Hogwarts: Harry Returns From The Witcher

The school infirmary late at night was still overcrowded.

Madam Pomfrey just held up the lamp to change the plaster for the last little wizard, and watched them all fall asleep, or pretend to sleep, and held up her wand, intending to go back to rest.

Every day from early morning to noon, during this time, she can get rest.

Just out of the sick area.

The door was pushed open.

Madam Pomfrey's heart tightened. Now that there is a curfew and everything is silent, usually no one will come, but if it does, it will be a big deal.

Her head tightened.

Think of those things in the second grade.

Several people walked in.

Pomfrey stretched out his wand, and the fluorescent spell illuminated the person who came, letting her breathe a sigh of relief. It wasn't the professor, but Harry and the others: "Harry, what's the matter with you?"

Then she saw Neville flying in from outside the door, and the breath she had just released immediately came out violently from her throat, causing her face to turn slightly purple: "Longbottom is this? Another dark wizard Breaking into the castle?"

"Have you notified the professor?"

As she spoke, she was about to wave her wand and summon her patron saint.

"It's not a dark wizard, he just might be a little out of strength." Harry said, "Which bed?"

"Didn't you encounter an attack?" Madam Pomfrey looked at Neville with surprise in her eyes, "Really?"

"Here."

"There are few people here."

She opened the curtain and lit the oil lamp there.

The voice was the same as the look in her eyes, full of doubts, Neville looked too embarrassed, his body was covered with injuries, big and small, his robe was torn apart, and many places were turned into ashes, to the extent that even the repairing spell could not be repaired.

Harry looked better, but there were some irreparable rips in his robes.

Ron and Hermione also seemed to have had a tough fight.

After Harry put Neville on the hospital bed, Madam Pomfrey waved her wand and checked carefully: "It looks serious, but it's all skin trauma."

"Too exhausted, are you still training so late?"

Harry nodded: "Some practical training."

"Actual combat?" Madam Pomfrey subconsciously shook her head, sighed, and wanted to veto the claims of these fifth-year little wizards. How could the professors and the Order of the Phoenix let the little wizards face those vicious Death Eaters.

But the words stuck in my throat and I couldn't spit them out.

Hermione and Ron certainly were, and they would be well protected.

Can Harry.

It wasn't the first time Harry had faced Death Eaters.

As for Neville, he will also take the initiative to find the door. The child avenges his parents, and no one can stop him, no matter the enemy or his comrades in arms.

Thinking of this, she sighed again: "It's not necessary."

mean?

She subconsciously wanted to use this word.

Not suitable.

"It's good to be strict with him." Just as she was thinking about a new word, Harry said, "Take more pains in my hands, and when you face Crouch later, he can kill him, The chances of surviving will be greater.”

"Are you really going to let Longbottom deal with that guy?" Madam Pomfrey looked at him.

Barty Crouch Jr. was young, but he was cruel.

To become one of the most trusted people of the mysterious man, one must not only have a cruel mentality, but also be very useful—Jr. Batty can’t influence the old Batty, and he is the only one who can be favored by the mysterious man. talent, his magical prowess.

In Madam Pomfrey's impression, Neville was not a very talented little wizard, let alone compared to Barty Crouch Jr., or worse than Ron Weasley.

"He's determined." Harry nodded. "He's trying to prepare."

"No one can tell what the road ahead will be."

"But he chooses that future by himself, it's a matter of course, and no one has the right to stop him."

Madam Pomfrey did not speak, and continued to check to prevent any hidden injuries.

Ron tiptoed and came back from the outside, his face was full of excitement: "There are all Slytherins lying in it, what's going on?"

I am a prefect!

I haven't heard of Gryffindor fighting Slytherin recently and winning such a big victory.

Of course, there was no conflict between Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff and Slytherin. If there was, Gryffindor would never miss the opportunity to join in the fun.

"Mr. Weasley, sick patients should have a good rest, don't walk around and disturb others' rest!" Madam Pomfrey glanced at him dissatisfiedly, paused, lowered her voice, and explained in a low voice, "Last night, Slytherin There's a fight."

"It's been like this since last year, it's just become more frequent this year."

"Their prefect, Mr. Malfoy, used your two brothers' props to beat up a group of people."

Speaking of this, she paused again, and lowered her voice: "Of course, he was also severely retaliated, and he was lying in it. Headmaster Snape was very angry, and the prefects and students broke out so much. Conflict, my God, haven't seen it in a long time."

"Malfoy is in there too?" Ron straightened his body, his nostrils were dilated, and he wanted to make a pitiful and pitiful expression, but the corners of his mouth could not be restrained from rising, and joy overflowed from the entire lower half of his face.

