Hogwarts: Harry Returns From The Witcher

Young people don't know much about the Longbottom family, but Madam Pomfrey's older generations are very clear about it.

Barty Crouch Jr. may not be dead.

She is also aware of this.

She could understand the sudden surge of energy that erupted from Neville.

"You can increase the amount of exercise by about twice as much." Madam Pomfrey said softly, pinching Neville's arm, "But after each exercise, you must use potions to recuperate your body. Of course, you must not forget about relaxation exercises."

Neville's face turned pale and his voice trembled: "Twice?"

"Yes, my dear Mr. Longbottom, you heard me right." Ms. Pomfrey smiled sweetly, "Although you are very tired today and even have to use potions to protect your body, if it does not harm your body, The amount of exercise can be doubled."

"Can you?" Harry looked at him.

Neville was trembling, and his eyes met Harry's vertical pupils that didn't show any fluctuations in expression.

The body is very honest, and I don’t want to suffer so much again. At any rate, I should take it step by step, slowly, and improve bit by bit, instead of coming suddenly and violently.

Inertia dies.

But he nodded with difficulty and gritted his teeth: "Of course, I'm fine."

Harry waved his wand, parchment and quill came out of the hat, quickly wrote a line, signed his name, and handed it to Neville.

Neville was puzzled, so he took it obediently, and seeing the words on it clearly, he couldn't help but gasp: "Harry?"

This is something that can be called a contract.

"Neville Longbottom made a promise to Harry Potter that if Longbottom feels timid during training in the future, Mr. Potter can use violent coercion."

"An insurance," Harry said.

Neville muttered, "I'm very sad about this."

Complaining so much on his mouth, but without any hesitation in his hand, he grabbed the quill floating by his side and signed his name.

He worried about it more than Harry did, it just didn't come to mind.

Harry put it away.

Neville thought that from this day on, he came to hell, but the next day, he realized that he passed by heaven yesterday.

Even his favorite herbalism class didn't cheer Neville up.

At the end of the day's lessons, he was lying numbly by the campfire, Crookshanks reluctantly jumped up and down on him, his heavy body made Neville scream, and Master Ke was killed by Harry after a day of playing. Bought for two pounds of owl rations to be Neville's masseuse.

Lactic acid still has to be eliminated in the most primitive way.

Ron gloated a little.

Fortunately, he hadn't thought about it at the time and wanted to learn swordsmanship from Harry. Seeing Neville like this, his instinct was right.

Neville was growing thinner.

The respite was only on Saturday, and Harry deliberately gave him a day off, not dragging him to practice with him in the morning, so that he could have enough strength to go to Diagon Alley with his grandma and buy a new wand.

No one disturbed, Neville slept deeply and snored so loudly that Ron and the others had to cast a spell on themselves and block out the sound to fall asleep.

Hedwig was forced to go to Hermione's dormitory, and Boss couldn't go to the women's dormitory, so he could only go back to the owl shed to rest alone.

Eight in the morning.

There was no one else in the lounge except Harry and the others.

Hedwig yawned disconsolately, watching the hard-working messenger owls throwing the "Daily Prophet" and "The Quibbler" in front of her master, and she didn't sleep well in the women's dormitory last night, Crookshanks always wanted to push herself.

At night, creatures like cats always get worse.

"Harry, do you still read second-rate newspapers?" Ron slapped himself on the face, glanced at him, and then continued to write the potion paper with his head down.

"The Daily Prophet is quite useful." Hermione shook her head. "At least it speaks out for the Ministry of Magic. Except for the fact that it's not fair about Harry, I can read other news."

"Like today." Harry spread the newspaper out.

On the Daily Prophet, a photo took up almost half of the page—it was a mess. After Harry caused damage to the Ministry of Magic, another devastating blow came. The elevator was destroyed and seven or eight Aurors were beaten. Injured, but luckily no one died.

But the Unforgivable Curse appeared.

An Auror, tortured until unconscious, remains in St Mungo's Hospital.

"It seems that Fudge is really hated by people." After reading the content, Ron didn't think it was a big deal to watch the excitement, and gloated, "His approval rating is going to drop again."

"I should be glad that the Ministry of Magic didn't blame me for this." Harry said blankly.

Hermione nodded approvingly.

"Potter secretly manipulated, and the disciples of the Lion House forcibly broke into the Ministry of Magic?" Ron thought for a while, and reported a headline.

Harry shook his head: "That's not what the headline party did. It was originally only related to the Order of the Phoenix, but now it involves the entire Gryffindor. The Daily Prophet will definitely be taken down."

"Sure enough, I don't have the talent to be a reporter." Ron sighed.

