Friday afternoon, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked from the Forbidden Forest toward the castle, meeting Aiden, who was waiting at the entrance.
"Oh, Aiden, you absolutely don't know how tough Hagrid was today. He actually threatened Malfoy directly, saying if he caused trouble, he'd turn him into a white ferret."
Ron was very excited, and Draco's iron-blue face during class was also memorable for him.
"Aiden, who are you waiting for here?" Harry asked with curiosity.
"Waiting for Neville." Aiden saw Neville approaching from behind and waved to him.
"Neville, come with me to the headmaster's office. Dumbledore wants to see you."
"Alright." Neville wanted to follow but looked uncertainly at the heavy books in his hands.
"We'll help you take them back," Harry and Ron offered, coming over to take Neville's books.
"Thank you both."
Neville thanked Harry and Ron gratefully, then was led away by Aiden.
"What do you think Dumbledore wants with them?" Ron asked with obvious curiosity.
"It won't be anything bad anyway. And you two need to think about how to complete your Divination homework," Hermione said with a weary sigh.
In the headmaster's office, Neville stopped in surprise.
"Grandmother?" He saw the elderly woman in a vulture hat sitting rigidly on the sofa.
"Neville, sit down. Don't be so flustered," Neville's grandmother looked at him with stern authority.
"Augusta, I'm very sorry to invite you both here. I have some important matters I'd like to discuss with you," Dumbledore spoke with careful diplomacy.
"Professor, let me handle this," Aiden stepped forward.
"Madam, Neville, I plan to attempt a different approach to help the Longbottoms, but I cannot guarantee success. May I ask if you would permit me to make this attempt?" Aiden said directly.
"What? Do you know they are..." Neville's grandmother stood up abruptly.
"Yes, tortured to madness by the Cruciatus Curse, their minds sealed," Aiden finished what Mrs. Longbottom couldn't bring herself to say.
"But how can this be treated? Even St. Mungo's has no solution," Neville's grandmother stared intently at Aiden, her expression complex with hope and doubt.
"The realm of the mind is not St. Mungo's strength. The organization that truly has deep research into thoughts and minds is the Department of Mysteries, and I happen to have some connections with them."
Aiden held up his hand, his index finger and thumb pressed together, indicating a small amount.
"Good, if it's truly as you say, then I hereby permit you to do whatever you can. Even if you fail, we won't resent you," Neville's grandmother made her decision with firm resolve, and Neville nodded in agreement.
"Then, let's go," Dumbledore stepped forward.
Fawkes understood immediately, flew up, and grasped the four people with his powerful talons. In a brilliant flash of fire, they arrived at St. Mungo's.
St. Mungo's fifth floor, Spell Damage ward.
Neville's grandmother led the group to her son and daughter-in-law's room with heavy steps.
Dumbledore looked solemnly at the two middle-aged people lying in the hospital beds, their faces pale and bodies withered from years of mental damage.
"Aiden, I'm counting on you," Dumbledore said, looking at the young man with serious hope.
"Mm."
Aiden nodded, activated Consciousness Walking, and projected his mental body into Mr. Longbottom's consciousness island.
Entering the collective unconscious sea, what Aiden saw was not a proper island.
Instead, he found a group of reefs nearly completely submerged by dark waters.
"Too cruel. How could they do this?" Aiden frowned with genuine anger.
Incomplete, ragged fragments were scattered everywhere, while the surrounding seawater continued to batter the remaining pieces relentlessly.
How could this possibly be repaired? Aiden was momentarily stumped by the devastation.
On the reef, Aiden first tried releasing demigod-level soothing across the entire damaged island.
Under his influence, the constantly cracking and crumbling stone blocks finally received slight relief from their torment.
Then, Aiden withdrew from Mr. Longbottom's consciousness island.
"Aiden, what did you just do? My father's expression seemed to ease a bit," Neville called out with growing excitement.
Aiden didn't answer him immediately, only took out his notebook and began recording his observations.
Demigod-level soothing is insufficient. Alternative direction one: advance to Dream Weaver, create beautiful dreams for self-repair. Alternative direction two: advance to Dream Weaver and bring Neville into the patient's consciousness...
Since the ability directions are still too far away, why not consider the almighty magical power? the system suggested.
Are you a magic conch shell? Aiden rolled his eyes at the unhelpful comment.
Aiden finished his final note and put away the notebook, and the Longbottom family's old and young looked at him with desperate expectation.
"My current abilities are insufficient to begin proper treatment. I need to research other solutions or wait until I grow to a more powerful level," Aiden explained to them honestly.
"It doesn't matter. Having hope is already very good. Fourteen years, and finally I've waited for this," Augusta Longbottom wept openly, and tears also appeared in Neville's eyes as he looked at Aiden with overwhelming gratitude.
Neville's grandmother said she would stay at the hospital, while Dumbledore brought Neville and Aiden back to Hogwarts.
"Aiden, didn't you have something you didn't say earlier?" Dumbledore noticed the reservation in Aiden's previous words.
"Yes. If I stayed by the Longbottoms' side for an extended time, continuously releasing my abilities on them, it could also cure them, but this time period would probably be astronomical," Aiden shook his head.
"Mm, your choice not to tell them was correct. Do you have anything else?"
Dumbledore saw black lines appear on his forehead as he looked at Aiden sitting casually on his desk.
"Well then, my dear headmaster, if we're not approaching this from my personal abilities, there's some knowledge I'm quite lacking in terms of magical power. For example, souls, for example, minds. Oh dear, it's really troubling. Where can one obtain this mysterious knowledge that's usually so hard to find?"
The little manipulator sat on the desk and extended his shameless freeloading hand.
"Sigh, here's a pass for the Restricted Section. You can go search for what you need yourself," Dumbledore said with resignation.
Then, the dragon who had obtained the coveted borrowing pass left Dumbledore's office with obvious satisfaction.
"Hmph, someone's about to cultivate a third Dark Lord, and this time it's through his own indulgence," Phineas Black spoke up from his portrait.
"Albus, letting him access dark magic now, isn't it too early?" Dilys Derwent looked at him with genuine concern.
"But his magical research has already reached this level. Not letting him freely explore magic—do you want to stifle genius?" Armando Dippet retorted.
"Hmm, so you and Albus 'freely' cultivated Voldemort together," Phineas Black mocked with his typical cynicism.
"Again with that tired line. Even if I did cultivate Voldemort, my reputation is still better than yours, most unpopular headmaster," Armando Dippet shot back.
"You're talking nonsense... I'm not unpopular... the students were just shy about expressing their admiration for me..." Phineas stubbornly defended himself.
For a moment the headmaster's portraits filled with a cheerful, argumentative atmosphere.
"Enough, everyone," Dumbledore spoke with quiet authority.
The headmaster portraits also quieted down respectfully.
"He's a good child. He has love, and he's already experienced the beauty of love's magic. He won't fall into the abyss," Dumbledore reassured the concerned headmasters.
At the same time, knowing the past, he understood that the wizarding world owed Aiden, who had wandered through history, no small debt.
The office fell into thoughtful silence.