Frank Longbottom blinked in confusion, looking around with wide, dazed eyes. "What… what's going on? Where are Bella and the others?"
Just moments ago, he had been at the mercy of several Death Eaters led by Bellatrix Lestrange, suffering under the Cruciatus Curse. Now, everything was different—the pain was gone, and the surroundings had changed completely. Had time passed? He didn't know what time travel was, but if he had, he might have suspected he'd traveled through it.
"It's over, dear boy… it's all over!" Augusta Longbottom cried as she pulled her son into a fierce hug, her tears soaking his shoulder.
Neville stood nearby, shifting nervously. His father's image had long been a blurred memory, and now standing before him was a figure both familiar and foreign.
Frank, still in shock, looked at his aged mother and then at the boy beside her. "Mum… you've aged a lot. What happened?" His eyes rested on Neville. "You're… you're Neville!"
Augusta took a deep breath and began to explain, recounting everything Frank had missed. Meanwhile, Blake quietly pulled up a stool and sat down, wiping the sweat from his brow with the towel Tris had brought. While the magic itself hadn't drained him, the mental strain of repairing a soul was exhausting.
Tris, realizing the towels and hot water were meant for Blake's comfort, quickly stepped forward to prepare a fresh basin for him.
Dumbledore approached, conjuring a cup of bubble milk tea and offering it to Blake with a smile. "Well done, Blake. I'm proud of you."
Blake's eyes lit up at the sight. "Perfect timing," he muttered as he gratefully accepted it.
Off to the side, Dean Bohan watched Blake with admiration and curiosity, his expression bordering on fanatical. It gave Blake a chill.
The healer had been dying to ask how Blake had accomplished such a miracle. He hadn't noticed the intricacies of the process earlier and had refrained from interrupting. But now that Blake was resting…
Seeing Bohan's hesitation, Blake took the initiative. "The Longbottoms… they've been in St. Mungo's for years. Physically, they were fine. The Cruciatus Curse doesn't just harm the body—it wrecks the soul."
"That's what confused me the most," Bohan said. "They had no visible injuries, yet they wouldn't wake. Like they were trapped inside."
"Exactly," Blake nodded. "The curse mainly targets the soul. I didn't heal their bodies—I repaired their souls."
Bohan was stunned. "So, when you drew something out of Frank… that was his soul?"
Blake nodded. "I was mending the fractured parts."
Bohan's voice trembled with excitement. "Will you teach us this technique someday?"
Blake smiled. "Of course. I want these spells to help people. Who better to use them than professional healers?"
"You're serious?" Bohan's voice broke. "Last time, you taught us the rebirth spell freely… now this?"
"I study healing magic to help others," Blake replied. "These spells do more good in the hands of trained medics."
Bohan looked overwhelmed. "Blake, I… I don't even have words. There's only one: great. You're a great man."
Blake's cheeks turned red. "That's… exaggerated."
He wasn't being purely altruistic. The more people he healed with these techniques, the more widely his name would spread—and the more likely he was to trigger system rewards like treasure chests. A long-term investment, really. Not that Bohan knew about the system.
[Ding! Emotion detected: deep gratitude and admiration!]
[Ding! Golden treasure chest acquired!]
Blake sighed inwardly. He had hoped for a diamond chest, but this would do.
Meanwhile, Frank approached, his arm around Neville. Blake stood respectfully.
"Mr. Longbottom, you should rest," Blake said gently. "I'll treat Mrs. Longbottom after a short break."
Frank grabbed his hand and shook it firmly, tears brimming in his eyes. "Thank you. I… I don't know how to repay you."
"You don't need to," Blake replied.
"No, we'll never forget this," Frank insisted. "If you ever need help—anything at all—come to us."
Blake smiled. "Thank you. I'll remember that."
Beside them, Neville added with a fierce look in his eyes, "Me too! If you need help, I'll do it—even if I have to fight Snape!"
Blake chuckled. "Neville, I won't ask you to fight a professor, but I appreciate the offer."
He liked Neville. Though the boy seemed insecure due to his mediocre performance at school, he was strong-willed and brave. In the original timeline, when Harry and the others were gone, it was Neville who kept Dumbledore's Army alive. He even defied Voldemort face to face and destroyed the final Horcrux—Nagini.
Definitely someone with potential.
Soon, Frank was helped into bed to rest while Blake moved to Alice Longbottom. The procedure was identical, with Frank now watching from the side.
Alice's condition was less severe. Blake suspected that during the torture, Frank had shielded her from the brunt of the curse.
Half the time it had taken for Frank, and Blake completed the soul restoration. He snapped his fingers.
"Wake up," he commanded softly.
Alice's eyes fluttered open. She looked around, disoriented, until her gaze fell on Neville. Recognition sparked immediately.
The family of three embraced, tears flowing freely. No one interrupted the emotional moment.
It was impossible to imagine the pain Augusta and Neville had endured all these years. But now, their family was whole again.
Blake tugged gently on Dumbledore's robe. The two quietly slipped out of the ward.
"Let's go," Blake whispered.
He wasn't good at lingering after emotional reunions. It was better to leave quietly—added to the aura of humility, which would only help his reputation and chest collection later.
Dumbledore, understanding his thoughts, said nothing. Together, they returned to Hogwarts via the Floo Network. The old Headmaster was in high spirits—this had long been a burden on his heart, and Blake had finally given the Longbottoms back their lives.
Pride and gratitude mingled in Dumbledore's heart.
Of course, if Grindelwald had been there, he might've scoffed. You just gave a drop of blood and now claim the credit for everything!
Still… Dumbledore did feel like this child was his legacy.
Back at Hogwarts, Blake immediately rushed off—to the secret chamber, where a certain "big toy" awaited him.
Aftermath and Quibbler Chaos
In the following days, Blake lived in peace. Aside from occasionally dropping by Mr. Lovegood's to discuss The Quibbler, he rarely left the castle.
Snape, noticing the boy hadn't missed a single class for weeks, suspected possession.
Meanwhile, The Quibbler suffered some backlash due to Lockhart's disgrace. After all, it was their platform that had published his columns.
But Mr. Lovegood, with some nudging from Blake, took swift action.
"I misjudged character," he wrote in a formal apology, "so we'll suspend The Quibbler for two issues."
It was a brilliant move.
On the surface, it looked like a punishment. But in reality? The serialized novels had paused at their most exciting moments.
Readers were devastated. Fan mail flooded the editorial office, begging for the magazine's return.
Lockhart? Who was that again?
By the time The Quibbler resumed publication, its sales had skyrocketed. The "break" had only increased demand.
Mr. Lovegood was stunned by the results. Hugging a fresh issue, he whispered, "Luna… you have to hold on to him."
=============
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