Chapter 728: St. Mungo's
A double-decker bus slowly rolled down the street, and a group of students who had just stepped off giggled as they squeezed into the Horn’s Ice Cream shop. The glass door swung open and shut with a crisp jingle from the brass bell above it. Outside the coffee shop, under a striped awning, a man in a linen suit was scribbling furiously in a notebook. Nearby, in a telephone booth, a woman in a red dress gripped a handset, arguing passionately into it.
Harry stared in disbelief at the scene before him, suddenly feeling oddly self-conscious in his long school robes.
"Is this... London?" Wade noticed the sign on a nearby storefront, blinked, and asked. "Professor, your old friends live around here?"
"Oh, not far at all. Come along." Dumbledore led the two forward down the wide street. Wade glanced up at the towering figure of Dumbledore—his long beard and hair were unmistakably "wizardly," his deep purple robes threaded with silver patterns stood out sharply, and atop his head sat a golden pointed hat that made the visual effect almost overwhelming.
Yet the passersby paid them no special attention—no one even glanced twice, as if the Headmaster had cast a Disguise Charm on the entire neighborhood.
Still, when someone approached head-on, they would actively sidestep to avoid collision, not because they didn’t see them, but because they simply didn’t register their presence.
"An impeccable Obliviation Charm," Wade thought to himself, impressed.
Harry, eyes wide, watched an elderly woman walking her dog effortlessly veer aside as she passed the trio, brushing past Dumbledore without a glance, as if they were merely part of the air. "Professor," he finally asked, "can they actually see us?"
"Of course they can, Harry," Dumbledore replied calmly. "They just have too much else on their minds to focus."
At that moment, Wade noticed a baby in a stroller staring intently at them, cooing and waving its tiny hands as if trying to catch their attention.
Harry spotted it too. Suddenly, he pinched his cheeks and made a ridiculous face, which sent the child into fits of giggles.
The mother, puzzled by her child’s sudden laughter, smiled uncertainly and joined in.
Wade couldn’t help but say, "You’re starting to resemble Sirius Black more and more, Harry."
"Really?" Harry objected. "If it were Sirius, he’d have scared that child into tears with that face."
They both laughed.
Dumbledore chuckled too. "See? I told you they can see us. Ah—here we are."
Before them stood an old red-brick department store, its windows thick with grime, displaying crooked mannequins inside. The main entrance was locked tight, with a sign that read in bold letters: CLOSED FOR RENOVATION.
Dumbledore signaled the two to come closer, then leaned toward one of the mannequins and whispered, "Hello, we’re here to visit Horace Slughorn."
The mannequin gave a slight nod, its finger tapping twice.
Dumbledore grasped Wade and Harry by the arms, then pulled them straight through the glass window.
"Good heavens!" Harry breathed, stunned. Wade held his breath.
He had heard stories about this place from countless people, but this was the first time he had truly stepped into St. Mungo’s Magical Hospital.
Before them lay a crowded waiting room packed with a bewildering array of patients:
- A wizard slumped on a bench, his nose and mouth grotesquely elongated into a chicken’s beak, bursting into loud, involuntary crows every few seconds.
- A middle-aged wizard sat with a vacant grin, his head constantly producing translucent bubbles that floated upward. Inside each bubble flickered fragments of memory. His wife, carrying a large yellow canvas sack, frantically scooped the bubbles into it.
- Two wizards were permanently stuck together, half their arms and torsos fused in a tight, awkward embrace. When their names were called, they both leapt up at once, but their legs moved out of sync, resulting in a loud, clumsy crash.
Through the noisy waiting room, they approached a stunning portrait of a witch. Her silver-white hair cascaded in soft curls over her shoulders, giving her a gentle, serene look.
"Good afternoon, Albus, and you two little ones," she smiled, winking at Wade and Harry. "Hope I don’t see you here as patients."
Wade blinked. Was that even a blessing?
"Good afternoon, dear Darece," Dumbledore replied. "How’s Horace today?"
"Much the same," Darece said. "He’s fine in every way—just a bit more timid than he used to be. Back in our day, the mere idea of stepping out the door would’ve scared the wits out of him."
"Anyone who’s lived through what he’s been through would be fragile," Dumbledore said. "Is he still in his old ward?"
"Yes," Darece nodded. "Go on in. Perhaps you can lift his spirits."
She glanced at Wade and Harry again, a knowing smile playing at the corner of her lips.
Then Dumbledore led them down a narrow corridor, flanked by rooms where green-robed healers rushed in and out, and strange, haunting cries echoed from within.
The elevator stood beside the front desk. As they stepped inside, a pale witch was already there, cradling her bloodied right hand—swollen like a balloon, the skin stretched taut and nearly transparent, marked by a deep, insect-bite wound.
Dumbledore pressed the button for the fifth floor. Wade glanced at the label beside the panel: Spell Injury Department.
Just as the elevator doors began to close, a desperate cry rang out from outside:
"Wait… oh, please… wait!"
A tear-streaked wizard staggered forward, shoulder jammed into the closing doors. Sobbing uncontrollably, he pressed the fourth-floor button. As the elevator rose, his tears poured forth like a fountain.
Harry stared, stunned—this was the first time he’d seen someone cry so dramatically, like a cartoon character.
Wade shifted slightly to avoid the spray of tears, watching the floor numbers change with quiet patience.
At the second floor, the witch bolted out immediately.
At the fourth, the weeping wizard stumbled out, still bawling.
Then a new patient entered—gasping, hiccuping, and belching bubbles—pressed the sixth-floor button.
Wade glanced at the label: Sixth Floor – Tea Room and Shop.
Then he looked down at the man’s hand. He still clutched a printed tea bag.
—Even after this, he still wants afternoon tea?
"Beep."
Finally, the fifth floor arrived. The doors opened. Harry and Wade exhaled in unison.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
