noveltune Chapter 277 Important Chapter
Chapter 277 Important Chapter
Chapter 277 Getting Back (5.1K) (1/2)
"Oh! Thank you so much!" Professor Flitwick thanked him quickly, and with a gentle flick of his wand, the pile of floating broom fragments obediently and clattered into the seemingly small but large enough pocket to hold all the pieces.
Lynch casually tied the bag shut and handed it back to Professor Flitwick.
Professor Flitwick took the bag, seemingly relieved, and the conversation shifted to the terrifying scene from earlier: "Merlin's beard! Today was truly terrifying! So many Dementors suddenly appeared on the field—"
Thank goodness for Headmaster Dumbledore and you! We all saw it—that beautiful silent spell you used in the stands, cushioning Harry's fall! Catching someone so precisely through the rain from that distance—By Merlin, that's something not just any wizard could do!
His tone then naturally shifted to the "culprit" behind the commotion, tinged with indignation and a hint of barely perceptible regret: "Speaking of which, it was all that Black's fault, Sirius Black! He broke out of prison and lured so many Dementors to the vicinity of the school, just to hurt a child!"
He shook his head, his gray hair trembling with the movement. "Speaking of which, I taught him when he was in school. Gryffindor, yes, his personality was—well, a bit arrogant, liked to play pranks, and together with Mr. Potter, I mean James Potter, they got into no end of trouble. But I never, never imagined he would stoop so low as to become a Death Eater, to do such terrible things as betraying friends and killing innocent people—it's unbelievable."
Lynch listened quietly to Professor Flitwick's rapid-fire words, his face displaying a serious expression appropriate to the situation and a touch of just the right amount of emotion.
"Yes, you can know a person's face but not their heart..."
After making a remark, Lynch changed the subject, his tone tinged with just the right amount of concern, asking, "How is Harry doing now? I was just chasing away the remaining Dementors over the Forbidden Forest and didn't have time to check on his condition."
Professor Flitwick, carrying the bag of broom wreckage, shook his head, his face filled with worry. "He's still unconscious. Madam Pomfrey is watching over him. But Snape checked him and said he's just unconscious and should be fine." He paused, lowering his voice, his expression still shaken. "Honestly, Professor Lynch, in all my years at Hogwarts, I've never seen Headmaster Dumbledore so angry! The way he stood up—his aura—was like that of a completely different person! He's already contacted the Ministry of Magic himself. I bet Fudge will have to give us an explanation this time! Those Dementors are utterly lawless!"
"That's understandable, after all, Headmaster Dumbledore values the safety of his students the most."
The two walked into the castle while talking, heading towards the school infirmary along the familiar corridor.
The atmosphere inside the castle seemed to still carry a hint of the commotion that followed. Occasionally, students would gather together and whisper among themselves, only dispersing hastily when they saw the two professors passing by.
As Lynch and Professor Flitwick reached the door of the school infirmary, the heavy wooden door creaked open from the inside. A huge, disheveled figure blocked the doorway—Hagrid. His massive frame almost filled the entire doorway, his face bearing a mixture of worry and relief, his eyes slightly red.
"Oh! Professor Flitwick! Professor Lynch!" Hagrid's voice boomed with obvious excitement. "You've come! That's wonderful! Harry—Harry's awake! He's just awake!" As he spoke, he tried to squeeze through the doorway to let the two professors in.
His massive body created a gust of wind as he moved, and he continued in a gruff voice, "Professor Dumbledore took Professor Snape to find those officials from the Ministry of Magic, they're upstairs, it must be about the Dementors!"
"I have to hurry and inform Professor McGonagall and the others; they must be eager to know the news too!" he said, nodding hastily to the two professors before walking briskly down the corridor with heavy steps, his footsteps echoing between the stone walls.
Professor Flitwick was encouraged by the good news Hagrid brought, and a relaxed smile appeared on his face: "It's good that you're awake! It's good that you're awake! Thank you, Merlin!" He carried the bag containing the broom wreckage and went into the school infirmary first.
Harry's bedside was surrounded by people, but not Ron and Hermione—they were squeezed on the outer edge, anxiously tiptoeing to peek inside.
Surrounding the bed were a group of Gryffindor Quidditch players, their clothes still covered in dried, dark brown mud stains. They were all asking Harry about his condition. Captain Wood was on the far edge, his face filled with the frustration of losing the game.
Hagrid's thunderous voice at the door clearly startled everyone.
When Professor Flitwick and Lynch walked in, the ward fell silent for a moment, and almost everyone instinctively turned to look at the door.
Harry had just woken up in his hospital bed, his mind still foggy and his vision somewhat blurry.
When he saw the tall, calm figure following behind Professor Flitwick, almost out of habitual dependence and instinct in his weakened state, he blurted out, "Uncle Lynch—"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Harry snapped back to reality and realized what he had said.
He immediately covered his mouth, a hint of panic and annoyance flashing in his green eyes, and cautiously looked at the students around him, especially Professor Flitwick.
