Chapter 248: The Power of Love

Chapter 248: The Power of Love

Ten minutes ago.

Neville returned to the hospital room with an expressionless face. Seeing his parents still peacefully asleep on the bed, his heart softened.

"Mom... Dad..." he called softly.

He knew he wouldn't get a response, so he just opened his backpack and took out a clay figurine. "This is Dad." He took out another figurine. "This is Mom."

The third figurine. "This is me." The fourth figurine. "This is Grandma."

Neville arranged the four figurines together and looked at them with satisfaction.

In truth, there was another figurine in his backpack, but he didn't want to take it out now, nor did he want to look at it.

His gaze was fixed on these four figurines. As he looked at them, he smiled, tears streaming down his face.

"Mom... Dad..." he whispered again and again.

On the hospital bed, Alice Longbottom's fingers twitched slightly, as if awakening from a long slumber. She opened her eyes and the first thing she saw in her line of sight was the round-faced boy, tears streaming down his cheeks.

She also noticed the clay figurines on the table and heard the boy's soft calls.

"Nar? Is it Nar?" Something deep within her was touched, a surge of strong emotion welling up. She remembered the little baby in the cradle, and how she used to call him like that.

Neville looked up, tears still glistening on his face, making his vision slightly blurry. He wiped his tears away with the back of his hand, blinking hard.

"Mom?" Neville felt that today, his mother seemed different, her gaze so tender it could engulf him.

"Is it my Nar?" Alice Longbottom said excitedly.

"It's me, Mom! You... you've regained your memories?" Neville said in a daze. If the first part was a nightmare, then the second part was undoubtedly a dream. He wished he could experience this every day.

Alice Longbottom looked at the hospital room and her own clothes, understanding dawning on her. Tears welled up uncontrollably. "All these years, was it just you..."

"I've been living with Grandma!" Neville blurted out, a long-buried confession. "I've been doing well, made many friends—Harry, Hermione, Ron, Dean, Seamus... and the professors like me too, even though I'm a bit clumsy and forgetful..."

Alice listened quietly, her fingers trembling. Soon, Frank Longbottom also woke up. He shook his groggy head and the first thing he saw was his wife. Then his gaze shifted to a chattering, teary-eyed boy.

His wife had grown thin, her face pale, as if recovering from a serious illness. Her hair had lost its luster. His heart ached.

"I was somewhat concerned about you," Dumbledore said.

"Concerned about me?" Felix looked at him with surprise.

"On my way here, I wondered, if you were to fail, would you make another attempt? You're not one to easily give up. Young and full of spirit—wouldn't you turn your focus to Potter? Or the Weasleys? Granger? Malfoy?"

"I won't."

"Because you succeeded, and that's one of the best outcomes I hoped for," Dumbledore remarked.

"You mean—"

"Longbottom's activation of latent magic was driven by love, not hatred," Dumbledore explained.

"I don't see much of a difference."

"Felix, love is the greatest power, but few wizards truly understand this. Voldemort did not, and thus he was defeated by an infant."

"You sound like you came here specifically to give me a lesson," Felix remarked.

"Felix, I just believe that you will come to understand the power of love," Dumbledore said. "Hatred might make you stronger, but love and the belief in protection will take you much further."

Dumbledore soon left, saying he was going to visit Nicolas Flamel. Felix suddenly remembered the gift he held in his hand. He took out a small box from a ring. "Headmaster Dumbledore, please give this to Nicolas Flamel."

Dumbledore's expression grew complex. He said with a touch of sadness, "Nicolas isn't in the mood for Christmas, or even receiving gifts, at the moment. Felix, find another time."

"What's happened? Is there something I can do?" Felix asked. Nicolas Flamel had communicated with him much less over the past month.

"Nicolas's wife—Perenelle, her health isn't good. She might not make it through this winter." Dumbledore said, "We were prepared for this, but when it actually happens, it's hard not to feel sorrow."

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