When the healer retreated outside again, Dumbledore slowly lifted the curtain. Slughorn was curled up on the bed like a baby, clutching a pillow.
He had his eyes closed, seemingly pretending to sleep, but his body still trembled. Occasionally, he cracked open his eyelids to sneak a peek outside.
Looking at his crazed demeanor, Dumbledore swallowed the words he intended to say, letting out a faint, almost inaudible sigh.
Vid noticed this, and a sudden idea flashed in his mind. He opened the wardrobe space and ordered softly, and the poppets streamed out one by one.
Since waking up, he hadn't had time to repair the damaged poppets. Most of those appearing in the ward were missing limbs or had scorch marks on half of their bodies, looking even more terrifying than usual.
But as Slughorn was surrounded by these fearsome poppets, his breathing miraculously steadied, and his tense body gradually relaxed.
He opened his eyes, gazing blankly at the poppets around him, then suddenly reached out to hold a mantis with half its head missing in his arms, carefully placing several bees on his shoulders.
The poppets were cooperative, leaning against his back, squeezing into his arms, or lying beside his legs, quickly filling the entire ward.
Vid softly explained to Harry, "Strictly speaking, it wasn't me who saved him that day; it was these poppets. He saw them fighting desperately, and it was they who freed him from captivity. So, the ones who can calm him are the poppets, not me."
"But if it weren't for you, how would there be poppets?" Harry said naturally, "When he wakes up, he'll naturally know who really saved him."
Dumbledore looked at the two of them, a thoughtful glint in his eyes.
Slughorn was busy cuddling with the poppets. Unconsciously, his contracted limbs stretched out, and a relaxed smile appeared on his face.
His murky vision gradually cleared, as though a layer of fog had lifted. When he looked at Dumbledore again, his gaze finally showed a long-lost clarity and reason.
"Albus…" he said in a hoarse, weak voice, "It's been so long… You old bastard… I thought... I'd see you sooner…"
"Dear Horace, I owe you an apology…"
Dumbledore said, his voice trembling, "After Tom captured you, I… I failed to…"
Slughorn suddenly raised his gaunt hand, shaking his head. "No, Albus… I've always been hiding like a goblin myself. Can I still blame you for not discovering my disappearance in time?"
He forced a bitter smile, revealing several yellowed teeth.
"And I know very well… who is truly to blame…"
As he spoke, his gaze fell on Harry, looking at the boy's green eyes and lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, he froze.
Slughorn had a pair of large, round eyes, which appeared particularly prominent due to his thin and haggard face, seeming somewhat frightening.
At this moment, those eyes quickly filled with tears. Looking at Harry, he said in a weak voice, "Harry… Potter?"
"Yes, I am," Harry quickly replied.
"I'm sorry, child," Slughorn slowly said, "About your parents' death… that's just… horrible… truly horrible…"
Harry didn't know what to say.
With tears streaming, Slughorn said in a muffled voice, "Your mother, Lily… was one of the smartest students I've taught… lively and lovely, and brave… very brave…"
He gasped like a child and said, "I knew before that she had the courage to fight against that person… but now I realize she's braver than I thought…"
Harry stood frozen, his eyes glistening with dampness in the dim ward. After a moment, he said:
"Thank you for remembering her…" He paused and said, "I hope you can pull yourself together soon. If my mom was around, she'd definitely want to see the old you."
"Oh, Lily…"
Slughorn said, as if he saw that vibrant student falling to Voldemort's Killing Curse and suddenly felt a long-lost heartache.
As his gaze gradually became frantic, a fluffy sensation came from his chest—
A cheetah poppet affectionately nuzzled him with its head. Its soft and warm fur was indistinguishable from a real feline, and the slight purring from its throat relaxed him entirely.
Slughorn's arms wrapped around the cheetah, his urgent breathing stabilized once more.
He looked at Vid and finally recognized him, a familiar gleam suddenly lighting up in his eyes, his fingers trembling excitedly.
"Ah, you are… you are… Vid Gray!"
Slughorn's voice suddenly regained its usual enthusiasm, even carrying the cadence of lecturing, "The inventor of Poppets! Truly genius Alchemy!"
His speech accelerated, and he gestured excitedly with his hands, "If I were still teaching at Hogwarts, I'd definitely invite you to join my club… Oh, you should really see my collection! Look at those photos, and the Friendship Book stacking up on that shelf…"
He pointed to the empty wall, as if it were his bookshelf, proudly saying:
"A full seven volumes! The Minister of Ministry of Magic's signature is on the first page! And Barnabas Cuff, editor of the Prophet Daily! Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyhead Harpies…"
Healer Elliott stood at the doorway, checking the time, intending several times to urge Dumbledore and others to leave quickly, as two five-minute stretches had already passed.
But seeing Slughorn in good spirits, even more lively than usual, she decided to wait a bit longer.
"Horace."
Suddenly, Dumbledore interrupted Slughorn's endless bragging, gripping his arm tightly.
Slughorn's voice stopped abruptly, and the smile on his face vanished. He seemed to be yanked back into reality, realizing his situation.
Dumbledore felt sorry yet forced himself to speak: "You know what I want, dear Horace… You know how important this is…"
Slughorn stared at him, his expression fearful, tears in his eyes, his breathing urgent and irregular.
After a good two or three minutes, under Dumbledore's calm and resolute gaze, Slughorn very slowly drew out his magic wand, pressing the tip to his temple.
"I… I made a mistake… I'm ashamed… Sorry, I think I might have… possibly caused great harm…"
He said in tears, in a faint voice, as the wand left his head, and from its tip emerged a long, glowing silver thread.
Dumbledore quickly conjured a transparent crystal bottle, securing the thread of memory.
The next second, he heard Slughorn excitedly saying in a high-pitched voice: "Oh, candied pineapples! Yes, I love them, thank you for the gift… No problem, Frum, I'll help introduce you to work, I know many remarkable people…"