Half an hour later, Felix Harp and Madam Longbottom stood in front of an old-fashioned red-brick department store. The sign above displayed its name as 'Wonders Limited', appearing decrepit and desolate. The dusty door bore a large sign that read "Closed for Renovations."
Felix gazed through the shop window, observing several tattered plastic mannequins in front of him. One was particularly ugly, its movements askew, eyelashes sticking to its face, clad in a green nylon skirt.
"I suppose this place has never really opened?" he remarked with a confident tone.
"Don't talk nonsense. The Ministry of Magic put quite a bit of effort into finding the right place," Madam Longbottom said absentmindedly, her hands nervously twisting the thin rope of her bright red pocket. "Are you truly certain about this, Professor Harp? I've experienced too many disappointments over the years."
"I can't provide you with a definite answer, madam. This is a makeshift measure I came up with, after all, my request might seem... less conventional," Felix explained. Follow current novᴇls on N0veI.Fiɾe.net
Madam Longbottom pursed her lips. "You mentioned a magical outburst... are you sure there's no danger?"
"Are magical outbursts during a young wizard's growth dangerous?" Felix retorted.
Madam Longbottom's expression turned serious. "You're tapping into my blind spot. My experience tells me that every young wizard goes through this phase, and it's more worrying if they don't. But causing a controlled magical outburst..." She shook her head, finding the notion incredible.
Felix clarified, "Madam, it might be due to my unique constitution, but I've experienced magical outbursts more than once, and though it's an uncomfortable process, I've also benefited from it."
"In fact, I realized its value quite early and formulated some hypotheses. However, this experience is solely mine, without any corroborating evidence. It wasn't until this summer vacation that I finally encountered an exceptionally rare case."
Madam Longbottom pursed her lips. "If you can cure... no, I won't ask for more. But I need Dumbledore present. I trust him."
Felix's lips curled into a smile. "Absolutely, madam."
Madam Longbottom turned to the particularly ugly mannequin and said, "I'm here to see Frank Longbottom and Alice Longbottom." The mannequin nodded slightly and waved to them.
The two then walked through the shop window glass and entered the St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
Felix found himself in a waiting room, curiously looking around: several male and female wizards sat on wobbly wooden chairs. Two healers in green robes were jotting down their symptoms.
To the left and ahead was an inquiry desk where a golden-haired woman stood, a long queue in front of her. Behind her was the emblem of St. Mungo's, intersecting wands and bone patterns.
The walls were adorned with portraits of healers and some informational labels.
At that moment, a middle-aged wizard showed his right hand to a healer, a black kettle clamped tightly onto it, dark green blood seeping from the wound. He was angrily exclaiming,
"Can't you see it—curse! I've been cursed—sent as an anonymous birthday gift—don't let me find out who! Ouch—this stupid kettle—" he kept shaking his arm.
"Stay still, you're making it hard for me to see," a young healer with a writing pad examined carefully for a moment. "You need to go to the fifth floor for curse injuries."
Felix read the directions on a sign: Artefact Accidents Department—First Floor (cauldron explosions, misfired wands, broomstick collisions, etc.); Magical Creatures—Second Floor (stings, burns, punctures, etc.); Magical Bugs and Diseases—Third Floor (dragon pox, vanishing sickness, lymphatic fungus, contagious ailments); Potion and Plant Poisoning—Fourth Floor (rashes, vomiting, uncontrollable laughter, etc.); Spell Damage—Fifth Floor (unremovable curses, miscast spells, etc.); Tea Room and Gift Shop—Sixth Floor.
"We're going to the fifth floor," Madam Longbottom said to him as they ascended a crooked staircase, arriving at the platform of the fifth level. They passed several double-doored rooms, until they reached a long chamber—all the doors here were locked.
A healer wearing a wreath of gold and silver flowers emerged from a closed ward, smiling as she greeted, "Madam Longbottom, here to visit your family? Let me take you in."
"Thank you, Merriem."
Healer Merriem chanted "Alohomora," leading them into the room. They passed several beds and went to the furthest end—there were two beds enclosed by floral curtains.
She drew back the curtains, saying cheerfully, "Frank, Alice, your mother has come to see you again."
This was the first time Felix Harp had seen the Longbottom couple. Both were dressed in pajamas, their faces gaunt and worn, half-grayed hair. Frank Longbottom, Neville's father, sat bewilderedly at the bedside, seemingly lost in thought for eternity, occasionally shifting his gaze. Alice Longbottom, Neville's mother, on the other hand, displayed more noticeable reactions. She held a bag of snacks in her hands, reading it with care.
Neither of them reacted to the healer's words.
"She's actually just looking at the patterns above," the healer explained, "Most of their memories are gone, as you might understand."
"Merriem..." Madam Longbottom said, "Could you give us a moment?"
"No problem." She closed the curtains and left.
Madam Longbottom walked to the bedside, gripping Alice Longbottom's hand, stroking her thinning hair. "This is also one of the aftereffects of the Cruciatus Curse, aging them faster than usual. I worry that they'll be gone before me..."
"If you don't mind, madam?" Felix Harp asked in a hushed tone.
"What, oh, of course, do you need me to do something?" Madam Longbottom nervously inquired.
"Nothing at all..." Felix snapped his fingers gently, and suddenly, the room spun, everything inside twisting in a whirl of colors and shapes, like an abstract painting.
But soon, everything returned to "normal," or rather, not normal. Felix's expression turned serious as he attempted to lead Neville's father into the Pensieve, and he did manage to accomplish it partially—
In his own half of the space, there was no issue, but the other half was vacant, filled only with a shattered world: his gaze rested upon a serene expanse of black, as tranquil as the cosmos, darker than the thickest ink. Memories floated in midair, fragmented and torn like a curtain rent asunder.
Felix stood at the edge of the room, observing this exceedingly bizarre scene. Faint glimmers of fluorescent light intermittently illuminated sporadic images—a mix of men and women—
An infant with a round face, Madam Longbottom, several menacing visages, Dumbledore, an unattractive man with a false eye, Lestrange, a man who bore an uncanny resemblance to a grown-up Potter...
The most frequent appearance was that of a woman with a round, friendly face. She looked very young, her gaze extraordinarily gentle. Despite the changes in appearance, Felix recognized her at a glance—Alice Longbottom, seated on the bed beside.
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