"Maybe. He sighed.

Now, it's like the one who likes to show off, make all kinds of exaggerated events, and grandstand.

He felt the heaviness of life.

"All the gifts given by fate have already been secretly marked with a price. ”

Maybe that's the price he paid for gaining power, right?

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

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

Looking at the horribly aging man in front of hermione, it seemed that a string in Hermione's head was suddenly connected, like an electric current passing through it quickly.

The memories that had been sealed in a box by someone seemed to be bouncing and bounced, ready to burst out of some closed corner.

She took a soft breath, and was ready to ask something deeper.

For example, the truth about the secret room back then?

That distant memory, she still wants to try to retrieve.

"What happened in the secret room. Hermione asked directly.

Lockhart's face froze suddenly.

Dumbledore's warning is fresh in my mind.

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

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

"Lo..." Hermione was about to say something, but she was startled by a sudden noise behind her, and her unspoken words were also interrupted.

"Got you, Hermione, why are you here? We're all worried about you. It was Ron's voice, and behind him stood the Weasley brothers, and then she was pulled away by the three of them in a hurry, without even saying goodbye to Lockhart.

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

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

They went down to the second floor lightly and quickly, and from time to time they heard the wails of patients.

"Bio-Injury Division?" Hermione frowned.

She then learns that Mr. Arthur has been attacked by a snake.

But in fact, her reasoning 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, but for ease of management, Arthur Weasley still lived on the second floor.

But not exactly.

This is a combination of Transfiguration and Curse Magic.

Wounds are extremely difficult to heal.

The room on the second floor was quite small and dark, except for a narrow window high up in the wall opposite the door, as if the light of St. Mungo's Hospital for the Wounded and Magical was provided by that kind of crystal bubble, gentle and not harsh.

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

On the oak-paneled wall hangs a portrait of an evil witch with the inscription: Certra Haro (1612-1697), inventor of the gut-digging spell.

"Sorry for the trouble. Hermione buried her head and apologized as she slowly walked inside.

"It's fine. Mrs. Weasley said kindly.

Mr. Weasley's hospital bed was at the back 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 "Singing Against the Tune"?

Mrs. Weasley brought it on purpose

Mrs. Weasley, who seemed to have spoken to her husband, was sitting quietly in a sturdy wooden chair, raising her knife and slowly sharpening the fruit.

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

It was only then that Mrs. Weasley realized that she had done something stupid, and hurriedly patted her forehead in annoyance and waved her wand in her hand.

A whole apple, the skin was peeled clean, and then it was quickly dismantled and quietly returned to the bowl.

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

Then she held a plate and a toothpick with a toothpick and stuck a chunk of apple in it and fed it to her husband.

Arthur's arms were strangled, wrapped in thick white bandages, wrapped around and around, and his neck, except for his legs, which luckily escaped, the whole person lived like a big white zongzi.

"Oh, dear, you may have to drink medicine again. Mrs. Weasley glanced at the quartz clock hanging from the wall, and quickly removed the apple pieces.

In his hand, he replaced a bowl of red, slightly bloody liquid.

"Blood tonics". In fact, it is only made of pure herbs that can help him produce blood.

Every time I opened the bandage and changed the dressing, a large amount of blood flowed out, and it was almost impossible to stop.

This is a very vicious curse.

"Children, it's time for us to go and give your father a good rest, according to the therapist, he has been very sleepy lately. Mrs. Weasley said worriedly.

Then he walked out of the ward with the group.

A big stone has fallen in their hearts.

Although he is still a little worried, there is still a difference between the known and unknown worries, and the worries are finally controlled within a certain limit.

Mrs. Weasley was going to take them around, to have a look, to have a look.

After all, this is their holiday, and idleness is idleness, and the neighborhood is the most prosperous place in London.

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

The Weasleys barely bothered to pick themselves up.

"I'm sorry, but I may have been too small to go with you. Hermione said apologetically.

It's actually not a trivial matter.

She was going to ask Professor Lockhart again.

After giving her excuses, she trotted all the way to the fifth floor, where Professor Gilderoy Lockhart was.

"Miss Granger?" Lockhart raised an eyebrow as he put the newspaper back on the bedside table, looking a little surprised.

"You're persistent. He said, not knowing if it was a compliment or something else.

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

Lockhart continued to speak, then took a few breaths, he was old enough to gasp sharply for a few words.

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

"Actually, I don't have much to remember. He shrugged his shoulders and made a helpless expression.

Hermione looked sympathetically at the man in front of her, this aging was more desperate than Mr. Weasley's serious injuries.

She nodded.

She is compassionate.

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

Hermione pulled out a stool and sat down, ready to listen to Lockhart.