Sure enough, this word caused a momentary pause in the ward.
The players surrounding the bed showed a hint of surprise and curiosity, while Ron and Hermione, squeezed on the periphery, exchanged a knowing look.
Professor Flitwick's eyes widened slightly, looking somewhat surprised, but then a look of sudden realization and understanding appeared on his face, even accompanied by a "I see" smile. Clearly, he was recalling the relationship between Lynch and Lily.
Just as various speculations were about to take shape, Lynch spoke calmly, his tone even and without any emotion, as if Harry's earlier address was perfectly normal: "I'm relieved to see you're awake, Harry." He cleverly skipped over the form of address, directly changing the subject, while turning his gaze to Professor Flitwick beside him, and continued, "You should thank Professor Flitwick properly; he kindly retrieved your broom so it wouldn't be lying in the mud."
Harry immediately realized what Lynch meant and, following his words, quickly said to Professor Flitwick, "Thank you—thank you, Professor Flitwick." His voice was still a little weak, but full of gratitude, and he also secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Professor Flitwick quickly waved his hand and said in a shrill voice, "Oh, it's nothing, child, it's nothing! It's just a pity for such a good broom—" He lifted the cloth bag in his hand, and a slight sound of broom fragments colliding came from inside.
Just then, Madam Pomfrey arrived with a tray of medicine. Frowning, she began to shoo away the Quidditch players, still covered in mud, in an unyielding tone: "Alright, alright, visiting hours are over! Mr. Potter needs quiet rest. All of you, get out, now! Get out!"
Although the players were unwilling, under the head nurse's authoritative presence, they could only grumble and leave the ward, looking back every few steps.
Ron and Hermione then had the chance to squeeze next to Harry's bed.
As Mrs. Pomfrey began to forcefully clear the area, Professor Flitwick realized that he should not stay any longer.
He carefully placed the cloth bag containing the broom wreckage on the bedside table beside Harry and said in a shrill voice, "Get some rest, Mr. Potter, and don't worry about the broom anymore." Then he left the infirmary with the group of dejected Quidditch players.
When it was Lynch's turn, he didn't turn around and leave immediately like the others. Instead, he took two steps forward, stood in front of Mrs. Pomfrey, and said in a familiar, low voice, "Mrs. Pomfrey, I'll only stay for a short while to make sure his condition is stable before I leave."
Mrs. Pomfrey looked at Lynch, her brows still furrowed as usual, but her gaze was noticeably less stern than when she looked at others who tried to linger.
She sighed, and said with a hint of helplessness, "Just for a little while, Professor Lynch. He needs absolute quiet and can't be stimulated any further."
"I understand." Lynch nodded.
On the other side, Ron and Hermione also eagerly assured Madam Pomfrey.
"We must remain absolutely silent, madam!" Hermione said quickly, her voice low.
"Like two owls—no, like two silent goblins!" Ron awkwardly chimed in, trying to make a sincere expression.
Mrs. Pomfrey's sharp gaze swept back and forth between the two of them and Lynch, and she finally nodded reluctantly: "Alright, you can stay a few more minutes. But remember to promise to be quiet! And you must leave with Professor Lynch."
"Of course!" Hermione agreed immediately.
Ron nodded vigorously.
Mrs. Pomfrey then turned to tidy her medicine cabinet, but her ears were clearly still perked up, ready to intervene at any moment.
The ward finally quieted down for a while, leaving only Harry, Lynch, Ron, and Hermione.
Harry leaned against the pillows, looking at Lynch who had come to his bedside, a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment on his pale face.
He opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to apologize for his earlier address, or perhaps to thank the buffer spell.
Before Lin Qi arrived, his teammates had already told him what had just happened.
Lin Qi's gaze lingered on his face for a moment, as if he could read his thoughts, and he spoke first, his voice calm, breaking the silence: "How are you feeling?"
Hearing Lynch's question, Harry tried to pull himself together and replied, "I feel much better, really." He paused, a bitter self-deprecating smile on his face, "Maybe—maybe after being attacked by Dementors so many times, I'll get used to this feeling."
Upon hearing this, Lin Qi's lips curled up almost imperceptibly, forming a slightly playful arc. He said softly, "If that day ever comes, remember to let me know, and I will definitely come to witness the ceremony."
This darkly humorous remark eased the tense atmosphere in the ward slightly. Even Hermione, who was looking worried, managed a weak twitch at the corner of her mouth, while Ron grinned.
Harry's gaze then fell on the gray cloth bag Professor Flitwick had placed on his bedside table. Remembering the Charms professor's words as he left, he hesitated before asking, "Uncle Lynch, Professor Flitwick just said—'What a pity about such a good broom,' what did he mean?"
"Literal meaning." Lynch's answer was calm and direct. "Your broom fell from that height, hit the Whomping Willow, and broke."
Harry's face paled slightly. Although he had a premonition, hearing the confirmed news still made his heart sink.
"It's broken?" he murmured, a hint of relief in his voice. "Ron, could you—could you take it out for me and check?"