Madam Pomfrey nodded: "He was the most injured."

"And he has to be separated from the group of Slytherins. They are getting too much, and they dare to attack the prefect."

Ron was restless, he really wanted to see Malfoy.

Look at how desperate he is now.

But with a wave of her magic wand, Madam Pomfrey drew the curtains all around and locked them here: "You all give me a rest here, and you are not allowed to go anywhere."

"If you get hurt, you have to look like you're hurt, and you're still alive and kicking."

She flicked her wand again.

Except for Harry, Ron and Hermione had twisted and deformed stools under their buttocks, crude stick figures, carried them to the bed, took off their shoes and covered them with blankets.

"Mr. Potter." Madam Pomfrey looked at Harry.

Harry sighed and lay down on the bed next to Hermione.

Madam Pomfrey nodded in satisfaction.

But it wasn't long before they fell asleep.

A loud quarrel suddenly sounded from outside.

Neville subconsciously grabbed the wand, Harry turned over, snapped his fingers, put Quinn on himself, put the armor charm on Hermione, and then protected them all together, covering the curtain where they were.

Violent banging, cursing, chanting.

Harry's senses were more specific.

Hexes, little jinxes.

Two fifth-year students in Slytherin House, they want to attack Malfoy.

But it didn't get very good results. Malfoy seemed to be used to sneak attacks. Although he was hit by the curse, he still resisted immediately.

A few minutes later.

Madam Pomfrey's violent voice sounded: "What are you doing!"

She made a move, and the Transfiguration Curse tied up all three little wizards.

"Night excursion! Sneak attack on the prefect, still a patient!"

"Fifty points from Slytherin!"

"Get the hell out of here, go find Mr. Filch yourself, and confine yourself for a month!"

Through the curtain.

Harry could feel that after Madam Pomfrey yelled and reprimanded her, she lifted the spell and wanted to drive away the two Slytherins who sneaked in late at night.

"The skull swells!"

Malfoy's low growl suddenly burst out together with a cold magical breath.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Madam Pomfrey's voice became even angrier, "How dare you, how dare you cast such a curse on your classmates!"

"Another fifty points from Slytherin!"

"When you recover from your injury, go to Mr. Filch too and confine yourself for a month!"

Malfoy didn't speak, his breath was calm.

On the contrary, the breath of the two people who attacked them became chaotic and frightened.

"Malfoy is ruthless enough," Ron muttered.

The Skull Expansion Curse, as the name suggests, is a spell that inflates the victim's skull by at least double. It's easy to kill people.

This is much more vicious than spells like the Bat Spirit Charm.

"Go to sleep." Harry waved his hand, without removing the spell, and added a sound-blocking spell to the curtain.

Neville snapped his fingers.

The Skull Expansion Curse reminded him that he doesn't have to be limited to those spells in textbooks. Those spells are very effective, but because they are effective and common, there are the most ways to deal with them. Maybe he can try some spells that few people use ?

Like "Fuchsia"?

It was a spell that spread in a small group, and he would often be teased by it when he was being bullied by Slytherins in the first and second years.

And the "gut-pull curse"?

A nasty spell, but it worked, even Harry couldn't deal with a visceral attack.

Of course, the premise is to hit.

In a duel with Harry, the most difficult thing is not which spell to use, but how to make the spell hit him.

He counted the mantras, fell into a deep sleep, and didn't wake up until almost noon.

"Good morning, Ron." He greeted the only person in the curtain with sleepy eyes. "Where's Harry and Hermione?"

"It's noon." Ron closed the book in his hand, "They have gone to the library, and we should see them in the auditorium later."

Neville was startled: "It's already noon?"

"Harry didn't wake me up"

Ron responded to him blankly: "Harry said, let you go during the day today, and prepare a big surprise tonight."

a big surprise!

Neville took a deep breath.

He was not happy at all, his heart was hairy, and he was even a little panicked.

Neville didn't feel the Sunday vibe at all on Sunday night.

But he was enlightened.

At night, I was able to fight back and forth with Harry. Some spells that were not in the textbook were stumbled out of his hands, and I also found some sense of the cooperation between the long sword and the wand.

only

He has only started training for two months.

There is a big gap with Harry, regardless of physique, magic power, or experience. But just because he made some progress, he seemed even more embarrassed.

tonight.

Neville was "killed" twenty-three times by Harry, in different ways, just like last night, so tired that his eyeballs didn't want to move.

In November, Neville was dying.

Snow blinds the castle as December arrives, a week before Christmas.

A pink letterhead was brought by Hedwig and thrown in front of Harry—a letter from Rita Skeeter.