Chapter 124: The Crowded School Doctor's Office
In Charms class, Harry was stunned in his seat by Alexander Smith's sudden words. His voice was calm and clear, with a youthful tone—though not loud, it carried a weight that made it impossible to ignore.
What surprised Harry even more was that none of the other students, not even Professor Flitwick, seemed to have heard it. This wasn't like their usual mind-to-mind conversations. He was certain—he had heard that voice with his ears.
Compared to that odd moment of magic, Harry completely forgot to ponder the meaning behind Alexander's words. After all, Dumbledore was the greatest white wizard of their time, someone frequently spoken of with admiration.
Harry remembered Lisa Dupin once saying to Hermione during a conversation: "I swear, only someone from my family would know this curse—even Dumbledore wouldn't understand it."
Ron had interrupted them, pestering Lisa relentlessly to tell him what it was. Though Ron wasn't always diligent with schoolwork, he had a strange seriousness about collecting chocolate frog cards, posters of the Chudley Cannons, and this time—tracking down a mysterious spell.
Eventually, Lisa relented and told him it was a simple curse passed down maternally, used for treating acne. Naturally, Ron was disappointed.
"Alexander, what are you doing?" Harry asked loudly. He suspected that Alexander had used some kind of Silencing Charm on everyone else.
"If you're worried about Ron, Harry, I'll allow you to check on him," said Professor Flitwick kindly. "But you'll need to make up the class material with me later."
Then, lowering his voice, he added, "That said, I wouldn't recommend going. With all the gossip stirred up by Rita Skeeter, any rumors about you and Mr. Weasley will only get worse if you show too much concern."
"Professor, the best way to deal with rumors isn't to avoid suspicion—it's to treat them like a joke. If we don't take it seriously, others will stop caring eventually," Harry replied with resolve.
"Well said, Mr. Potter. You've given me something to think about," Flitwick chuckled. "Very well, go ahead—but don't forget to see me later."
Harry looked at Alexander again. The other boy was calmly reading a book, feigning innocence—but the faint smirk on his lips betrayed him.
Harry knew that Alexander had his own ways of moving around Hogwarts undetected, but seeing that he had no intention of joining him, Harry packed up his bag alone.
Neville stood up and offered, "I'll take your things to Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Harry gave him a grateful look, but didn't say a word as he hurried out of the classroom.
Alexander, of course, remained in Charms, though he knew that even if Harry wasn't in the room, he couldn't escape Alexander's awareness—not within Hogwarts.
"If this keeps up," Alexander mused to himself, "I really will be like that unknown ancestor…"
—
From here, the narrative followed Harry. As he left Charms and made his way toward the hospital wing on the second floor, he paused while the staircases rearranged themselves. When a staircase finally turned, allowing him to descend, he glanced toward the fourth-floor forbidden corridor.
There, he briefly saw Professor Quirrell exiting a door. Quirrell's face was no longer timid and nervous—instead, it was cold and menacing, like a venomous serpent.
Harry blinked, and the image vanished. Confused, he turned away just as the staircase moved again, forcing him to wait longer.
—
Once Harry reached the second floor, he was stunned by the number of students outside the hospital wing—especially since many were clearly skipping class. Even stranger, the usual house rivalries had completely vanished. Slytherins were holding hands with Gryffindors, Ravenclaws chatted cheerfully with Hufflepuffs.
Harry stood frozen, staring at the surreal scene.
"I knew it—Harry Potter, it must be you!" a Slytherin girl he vaguely recognized called out, her cold expression gone, replaced by one of near reverence.
"Where's Neville? Why isn't it Neville?"
"Draco, you absolute idiot—you can't even flirt properly in class. Look! Harry Potter skipped class just to visit Ronnie—what a coward."
"I believe in love again!"
"If only that old coot Dumbledore weren't around—Harry and Ron's relationship would be so pure!"
"Ron really has feelings for him. Neville's just a faker—he cries and acts weak to get sympathy. But Ron? He sees through all that!"
"They're perfect for each other! Do you think Harry has to stand on his tiptoes to kiss Ron?"
"You're horrible—and I love it!"
"What? Ron belongs to Neville! Harry's meant to be with Malfoy! You're a Ravenclaw, why are you acting like a Hufflepuff?"
"What's wrong with Hufflepuffs?!" snapped a short, round Hufflepuff girl nearby.
"Look at her—completely unhinged, like a feral Gryffindor lioness!"
"What did you say about Gryffindors, you filthy little Slytherin?!"
Harry dared not move forward. He hadn't said a word, yet the entire group, moments ago united in love, was now perfectly split along house lines—ready to explode.
"Alright, ladies, clear the way," Fred Weasley called out as he emerged from the hospital wing.
"I'm here to pick up our sister-in-law!" George added with a grin.
To Harry's amazement, the crowd actually obeyed, parting like the Red Sea. The twins pulled him forward.
"Harry, you're insane. If you hadn't come in when you did, we wouldn't have gotten out again," said the twins in perfect unison.
"Wait, weren't they just letting you through?" Harry asked, confused.
"I'm George—and they were just dazzled by the idea of a Weasley sister-in-law. We're kind of a big deal here," Fred answered with exaggerated modesty.
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