Chapter 730
A Brief Awakening
Chapter 730 A Brief Awakening
When the therapist stepped back outside the door again, Dumbledore slowly lifted the curtain, and Slughorn was curled up on the bed like a baby, clutching a pillow.
He kept his eyes tightly closed, seemingly pretending to be asleep, but his body was still trembling, and his eyelids would occasionally open a crack to peek outside.
Dumbledore looked at his mad appearance, and the words of advice he had planned stuck in his throat, finally turning into a barely audible sigh.
Seeing this, Wade suddenly had a flash of inspiration. He took out the wardrobe space, opened it, and gave a soft command. One after another, the magical puppets poured out from it.
Since waking up, he hasn't had time to repair the damaged puppets. Most of the puppets in the ward are missing limbs or have half of their bodies charred, making them even more terrifying than usual.
But after being surrounded by these hideous golems, Slughorn's breathing miraculously gradually calmed down, and his tense body slowly relaxed.
He opened his eyes, looked blankly at the puppets around him, suddenly reached out and hugged a praying mantis missing half of its head, and then carefully placed a few wasps on his shoulder.
The puppets cooperated well; some leaned against his back, some snuggled into his arms, and some lay down beside his legs, quickly filling the entire ward.
Wade explained to Harry in a low voice, "Strictly speaking, it wasn't me who saved him that day, but these puppets—he saw them fight to the death, and it was they who freed him from his imprisonment. So what makes him feel at ease is the puppets, not me."
“But without you, how could there be a puppet?” Harry said naturally. “When he comes to his senses, he will know who really saved him.”
Dumbledore glanced at the two of them, a thoughtful look in his eyes.
Slughorn was busy getting close to the puppets, and his limbs, which had been curled up, gradually relaxed, and a relaxed smile appeared on his face.
His clouded vision gradually cleared, as if a layer of fog had been lifted. When he looked at Dumbledore again, a long-lost clarity and rationality finally appeared in his eyes.
“Albus…” he said in a hoarse, weak voice, “It’s been so long…you old bastard…I thought…I would have seen you much sooner…”
“My dear Horace, I owe you an apology…”
Dumbledore's voice trembled as he said, "After you were taken away by Tom, I... I couldn't..."
Slughorn suddenly raised his withered hand and shook his head: "No, Albus... it's my own fault for always hiding like a goblin. Should I blame you for not noticing my disappearance in time?"
He forced a bitter smile, revealing a few yellowed teeth.
"And I know very well... who the real person is to be hated..."
As he spoke, his gaze fell on Harry, and he froze when he saw the boy's green eyes and the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.
Slughorn had large, round eyes that bulged out noticeably due to his thinness and haggardness, making him look somewhat frightening.
At that moment, his eyes quickly filled with tears. He looked at Harry and said weakly, "Harry... Potter?"
“Yes, that’s me,” Harry said quickly.
“I’m so sorry, child,” Slughorn said slowly. “The death of your parents…it was…horrible…absolutely horrible…”
Harry didn't know what to say.
With tears streaming down his face, Slughorn slurred, “Your mother, Lily… was one of the brightest students I ever taught… lively, lovely, and brave… very brave…”
He sobbed like a child, saying, "I knew before that she was brave to fight that man... but now I realize she's much braver than I thought..." Harry stood there, his eyes glistening with tears in the dim hospital room, and after a moment he said:
“Thank you for remembering her…” He paused for a moment and said, “I hope you can cheer up soon. If my mother were still alive, she would definitely want to see the old you.”
“Oh, Lily…”
As Slughorn spoke, it was as if he could see that energetic student falling under Voldemort's Killing Curse again, and he suddenly felt a long-lost heartache.
Just as his gaze began to race wildly, he felt a furry touch on his chest—
A cheetah puppet nuzzled against it affectionately, its soft, warm fur indistinguishable from that of a real feline, and the soft purring from its throat made it feel completely relaxed.
Slughorn wrapped his arms around the cheetah, and his rapid breathing calmed down again.
He looked at Wade, and this time he truly recognized him. A familiar light suddenly shone in his eyes, and his fingers trembled with excitement.
"Ah, you are...you are...Wade Gray!"
Slughorn's voice suddenly regained its usual enthusiasm, even carrying a hint of the lecturing rhythm he used to: "The inventor of the puppet! Truly a genius of alchemy!"
His speech quickened, and he gestured excitedly with his hands: "If I were still teaching at Hogwarts, I would definitely invite you to join my club... Ah, you should really see my collection! Look at those photos, and that shelf full of the Book of Friends..."
He pointed to the empty wall, as if it were his own bookshelf, and said proudly:
"Seven books in total! The Minister of Magic's signature is on the first page! And Barnabas Goughfy, editor of the Daily Prophet! Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyhead Harpy Team..."
Elliott, the healer, stood in the doorway. She glanced at the time and tried several times to urge Dumbledore and the others to leave quickly, as two five-minute intervals had already passed.
But seeing that Slughorn was in good condition, even more energetic than usual, she decided to wait a little longer.
"Horace".
Suddenly, Dumbledore interrupted Slughorn's endless boasting and gave him a firm squeeze on the arm.
His words abruptly stopped, and the smile on Slughorn's face vanished. He seemed to have been pulled back to reality, realizing his predicament.
Dumbledore felt apologetic, but he had to force himself to speak: "You know what I want, dear Horace... You know how important this is..."
Slughorn stared at him, his face filled with fear, his eyes brimming with tears, and his breathing becoming rapid and irregular.
After a full two or three minutes, under Dumbledore's calm and resolute gaze, Slughorn very slowly drew his wand and pressed the tip against his temple.
"I...I made a mistake...I'm ashamed...I'm sorry, I think I might...I might have caused a lot of harm..."
He whispered through his tears, and the wand left his head, leaving a thin, glowing silver thread trailing from its tip.
Dumbledore quickly conjured a transparent crystal bottle and put that wisp of memory inside.
The next second, he heard Slughorn say excitedly in a high-pitched voice, "Oh, pineapple preserves! Yes, I love them, thank you for the gift... No problem, Froome, I'll help you find a job, I know a lot of amazing people..."
(End of this chapter)