She walked to the bedside and reached out to press against Lynn's brow; she had seen the child frowning just a moment ago, but now there was no need for her to help smooth it out.
"Her body is fine; to be precise," a doctor said, using a professional diagnostic spell on Lynn and looking at her with a complex expression, "the explosive growth of magic just now caused more than half of the effects from the Crucio to vanish."
"She should be fine after a good week of rest."
"That's good," Professor Flitwick breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at the doctor. "Please calculate the hospital's losses; I will pay for them at cost."
Under the support of Lynn's explosively growing magic earlier, the items in the ward had endured magic far beyond their own limits.
Therefore, at the very moment Lynn's magic stabilized, those items all turned into dust and scattered on the floor.
Even a Mending Charm couldn't save them.
Hearing Professor Flitwick's words, the doctor quickly raised his hands and waved them vigorously. "No need to trouble yourself, Professor Flitwick. This is all normal medical wear and tear."
Normal medical wear and tear? Professor Snape's brow twitched violently; even if they weren't professional healers from St Mungos, they knew this explanation was a bit too far-fetched.
However... the three Professors glanced at each other and said nothing more.
Since they said no compensation was needed, there was no point in pressing the matter.
The Wizarding World didn't have a large population, so Young Wizards were universally recognized as darlings that needed the collective protection of the Wizarding World.
Most people would show kindness; this time, let that child Lynn enjoy the goodwill from everyone in the Wizarding World.
Having endured six Crucio curses plus an explosive growth of magic, Lynn undoubtedly needed a good rest.
The nurse hurried out of the ward and, under the curious and uncertain gazes of her colleagues outside, grabbed a bottle of draught of living death and ran back.
As for what exactly happened in the ward, she wouldn't say, and her colleagues wouldn't ask, no matter how curious they were.
Gently pouring the draught of living death into Lynn's mouth, the nurse thoughtfully tucked her in.
"She can sleep soundly for eight hours now. She'll be much better when she wakes up."
"Perhaps not," Professor McGonagall shook her head, looking at Lynn on the bed with heartache.
She was clearly remembering when Pomona had given Lynn the draught of living death in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, and Lynn had kept waking up and falling back asleep.
They hadn't known why then, but thinking about it now, they understood.
It was likely because the daily routine Lynn had been raised with by her parents was at work.
One could only imagine how firm her will must be to have a routine that could resist the effects of a Potion.
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