Indeed, it looked quite similar.
Harry subconsciously thought as he looked at the female mannequin nodding slightly at him, dressed in a green nylon dress and wearing a platinum blonde wig, with an especially ugly appearance.
The group lined up and passed through the window display, as if going through a layer of cool water, entering a crowded waiting room filled with all sorts of...wizards?
Harry wasn't quite sure if they were wizards because some of them were shriveled up like goblins...or possibly they actually were goblins? Male and female wizards sat on wobbly wooden chairs, some appearing quite normal, reading expired copies of Wizard Weekly on the rack, while others were frighteningly deformed, like having seven hands or their heads protruding from their stomachs—
It wasn't much quieter here than on the Muggle streets outside, even though signs were hanging on the walls saying "Keep Quiet," many still couldn't help but make noises. For example, a scruffy wizard squatting in the corner who clanged like a bell at every slight movement, causing his head to sway frighteningly, forcing him to hold his ears to steady it.
Meanwhile, several wizards and witches in green robes walked among the patients, making various inquiries while jotting notes on clipboards resting across their arms. On their chests was embroidered a badge—a cross of a wand and bones.
"Are they doctors?"
Harry blinked and quietly asked Ron, who was walking beside him.
"Doctors?" Ron looked quite shocked, "You mean...those Muggle lunatics who cut people's heads open? No, they're Healers."
"Come this way! Don't fall behind, young ones."
Hagrid seemed to be attempting to lower his voice, but it was evident that wasn't possible. To make sure Harry and the others could hear him, he had to call out roughly—to make his voice overpower that of the clangy-headed wizard.
The young wizards, curiously gazing around, finally snapped back to attention, avoiding the Healers and queuing up in a line not too far away.
A wizard with a weary face and curly hair sat at a low desk marked "Enquiries," behind him a wall plastered with various notices and signs, such as making sure cauldrons are cleaned thoroughly to prevent potion poisoning, antidotes are not to be misused and must be approved by a qualified Healer, and spells are prohibited on receptionists...
There was also a large portrait of a witch with long flowing silver hair, marked—Dilys Derwent, Healer at St Mungo's (1722–1741), Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (1741–1768).
Dilys's gaze swept over Harry and the rest, finally winking at William.
William nodded back at her; he knew of this Headmistress—naturally, it's just a portrait, but it's one of the most active ones in Dumbledore's office.
In front of them stood quite a few people, like the wizard at the front whose arms had turned into wings and sported a bright red cockscomb on his head, resembling a non-mainstream Mohawk head. His mouth had also become a beak, frantically trying to explain his situation to the receptionist with continuous "clucks, clucks"—
"Having a cockscomb on your head doesn't inhibit your reading, does it?"
The curly-haired wizard impatiently pointed to a large sign standing to the left of the desk, "Go to the Fifth Floor, Spell Damage, it's written on the sign—Next!"
So, the wizard flapped off to the side.
"Actually, you could go straight up. Let Neville lead the way. I'm in line to have a word with Frank and Alice's Healer, Doctor Smethwyck—" Augusta Longbottom turned around and said to William, "He wants to be present during your treatment, you know, Frank and Alice's situation is quite dire—"
"It's alright, we're not in a hurry—"
Hearing the voice, William shifted his gaze from the wizard who turned into "half a chicken."
Next up was a witch with a Christmas bauble stuffed in her left nostril.
"Family dispute? I thought Christmas was over—"
The wizard blinked, "Alright then, Spell Damage, Fifth Floor...Next, oh, Ms. Longbottom."
"Hello, Weber—"
Augusta nodded, and before she could speak, the wizard sitting behind the desk nodded and said, "I know, to inform Doctor Hippocrates Smethwyck, but he's already waiting for you in the ward...Good luck." The wizard paused, glanced at William behind the witch, and spoke quietly.
"Thank you, Weber." Augusta gratefully blinked her eyes.
They then proceeded through a double door with a golden insignia inlaid on it, the same cross of a wand and bones, and above the door hung a portrait of founder Mangge Banghan.
"No elevator?"
Looking at the slightly wobbly staircase in front of him, William blinked.
