on the verge of a complete breakdown, his freckled face contorting with a mix of panic and fury. He turned his purse – a gift from his older brother Charlie – inside out with trembling hands, but couldn't find so much as a single bronze Knut. His face flushed a deep crimson as he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion.
"Our galleons are gone too, Hermione! A whole thousand Galleons, the entire winnings from Ludo Bagman, vanished into thin air! Who in Merlin's name could have stolen our money?"
In all the time Harry and Hermione had known Ron they had never seen him this angry. Ron's lips quivered uncontrollably as he waved the empty money bag around like a flag of distress, his expression suggesting he was ready to devour the thief who had taken his galleons alive!
Ron's state of near-hysteria didn't particularly surprise Harry and Hermione. Ron had always been very sensitive about his family's tight financial situation. The thousand Galleons won from Ludo Bagman represented more than just money to Ron – it was a life-changing opportunity, a chance to lift himself out of poverty and finally experience the comforts he had always dreamed of. Now that someone had cruelly snatched away his newfound wealth, any level of anger from Ron wouldn't have been unexpected.
Hermione bit her lower lip lightly, looking worriedly at the frantic Ron. Even she didn't know how to calm his fury.
A portion of the missing money belonged to Harry as well. Under normal circumstances, he would have been furious too. However, the gnawing worry over his lost wand left him with no emotional energy to fret about anything else.
Three years ago, on his eleventh birthday, Harry had bought this wand from Ollivander, the best wandmaker in Diagon Alley, under Hagrid's guidance. The memory of that day was etched permanently in his mind. This wand was more than just a magical instrument; it was his proof of formally entering the mysterious and marvelous Wizarding world, a link to his parents and his heritage.
For three years, his wand had been like a brother helping him through many difficult challenges – from facing down a troll in the girls' bathroom to conjuring his first Patronus to drive away the soul-sucking Dementors. Even though this wand had a somewhat unclear and troubling connection to Voldemort, as Mr. Ollivander had hinted, Harry was still deeply attached to it.
Author's Note: I just got back, updates will be regular from today and there is a large chapter in next few chapters.
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章 450: 0449 Outside
In the garden outside the tent, on either side of the rough wooden dining table, Ron paced back and forth like a caged animal. His long legs carried him in rapid, restless strides as he gnashed his teeth and cursed the nameless, faceless thief who had taken his money in increasingly colorful terms that would have made even Fred and George blush.
Harry stood frozen as if hit by a particularly powerful Petrification Charm, as he desperately scoured through his memories, trying to reconstruct the chaotic events of the evening and pinpoint where he might have dropped his precious wand. Hermione looked anxiously at both boys, unsure of whom to comfort first.
"I remember now!"
Suddenly, Harry's eyes lit up with a spark of hope. He twirled to face Hermione, his voice rising with excitement as he exclaimed,
"I still had my wand in the Top Box. I used it to fight that wizard in the black cloak, remember? But then... I got hit by that eerie whip!"
Harry rolled up the sleeve of his jumper, revealing his right arm. The skin was now smooth and uninjured, thanks to Cliodna's powerful healing magic, but Harry could still feel the pain of the lash.
"That whip – it hurt so much, like being branded with white-hot iron. I couldn't hold onto my wand at all. It just flew out of my hand and then... then it fell into a pile of rubble!"
"Didn't you pick it up before we escaped, Harry?"
Hermione stared at Harry, her expression a blend of disbelief and exasperation, clearly incredulous at his carelessness.
"I meant to!" Harry's frustration boiled over, and he pounded his fist on the table, making the dishes rattle. His voice rose to a shout, tinged with indignation and frustration,
"But then that first dark witch nearly killed Sirius. And then that other witch, the one called Cliodna, appeared out of nowhere like some avenging angel. Before I knew it, Professor Watson was dueling her, spells flying everywhere, Finally, Sirius and Mr. Weasley were rushing us to escape from the box, pushing us ahead of them. Hermione, be honest – you would have forgotten too! There was so much happening, so fast..."
