The St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries is not accessible via Apparition, but today, that rule was broken.
All the regular patients have been transferred to the public ward for centralized care.
Most of the empty private rooms have been assigned to the injured who were streaming off the battlefield.
It was not until Mrs. Weasley, along with Fred and George, who had passed the Apparition exam last year, apparated Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny into the Great Hall of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries that they realized why the Ministry had sent a special message to have them come and care for them.
In sight, almost every one of the therapists and nurses wearing the green uniform of St. Mungo's was running around, with a desperate panic on their faces!
Bang!
"Quick! Quick!"
Harry and his companions, who had just arrived at the crowded hall, were still coming back to their senses from the terrifying sight of blood everywhere when a dripping wet squire suddenly appeared beside them with a wounded man.
Hermione and Ginny let out a scream immediately.
Harry's eyes fell on the injured man, and instantly he felt a cold, massive hand violently penetrate his chest, clutching his heart. The chill that rose from the base of his spine shot up to his head, causing all of his hair to stand on end.
The injured man's half-face was charred, revealing a network of charred muscle tissue, and on his chest was an 'X'-shaped wound that was stark and horrifying.
Moreover, this was not just a cut wound.
The blood flowing from the wound was constantly bubbling, as if boiling!
Two witches came charging down from above, and Harry watched them, his expression subtly shifting.
"Professor McGonagall. Madam Pince?"
Harry's lips moved,
"How did you get here?"
The dignified appearance of the two teachers from Hogwarts was nowhere to be seen, and they were both covered in bloodstains.
Professor McGonagall, whose well-organized bun had fallen off her face, didn't have time to wipe it away.
"Oh, Potter?"
Professor McGonagall didn't notice them until they were near, but she just glanced at them before ignoring them. Instead, she conjured a stretcher and, along with the squire who had arrived, placed the injured man on it.
"Can he survive? Tell me, can he still live?"
Whether the tears rolling down the squire's face or the water from his hair, he looked grieved and begged Mrs. Pince, who was crawling on the stretcher with a wound that she was desperately trying to close with her wand, to keep him alive.
Then, Professor McGonagall and Madam Pince quickly climbed up the stairs and left.
Harry saw the trail of blood left behind by the stretcher as it passed.
"Dammit!"
The hitman carrying the injured man let out a furious scream, then vanished again via Apparition.
Harry knew what he had to do without anyone telling him.
Cries of pain, wails, curses, prayers, and shouts of urgency.
The diverse reactions of people, without any pretense or mask, were directly presented to the few children, making them tremble in fear!
Harry looked blankly at Hermione and Ginny, both of whom had already tears rolling down their faces.
Harry looked at Hermione and Ginny in confusion, both girls were crying. Suddenly, he felt his face was a bit wet too. Harry raised his hand and touched his cheek with his fingertip, and a drop of tear stuck to his finger, making him shiver slightly.
"Hurry up and save me"
Another sharp twang passed, and a wounded wizard suddenly appeared before Ron's feet. Ron was so scared that he retreated several steps and sat down on the ground.
The wizard was wearing a black cloak that was torn to pieces, as if covered by a net filled with sharp knives. He was covered in several-inch-long cuts all over his body, making him look like a man of blood.
But he was still alive.
With a strong desire to survive, he struggled to crawl on the ground, reaching out a blood-covered hand, trying to grab the opportunity to live!
"Roazel"
Suddenly, Harry heard Mrs. Weasley's voice in his ear.
"Evan Roazel"
Harry stared at Mrs. Weasley's dazed face, hearing her murmur.
"Evan Roazel. What does that mean?"
Who is he? A friend of Mrs. Weasley's?
Suddenly, a lightning bolt flashed through Harry's mind. He turned his head and looked at the wizard crawling on the ground. Indeed, in the broken cuff of his sleeve, he saw a faint skeleton pattern!