Ron glanced at Lynch, then at Harry's pleading eyes, hesitated, walked to the cabinet, and reached out to untie the rope of the bag.
When he peeked inside, he gasped and exclaimed, "Oh no—" His face turned as pale as Harry's.
"What's wrong? What happened?" Harry urged anxiously.
At Harry's repeated insistence, Ron gritted his teeth, reached into the bag, and carefully, almost piece by piece, took out the remains and spread them out on the empty space next to Harry's bed.
The scene before me is heartbreaking.
The once smooth and elegant dark wood broom handle is now broken into three or four jagged pieces, with glaring wood shavings exposed at the break points. It no longer has the smooth, dark luster of its former self.
The once neatly trimmed, supple and elastic branches at the tail end are now mostly twisted and broken, like a bird's nest ravaged by violence, covered in mud. The simple yet exquisite metal emblem of the stone tower, along with the small piece of wood below engraved with the cursive characters "Swift Wind - Prototype of the Stone Tower Merchant Guild," though still relatively intact, has been detached from the main body and lies forlornly among the ruins, as if silently announcing the end of some hope.
The broom no longer exuded the faint fragrance of wood and magical varnish, but only the dampness of rain and a kind of—utterly desolate silence.
This is a stark and brutal contrast to its recent appearance, which was brand new, powerful, and fast.
Harry stared blankly at the pile of fragments, his lips trembling slightly, unable to utter a single word.
Ron and Hermione remained silent, and the atmosphere in the ward, which had just eased a little, froze again, leaving only the soft sounds of Madam Pomfrey tidying up bottles and jars in front of the medicine cabinet.
Harry stared at the pile of wreckage that had once represented his most cherished dreams, now shattered beyond recognition, and a wave of intense guilt washed over him. He looked up at Lynch, his emerald eyes filled with unease and remorse.
"Uncle Lynch," his voice was hoarse and tinged with obvious frustration, "I'm so sorry—this, this was a very important prototype broom—and I just ruined it."
He almost dared not look Lynch in the eye, feeling that he had failed to appreciate this precious gift.
Lynch's gaze swept over the pile of fragments, but his face did not show the regret or displeasure that Harry had expected.
Instead, he gently shook his head, his tone as calm as ever, even tinged with a hint of reassurance: "No need to apologize, Harry," he said. "Since it was given to you, it's yours. The purpose of a gift is to be used, not to be worshipped."
He paused, his gaze returning to Harry's face, and continued in that calm, analytical tone, "Moreover, from another perspective, you've provided invaluable data for improving the 'Whirlwind' series. This broom, internally codenamed 'Whirlwind,' was designed for ultimate speed and agility, but in today's truly stormy and extreme conditions, its performance revealed flaws—the structure was still too delicate, too refined, lacking sufficient resilience to harsh conditions. This accident, though costly, has yielded crucial data and experience for creating the next broom that is better suited to harsh conditions and truly worthy of the 'Whirlwind' name."
Lynch's words contained no blame, only an objective statement and a forward-looking consideration.
He reframed a catastrophic loss as a valuable "stress test," a straightforward approach that subtly alleviated Harry's psychological burden.
Sure enough, after Lynch's calm and constructive explanation, Harry felt the heavy weight on his chest lift a little. Although the pain of losing his beloved broom remained, the suffocating guilt had indeed dissipated considerably. He took a deep breath, nodded slightly, and whispered, "I—I understand."
Thank you, Uncle Lynch.
Ron and Hermione, standing nearby, also breathed a sigh of relief. They could tell that Professor Lynch genuinely didn't blame Harry.
When Lynch saw Mrs. Pomfrey approaching with the medicine bottle and an unquestionable gaze, he knew the extended visitation was over.
His gaze fell on Harry, and as if remembering something, he said, "By the way, Harry, is the Stone Tower Merchant Guild badge I left you with you? Give it to me."
Harry was taken aback. Although he didn't understand why Lynch suddenly wanted the badge back at this time, he had absolute trust in his Uncle Lynch.
Almost instinctively, he reached into the inside pocket of his robe and quickly pulled out the cool, matte metal badge—the Stone Tower Merchant Guild's mark was still clearly visible.
He obediently handed over the badge.
"Here you are. Here you go."
Lin Qi took the badge, gently rubbing his fingertips against the simple clenched fist outline on its surface. He didn't immediately explain why, but calmly stated, "I'll take this for now and return it to you in a few days."
His tone was natural, as if it were just a trivial matter that wasn't worth delving into.
Harry, though still having doubts, nodded: "Okay."
Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance. They both remembered that the badge was a "talisman" that Professor Lynch had given to Harry. Its sudden return at this moment inevitably raised some questions, but under Madam Pomfrey's increasingly stern gaze, they didn't have time to ask any more questions.
"Alright, let's go, let's go, let Mr. Potter rest!" Mrs. Pomfrey urged.
Lynch carefully put away the badge, gave Harry a final nod, and then left the infirmary with Ron and Hermione, who were full of questions but remained silent.