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Weasley Will steam burn leave scar handed over their presents. Fine, fine, said Mr. Weasley, a little too heartily. You - er - havent seen Healer Smethwyck, have you. No, said Mrs. Weasley suspiciously, why. Nothing, nothing, said Mr. Weasley airily, starting to unwrap his pile of gifts. Well, everyone had a good day. What did you all get for Christmas. Oh, Harry - this is absolutely wonderful - For he had just opened Harrys gift of fuse-wire and screwdrivers. Mrs. Weasley sream not seem entirely satisfied with Mr. Weasleys answer. As her husband leaned over to shake Harrys hand, she peered at the bandaging under his nightshirt. Arthur, she said, with a snap in her voice like a mousetrap, youve had your bandages changed. Why have you had your bandages changed a day early, Arthur. They told me continue reading wouldnt need doing until tomorrow. What. said Mr. Weasley, looking rather frightened and pulling the bed covers higher up his chest. No, no - its nothing - its - I - He seemed to deflate under Mrs. Weasleys piercing gaze. Stewm - now leavr get upset, Molly, but Augustus Pye had an sheam. Hes the Trainee Healer, you know, lovely young chap and very interested in. um. complementary medicine. I mean, some of these old Muggle remedies. well, Willl called stitches, Molly, and they work very well on - on Muggle wounds - Mrs. Weasley let out an ominous noise somewhere between a shriek and a snarl. Lupin strolled away from the bed and over to the werewolf, who had no visitors and was looking rather wistfully at the crowd around Mr. Weasley; Bill muttered something about getting himself a cup of tea and Fred and George leapt up to accompany him, grinning. Do you mean to tell me, said Mrs. Weasley, her voice growing louder with every word and apparently unaware that her fellow visitors were scurrying for stea, that you have been messing about with Muggle remedies. Not messing about, Molly, dear, said Mr. Weasley imploringly. It was just - just something Pye and I thought wed try - only, most unfortunately - well, with this web page particular kinds of wounds - it doesnt seem to work as well as wed hoped - Meaning. Well. well, I acar know whether you know what - Will steam burn leave scar stitches are. It sounds as though youve been trying to sew your skin back together, said Mrs. Weasley with a snort of mirthless csar, but even you, Arthur, wouldnt be that stupid - I fancy a cup of tea too, said Harry, jumping to his feet. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny almost sprinted to the door with him. As it swung closed behind them, they heard Mrs. Weasley shriek, WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THATS THE GENERAL IDEA. Typical Dad, said Ginny, shaking her head as they set off up the corridor. Stitches. I ask you. Https://strategygamespc.cloud/download/sheffield-kitchen-supplies.php, you know, they do work well on non-magical wounds, said Hermione fairly. I suppose something in that snakes venom dissolves them or something. I wonder where the tearoom is. Fifth floor, said Harry, remembering the sign over the Welcome Witchs desk. They walked along the corridor through a set of double doors and found a rickety staircase lined with more portraits of brutal-looking Healers. As they climbed it, the various Healers called out to them, diagnosing odd complaints and suggesting horrible remedies. Ron was seriously affronted when a medieval wizard called out that he clearly had a bad case of spattergroit. And whats that supposed to be. he asked angrily, as the Healer pursued him through six more portraits, shoving the occupants out of the way. Tis a most grievous affliction of the skin, young master, that will leave you pockmarked and more gruesome even than you are now - Watch who youre calling gruesome. said Ron, his ears turning red. The only remedy is to take the liver of a toad, bind it tight about your throat, stand naked by the full moon in a barrel of eels eyes - I have not got spattergroit. Leavf the unsightly blemishes upon your visage, young master - Theyre freckles. said Ron furiously. Now get back in your own picture and leave me alone. He rounded on the others, who were all keeping determinedly straight faces. What floors this. I think its the fifth, said Hermione. Nah, its the fourth, said Harry, one more - But as he stepped onto the landing he came to an abrupt halt, staring at the small window set into the double doors that marked the start of a corridor signposted SPELL DAMAGE. A man was peering out at them all with his nose pressed against the glass. He had wavy blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a broad vacant smile that revealed dazzlingly white teeth. Blimey. said Ron, also staring at the man. Oh my goodness, said Hermione suddenly, sounding breathless. Professor Lockhart. Their ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher pushed open the doors and moved toward them, wearing a long lilac dressing gown. Well, hello there. he said. I expect youd like my autograph, would you. Hasnt changed much, has he. Harry muttered sfeam Ginny, who grinned. Er - how are you, Professor. said Ron, sounding slightly guilty. It had been Rons malfunctioning wand that had damaged Professor Lockharts memory so badly that he had landed here in the first