A magical journey that begins in Azkaban

He walked slowly towards the Slytherin Tower, his footsteps echoing in the long corridor. As he passed the foyer, a small sound caught his attention.

Roger opened the door gently, opening only a small crack. His eyes fell on Luna dancing alone in the auditorium through the gap.

Luna danced gracefully and freely, and she cleverly pinned the gemstone brooch given by Roger to her hairband. As she danced, the gems on the brooch shone softly, as if weaving a dreamy tulle around her.

With her eyes closed tightly, she was completely immersed in her own world, telling silent stories through dance.

Rogge admired this scene quietly, his heart filled with admiration for the beauty. This is Luna's exclusive stage, where she is not disturbed by anything and doesn't have to worry about other people's eyes or ridicule.

Her arms were waving in the air, her body was twisting slightly to the melody, and her face was filled with a faint, happy smile.

Roger finally closed the door gently, not wanting to disturb this beautiful elf flying freely on the dance floor. He knew that this was Luna's moment, a moment all her own, free from restraint.

The day after the Yule Ball, the students in the castle were carrying their luggage and preparing to go home for the holidays. The carriage outside the castle and the sunken ship on the black lake returned just as it was getting light.

Through the window, Rogge watched the Pegasus gradually disappear into the clouds, his eyes revealing a touch of longing. He then thought that if he stayed at Furong's place last night, he might be forced to sneak across the country today.

He picked up his luggage and walked into the train with his Slytherin friends. After all, not everyone, like Harry, would rather stay at school than go home.

The train started slowly, and the clatter of the rails was intertwined with the low voices inside the car. Rogge sat down on his seat, and Neville opposite him stared closely at a letter in his hand. Suddenly, a burst of sobbing broke the calm of the carriage, and everyone was startled by the sound Neville made.

"Neville, you...what's wrong with you?" Draco asked softly, with some fear in his eyes.

Neville tried to control his emotions, but his whimpering voice and red and swollen eyes betrayed his inner pain. "Delvina, she said in her letter that she was engaged." His voice trembled, and every word that came out of his lips was like a sharp knife, cutting his fragile heart.

"What?" Everyone's eyes were on him, "You mean, you are dating that witch named Delvina?"

"Not yet." Neville muttered softly, his voice almost drowned by sobs, "I originally planned to go to Bulgaria during the holidays to confess my love to her. But, she... whined."

He lay weakly on the table, his body shaking conveying endless sadness.

Daphne quickly comforted her: "Neville, maybe you can find someone better. We have many good girls in Slytherin, and I can introduce them to you."

Neville was indifferent to her words, his heart had been completely broken by the Veela's ruthlessness.

"You can't even call this your first love, can you?" Draco saw Neville crying and hugging Pansy in a showy manner, with a smile on his lips, "At best, it's just a secret love."

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu" Draco's words made Neville cry even more sadly. His tears were like broken pearls, dripping from his chin, as if they were going to flood the entire carriage.

"You might as well not persuade her!" Hermione glared at him, then patted Neville on the shoulder and encouraged, "How about you go to Bulgaria and have a frank talk with her?"

"What are you talking about?" Neville raised his head and looked at Hermione with tears in his eyes, "Look, she said in the letter that wizards and Veela are not suitable."

The atmosphere in the carriage became heavy, and everyone looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

He handed the tear-soaked letter to Hermione, sniffling and said: "She said wizards cannot satisfy Veela's life. Her love for me cannot overcome the racial barriers..."

Rogge listened to his cry quietly. After listening to their story, he discovered that the relationship between the Veela named Dravelle had been very sudden.

A few months ago, I often wrote to him and warmly invited him to visit my home. Rogge subconsciously licked his lips. He understood what Veela's invitation meant.

However, just before Christmas, everything changed. The Veela's letters became cold and the words she used became stiff, like a basin of cold water suddenly poured on her, freezing her heart.

"Do you and Mrs. Longbottom often write letters?" Roger suddenly asked a seemingly unrelated question.

Neville raised his head, his red and swollen eyes full of confusion: "No, I haven't written a letter to grandma."

Hermione immediately understood Rogge's hint: "Rogge, you mean, Mrs. Longbottom..."