A healer who takes magical potions found Evan Roazel and, without any further words, she waved her wand and lifted him up, intending to take him upstairs for treatment.
"Hold on!"
Harry shouted suddenly and without warning, rushing towards the healer.
"What is it, child? Are you looking for your relatives? I'm afraid I don't have the time!"
The middle-aged healer turned to look at Harry, her tone urgent.
The name tag on the middle-aged witch's chest was partially blocked by bloodstains, and the other half, engraved with "Fly".
"He is a Death Eater!"
Harry pointed at Evan Roziel's arm, which bore the dark mark of the Death Eaters, and bit out the words with a look of intense bitterness as if that explained everything.
"Oh!"
The healer named Fly did get a shock, nodding to Harry.
"Thank you for your reminder, child."
She spoke, intending to take Evan Roazel for treatment.
"He's a Death Eater!"
Harry was in great panic, puzzled and not understanding.
"I know--"
Fly gave Harry a pale smile,
"But our biggest difference from the Death Eaters is that we respect life. Here, he is just a wounded patient who needs help."
"Regarding his trial, that is the responsibility of the Ministry of Magic."
Harry stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching the female healer disappear around the corner, looking confused.
"Hoo hoo!"
The despair and sorrowful sobs that reached Harry's ears caused him to turn around.
The despair and grief cried out into Harry's ears made him turn his head. Mrs. Weasley had already squeezed up to the inquiry desk, searching for Mr. Weasley's ward.
A group of people standing next to the inquiry desk, there was a witch leaning against the wall, slowly sitting down and crying, one hand covering her face, and the other holding a little girl of two or three years old.
The mother's grief infected the little girl. Although she was too young to understand what had happened, she also cried out in a high-pitched voice.
Harry didn't want to think about what the woman had gone through; he just stared dully at the mother and daughter.
"Found it!"
Mrs. Weasley pushed her way through the crowd,
"He's on the third floor!"
Mrs. Weasley and her children, including Ron, didn't have time to care about what Harry had gone through; they all crowded towards the stairwell, racing to reach the top.
"Come on, Harry, you can't help her—"
Hermione linked her arm with Harry's, looking sad and compassionate.
Harry was dragged upstairs by Hermione, but his head was still turned towards the mother and daughter until they were out of his sight.
There were a lot of people going up and down the stairs, and Hermione helped Harry climb up to the third floor. As soon as they stepped out of the staircase, a row of covered stretchers stopped by the wall and hit Harry and Hermione again!
Is there a chance it could be Remus?
Harry couldn't help but have this thought uncontrollably.
But then, he shook his head violently, and his thoughts were like being burned.
Impossible! Absolutely impossible!
He would never. Otherwise, the Ministry would have definitely notified themselves!
The noise in his ears seemed to be stripped away, and the whole world seemed to have only the sound of his own conviction in his mind!
"I'm sorry, I can only use a cane now."
As they passed by the emergency ward, Harry heard Professor McGonagall's voice again. Both Harry and Hermione stopped their steps and looked towards the ward.
"Hmm, not too bad."
The black wizard lying on the bed said.
It's Kingsley!
Hermione's pure eyes filled with tears again.
But Harry paid more attention to Madam Pince, who was bandaging Kingsley's broken leg.
What about the injured wizard who was brought up here earlier?
He...is he okay?
Harry wanted to ask Madam Pince, but after his lips moved for a moment, he still couldn't muster the courage to ask.
They walked past several more wards and finally saw the figure of the Weasleys.
Mrs. Weasley sat at the edge of the bed, sobbing, while the children stood behind her. They faced their father, Mr. Weasley, who was lying on the bed in front of them. Harry and Hermione standing at the door couldn't see their expressions clearly.
"Don't cry. It's nothing --"
Weasley reached out a weak hand and touched his wife's cheek. He was wrapped in bandages from head to toe, his face and injuries hidden.
"At last, it's me -- Gideon and Fabian would be relieved."