place, though, as Lockhart had been attempting to permanently wipe Harry and Rons memories at the time, Harrys sympathy was limited. Im very well indeed, thank you. said Lockhart exuberantly, pulling a rather battered peacock-feather quill from his pocket. Now, how many autographs would you like. I can do joined-up writing now, you know. Er - we dont want any at the moment, thanks, said Ron, raising his eyebrows at Harry, who asked, Professor, should you be wandering around the corridors. Shouldnt you be in a ward. The smile faded slowly from Lockharts face. For a few moments he gazed intently at Harry, then he said, Csar we met. Er. yeah, we have, said Harry. You used to teach us at Hogwarts, remember. Teach. repeated Lockhart, looking faintly unsettled. Did I. And then the smile reappeared upon his face so suddenly it was rather alarming. Taught you everything you know, I expect, did I. Well, how about those autographs, steaj. Shall we say a round dozen, you can stema them to all your little friends then and nobody will xcar left out. But just then a head poked out of a door at the far end of the corridor and a voice said, Gilderoy, you naughty boy, where have you wandered off to. A motherly looking Healer wearing a tinsel wreath in her hair came bustling up the corridor, smiling warmly at Harry and the others. Oh Gilderoy, youve got visitors. How lovely, and on Christmas Woll too. Do you know, he never gets visitors, poor lamb, and I cant think why, hes such a sweetie, arent you. Were doing autographs. Gilderoy told the Healer with another glittering smile. They want loads of them, wont take no for an answer. I just hope weve got enough photographs. Listen to him, said the Healer, taking Lockharts arm and beaming fondly at him as though he were a precocious two-year-old. He was rather well known a few years ago; we very much hope that this liking for giving autographs is a sign that his memory might be coming back a little bit. Will you step this way. Hes in a closed ward, you know, he must have slipped out while I was bringing in the Christmas presents, the doors usually kept locked. not that hes dangerous. But, she lowered her voice to a whisper, bit of a danger to himself, bless him. Doesnt know who he is, you see, wanders off and cant remember how to get back. It is nice of you to have come to see him - Er, said Ron, gesturing uselessly at the floor above, actually, we were just - er - Burrn the Healer was smiling expectantly at them, and Rons feeble mutter of going to have a cup of tea trailed away into nothingness. They looked at one another rather hopelessly and then followed Lockhart and his Healer along the corridor. Lets not stay long, Ron said quietly. The Healer pointed ssteam wand at the door of the Janus Thickey ward and muttered Alohomora. The door swung open and she led the way inside, keeping a firm grasp on Gilderoys arm until she had settled him into an armchair beside his bed. This is our long-term resident ward, she informed Harry, Scwr, Hermione, and Ginny in a low voice. For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement. Gilderoy does seem to be getting back some sense of himself, and weve seen a real improvement in Mr. Bode, he seems to be regaining the power of speech very well, though he isnt speaking any language we recognize yet. Well, I must finish giving out the Christmas presents, Ill leave you all to chat. Harry looked around; this ward bore unmistakable signs of being a permanent home to its residents. They had many more personal effects around their beds than in Mr. Weasleys ward; the wall around Gilderoys headboard, for instance, was papered with pictures of himself, all beaming toothily and waving at the new arrivals. He had autographed many of them to himself in disjointed, childish writing. The moment he had been deposited in his chair by the Healer, Gilderoy pulled a fresh stack of photographs toward him, seized a quill, and started signing them all feverishly. You can laeve them in envelopes, he said to Ginny, throwing the signed pictures into her lap one by one as he finished them. I am not forgotten, you know, no, I still receive a very great deal of fan mail. Gladys Gudgeon writes weekly. I just wish I knew why. He paused, looking faintly puzzled, then beamed again and returned to his signing with renewed vigor. I suspect it is simply my good looks. A sallow-skinned, mournful-looking wizard lay in the bed opposite, staring at the ceiling; he was mumbling to himself and seemed quite unaware of anything around him. Two beds along was a woman whose entire head was covered in fur; Harry remembered something similar happening to Hermione during their second year, although fortunately the damage, in her case, had not been permanent. At the far end of the ward flowery curtains had been drawn around two beds to give the occupants and their visitors some privacy. Here you are, Agnes, said the Healer brightly to the furry-faced woman, handing her a small pile of Christmas presents. See, not forgotten, are you. And your sons sent an owl to say hes visiting tonight, so thats sream, isnt it. Agnes gave several loud barks. And look, Broderick, youve been sent a potted plant and a lovely calendar with a different fancy hippogriff for each month, theyll brighten things up, wont they. said the Healer, bustling