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Harry Potter System Gamer

With his life turned into a Game, Harry now has to raise a Phoenix, uncover the Founders' darkest secrets, deal with political manipulations and live through Hogwarts all while trying desperately to not swear too much . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ---------------------------------------------- Translation ----------------------------------------------

William777 · Films
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263 Chs

Chapter 220

"Coming!" Harry yelled back before he gave Hedwig a final pat on the head and walked over to the newspaper sitting on his desk before picking it up and looking at it. The words he had almost committed to memory sprang right back at him, mesmerizing him into a trance as he unblinkingly stared at them.

"Tell Hermione that I sent my good wishes," Hedwig said from her perch, startling Harry out of his thrall. His hand hastily jerked against the edge of the paper, slitting open a small cut in his palm.

"I will," Harry said, ignoring the cut as he hastily stuffed the paper into his pocket before heading towards the door.

"You aren't going to heal that are you?" Hedwig quietly said from behind him as he reached for the doorknob.

He stopped. It had been almost a week now. An entire week of him blaming himself for each one of those deaths that had happened at Hogwarts that day. Wondering if his killing one girl would have saved all those other lives. Wondering if he had sacrificed 9 people in exchange for his moral integrity and a girl whose life was destroyed anyway. Trying to tell himself again and again that he made the right choice at the moment.

He was just tired of thinking at this point.

Not thinking about all that and just focusing on trying to save and protect what he had left just felt like the right thing to do.

He looked at his hand. Hundreds of tiny cuts were peppered all across his arms and his back from the rocks falling on him in the tunnel outside Slytherin's cave. This new red one, the paper cut, stood out brightly amongst all the ones that had scabbed over. Every single one of those cuts he could have healed.

But he didn't.

Maybe it was stupid. In fact, it probably was. But it felt like the right thing to do. As meaningless it was, this pathetic little form of penance that he had taken upon himself, it felt like the right thing to do.

"It's just a little cut. Nothing really. I'll see you later." he said before opening the door and leaving.

"How far is the Hospital from here?" Harry asked Nicholas as they stepped out of the alley they had apparated to from home into a broad store-lined street. All the petrified victims had been transferred to St Mungo's Hospital the day Hogwarts had closed down.

"Not far. We're just around the corner," Nicholas said, parting a group of shoppers to make way for them to pass before adding, "I will be waiting outside the building. There's a nice tea shop across the street. You take as much time as you need."

"Here we go," he added a moment later. It was a large, old-fashioned, red brick department store called Purge & Dowse Ltd. The place had a miserable air. The window displays consisted of a few chipped dummies with their wigs askew, and large signs on all the dusty doors read: 'Closed for Refurbishment'.

"It's the glass window. Be ready to step through when I tell you to," he said, pointing towards a window displaying nothing but a particularly ugly female dummy. Its false eyelashes were hanging off and it was modeling a green nylon pinafore dress.

Harry nodded, and Nicholas leaned closer to the glass before saying, "We're here to see Hermione Granger."

Harry really shouldn't have been surprised by the dummy giving a nod, but he was nevertheless. However, he remembered his instructions and stepped through the glass. It felt like stepping through a thin waterfall as he emerged quite warm and dry on the other side.

There was no sign of the ugly dummy or the space where she had stood. Instead, St. Mungo's Hospital's reception area stood in full glory in front of him. Rows of witches and wizards sat upon wooden chairs, some looking perfectly normal and others sporting gruesome disfigurements such as elephant trunks or extra hands sticking out of their chests. Healers in lime-green robes were walking up and down the rows, asking questions and making notes on clipboards. Harry noticed the emblem embroidered on their chests: a wand and bone, crossed.

Harry walked over to the queue in front of a sickly thin witch seated at a desk marked Enquiries. The wall behind her was covered in notices and posters. There was also a large portrait of a witch with long silver ringlets which was labeled:

Dilys Derwent

St Mungo's Healer 1722-1741

Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

1741-1768

Dilys was eyeing Harry closely, and Harry knew that it was because another portrait of hers hung in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, where he had been a few times.

"Next!" the blonde witch said, snapping Harry's attention back. He was up next."

"Hello," he said, "I'm here to see Hermione Granger. Could you tell me where I can find her?"

"Hermione Granger?" said the witch, not looking at him as she ran her finger down a long list. "Yes, first floor, third door on the right, La'am Djimple Ward."

"Thank you," said Harry, glad to not have drawn any attention.

For good measure, he dropped into Sneak mode to make sure he wouldn't be recognized as he entered the double doors and walked through the narrow corridor beyond which was lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling, looking like giant soapsuds.

He climbed a flight of stairs, following the arrows and entered the Creature-Induced Injuries corridor, which was crowded with family of the petrified students. He recognized the Amelia Bones waiting alongside the Abbotts and a sobbing Susan. Not wanting to draw attention to himself at all, he turned to the second door on the right, dropped out of Sneak mode, and read the sign.

La'am Djimple Ward: Mysterious Maladies.

Ping!

Skill leveled up due to successful use!

Sneaking, Lv-17(21%)

Allows you to sneak up on someone.

71% chance of not getting caught.

71% chance of critical strike.

Harry waved the window away and knocked.

The door opened to reveal the familiar brown-haired woman whom he had met at Dean's birthday all those months ago. Mrs. Granger's eyes were wet. She gave him a smile before wiping her tears away.

"Hello, Harry. Come right in. Ronald has already arrived and they were waiting for you. I was just about to head upstairs to get something to eat."

"Thank you, Mrs. Granger," Harry said as the woman let him in before heading out of the door herself, closing the door behind her.

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