Regarding entering Hermione’s private ward, Neville showed some reluctance. He stood frozen at the doorway like a statue carved from uncertainty, his trembling hands clutched at his sides, not daring to lift his eyes and look inside the room. The social awkwardness seemed to press down upon him.

However, Professor Dumbledore had abandoned him quite thoroughly, seemingly forgetting the original purpose of bringing him to this place.

“Come now, Neville—” Hermione’s voice called out warmly from within the ward. As she seemed to be in remarkably high spirits despite her recent ordeal, her face brightened at the sight of a familiar face. After all, this was the first and only classmate she had been permitted to see during her two weeks at St. Mungo’s.

She enthusiastically gestured for Neville to sit on the stool where Sirius usually sat during his frequent visits, while she moved toward the coat rack standing in the corner of the ward.

The coat rack held several robes of various styles and colors, and Hermione began rummaging through the pockets of the clothes hanging there, her fingers began searching as she spoke rapidly,

“Tell me quickly, Neville, how is everyone at school doing? Has anything significant or noteworthy happened during the entire time I’ve been away from Hogwarts?”

“Oh, not bad at all, everything’s quite normal at school—” Neville replied hesitantly. He appeared somewhat dazed and overwhelmed by the sudden barrage of questions. He hesitated for a few seconds before replying.

“Everyone is very concerned about your current condition and recovery progress, but Professor McGonagall won’t allow any of us to write letters to you. She says that you should get proper rest during your medical treatment without distractions.”

“Sirius won’t let me write letters to school either—” Hermione responded with a hint of frustration and dissatisfaction in her voice.

“Harry and Ron must very worried about me, but Professor Snape refuses to pass along any messages to them when I’ve asked. Sirius also thinks that whoever cursed me might intercept owls flying to Hogwarts in order to figure out whether I’m actually still alive and recovering. If they really want me dead, they might very well try to attack me again while I’m vulnerable.

I don’t completely deny that’s a genuine possibility we should consider, but honestly, the probability seems rather low to me. There are literally dozens and dozens of owls flying to Hogwarts every single day—they surely can’t possibly shoot down all of them without causing a massive disturbance.

Ah, of course, in these dangerous and uncertain times, being excessively cautious certainly isn’t a bad approach to take. Oh, found it at last!”

Neville watched Hermione with admiring eyes as she seemed pent up with nervousness and rambling somewhat frantically.

He could hear the casual tone in her voice when discussing the threat on her life showing a kind of brave nonchalance that he knew he could never manage to show if he discovered that someone was secretly trying to kill him.

“Sorry about this, Neville, it got quite a bit wrinkled and crumpled from being stuffed in my pocket for so long—” Hermione said apologetically.

Hermione smoothed out the colorful Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum wrapper between her fingers before extending it toward Neville with an apologetic expression on her face.

Looking at the wrapper, Neville’s round face instantly transformed to a deep purple-red color, as if he had been holding his breath for far too long. His lips pressed together tightly, his eyes avoided Hermione’s direct gaze, his heart was suddenly filled with an almost irrepressible and overwhelming urge to flee from this situation as quickly as possible.

But in the end, Neville carefully took the wrapper from Hermione’s hand and placed it deep into his robe pocket.

“It’s perfectly fine,” Neville said very quietly. “I already have quite many of them.”

“So, do you want to talk honestly, Neville?” Hermione asked gently.

Looking at Neville sitting there completely curled up on himself, as if he had mentally prepared himself to accept inevitable mockery and ridicule, Hermione pressed her lips together thoughtfully and hesitated for few seconds.

She brushed away the strands of hair that had fallen across her eyes, then carefully sat on the edge of her hospital bed, her voice becoming notably gentle and encouraging,

“What exactly did Professor Dumbledore tell you during your journey here to the hospital?”

Neville’s entire body trembled slightly at the question. He kept his head bowed down in a posture of dejection and said very softly,

“He told me that Professor Watson had sent word saying he has a certain degree of confidence in making my parents regain their consciousness. He said that if they could somehow return to their normal state, they would surely want to see me first thing upon their recovery.”