"No elevator."
The portrait of Dilys appeared in the frame beside them, accompanied by a grim-faced wizard.
"You should catch up with the times."
William looked worriedly at Hagrid behind him—sure enough, as he stepped onto the stairs, a concerning squeaking sound echoed.
As they ascended the stairs, portraits of Healers on the walls shouted diagnoses of peculiar diseases and concocted terrifying treatments. Ron was quite annoyed because a wizard from the Middle Ages loudly insisted he had a severe case of flowerpox.
"They are all like this, I can't control them—"
Dilys had been traveling with them, moving through different portrait frames.
"What floor is this?"
William looked at the wooden sign and said, "Great, we are here."
They passed through a set of double doors, Augusta quickly took two steps forward and encountered two Healers in light green robes standing by the door.
"This is Doctor Smethwyck, and this is his assistant..."
She turned around to introduce William.
"Pye, Madam, my name is Augustus Pye."
The young man hurriedly added, his short blonde hair accentuating his freckles.
But the conversation's main focus was clearly not him, but Hippocrates Smethwyck, a short, chubby bald man. He wore an extraordinarily tight green robe, making him resemble a slow-moving large green melon. The man's expression was somewhat tense, but he didn't react in a special way despite William's young face—
Yes, I said there was no arrogant face-slapping story, although some lousy author really wants to drag this out.
"Let's hope it won't get worse, it's been ten years."
The man shook hands with William, speaking gently, and Mrs. Longbottom sighed too, "It won't get worse." Clearly, she didn't trust William, only relying on her trust in Dumbledore.
"Everything will depend on the examination, I have some research on souls—" William just smiled.
They continued chatting as they passed another set of double doors, arriving at the entrance of a ward, "I think this friend might be inconvenient?"
Pye turned around, looking at Hagrid walking with a tilted head, instinctively speaking.
"Oh, I can stay outside—"
Hagrid hadn't finished speaking when he saw William flick his magic wand, and Hagrid's form instantly began to shrink until he was only as tall as Harry's waist. Only then did William blink, adjusting Hagrid's size back up until he was about a head taller than himself, "...Now it's fine." Hagrid looked down somewhat bewildered.
"Alright, please stay quiet—"
Pye was a bit dazed, swallowed his saliva, hesitated for a moment, then nodded and looked at the group of Little Wizards. Besides Harry and Neville, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny also tagged along.
"Hello—"
A Witch opened the door from inside, she was also wearing a Healer's robe, and her name plate on her chest read Miriam Strout. She wore a gold and silver thread wreath on her head, her face adorned with a reassuring smile, "They've just woken up, come in."
William examined the ward, the space inside was not small, with white curtains separating each bed, and personal belongings placed next to each patient's bed, indicating it was a long-stay ward.
There weren't many patients here, a Wizard with a pallid complexion and a Witch whose face was full of hair—
Aside from them, there were only two beds by the window with a middle-aged Witch and Wizard each sitting up.
Probably having seen a crowd of people walk in, those patients instinctively turned their heads to look, and Miriam went over to pull curtains around everyone except the Longbottoms.
"...Are those your parents, Neville?"
Ron stared in disbelief at the two on the hospital bed, even though Neville had explained the situation on the way, he was still shocked when he saw them for real.
Their condition looked really terrible.
Sparse hair, puffy faces, vacant and confused eyes, even their head movements appeared particularly slow, Miriam approached their beds, "Frank, Alice—Neville has come to see you again; he brought his friends and classmates—"
Frank didn't respond to the Healer's words, and the gray-haired Witch turned her head, staring blankly to the side.
"Mom..."
Neville stepped forward, taking a deep breath, his voice a bit trembling.
The Witch gave no response, she just continued to stare blankly toward the doorway.
"The situation indeed looks bad."
William also stepped forward, while Neville was pulled back by his grandmother, William sat beside Frank's bed. The man didn't make any grand movements upon his arrival, only lightly turned his head, stared unblinkingly with hollow gray eyes at William, his face expressionless—
"But, should there still be hope?" William's eyes flashed blue, observing the pale orange glow of joy on the foreheads of Frank and Alice.