"Shh!" Rogge shook his head and signaled Hermione not to continue speaking, so as not to damage the relationship between the Longbottom family.

After all, this was just his speculation, and there was no evidence that Mrs. Longbottom had interfered in the relationship between Veela and Neville.

Neville took out Delavel's photo from his pocket and looked at the sweet smile on it. Tears welled up in his eyes again: "The promised winter vacation...Dravel, how can I live without you!"

He held the photo tightly, but could only watch the Veela leave him, without even seeing her for the last time.

"What good is a witch?" Theodore suddenly interrupted, and the girls in the carriage immediately stared at him with sharp eyes.

Theodore didn't seem to notice these looks. While counting his money bag, he complained: "The Beauxbatons witch at the ball last night actually asked me to give her a bottle of fruity soda. God, did she Don’t you know that a bottle of soda is very valuable?”

The atmosphere in the carriage instantly became more cheerful because of his words.

Rogge looked at him in shock and couldn't help but curse: "Theodore, I swear you can't find a girlfriend." Others nodded in agreement and looked at him with contempt.

"Tch." Theodore snorted coldly, not taking their words to heart.

"What do you want Neville?" Hermione spread her hands helplessly, and all her attempts to persuade him came to nothing.

Roger thought for a moment and then made a suggestion: "I'll take him to St. Mungo's Hospital."

"See a doctor? Let the doctor help with treatment?" Hermione asked doubtfully.

"It's considered a mental illness after all, so there's no harm in going and having a look." Rogge explained, without revealing his parents' condition.

At platform nine and three-quarters, Neville's uncle was already waiting there. Seeing his nephew crying, he immediately stepped forward to comfort him: "For a Veela, what's the matter?"

Rogge secretly pouted at the side. It seemed that Neville's failed love affair was all due to the help from his family.

"Mr. Longbottom, I think he will be sad to go back now." Rogge smiled and made his suggestion, "How about I accompany him to relax. If that doesn't work, go to St. Mungo's Hospital to see a doctor."

Mr. Longbottom sighed deeply and said, "Hey, I'll leave it to you."

You can say Neville is slow and forgetful, but you cannot say Neville is stupid and reckless. He remembered everything his uncle just said. At this moment, he had already guessed why Dravel was so unfeeling toward him.

However, when he thought of his grandma's serious face, he did not dare to have the slightest thought of resistance. He twitched his nose in grievance and followed Roger for a walk in London.

"Roger, can I stay at your house during the winter vacation?" Neville asked, "I can pay for it."

"I'm not that stingy Theodore." Rogge nodded, looking at his frustrated expression, and asked gently: "Have you guessed the reason?"

"Yeah." Neville lowered his head and muttered: "Grandma doesn't welcome Veela because she thinks they will tarnish the reputation of the Longbottom family."

"Neville, you are a Gryffindor, don't underestimate your courage." Rogge patted him on the shoulder, and they walked into St. Mungo's Hospital together.

There is never a shortage of patients in the hospital, and here you can see all kinds of weird diseases. Some wizards had their faces pressed against books and could not break free no matter what; some wizards failed in their transformation and had several octopus tentacles sprouting from their necks; some wizards had a coconut stuffed in their buttocks and howled in pain...

"Get out of the way, get out of the way!" An urgent cry suddenly came from behind.

They turned around and saw a flying stretcher with a wizard who had failed to Apparate lying on it. His body was cut in half, and his whole body was like a fountain, constantly pumping blood out. The severely injured wizard might have died if magic hadn't kept him alive.

"B2 critical area." The doctor quickly pointed the direction of the stretcher.

He poured the potion on the wounded man and waved his wand continuously. In the end, it took a lot of effort to pull the injured back from the arms of death.

"There are such smart-aleck idiots every year!" The sweating doctor scolded him mercilessly, "Can phantom transfer be learned independently?"

"Next time you come three minutes late, I guarantee you can directly grasp the essence of the phantom. By then, you will have become a ghost!" the doctor said angrily.

Neville looked at the angry doctor and frightened Roger: "How about we leave? I feel less uncomfortable."

"Aren't you going to see your parents?" Roger reminded.

