[227] Where Do They Wait

At St Mungo's, Sirius, Dumbledore, and Snape were all kicked out — the patient needed quiet to rest, and the three of them combined were nearly three hundred years old.

"What happened?" Snape stared at Sirius.

Sirius rubbed his nose. "I... asked Hall..."

Snape's face darkened.

"Resurrection from the dead..." Dumbledore was shocked. He had seen the Inferius Regulus — there were no signs of life. But now, Regulus lying on the sickbed exuded a vibrant life force.

After nearly ten years immersed in the lake of Inferi, he was alive.

Dumbledore repeatedly wiped his glasses. "Hall is truly... unexpected."

Sirius nodded.

Snape remained silent, lost in some memory.

"Regulus needs rest," Sirius said. "I may need to take leave."

Dumbledore smiled. "Spend time with family. I'll keep your position, but I need to find a new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."

A certain name flashed through Dumbledore's mind, then was abruptly crossed out. Absolutely impossible.

A new Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Hall and the elegant lady on the podium locked eyes.

"Is this our new professor?" Draco said loudly. "She doesn't seem impressive."

Hall looked at Draco in horror. Too late.

Vita Rozier smiled. "Oh? I just heard something interesting. Mr Malfoy, let's duel."

She waved her hand — wandlessly — and cleared Draco's desk.

Hall chose to close his eyes.

In a few minutes, Vita Rozier established her authority — including the third-year Slytherins and Gryffindors, all of whom understood exactly what kind of woman she was.

"Ruthless," Ron whispered.

Hermione's eyes lit up. "She's so cool! And so strong — she didn't even use her wand!"

"Didn't you used to like Gilderoy Lockhart?" Hall asked.

"I gave up after discovering his true character. Ms Lydia and our new professor are far more worthy of admiration."

Hall gave her a thumbs up.

Back in the Slytherin common room, Draco was still complaining. "You definitely knew something! Why didn't you warn me!"

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"Blame it on your big mouth."

Draco's expression softened. "But Professor Rosier is really amazing." He glanced at Hall. Had he imagined it, or was she very interested in Hall? And there was another Rosier in Slytherin who was very interested in Hall...

Before he could voice his thoughts, they ran into Snape.

"Hall Weasley — " Snape's deep voice rang out.

"Headmaster Snape!"

Snape glanced at Draco. "I need to speak with Hall."

Draco left quickly.

"About Regulus?" Hall asked.

Snape's face tightened.

Hall continued. "I was shocked too. Saving him was a series of perfectly timed coincidences."

"The past cannot be changed. Regulus had to die at that point in time. What I did was precisely time it — replacing that drop of water from the past with the drop of water in my hand. The crucial prop was Regulus's corpse. But that involves a time paradox. However, it doesn't matter."

Hall shrugged. "It was a one-time miracle. I can't do it again."

"I understand." Snape nodded. "You did well."

Hall called out as Snape was about to leave. "Headmaster, how is Mr Regulus?"

"He should wake up in a couple of days." Snape's eyes held a hint of mockery. "So you're concerned about your miracle?"

"Not really. Sirius still owes me Galleons. I need to remind him not to forget."

Two days later, Hall saw the Black brothers at St Mungo's.

"Young Mr Weasley, it's been a long time." Regulus gave him a weak smile.

"Just call me Regulus. Thank you for saving me."

"Then you can call me Hall. So we're acquainted now?"

"Of course."

Sirius burst in. "Reg! You're not fully recovered! You need to rest!"

Then he turned to Hall.

"Why are you here?" Sirius averted his gaze. "Have even the studious Slytherins learned to skip class?"

Hall was unfazed. Getting angry with Sirius was beneath him.

"It's a holiday today."

Regulus, watching his arrogant older brother rendered speechless by a young student, laughed until his eyes crinkled. Then he coughed twice, and tears slowly slid down his cheeks.

Sirius's expression was that of a dog that had just been kicked — bewildered.

Hall sighed. He left the ward without hesitation. This was brotherly business, not his. He was sure Regulus was alright, so his payment was secure.

Back in the Slytherin dormitory, Hall lay stiffly on the bed, arms crossed.

"Helena, get down."

"Hiss~" No.

Helena was now about twice Hall's length — a gigantic blob, and very heavy.

"Hiss hiss hiss~" You figured out that formation! I want my master!

Hall rubbed his temples. "Finding Mr Slytherin and saving Regulus are two completely different things. Regulus was a combination of coincidence and miracle. I can't guarantee I could pull it off again."

"Moreover, Mr Slytherin's situation is far more complicated. The time that can be retraced in the river of time is limited. He disappeared hundreds of years ago, and we still cannot determine which period he was lost in. The past? The future? Perhaps he became part of time itself."

Hall shuddered at the memory of being immersed in time.

"Helena, I need an anchor." Hall's eyes glinted. Whether traversing space or leaping through time, a precise anchor was crucial. He couldn't traverse the vast expanse of time to establish one with Slytherin.

"Helena, you're not a little snake anymore." Hall cupped her large head in his hands, looking into her bright yellow eyes. "You need to try harder."

Helena stared at him, question marks practically appearing above her head. She transformed into a little snake, slapped Hall's face with her tail, and slithered off.

Hmph. Bad.

Hall chuckled. He sighed deeply. "Only the most difficult task remains..."

He closed his eyes and began counting Galleons. Ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand...

While Hall drifted off, on another part of Europe, a group of escaped Death Eaters were struggling to sleep.

"Damn the British Ministry of Magic!"

"Shut up!" Bellatrix Lestrange glared at the speaker, her black hair wild, her eyes manic. "English wizards, French wizards... When I find my master..."

A glimmer of clarity flashed in her eyes. "Something's wrong! Everything since we escaped is wrong. Someone is plotting against us."

Years in Azkaban had clouded her mind, but she wasn't stupid. She was Bellatrix Lestrange. Her former surname was Black.

In brief moments of lucidity, she realised something was amiss.

"Back to England."