That was true enough, and Hermione's expression softened as she considered Harry's words. The events of tonight had been one shocking, terrifying incident after another, with rapid attacks and narrow escapes. Under those chaotic circumstances, Harry forgetting to pick up his wand wasn't entirely incomprehensible, even if it was still a serious oversight.
"I need to go find my wand, or how am I supposed to attend classes next term!"
After a few seconds of regret and self-pity, Harry suddenly straightened up, a look of determination settling over his features. He turned to Hermione; his voice filled with resolve.
"Now?"
Hermione's brow furrowed once more, deep lines etching themselves across her forehead. Her tone was full of disapproval, tinged with fear for her friend's safety. She didn't bother to hide her thoughts, her words tumbling out in a rush of concern,
"Running out there now isn't a wise decision, Harry. You saw it yourself when we came back – there were panicked wizards everywhere outside, running around like headless chickens. The Ministry is searching all over the place; they think there might be injured culprits who couldn't get away still hiding here, waiting for a chance to escape or cause more havoc. I bet if people hadn't seen Professor Watson enter this tent, the Ministry would definitely come barging in to search. You understand what I mean, don't you, Harry? It could be incredibly dangerous!"
"We should go!"
The frantic Ron, who had been pacing and muttering to himself, suddenly quieted down. He turned to face his friends, his eyes bloodshot and terrifying in their intensity. A vein pulsed visibly at his temple as he spoke, his voice low and determined,
"I want to check the forest. That despicable thief must have taken advantage of us while we were distracted by Professor Watson's duel! They're probably still out there, counting our gold and laughing at us!"
Hermione pressed her lips together tightly, looking at Ron with disappointment shining in her amber eyes. She could see the recklessness born of desperation in both of her friends, and it worried her deeply.
With both Harry and Ron insistent on going, Hermione knew she couldn't stop the two boys. Their stubborn Gryffindor courage – or foolhardiness, as she sometimes thought of it – was in full force. Still, she grabbed onto Harry and Ron's sleeves, her fingers clutching the fabric tightly as she made one last attempt at reason,
"At least tell Sirius, Harry. If he finds we're not in the tent, he'll surely be worried sick. Or... notify your dad, Ron. The path to the Quidditch pitch is bound to be full of Ministry officials, we could get into serious trouble—"
"Sirius was injured tonight, Hermione. He needs rest now, I don't want to disturb him—"
Harry considered Hermione's suggestion for a second before rejecting it. Ron, however, was beyond listening to reason. He shook off Hermione's hand impatiently and rushed towards the tent flap, calling over his shoulder,
"We have Harry's invisibility cloak, don't we? The Ministry won't be able to find us! Come on, every second we waste is another second that thief gets further away!"
Although she didn't approve of Harry and Ron venturing out at a time like this – her logical mind was screaming at her that this was a terrible idea – but Hermione still followed them. She couldn't let her best friends face potential danger alone, no matter how foolish she thought they were being.
Over the summer holiday, all three had grown considerably taller. They had become slenderer and more mature, losing some of the roundness of childhood. The invisibility cloak that could easily cover all three of them in their first year, allowing them to roam the corridors of Hogwarts undetected, now barely managed to conceal them. Fortunately, Sirius's tent was set up close enough to the edge of the forest; otherwise, traversing such a large wooded area while trying to remain hidden would have been quite an ordeal.
And As expected, the world outside was still in utter chaos.
Many of those who had come to watch the Quidditch World Cup match had already dispersed, fleeing into the night with their families. But quite a few, whether out of bravery, curiosity, or simply having nowhere else to go, had chosen to spend the night here. The campground was a patchwork of abandoned tents and huddled groups, interspersed by the harsh lights of magical flares and the shouts of Ministry officials trying to maintain order.
But, not all of those who chose to stay did so out of safety concerns; some foreign wizards with ill intentions had set their sights on the tents left behind by those who had fled in panic. These opportunistic looters sneaked from shadow to shadow, entering the abandoned dwellings without permission. They ransacked the valuables inside, stuffing their pockets with jewelry, and magical artifacts before sneaking away furtively into the night.