Hermione looked at Neville sadly. She understood very well why Neville didn’t seem particularly happy or excited about this potentially miraculous news. It wasn’t that he didn’t desperately hope and pray for his parents to recover from their condition rather, he was absolutely terrified that Professor Watson would ultimately fail in his treatment attempt, just like all the others before him.

Mrs. Augusta Longbottom was a good, kind-hearted person beneath her stern face. During these recent days of Hermione’s recovery, whenever she had free time available, she would come to Hermione’s ward to chat with her. Therefore, Hermione knew very well and understood how much tremendous effort, energy, and resources this family had invested over many years attempting to restore the sanity and consciousness of Neville’s parents.

When Frank and Alice Longbottom were first injured all those years ago, Professor Dumbledore had rushed immediately to their side the moment he received the news of their condition. But regrettably, even a wizard of Dumbledore’s caliber and vast knowledge could do nothing about their severe magical injuries.

The Ministry of Magic, desperate to quell rising public anger and demonstrate their commitment to justice, had also spared no effort or expense in inviting internationally renowned curse damage healers from across the globe for consultation and collaborative treatment attempts.

Those elite healers had indeed provided some very sound, practical advice on how to properly care for and maintain Neville’s parents in their current vegetative state, but when it came to actual treatment and potential cures, they had been equally powerless and at a complete loss for solutions.

Mrs. Longbottom had told to Hermione that in the beginning, immediately following the tragic incident, they hadn’t given up hope or abandoned their faith in recovery.

All members of the Longbottom family had tried every conceivable possible way to help Frank and Alice return to their former selves. Since Neville could first remember and form clear memories, he had watched wave after wave of supposedly renowned therapists and healers come to his parents’ ward, each using various methods and techniques to help them regain their lost sanity and consciousness, but ultimately, all had left in disappointment and failure.

“You should definitely trust Professor Watson, Neville. He’s genuinely someone who can create what others would consider impossible miracles,” Hermione said with absolute decisiveness and conviction.

“I still remember that day when I was cursed, on the journey back to Hogwarts, he told me that he would quickly make me healthy again.”

Hermione’s breathing quickened for a moment.

“Then he did exactly what he promised. Not only did he completely cure me, but he also entirely uprooted and destroyed an evil dark wizard organization that had been operating in secret for who knows how long.”

After taking several deep calming breaths, Hermione managed to settle her fluctuating emotions and regain her composure.

“Since Professor Watson told Professor Dumbledore that he has a certain degree of confidence in treating your parents, I honestly think there’s a genuinely high possibility that they will recover.

Neville, you might not know what happened here around noon today, Professor Watson entered that Muggle’s ward. It was a Muggle man who had been tortured to complete madness by dark wizards from the same organization that Professor Watson destroyed, using the Cruciatus Curse. The man’s situation was similar to your parents’ current condition.

Before Professor Watson arrived, St. Mungo’s most experienced healers had already made their final diagnosis. They believed that he could never regain consciousness again, and moreover, his life was in immediate danger—they predicted he wouldn’t live much longer in his current state. But look at what actually happened—”

Hermione gave Neville, who had perked up somewhat and was now listening with attention, an encouraging and hopeful smile.

“In just one afternoon, that same Muggle had already recovered his spirits completely and was speaking soundly. Oh, you should have seen how crazy those healers became when they heard about this!”

Neville listened very seriously. Unconsciously, his breathing had quickened somewhat, but his eyes still showed deep confusion and lingering bewilderment about whether such hope could be real.

Could his parents truly be cured after all these years? Could he really, finally… have a complete family?

Professor Watson’s reputation needed no explanation. There was no need to say on exactly how many seemingly impossible miracles he had created and accomplished in the two years since he had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and joined the Hogwarts faculty. He was unquestionably one of the most remarkable and extraordinarily talented wizards that Neville had ever encountered in his life.

Not to mention his magical accomplishments and innovative teaching methods, Neville had been quite clumsy in Physical Education class for some time, but Professor Watson had never once criticized him harshly or made him feel laughable. He truly treated everyone equally and fairly, neither giving special favorable treatment to Slytherin students nor deliberately suppressing students from other houses based on prejudice.