Neville was stunned for a moment and quickly followed his footsteps. Many staff at St. Mungo's Hospital of Magic knew Roger and greeted him one after another.

Neville looked at him enviously and asked softly: "They seem to respect you very much."

"If the Longbottom family donates a large amount of galleons every year, I guarantee that you will also be treated like home." Rogge explained with a smile.

"Forget it, I don't want to call the hospital my home." Neville shook his head quickly, his eyes revealing his fear of the hospital.

For a large hospital like St. Mungo's, it is simply unrealistic for them to be self-financing. Some patients are dying, some are penniless... When doctors face them, it is impossible to stand by and watch.

The curse is okay, but the life-saving potion cannot be easily solved by a few Galleons. Therefore, St. Mungo's faces a financial black hole and has to accept donations from people from all walks of life in the magical world.

Among them, donations from pure-blood families were generous and sincere. In return, members of these families enjoy private wards and top-notch treatments at St. Mungo's.

It can be said that the luxurious rooms on the top floor of the hospital are all reserved for them.

Neville's parents have been crazy for more than ten years and still enjoy independent wards and various medical services. If placed on an ordinary wizard, he would only be taken back by his family and left to fend for himself.

The two of them live in Ward No. 49, which is numbered very high. Before the Travis family fell from power, ward numbers also had three digits. Now, due to Jessica's unremitting charity, St. Mungo's Hospital has set aside Ward 31 for them for the first time.

Neville knocked on the door with ease, and a woman's voice came from inside: "Please come in."

She was a round-faced woman, and Neville looked a lot like her. Today, her hair is gray and messy, she is constantly opening and closing the candy in the basket, as if searching for something only she can see.

On another hospital bed, a middle-aged man stared blankly at the blank wall in the distance. His eyes were empty, as if his soul had already drifted to a distant place. Neville's eyes were almost exactly like his, right down to the dull look.

However, Rogge heard that Neville's father was a powerful Auror with a bright future before he went crazy.

The woman is confused, but very lively. Although she could not recognize her son, she instinctively felt that she liked him.

She trotted over with bare feet, eagerly took Neville's hand, and said excitedly: "Come with me, there is an elf in the basket."

"Hey, who are you! Get out!" She suddenly yelled at Rogge fiercely, "Get out, get out!"

Seeing that the other party's emotions were getting more intense, Rogge had no choice but to exit the room. The moment the door closed, the woman inside returned to her friendly and lively appearance.

"Oh, she's so crazy." Rogge didn't resent her, but sympathized with her.

He saw Jessica in Azkaban in this crazy woman. No matter what happens to yourself or the outside world, you have an innate love for your children.

He left this floor and asked the passing nurse: "Excuse me, is Old Barty Crouch treated here?"

"Old Barty? The unconscious wizard?" The nurse flipped through the medical records in her hand, "The poor old wizard is in the ward on the third floor."

"Third floor? Isn't there a ward number?" Rogge asked.

"Ah, didn't you know?" The nurse looked at Roger with surprised eyes, "The entire third floor is full of hospital beds. You'll know when you go there."

Roger nodded silently and walked downstairs. When he arrived on the third floor, he was stunned by the sight in front of him.

The entire floor has been expanded many times by the traceless expansion spell, and thousands of beds are neatly placed. He looked up and saw a sign hanging on the broken door frame: Permanent Patient Room.

The people living here are all patients who cannot be cured at St. Mungo's Hospital. Year after year, a wizard lies in every bed.

The atmosphere here is heavy and depressing, almost like a display room for terminal diseases. Fluorescent name tags float on each patient's body, with their names and symptoms written on them, making it easier for relatives to claim the body when it goes out. These nameplates flicker in the dim ward like a cold light of life, reminding visitors that they are still alive.

Some doctors walked between the beds with thick cases. They carefully examine the patient's condition, thinking and recording as they go. In their eyes, the terminal illnesses in these people are treasures waiting to be discovered.

Every observation and every record they make is a contribution to the study of magical diseases. If it were possible to find a cure for these conditions, patients would be freed from pain and doctors would gain glory.

Rogge walked silently through these hospital beds, secretly vowing never to let himself and his family wait for death so helplessly.