"Oh, these things are all mine, I tell you! What do you think you're doing, manhandling me like this?"
Not far along the path, Harry and his friends encountered just such an incident. Several Ministry employees, their robes disheveled and faces grim, had cornered a sneaky-looking fellow. The wizard, his face flushed with either guilt or indignation, clutched a pile of exquisite ornaments to his chest. The Ministry workers demanded he provide proof that the valuable items truly belonged to him, as their wands were held at the ready. The two parties, unable to reach an agreement, quickly came to blows. Spells began to fly, multicolored jets of light illuminating the night as they fought noisily in front of a particularly luxurious tent.
"Oh, daring to cause trouble for the Ministry at a time like this, just you wait and see. The Dementors of Azkaban will give you a warm welcome!"
Amos Diggory, Cedric Diggory's father whom they had met this very morning at Stoatshead Hill, rushed past Harry with several other officials to join the fray. Before long, the foreign wizard trying to fish in troubled waters was struck by a well-aimed Stunning Spell. He crumpled to the ground, the stolen treasures spilling from his limp arms.
As Mr. Diggory and another wizard passed by Harry again, levitating the unconscious thief between them, Mr. Diggory's face was flushed with exertion and anger. He muttered furiously to his companion,
"This is the fifth one tonight! You'd think people would have more decency, especially after what happened at the match. But no, they see chaos and think only of lining their own pockets!"
"Come on, let's not waste time, Harry. Let's go find your wand!"
Hermione poked Harry sharply in the ribs, her whispered words urgent and impatient. The brief delay had clearly set her nerves on edge, making her even more anxious to complete their 'foolish' mission and return to safety.
Harry pressed his lips together tightly, not voicing the deep disappointment that welled up inside him after witnessing this scene. The wizarding world, was no fairy tale. It was not all wondrous spells and magical creatures; it had its share of greed, selfishness, and darkness. Harry had begun to understand this harsh truth last summer when Professor Watson had led him into that eerie, ghostly underground cave. Now, seeing wizards take advantage of a crisis to steal from their fellows, the lesson was driven home with painful clarity.
As they ventured deeper into the forest, the trio discovered that the security measures were even more intense than in the open campground. There was at least one grim-faced Ministry official patrolling every area about the size of two Hogwarts classrooms. After the shocking events of tonight, these Hit Wizards didn't dare to be the least bit careless. They scanned the dark forest with hawk-like sharp gazes, their wands held at the ready, prepared to strike at the slightest sign of threat.
Ron, his mind still consumed by thoughts of his stolen Galleons, accidentally stepped on a twig. Though it was just a faint sound, barely audible above the distant shouts and spell-fire, the keen-eared Auror responsible for this area noticed the disturbance. He immediately rushed over, his wand tip glowing with a Lumos charm as he circled the area several times.
The trio froze in place, hardly daring to breathe as the Auror's searching gaze passed over them again and again. Finding nothing out of the ordinary – thanks to the invisibility cloak's powerful magic – he finally walked away slowly towards other areas, but not before casting several detection spells that made Harry's skin tingle unpleasantly.
Phew—
Even Ron, whose mind had been fully occupied with thoughts of his lost galleons, was frightened enough by this close call to momentarily forget his anger. He unconsciously let out a long, shaky breath, only to have his ribs sharply jabbed by Hermione's elbow.
After this nerve-wracking incident, the three moved forward with even more caution than before. Their progress was painfully slow, each step carefully considered to avoid snapping twigs or rustling leaves. The invisibility cloak, while effective at concealing them from sight, did nothing to muffle sounds. They had to rely on their own stealth and the ambient noises of the forest to mask their movements.
They had spent about twenty agonizing minutes creeping through the underbrush but had moved no more than two hundred feet when, on a small hill bathed in eerie moonlight filtering through the canopy, Harry saw several wizards wearing dark green robes. The cross of bone and wand embroidered on their backs gleamed silver in the dim light.