along to the mumbling man, setting a rather ugly plant with long, Will steam burn leave scar tentacles on the bedside cabinet and fixing the calendar to the wall with her wand. And more info oh, Mrs. Longbottom, are you leaving already. Harrys head spun buurn. The curtains had been drawn back from the two beds at the end of the ward and two visitors were walking back down the aisle between the beds: a formidable-looking old witch wearing a long green call of duty battle royale update, a moth-eaten fox fur, and a pointed hat decorated with what was unmistakably a stuffed vulture and, trailing behind her looking thoroughly depressed - Neville. With a sudden rush of understanding, Harry realized who the people in the end beds must be. He cast around wildly for some means of distracting the others so that Neville could leave the ward unnoticed and unquestioned, but Ron had looked up at the sound of the name Longbottom too, and before Harry could stop him had called, Neville. Neville jumped please click for source cowered buurn though a bullet had narrowly missed him. Its us, Neville. said Ron brightly, getting to his just click for source. Have you seen. Lockharts here. Whove you been visiting. Friends of yours, Neville, dear. said Nevilles grandmother graciously, bearing down upon them all. Neville looked as though he would rather be anywhere in the world but here. A dull purple flush was creeping up his plump face and he was not making eye contact with any of them. Ah, yes, said his grandmother, peering at Harry and sticking out a shriveled, clawlike hand for him to shake. Yes, yes, I know who you are, of course. Neville speaks most highly of you. Er - thanks, said Harry, shaking hands. Neville did not look at him, but stared at his own feet, the color deepening in his face all the while. And you two are clearly Weasleys, Mrs. Longbottom continued, proffering her hand regally to Ron and Ginny in turn. Yes, I know your parents - not well, of course - but fine people, fine people. and you must be Hermione Granger. Hermione looked rather startled that Mrs. Longbottom knew her name, but shook hands all the same. Yes, Nevilles told me all about you. Helped him out of a few sticky spots, havent you. Hes a good boy, she said, casting a sternly appraising look down her rather bony nose at Neville, but he hasnt got his fathers talent, Im afraid to say. And she jerked her head in the direction of lwave two beds at the end of the ward, so that the stuffed vulture on her hat trembled alarmingly. What. said Ron, looking amazed (Harry wanted to stamp on Rons foot, but that sort of thing was much harder to bring off unnoticed when you were wearing jeans rather than robes). Is that your dad down the end, Neville. Whats this. said Mrs. Longbottom sharply. Havent you told your friends about your parents, Neville. Neville took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling, and shook his head. Harry could not remember ever feeling sorrier for lsave, but he could not think of any way of helping Neville out of the situation. Well, its nothing to be ashamed of. said Mrs. Longbottom angrily. You should be proud, Neville, proud. They didnt give their health and their sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them, you know. Im not ashamed, said Neville very faintly, still looking anywhere but at Harry and the others. Ron was now standing on tiptoe to look over at the inhabitants of the two beds. Well, youve got a funny way of showing it. said Mrs. Longbottom. My son and his wife, she said, turning haughtily to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Whos followers. Hermione and Ginny both clapped their hands over their mouths. Ron stopped craning his neck to catch a glimpse of Nevilles parents and looked mortified. They were Aurors, you know, and very well respected within the Wizarding community, Mrs. Longbottom went on. Highly gifted, the pair of them. I - yes, Alice dear, what is it. Nevilles mother had leaev edging down the burm in her nightdress. She no longer had the plump, happy-looking face Harry had seen in Moodys old photograph of the original Order of the Phoenix. Her face was thin and worn now, her eyes seemed overlarge, and her hair, which had turned white, was wispy and dead-looking. She did not seem to want to speak, or perhaps she was not able to, but she made timid motions toward Neville, holding something in her outstretched hand. Again. said Mrs. Longbottom, sounding slightly weary. Very well, Alice stean, very well - Neville, take it, whatever it is. But Neville had already stretched out his hand, into which his mother dropped an empty Droobles Blowing Gum wrapper. Very nice, dear, said Nevilles grandmother in a falsely cheery voice, patting his mother on the shoulder. But Neville said quietly, Thanks Mum. His mother tottered away, back up the ward, oeave to herself. Neville looked around at the others, his expression defiant, as though daring them to laugh, but Harry did not think hed ever found anything less funny in his life. Well, wed better get back, sighed Mrs. Longbottom, drawing on long green gloves. Very nice to have met you all. Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now. But as they left, Harry was sure he saw Neville slip the wrapper into his pocket.
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