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Chapter 173 - Chapter 173 I Want to Kill Him

Back in the hospital wing, he strode in quickly and soon saw Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Professor Flitwick.

Meanwhile, Pomona and Pomfrey were discussing the necessary medications in the cubicle.

The few of them immediately cast inquiring glances at him; upon seeing Howl shake his head, they lowered their eyes in disappointment.

Professor Flitwick's face was pale, very unwilling to accept this fact.

Howl looked at the hospital bed; the tall boy was now bloodless, and it felt like many of his bones were missing, his arms flattened like soft rubber tubes.

"Crucio," Dumbledore said, with anger in his eyes.

In addition to the Crucio, his bones had truly been gouged out, and besides that, his body also bore many scars caused by Dark Arts.

He looked utterly miserable.

"Dark Arts… such mastery…"

"Insane!"

However, no matter how sorrowful and angry they were, once Pomfrey and Pomona finished discussing the follow-up treatment, they were sternly driven out of the hospital wing.

The teachers all had to hurry back to their common rooms to issue warnings and make arrangements; McGonagall even had to notify the victim's family overnight, as such a serious incident could no longer be concealed.

Howl placed his hand on the hospital wing door and cast a spell again.

In the quiet corridor, only Howl and Dumbledore remained.

"You immediately restricted all entrances and exits, right?" Howl asked.

Dumbledore nodded: "Goblins and Wizards cannot Apparate here, and House-elves would not do anything to harm humans."

"Good, now I will open some of my memories to you."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in surprise, then adjusted his spectacles, his blue eyes meeting Howl's vertical pupils.

"Are you sure your memories don't have personal bias?"

"Don't look at me with that 'looking at a child' mindset," Howl said indifferently, "If I wasn't worried about unclear verbal descriptions, I wouldn't let you into my head. Let's begin, you go first, I'll follow!"

Soon, Howl finished checking the wands of the Hufflepuff Little Wizards and found no problems.

Later, on his way to the Slytherin common room, he quickly received a message from Dumbledore.

A fiery red feather quietly floated in the corridor, constantly scattering sparks.

He pinched the quill, and a message quickly entered his mind.

Immediately, in the empty hallway, the air twisted and popped, and the person disappeared.

Outside the curtains of Dumbledore's office, Howl walked straight in, and three figures came into view.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, and a chubby Little Wizard with tear-filled eyes and a flushed face.

Neville Longbottom.

"Howl, I'd like you to examine this wand," Dumbledore said, nodding, his tone very serious.

Howl's mouth twitched; he found that he could now easily follow Dumbledore's thoughts.

He quickly walked to the table and picked up the wand. At the same time, his right hand flashed, and the Raven's Head wand appeared, with black mist continuously overflowing from the skull's eye sockets, spreading into the air.

On that wand, wisps of black mist also seemed to be drawn, continuously dissipating.

"Dark Arts have been cast."

Howl then put the wand away and looked at Neville; upon hearing Howl's words, he seemed even more frightened.

Howl knew Neville; his mind was always a bit slow, he studied very diligently, but his efficiency was always very low.

So he had always performed poorly in Defense Against the Dark Arts, which focused on practical combat, and his spell-casting performance was poor. In the Duelling Club, he and Seamus, those two'Sleeping Dragons and Phoenix Chicks,' basically competed to see whose miscast spell had more violent consequences…

"Don't worry, just because your wand has cast Dark Arts doesn't mean you cast Dark Arts," Howl comforted him.

"I… I just found my wand… I always lose things… Really…" he said tearfully.

"Minerva, please take Mr. Longbottom to rest. Don't worry, it's alright," Howl smiled.

McGonagall finally breathed a sigh of relief; she had been very worried, and if it really were Neville, she wouldn't know how to face it.

"It's good that he's alright, what about the wand?"

"Of course, Mr. Longbottom still needs it to complete his homework," Dumbledore nodded.

The two quickly left…

After the office had been quiet for a while, Dumbledore finally spoke: "That child is the descendant of a hero."

"Longbottom?" Howl was a little surprised.

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