Harry put his hand on the table a little: "And it's very interesting."

"The place where this group of dark wizards forcibly broke in turned out to be the Department of Mysteries."

Ron spread his hands: "This is normal. My father said that the Department of Mysteries is the most important department in the entire Ministry of Magic, and it is also the only important department. All valuable things are there."

"But their goals are not normal." Harry shook his head, pointing to a set of words, "Look."

"Prophecy Ball?" Ron read it out word by word.

Harry nodded.

Ron wondered: "What is that?"

"We met in third year," Hermione reminded him.

Ron was even more confused.

seen?

When did you see it.

Today seemed to be the first time this word appeared in my mind.

"Professor Trelawney made a real prophecy." Hermione still felt a little uncomfortable when she mentioned this, "Officials from the Ministry of Magic came to collect prophecy magic."

Suddenly, Ron patted himself on the thigh: "I remembered, Dad said that all prophecies must be collected by the Ministry of Magic, so it's that thing called the prophecy ball?"

Hermione nodded.

"It seems very strange. The prophecy ball is worthless." Ron frowned. "If you want to know the content of the prophecy, just ask the students directly? I remember that many people know the content of the prophecy."

Harry shook his head: "Not the same."

"The prophecy itself has magical powers, and the prophecy ball is not just a device for storing prophecies. It is different from ordinary people's tape recorders. The prophecy ball is materialized from the prophecy."

"Those people not only want the content of the prophecy, but also the prophecy itself."

Saying that, Harry paused: "Of course, maybe it's another possibility."

Ron and Hermione listened attentively.

"Voldemort didn't know all about that prophecy fifteen years ago," Harry said.

Both listeners were a little surprised.

"Don't Voldemort know?" Ron asked, "But he didn't know because of the prophecy"

Harry nodded: "He only knows the first few sentences. He knows that the prophecy says that the person who can kill him will appear at the end of July, but the content of that prophecy is more than that, and there is a long paragraph behind it."

He paused slightly: "I only know the general content. Dumbledore didn't tell the complete and detailed content, but that's not important."

"In the past two decades, there have been only two real predictions, and their targets are likely to be only them."

Hermione moved herself to Harry's side, stuck her head on his arm, and flipped through the Daily Prophet: "If it's for the prophecy fifteen years ago, then these dark wizards are Death Eaters?"

"For that third-year prophecy, they're probably Death Eaters too." Harry nodded.

Ron tilted his head: "But isn't that prophecy about Sirius?"

He whispered softly, imitating Trelawney's voice: "And he, who is alone, will be liberated when the snow falls."

"Sirius was discovered by you, Harry, in December, and your grievances were cleared."

"Where did you hear that?" Harry was curious, he had never heard of this interpretation before.

"Lavender and the others interpreted it." Hermione shook her head, her tone a little helpless, "They have a 'Trelawney Support Club', dedicated to interpreting Professor Trelawney's various prophecies, whether they are reliable or not. Still unreliable."

Harry smiled and shook his head: "Although it is very similar, maybe Sirius is also part of the prophecy, but it is not about him."

"Sirius' birthday is November, November 3rd, not December."

Ron was taken aback.

"Is Voldemort's birthday in December?" Ron recalled the first half of that prophecy.

Harry nodded: "Tom's birthday is December 31st."

"At the end of the year, it really fits the temperament of his Dark Lord." Ron muttered, "So that prophecy is actually about Voldemort?"

"Is this group of people really Death Eaters?" Hermione said in a weary tone, "But the most important thing for them now is not to resurrect Voldemort, and then..."

Before she could finish her sentence, Harry pressed her hand: "Wait, someone is here."

He looked towards the corridor of the boys' dormitory.

From the faint footsteps that only he could hear, to the footsteps that Ron and Hermione could hear clearly, two people ran out of it, cheering happily.

"Harry! Good morning!"

It's George and Fred.

They just ran from the passage, jumped down the steps, and raised their arms, saying hilariously, "Are you ready?"

"It's Hogwarts weekend."

"Saturday morning!"

"It's too slack, it's only five of us getting up."

"Harry, it's time for us to set off, to shock the whole of Hogwarts, and let this morning kick off with bangs and bangs!"

Ron and Hermione stared blankly at the two brothers who bared their teeth.

"What are you two doing?" Hermione wondered.

"Crazy at last?" Ron gestured to pick up the quill and paper, as if he was about to write a letter home, "Looks like Daddy has to prepare two beds for the two of you at St Mungo's, oh, maybe one enough."

George and Fred ignored them, only winking at Harry.

Harry explained for them: "It's about the bomb, the alchemy bomb."