The Prisoners of Hogwarts

Chapter 316 Character Design in the Ward

Chapter 316 Character Design in the Ward (5K) (1/2)

He seemed to have been forcing himself to stay there, and when Harry looked at him, his gray-blue eyes, which had been slightly dimmed by pain, suddenly lit up, like ripples of excitement and relief spreading across a lake after a pebble had been thrown in.

"Harry!"

He almost immediately tried to stand up, but the moment he moved, it aggravated his wound, causing him to groan and have to lean back in his chair. A fine layer of cold sweat instantly seeped from his forehead.

"Harry—" His voice was even more hoarse and weak than before, but it carried an unmistakable urgency and concern. "You're awake? How are you feeling? Is there anything else that's bothering you?" He asked as he tried to sit up straight, as if that would allow him to see his godson more clearly, but his taut jawline and slightly trembling fingers betrayed his weakness.

Harry fumbled for the glasses on the bedside table, looking at his forced composure, at the clear bandage marks under his hospital gown, and at the way he had bravely stood between him and the werewolf. His heart felt like it was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand.

Those complex emotions about the truth, and the unease of facing the Godfather for the first time, were instantly overwhelmed by a surge of guilt and worry.

He opened his mouth, his throat dry, his voice weak: "I'm fine—you—your injury—"

"I'm fine!" Sirius interrupted him immediately, his tone urgent and reckless. He tried to wave his hand to indicate that he was alright, but this movement clearly aggravated his wounds again, causing his cheek muscles to twitch. He forced down the pain and forced a somewhat stiff smile. "The healers at St. Mungo's are quite skilled, it's just that the dark magic residue left by this werewolf is not easy to clear—but it's all superficial wounds, it'll heal with some rest."

His grey eyes were fixed on Harry: "Seeing you're alright—that's better than anything."

Harry pursed his lips and looked at Sirius.

Sirius's gaze was fixed on him until he looked over.

However, when Harry finally met his gaze, he hastily looked away, leaving only a few uneasy, fleeting glances.

As Harry looked at his expression, the tension and unease in his chest seemed to dissipate as if gently bumped by something, leaving only a bittersweet ripple.

He whispered, "Thank you—for rushing over and shielding me..."

"That's what I should do!" Sirius responded almost instinctively, his voice rising slightly with emotion. He then gasped as the pain aggravated his wound, and after a few seconds, he repeated in a softer, hoarser voice, "—That's what I should do, Harry."

After those somber words were spoken, the air froze once more.

The brief exchange about the injuries seemed to have exhausted the last bit of courage that the two had managed to build up between them.

Sirius's gaze began to shift between Harry's face and the walls of the ward, his fingers unconsciously digging into the edge of the chair.

Harry stared at a crease in the blanket, racking his brains for something else to say.

"Uh—" Sirius cleared his throat, the sound particularly jarring in the quiet hospital room. He clearly realized it too, a hint of embarrassment flashing across his face. "Quidditch—I mean, how well do you fly? I know you're a Quidditch player now. You know what? James—he was a genius Seeker back in the day." He tried to break the silence between them.

"Professor Lupin told me," Harry said softly, looking up to see Sirius's body stiffen almost imperceptibly when he heard the name "Lupin."

"He—he told me a lot about what happened between you two back then, how you met, and—and your daily adventures, those secret passages—"

Harry's intention was to show closeness and to let Sirius know that he was not completely ignorant of his and his father's past.

However, to Sirius, these words were like a tiny needle gently pricking the balloon that had already been inflated in his chest.

His lips twitched, and he let out a very low, almost muttered sound: "That talkative Moon Face—"

There was no real blame in his tone; it was more like a complex emotion mixed with nostalgia and a touch of loss.

Why is it Remus, and not him, the godfather, who is telling Harry these things?

The thought made him feel a sharp pain and a sense of powerlessness.

Then, as if he had suddenly remembered something important, he abruptly raised his head, his eyes becoming serious, and his nervousness was temporarily replaced by worry.

"Speaking of Remus—he's not doing so well." His voice lowered. "The people at the Ministry of Magic have never been exactly friendly towards werewolves."

Harry's heart clenched.

"Professor Lupin, he—"

"He woke up earlier than you," Sirius explained, his brow furrowed. "But tonight—it's still a full moon." He paused, his gaze sweeping across the hospital room window.

Harry followed his gaze and was surprised to find that the sky outside the window had already turned inky black, with a few stars that had risen early visible in the deep blue night.

"He took the wolfsbane potion," Sirius said, his tone carrying his usual, barely concealed disgust, which he quickly suppressed. "The potion should keep him sane. But for safety's sake, the Ministry of Magic—they locked him in a specially made iron cage and placed him in an isolation ward in the hospital's basement, guarded by Aurors."

Underground — Iron Cage — Auror Guards —

The combination of these words sent a chill down Harry's spine.

