Chapter 30: Filling in the Gaps
Alexander couldn't help but feel a ripple of shock.
Was it really possible that Voldemort had strengthened his magic by killing other wizards?
Thinking back, it must have started in his fifth year at Hogwarts, when Tom Riddle killed Myrtle. Back then, he had feared leaving the place he called home. But after Myrtle's death, he must have sensed his magical power grow stronger, and that terrifying discovery may have planted the seed for his future murders—and the creation of Horcruxes.
Alexander sat still, deep in thought.
Until now, most of his understanding of the wizarding world came from the seven novels written from Harry Potter's perspective.
From Harry's view, Hogwarts was Voldemort's sanctuary—his true home, a place he cherished. Even after Dumbledore's death, the school operated relatively normally. Students like Neville and Luna were able to resist within Hogwarts without facing truly brutal retaliation. Much of that was likely thanks to Snape's subtle protection, but Voldemort, as the Dark Lord, surely knew what was happening.
Harry had believed Voldemort retained some fondness for Hogwarts.
But that, Alexander realized, was wishful thinking.
Myrtle's death wasn't some tragic accident caused by the basilisk. It was deliberate. Voldemort had already obtained knowledge about Horcruxes, opened the Chamber of Secrets, and was hunting for a suitable sacrifice. Myrtle, a sensitive and unpopular Ravenclaw girl, fit perfectly.
At the same time, Hagrid was secretly raising Acromantulas—giant spiders that terrified most students. The time, the place, the victim… Everything lined up too perfectly.
Could Voldemort really have resisted such a temptation?
Of course not.
His very name—Tom Marvolo Riddle—hid his destiny.
"I am Lord Voldemort."
A name built from French words: vol (flight or theft), de (of), mort (death).
In short: "Flight from Death" or "Stealing Death."
For a man obsessed with immortality, was it even possible to let go of such a prize?
Harry's view of Voldemort was too kind, too naïve.
Harry's own biases extended elsewhere too—his distrust of Slytherin, for instance.
This world wasn't a fairy tale.
If Alexander clung too tightly to Harry's simplified version of events, he might avoid disaster thanks to his strength…
But he could also make decisions that would violate his own moral code.
Take Pansy Parkinson, for example. Was she truly as ugly as Harry and Hermione often mocked?
Hardly.
Pansy had been personally invited by Draco Malfoy to the Yule Ball. Malfoy, proud and vain, would never have chosen an ugly date. Sure, Pansy had a buffoonish attitude, and Hermione once sneered that she was "dumber than a concussed troll," but appearances? That was pure bias.
In the final battle, when Voldemort offered Hogwarts students safety in exchange for Harry Potter, it was Pansy who first leapt to point at Harry, shouting, "There he is! Potter's right there!"
Her betrayal earned her a swift ejection from the Great Hall by Professor McGonagall.
Even the author herself, J.K. Rowling, once admitted:
"I would want to be Hermione, but definitely not Pansy Parkinson."
Pansy briefly dated Draco but was eventually dumped. Draco later married Astoria Greengrass, a girl two years his junior—a reminder that, in love, younger often wins.
Harry, too, married Ginny Weasley, a year younger than himself.
In any case, Alexander thought, he needed to see things with his own eyes, not through Harry's tinted glasses.
If possible, he would save as many of these witches as he could—give them a better fate.
Even if it was just "saving face."
His whimsical thoughts were interrupted by a sharp voice.
"Master, it's time to head to St. Mungo's Hospital," Jack said, appearing respectfully beside him.
Right—this was another plan Alexander had arranged:
to learn healing magic firsthand.
Healing spells were traditionally monopolized by St. Mungo's.
Hogwarts offered only basic knowledge. Even Harry had once complained about it. Only students like Hermione, with a medical background or an intense passion for learning, truly mastered healing magic.
Alexander didn't lack healing spells, thanks to his system and training.
But there was something unique about St. Mungo's—the very air there was filled with magical residue from countless healing spells.
Immersed in such an environment, his magic would improve at a pace impossible elsewhere.
Crack!
Alexander and Jack apparated to Taotao Co., an unassuming department store in Muggle London. Hidden behind it stood St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
Naturally, Taotao Co. was one of the Smith family's many hidden properties.
Alexander's family had also invested heavily in St. Mungo's itself.
The hospital hadn't been built in Diagon Alley because of space constraints, nor could it be hidden underground like the Ministry of Magic. So they had tucked it away behind a regular London façade.
A private entrance, much like the Leaky Cauldron, connected Taotao Co. directly to the magical world.
Patients didn't need appointments. They could simply walk in.
The hospital towered six floors high:
First Floor: Artifact Accidents
Second Floor: Creature-Induced Injuries
Third Floor: Contagious Magical Diseases
Fourth Floor: Potion and Plant Poisoning
Fifth Floor: Spell Damage
Sixth Floor: Tea Room and Hospital Shop
A portrait of Dilys Derwent—former Headmistress of Hogwarts—greeted visitors at the first-floor reception. Witches and wizards bustled about, guiding patients to the appropriate wards.
The Smith family's secret passage exited on the sixth floor, in an isolated tea room hidden from the staff.
Disguised once again as George Smith, Alexander followed Jack into the tea room.
Inside, they found a lush oasis: elder herbs surrounded a green couch, and a one-way enchanted glass wall offered a panoramic view of the busy hospital beyond.
Healers, recognizable by the crossed-wand-and-bone badges on their robes, hurried through the halls, oblivious to the pair's arrival.
Jack, settling comfortably onto the couch, gestured toward a potted plant in the corner.
"If you move it, the wall will become transparent and the healers will notice you," he explained. "If you just water it, they'll assume you're visiting and leave you alone."
Alexander nodded, signaling Jack not to touch anything.
He was here to practice, not to cause a scene.
He had mentally prepared himself for this moment.
Even so, practicing spells in a public setting—with people constantly passing by—proved far more difficult than he had imagined.
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(End of Chapter)
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