Of course, this was absolutely basic, vital conduct expected of any competent professor, but when compared to another Slytherin-born professor currently teaching at the school, Professor Watson’s virtue and professional integrity became particularly prominent and admirable.

“But Professor Watson said that he hadn’t conducted any in-depth research into healing the complex soul damage caused by the Cruciatus Curse—that it was extremely difficult to resolve. Just a few months’ time seems so short…”

Neville said through gritted teeth. He wanted to convince himself to be genuinely happy and optimistic—after all, his parents finally had real hope of recovery after so many years but his mind was completely filled with worried, pessimistic thoughts that he couldn’t seem to control or dismiss.

What if Professor Watson couldn’t cure them either? What if he failed just like all the others before him?

Then the last glimmer of hope remaining in his heart would be permanently extinguished, leaving him in complete despair. And what if, after the treatment, the situation somehow became even worse than before… or even completely irreversible, causing permanent damage that couldn’t be undone?

Hermione knew immediately that Neville was referring to that incident from the beginning of last term, when Professor Watson had been evaluating Professor Moody’s class. Neville had worked up the courage to ask Professor Watson about the possibility of treating victims of the Cruciatus Curse, and Professor Watson had given what seemed like a disappointing and discouraging response at that time.

To overcome in just a few short months a medical problem that many of the world’s most accomplished healers hadn’t been able to solve successfully for multiple centuries—honestly, Hermione found the prospect almost incredible and nearly impossible to believe as well.

But Professor Watson was different from someone like Gilderoy Lockhart, whom she had misjudged. Professor Watson was a man of integrity who wouldn’t make cruel jokes about something as serious as Neville’s parents’ condition, and Professor Dumbledore most certainly wouldn’t participate in such heartless deception either.

Hermione calmly shared her logical analysis of the situation, and under her patient, persistent encouragement and gentle reasoning, Neville finally began to look considerably less tormented and emotionally conflicted.

A family gathered comfortably around the fireplace during Christmas celebrations, this once completely unreachable and impossible dream that had seemed like pure fantasy… could it really, truly come to pass in reality?

The topic of conversation gradually expanded. When Neville told Hermione in detail that during her absence from school, Harry and Ron had practically treated every single person at Hogwarts as potential suspects in her persecution and attack, and had consequently received several disciplinary detentions for being distracted and inattentive in their classes, Hermione’s brown eyes immediately brimmed with tears.

She quickly covered her mouth with both hands. “Those two fools!”

“In my opinion—” Professor Dumbledore’s voice suddenly came from the doorway.

He stood there observing the scene with satisfaction, looking at the moved Hermione with a gentle, knowing smile, his eyes twinkling with warmth and understanding,

“Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley clearly value their friendship with you immensely.”

Hermione let out a small, surprised cry and quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before standing up respectfully from her hospital bed.

“Grandmother?” Neville called out uncertainly.

Neville also stood up quickly and somewhat awkwardly. He first looked toward Professor Dumbledore with questioning eyes, then shifted his gaze to his grandmother, calling out to her with obvious nervousness and uneasiness in his voice.

Mrs. Augusta Longbottom’s facial expression was complex and difficult to read. She looked at her grandson, not immediately inquiring about Neville’s academic performance and behavior at school during this recent period as she did upon meeting him after any separation.

Instead, her face showed complexity, her usually stern eyes were filled with heartache and what appeared to be guilt. This highly unusual emotional display made Neville even more anxious and uncertain about what was happening.

What had happened? What had Professor Dumbledore told his grandmother? Was Professor Watson’s treatment plan not feasible?

Neville clenched his fists tightly at his sides, his cheeks gradually turning pale.

“Neville…” Mrs. Longbottom began hesitantly.

The tall Mrs. Longbottom now appeared somewhat hunched. She had completely abandoned her usual brisk, no-nonsense manner of speaking. Looking at Neville, her voice became hoarse with controlled emotion,

“Do you hope… do you hope your parents will recover?”

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