He remembered Professor Lupin's agonizing transformation under the moonlight, his ferocity as a werewolf, but also his gentleness and exhaustion as a professor, and the image of him warning himself to escape even in his final moments.

A complex feeling of sympathy welled up inside me.

Thinking about Lu Ping's current situation, the ward fell silent again.

But not long after, the stagnant silence in the ward was broken by clear conversations that suddenly came from outside the door.

"—Just routine, Mr. Lynch, I hope you understand," a slightly stiff male voice said.

"Of course, the procedure requires it."

Another voice rang out, calm and steady, with a unique penetrating power; it was Lin Qi.

"Is his condition stable?"

The sound, like a pebble thrown into calm water, instantly startled Harry and Sirius from their own thoughts.

Harry glanced instinctively toward the door, his expression already filled with anticipation.

Sirius almost instinctively straightened his back, and although the action made his face turn pale for a moment, a certain vigilance and defense re-emerged in his gray eyes, like a startled wolf.

Even though his name has been cleared, twelve years of imprisonment and torture have made him reflexively wary of any sudden sound.

The ward door was gently pushed open.

Lin Qi walked in first, still wearing that well-tailored gray suit, his steps relaxed, as if he were entering his office rather than a hospital room.

Hermione Granger followed behind him, carrying several books and a bag of sweets. Her brown curly hair was a little frizzy, and her face showed obvious worry and a hint of fatigue, but her eyes lit up immediately when she saw that Harry was awake, and she visibly breathed a sigh of relief.

Lynch's gaze lingered on Harry for a moment to confirm he was conscious, then turned to Sirius, who was tense as if facing a formidable enemy, and nodded slightly: "Black, it seems St. Mungo's potion is working."

Sirius Black twitched the corners of his mouth, a smile that barely registered, and said in a hoarse voice, "I've been through much worse injuries, this is nothing."

Lin Qi remained noncommittal, glancing towards the doorway before asking in a flat tone, "What's going on with the Auror outside?"

"Does the Ministry of Magic still need to keep an eye on you?"

Sirius snorted, with his usual disdain for the Ministry of Magic's bureaucratic system: "The Ministry's official exoneration documents and Wizengamor's final ruling require procedures. Fudge needs this formality to maintain his crumbling sense of authority, leaving someone here temporarily so I don't do anything to embarrass them."

"Harry!" Hermione rushed to the bedside, put down her things, and asked anxiously, "I heard the gist of what happened from Mrs. Weasley. How are you feeling? We were so worried! Ron wanted to come too, but the Weasleys were all called to the Ministry of Magic to investigate Scabbers—I mean Peter—he didn't go back until I left Hogwarts, which was quite worrying."

"I'm much better, Hermione, really," Harry quickly replied, the arrival of his friend dispelling some of the oppressive gloom that had been weighing on him in the ward.

Lynch walked to the foot of the bed, looked at Harry, and said gently, "It takes time for the soul to recover from a trauma, and your magical circulation will be slower than usual. It's normal to feel tired; there's no need to force yourself to stay awake."

Then, his gaze shifted to Sirius: "Your room isn't here. Let's leave the children alone to talk; we'll go to your room and chat."

Harry opened his mouth almost instinctively, nearly blurting out "Uncle Lynch".

Deep down, he hoped that this elder, who was like a pillar of strength, could stay a little longer. With Lin Qi around, even the air seemed more stable, which could also ease the lingering awkwardness between him and his godfather.

But when he saw Lynch's calm yet profound eyes, he realized that the other party clearly had something important to discuss with Sirius, and it was likely something important concerning the follow-up arrangements.

He had no choice but to swallow his words of pleas to keep him, though a hint of lingering attachment and reluctance flickered in his eyes.

Hermione glanced at the two adults, then picked up a book she had brought, pretending to discuss her studies with Harry.

Sirius was taken aback for a moment, a hint of resistance flashing in his gray eyes.

He instinctively didn't want to leave Harry's side, as if the lost connection would disappear in the blink of an eye.

But he wasn't unreasonable; Lin Qi's visit was definitely not just a simple visit to check on someone in the hospital.

He took a deep breath, a movement that aggravated the wound in his abdomen, causing him to furrow his brow and break out in a cold sweat.

He didn't answer immediately, but instead pressed hard on the area below the bandage with the heel of his hand, trying to stand up from the chair on his own.

However, the weakness and excruciating pain following his serious injury made it extremely difficult and slow for him to get up, and his body swayed slightly.

Lin Qi stood there watching, making no offer to help, but calmly reminded him, "Slow down, tearing your wound will only prolong your stay here."

Sirius gritted his teeth and, somewhat disheveled, managed to stand up, relying on the remaining strength in his arms and waist. His steps were unsteady, and his face was even paler than before.

He gave Harry a deep look, and finally said in a hoarse voice, "I'll be back soon."

Then, he turned to the doorway and took the first step.