These distinctively dressed wizards were gathered around a figure lying flat on the mossy ground, barely clinging to life. Some were waving their wands in intricate patterns, showering the area with a soft, pulsating light. Others were carefully administering potions to the injured wizard, muttering incantations under their breath as they worked. All in all, three or four people were bustling about busily.
"Those are—" Harry began to ask in a whisper, his curiosity momentarily overriding his caution.
"Healers from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries," Ron's voice was urgent, tinged with a mix of awe and uneasiness. Growing up in a wizarding family, he was all too familiar with the sight of these magical medical professionals.
Ugh—
At that moment, the Healer with his back to them suddenly stood up, revealing the full extent of the injured person's condition to the three hidden observers. After just one horrified glance, Harry felt his whole body break out in goosebumps.
Beside him, Hermione was not so lucky in controlling her physical reaction. She crouched down, one hand pressed against her mouth in a futile attempt to hold back the tide of nausea. Unable to contain herself, she vomited on the spot.
Harry and Ron also felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over their heads. They inhaled sharply, shuddering, and hurriedly averted their gaze. But the brief glimpse they had caught was now etched indelibly in their minds.
******The following section contains graphic descriptions of violence and injury that some readers may find disturbing*******
The wizard lying prone on the ground was a nightmarish sight. His body was charred to an unrecognizable black, his skin cracked and peeling like the bark of a tree consumed by fire. Blood seeped from horrifying fissures that crisscrossed his body, creating a gruesome network of crimson rivers that stained the earth beneath him. The ground was now a canvas of death, painted in shades of red and black.
But the most terrifying aspect, the detail that made even the battle-hardened healers from St. Mungo's flinch, was the wizard's face. His nose had melted like a candle exposed to intense heat, leaving behind only a soft, fleshy mass that barely resembled a human face.
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Despite the obvious futility of their efforts, the healers from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries worked with frantic determination. Their wands moved in intricate patterns, casting spells of healing and restoration. Potions were poured down the wizard's throat, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the ashen hue of his skin. But even Harry, with his limited medical knowledge, could see the grim truth etched in the lines of worry on the healers' faces. Their efforts, valiant as they were, were destined to be in vain.
As if to confirm Harry's unspoken observation, after only two minutes of intense magical intervention, the healers surrounding the grievously injured wizard began to stand up one by one. Their shoulders sagged with the weight of their failure, deep sighs escaping their lips as they removed their lime-green healer's hats. In a gesture of respect and mourning for the deceased, they bowed their heads, creating a somber circle around the lifeless body.
"Poor fellow," sighed one of the healers who had previously had his back to the trio. His voice was heavy with regret and a tinge of professional frustration. "If his leg hadn't been broken by the falling scaffolding, he might have had a fighting chance. But he was simply too close to Mr. Watson's magic - his body was practically cooked from the inside out!"
The healer's clinical description sent a shiver down Harry's spine. He had witnessed the awesome power of Professor Watson's magic during the chaotic events at the Quidditch World Cup, but to see its devastating effects on a human body was something else entirely.
"What will his family say?" another healer asked worriedly, "Strictly speaking, he died at Mr. Watson's hands."
"Let's hope his family doesn't do anything foolish," said the healer who had been administering potions to the deceased. His voice was calm, almost detached, as if he had seen too much death to be truly shaken by this latest tragedy. "If they want a large compensation, the Ministry will certainly oblige. But if they try to cause trouble for Mr. Watson, well, the Ministry won't stand for it. Without Mr. Watson's intervention tonight, the death toll could have been hundreds, if not thousands of times higher. If they dare go to Hogwarts to confront Mr. Watson, I'll personally kick their heads off with my boot!"
The healer's words, though harsh, carried a ring of truth that almost no one could deny. The night's events had been catastrophic, and without Professor Watson's powerful magic, the outcome could have been far more devastating.
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