The first floor is the Artifact Accident Section, the second floor is the Biological Injury Section, the third floor is the Strange Germ Infection Section, the fourth floor is the Potions and Plant Poisoning Section, the fifth floor is the Spell Damage Section, and the sixth floor is the Tea Room and Shop.

Hermione thought about it.

In order to avoid their concerns, Professor McGonagall did not reveal much about Arthur Weasley's condition, and Hermione was left to guess on her own.

Harry's serpentine was not noticeable at the time.

That's why Hermione made a misjudgment.

She chose to go all the way up, staggering up the stairs.

up to the fifth floor.

She speculated that it was spell damage, as Professor McGonagall had revealed an attack.

She didn't have a nurse navigating the aisles, perhaps because all the patients were in stable condition.

The hallway was empty, white curtains obscured her view, and there were iron frames in the hallway for unknown purposes.

In the margins of the white walls on either side were portraits of celebrities who Hermione remembered for their outstanding contributions to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries and Injuries.

In the center, a shiny bubble hangs that acts as a light.

The few rooms beside her, none of which were closed, were slightly hidden, and there were no special markings, and Hermione quickly ruled them out.

Hermione lighted her steps, walked to the end of the hallway, and carefully pushed open the wooden door with the slogan "Serious Care", in addition to the slogan, there was also a pair of inexplicable bright bouquets stuck on the door, exuding an elegant fragrance.

There was also a door on the other side, but the door was made of iron, and a large iron lock hung on the bolt, not like a hospital, but like a prison, with the words: "No entry without permission." ”

Hermione, of course, didn't go inside, but chose the unlocked side first.

"Is anyone there?" Hermione cautiously pushed open the wooden door, poked her head in, asked first, and then took a step forward.

It's just that, looking at the empty room, she knew that she had gone wrong.

If nothing else, there should be a large family here.

You must have deduced that something was wrong.

"Sorry to bother, I'll be out soon. Hermione bowed quickly, but her apologetic face suddenly froze when she looked up and saw the patient on the bed.

She saw an acquaintance, an unexpected person, both strange and familiar.

Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing a simple white hospital gown, is sitting on a white hospital bed, reading the latest issue of the Daily Prophet.

Familiar because he had been their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Hermione's memory was already good, and even Neville, who was known for his forgetfulness, couldn't forget the teacher who taught him.

And the strangeness is because of his old age.

It's frighteningly old.

The golden, wavy blonde hair had fallen out, and it was particularly dazzling in the light of the crystal bubbles hanging from the ceiling, and the pair of forget-me-not grass-blue eyes were full of exhaustion, as if they had faded.

"Uh, Miss Granger? Long time no see? I want to change my hairstyle once in a while. The man smiled awkwardly, touched his bare head, and beckoned to Hermione.

"Professor Lockhart?" Hermione looked at the patient in amazement and let out a low sigh.

Hermione's head was a little dizzy, that handsome professor was so old now?

The wrinkles at the corners of the eyes are deep and dense, the eye sockets are deep, and when you smile, the muscles on your face are quite loose and lack vitality, forcing you to smile.

The most important thing is what is hidden in the eyes.

Lifeless and lifeless.

Hermione's parents were both dentists, and she occasionally visited the elderly where her parents worked, and she had seen all kinds of patients, from children, to young people, middle-aged people, and old people, and the eyes in them were all different.

Children are often innocent, and the eyes of the elderly often carry the wisdom of insight into the philosophy of life, and they are also a little passable, knowing the relief and indifference of the destiny of heaven.

And what happened to this man, who had been their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, to end up in this way?

It was in the eyes, a candle in the wind, a look that could be extinguished at any time.

"Who are you, who let you in?" a tall, thin man creaked open the door and stood abruptly in front of Hermione, questioning her condescendingly.

He had a serious expression on his face, and with a pair of flat glasses, Hermione couldn't tell his real age for a while.

He was wearing the same uniform as the therapist downstairs, and was supposed to be a therapist at St. Mungo's Hospital.

On the white robe was a card showing his identity, handwritten - Master Healer: Hebekratsmeszyk.

Before Hermione could explain, the situation changed again.

"Augustus, you've stolen my clothes again to deceive people!" a medium-sized man burst through the door, startling the man named Augustus, and then Hermione saw him pull the card off his robe and pin it to himself, yes, the glasses.

Then he smiled at Hermione.

"I'm the attending doctor here, my name is Hiberkratt Smeszek, and I hope this intern hasn't bothered you. ”

Then Hermione saw that the man named Augustus had somehow found a white gown to put on, and the badge was also attached.

looked at her with a grin, and there was no consciousness that the prank was discovered.

"Uh... It's just this gentleman. The attending doctor glanced at Lockhart, a little hesitant, "Very few people come to see him." ”

"Oh, he's my student, I don't mind. Lockhart on the bed squinted, nodded, and said briskly.

"Alright, let's talk. I'm also just doing routine rounds. Hebbarkrat then led the intern to another locked door with the number 49.

He muttered quietly, "It's really strange, obviously they have always told us to keep it a secret." The middle-aged man frowned, then shook his head, deciding not to think about it anymore.

Hermione had some time to spare, and turned her attention to the former teacher in front of her.

A middle-aged man in the prime of life has become old in just a few years?

What vicious black magic did he fall into?

"I know, you must be curious. Lockhart nodded tiredly, as if the nod was not something he could control, but from exertion.

"I don't have a few years left to live. He said sadly.

This reality can be seen from the physiognomy.

"Are you under some kind of curse?" asked Hermione cautiously.