Although his steps were heavy and unsteady due to the pain, he still straightened his back and walked towards the door.

Lin Qi naturally followed about half a step behind him.

The door opened, and the scene in the hallway outside came into view.

A sorcerer dressed in an Auror uniform, with a serious expression, was standing with his arms crossed against the wall. When he saw Lynch and Sirius emerge one after the other, he immediately straightened up, his eyes filled with vigilance. Especially when he saw Sirius, his hand instinctively went to his wand sheath.

Despite knowing the inside story, he dared not relax his guard in the slightest when facing Blake, who had just been "officially" removed from the wanted list and was already well-known.

"Blake, where are you going?" Auror stepped forward and asked.

Sirius didn't even bother to lift his eyelids, only replying impatiently in a hoarse voice, "Back to my own room. What, now even this needs approval?"

His tone carried his usual sarcasm and disdain for the Ministry of Magic's bureaucratic system.

The Auror was taken aback, his face turning somewhat grim, but he still insisted on his duty: "I need to accompany you." He emphasized, turning his gaze to Lynch, seemingly assessing whether the renowned professor would interfere.

Lynch made no comment, as if it were just background noise.

Sirius snorted, ignored him, and continued to slowly move forward along the corridor.

The Auror immediately followed closely behind him, keeping a step's distance, his hand never leaving his wand, vigilantly watching his surroundings.

Lin Qi walked at the back, his steps relaxed, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere of the two ahead of him.

The corridors of St. Mungo's were wide and bright, filled with a strong smell of potions and disinfectant.

Occasionally, healers in St. Mungo's green robes or hurried family members would pass by, noticing this peculiar combination: Sirius Black, severely injured and weak yet defiant, being "escorted" by Aurors in front, and Lynch behind, composed and at ease, as if strolling in his own garden—

They all cast glances at her with curiosity, surprise, or fear, but no one dared to approach and disturb or ask her anything.

What was a short journey felt like an endless ordeal for Sirius.

He had to stop several times, leaning against the wall, panting slightly, his forehead covered in a fine layer of cold sweat.

Every time he stopped, the Auror would also stop immediately and observe him more vigilantly.

Lin Qi maintained a proper distance throughout, neither urging nor helping him, but simply waiting calmly.

Finally, Sirius stopped in front of a hospital room and pushed the door open.

He almost immediately grabbed the wall inside the door frame for support, panting slightly, clearly having exhausted the little strength he had just recovered from the journey.

The Auror stopped at the door, clearly not intending to enter, but also showing no sign of leaving, standing guard outside like a door god, his sharp gaze sweeping across the corridor.

Lin Qi then entered, gently closing the door behind him to shut out the probing gazes from the corridor and the Aurors' surveillance.

The room was decorated much like Harry's, only cleaner and quieter, lacking any human presence. Only the uncovered blanket on the bed proved that someone had once lain there.

Sirius practically slumped back onto the edge of his hospital bed, the movement causing him to groan and sweat even more profusely from his forehead.

He propped himself up on his elbows and slowly adjusted to a position that would relieve the pressure on his abdomen before letting out a long, painful sigh.

Lin Qi calmly pulled over the only hard-backed chair in the room, placed it a few steps away from the bed, and sat down, his posture still upright, a stark contrast to Sirius's disheveled state.

After a brief silence, Lynch spoke first, his tone as calm as if stating an objective fact: "Your injuries are serious, Blake. The most important thing right now is to cooperate with the treatment and recover as quickly as possible. You can't do anything with this broken body."

Sirius Black raised his eyelids, his gray-blue eyes showing weariness, but even more so, stubbornness: "I know my own body. I survived twelve years in Azkaban, this little injury won't kill me."

He habitually uses toughness to mask his own weakness.

Lin Qi looked at him, his gaze calm and unwavering, yet seemingly able to penetrate that layer of pretense.

"Time waits for no one," he said calmly.

"What do you mean?" Sirius frowned immediately, his tone wary.

He is now extremely sensitive to any suggestive remarks.

Lynch cut straight to the point, his voice still steady: "Dumbledore feels guilty and wants to make it up to you. His feelings are genuine, but it's not very efficient for the big picture. As for me," he paused slightly, as if weighing his words, "I see room for maneuver and potential benefits here. I plan to join forces with him, give you a push, help you solidify your reputation as a 'tragic hero,' and maximize its value."

Sirius was stunned; he had never expected Lynch to say such things so bluntly.

His facial muscles tensed, his eyes filled with disbelief and a hint of offended anger: "Tragic hero? Lynch, I'm not a pawn on your chessboard! I don't need this—this deliberately fabricated fame!"

His breathing quickened due to his excitement, causing sharp pains in his wound.

Lin Qi shook his head: "It's not a question of whether you need it or not, but rather how you appear in the public eye."

"Based on the latest feedback I've gathered, after learning your story, most people consider you a tragic hero."

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