Chapter 244

The moment was fleeting though, and he wasn't so much of a crybaby that he would spill his guts to an eleven-year-old girl who was prone to having fits whenever she saw him, so he instead replied with something that was half true, "I'm fine. I was just worried about the trial results tomorrow. Thinking about if I could've done anything more to help Lisa."

Ginny considered him for a second, before asking, "You did your best didn't you?"

He nodded.

"Then you have nothing to feel bad about. That's what Mum always says."

She smiled at him, her face flushing red as a tomato as Harry smiled back before she quickly stepped back into the house and closed the door behind her.

Harry sat there for a few more seconds, oddly enough feeling like Ginny had answered more questions than she knew she had.

He had done his best. And maybe sometimes it was just that simple.

He looked at his hands.

Almost without even a single thought, his magic started to pool at his fingertips, flowing fluidly through his body to the spot Harry commanded it to go. The tips of his fingers started glowing brightly from the inside, the light pulsating rhythmically with the beat of his pulse. Closing his hands into a fist so that his fingertips brimming with mana were touching his palms, Harry muttered under his breath, "Healing Touch."

And just like that, the mana left his fingertips and shot through his arms, leaving a pleasant tingle wherever his cuts were, before spreading through his back and doing the same with the injuries he had there.

In front of his eyes, his scars slowly faded away, and the few cuts that still had scabs fully healed over, leaving unblemished skin behind.

Harry looked up at the moon that shone brightly down upon the entire orchard and the dubiously sane girl that was flying around above the orchard doing stupidly dangerous aerial maneuvers.

It was a beautiful night.

"Are you sure about this," the woman asked as she aimed her wand at the man kneeling on the floor of their bedroom.

"I am."

"Is this even necessary?" the woman's voice was concerned.

"You know it is," the man snapped back, "The Dark memory spell I cast on myself broke weeks ago when I saw the girl in person. That was the trigger I'd set for it breaking, and it worked seamlessly as usual. But there are still fragments missing. A thought here, a chunk there that's just out of my reach. I know I have been Obliviated."

"And this is your way of getting those memories back? Torturing yourself?"

"I know what the Healer said in the court. Pain was what broke the seal on Borgin's memories. It is what will break the one on mine."

"And if it doesn't?"

A smirk split the man's face, but it held no mirth, "It is not as if pain is a stranger to me. It's just a long lost friend."

"If you say so," she said hesitantly, "Crucio!"

Hoarse screams rang out across the Malfoy Manor. A few bedrooms away, shielded from the sounds of the world around him by muffling charms, Draco Malfoy slept on peacefully.

The next morning was slightly more relaxed in the Flamel apartment.

Nicholas and Perenelle were idly taking bites out of their toasts as they conversed with Mr. Fortescue, who lived a mere two doors away from their apartment and had come over for breakfast.

Harry, on the other hand, was lost in his own thoughts.

Late last night, Harry had decided not to tell Nicholas and Perenelle about Wright and his interference. It didn't seem right, but he needed to talk to the man before he told anyone else about him. It was a man whose son was dead because of him, and whose grandson was one of his best friends. He couldn't just ignore him. He owed him the truth about who killed Dean, whether he could convince him of Lisa's innocence or not.

Ping!

Quest Alert!

Talk to Wentworth Wright and convince him of Lisa's innocence!

Rewards,

5,000 Exp

2 stat points

Failure,

Lisa's conviction

YES/NO?

Harry pressed yes. Besides, Dumbledore had said he would be able to handle Wright.

"Oh! Nick! Did I tell you about Sir Knucklehead Fudducker McSpazzatron?"

Mr. Fortescue's voice snapped Harry out of his thoughts and into the present, leaving him with a very odd set of questions in his mind.

Firstly, who was Sir Knucklehead Fudducker McSpazzatron?

Secondly, why did his parents hate him so much?

Thirdly, was there anything that could be done to save the poor chap from a lifetime of shame and ridicule?

In pursuit of answers to these questions, Harry decided that starting to pay attention to the conversation at the table would probably be the right thing to do.

"No you didn't Florean," Nicholas said politely, though it was plenty obvious by the twitch in his jaw that his thoughts weren't too far away from Harry's, "Who is that?"

Mr. Fortescue though, took no notice of that and jovially started his story, "Oh you have to hear it. Last night, after I had closed up the Parlor and locked up the doors. I was about to apparate home, but suddenly, I hear a whining noise behind me. I turn around, look for the sound, and find that it's coming from a small alleyway beside the Parlor. The first thought in my mind was that some hag had found its way out of Knockturn and into Diagon. So I pull out my wand and headed in. But there weren't any hags in there. Instead what I found was a giant heap of fur."

"Just fur?" Nicholas asked, leaning in curiously.

"Erm…It was a dog actually. A big black one."

"A dog with a heap of fur? Was it guarding it?"

"The dog was the heap of fur,"

"That makes more sense. So what did you do after that?"

Mr. Fortescue looked at Nicholas weirdly, before replying, "Well...at first, I thought it was a Grim, and it scared the pants off of me, but when I looked closer, I realized it was just a dog freezing out in the January cold. Poor thing looked like death. Had its ribs sticking out, snow all over his matted fur, shivering like no tomorrow."

"Frostbite, malnourishment, fleas, possible heartworms," Perenelle muttered concernedly, "It sounds really bad. What did you do Florean?"

"Brought him home of course!" Mr. Fortescue exclaimed, "He looked like a grown-up version of the pup I used to have back when I was a kid, Seargent Barkowitz. I couldn't leave him out there to die. So I brought him home, warmed and fed him up, pulled out those Pet-medicine books out of storage and treated his fleas and heartworm, and even got him to sleep a bit."

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