Harry Potter’s Natural Villain

"Maybe." He sighed.

Nowadays, he is no different from the one who likes to show off, makes all kinds of grandiose events, and sensationalizes.

He felt the weight of life.

"All gifts given by fate have already been secretly marked with prices."

Maybe this is the price for his power?

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

Then suddenly he fainted at a signing meeting. After being sent to the hospital, he faded out of sight, and finally disappeared.

Seeing the terribly aging man in front of her, there seemed to be a string in Hermione's head that was suddenly connected, like an electric current swiftly passing through it.

The memory of being sealed in a box by someone seems to be jumping around, possibly rushing out of a closed corner at any time.

She took a gentle breath, and then was about to ask more questions.

For example, the truth about the secret room?

She still wants to try to retrieve that distant memory.

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

Lockhart's face suddenly stiffened.

Dumbledore's warning is vivid.

And he didn't know the truth at all, but vaguely felt that he couldn't bear the truth.

"You are very keen, Miss Granger." Guidro Lockhart praised, but I'm sorry, I don't know more, sorry."He apologized.

"Luo..." Hermione wanted to say something, but she was startled by the sudden noise behind her, and she was interrupted when she didn't say anything.

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

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

They didn't even notice that the patient in the door was their former teacher.

They went down to the second floor briskly, and the patients' wailing came from time to time in their ears.

"Biological injury section?" Hermione frowned.

Then she learned that Mr. Arthur had been attacked by a snake.

But in fact, her inference was not wrong. It was not a snake. It was just a derivative born from Polymorphism. The essence was still the damage caused by the spell. It was just for the convenience of management. Arthur Weasley still lived on the second floor. .

But not quite.

This is a compound spell derived from polymorphism and cursing magic.

The wound is extremely difficult to heal.

The ward on the second floor is quite small and dark. Only a narrow window is opened high on the wall opposite the door. It seems that the light in the Saint Mungo Magical Injury Hospital is provided by that kind of crystal bubble. Gentle but not glaring.

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

On the oak-panelled wall hangs a portrait of an evil wizard with the words: Ectra Haro (1612-1697), the inventor of the intestinal curse.

"Sorry to trouble you." Hermione buried her head, apologizing, and walked in slowly.

"It's okay," Mrs. Weasley said kindly.

Mr. Weasley’s hospital bed is at the very end of the room, next to the small window. He is leaning comfortably on a few pillows, carefully looking at a publication.

Not the Daily Prophet.

It seems to be "Singing a Devil"?

Mrs. Weasley brought it here.

It seemed that Mrs. Weasley had already talked with her husband, and she was sitting quietly on a sturdy wooden chair at this time, raising a knife, and slowly cutting the Pingguo.

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

At this moment, Weaslev realized that he had done something stupid, and patted his forehead in annoyance and waved his magic wand.

A whole apple, the skin was peeled clean, and then it was quickly dismantled eight pieces, quietly lying back in the bowl.

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

Then she held the plate, stuck the pieces of apples with toothpicks, and fed them to her husband.

Arthur’s arms were both twisted, wrapped in a thick white bandage, wrapped around and around his neck, as well as his neck. Except for his legs, he was lucky to escape. He looked like a big White rice dumplings.

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

A bowl of red, bloody liquid was replaced in his hand.

"Blood tonic".In fact, it was made of pure herbs, which could help him produce blood.

Every time the bandage was taken apart for dressing, a lot of blood flowed out, almost impossible to stop.

This is a very vicious curse.

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

Then he led a group of people out of this ward.

A big rock fell in their hearts.

Although he still has some concerns about him, there is still a difference between the known and the unknown concerns, and finally the concerns are kept within a certain limit.

Mrs. Weasley was going to show them around and stroll around.

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

Too worried, not so good, right?

The Weasleys could barely cheer up.

"Sorry, I may be a little bit involved, and I can't go with you." Hermione said apologetically.

Actually it is not a trivial matter.

She was going to ask Professor Lockhart again.

After explaining the excuse, she trot all the way, and she stepped onto the fifth floor, in the ward where Professor Guidro Lockhart was.

"Miss Granger?" Lockhart put the newspaper back on the bedside table and raised his eyebrows, looking a little surprised.

"You are very persistent." He said, not knowing whether it was praise 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 pant sharply after a few words.

"Would you like to hear my story? When people are about to die, they always feel like remembering." Lockhart chose to change the subject.

"Actually, I have nothing to miss." He shrugged, making a helpless expression.

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

She nodded.

She is compassionate.

"Oh, you can find a place to listen to my nagging. It may be very long and it will be tiring to stand."

Hermione pulled out a stool and sat down, ready to listen to Lockhart's account quietly.