Harry felt a sharp pang in his heart.
Although he didn't know the old man well, the way he talked about Harry's mother left a deep impression on him, fostering a vague sense of closeness towards Slughorn.
The sight of this old man being overwhelmed by fear was like a needle stabbing into Harry's heart. A strong mix of sympathy and helpless anxiety surged up, making him almost want to do something immediately.
"Is there... really no way at all?" he lowered his voice, as if afraid of disturbing something, "St Mungo's has the best healers in the world, even they..."
"Healing Magic isn't omnipotent, and besides, there are some diseases that even the best Magic Potions can't alleviate," Vid said, "We'll consult his healer first and see what the situation is."
His gaze shifted from Slughorn to the other end of the corridor.
A healer in a pale green robe, holding a Crystal Bubble that constantly changed colors, walked over. She recognized Vid and Harry and said in surprise:
"Ah, it's you! Mr. Gray, Mr. Potter, you're here to see poor Horace?"
Vid said, "Hello, Healer Elliott."
"Oh, you remember my name!" The healer seemed delighted, and the bubble in her hand popped into a bright orange.
"Of course, I'm impressed by your dedication and responsibility."
Vid glanced at the window and said, "It seems... Mr. Slughorn's recovery isn't going well."
The healer sighed, and the bubble she was holding also morphed into a dull gray.
"It should be said, it's really not ideal. His physical injuries have long been healed, but here..."
She gently tapped her heart, saying, "The trauma from that experience runs too deep. He continuously lives in extreme fear, convinced that the man whose name cannot be spoken will come back for him."
"But..." Ginny said, puzzled, "The Mysterious Man is already... already..."
She wanted to say—that man was already dead.
But for some reason, Ginny found herself unable to say it.
Harry glanced at her but said nothing.
"Exactly!"
The healer nodded and sighed, saying, "I also told him the Mysterious Man won't threaten him anymore. But the patient refuses to believe it, and he strongly resists hearing news about that person."
She said sympathetically, "It's severe paranoia, post-traumatic stress disorder... We've tried various Soothing Potions, Euphoric Potions, and emotional guidance, but nothing seems effective."
"Today is Christmas, and I made a bubble to try to give him a bit of festive atmosphere, hoping to bring a touch of warmth to this poor soul..."
She looked at the bubble that was striving to turn red but always failed and shook her head.
Vid asked, "I wonder if his current condition allows for visits? Perhaps seeing familiar faces will make him feel slightly better."
The healer's eyes brightened, and she said happily:
"Of course! Of course! I remember after you and Mr. Dumbledore visited last time, his mood did stabilize for a few days, he even proactively asked for Pudding, which was quite rare."
As she spoke, she gently pushed open the heavy wooden door, smiling and using a deliberately lighthearted tone:
"Good afternoon, dear Horace! Today is Christmas, can you hear the celebration outside? Would you like to go out for a walk? Look, who has come to visit you?"
Slughorn's body twitched slightly, suddenly turned his head, and looked fearfully towards the door, his eyes wide open, revealing the white rim around them.
Seeing that it wasn't the person he feared most behind the healer, he relaxed a bit, then swiftly adopted a somewhat stiff but sufficiently enthusiastic smile, unaware of his tear-streaked face.
"Oh! Oh yes, happy holidays, dear Elliott! Honestly, I feel a lot better now!"
He said in a hoarse voice, his gaze falling on Vid and Harry at the door, and the Weasleys curiously peeking from behind them.
"My goodness! It's you!"
Slughorn's voice suddenly rose, unusually joyful, and he immediately sat up straight, though his back remained tightly pressed against the wall.
"Vid! Harry! And… oh, these lovely young folks! Quite an unexpected surprise! Come in, come sit down!"
"Ah, I knew seeing them would make you happy!" Healer Elliott said, pouring water for the patient in bed, "Have a drink, Horace, I know you must be thirsty."
"Haha, Elliott, I knew you were the most caring good girl."
Slughorn took the cup with slightly trembling hands, a few drops of water splashed out, and he hurriedly wiped the slightly wet blanket with his other hand, his laughter dryly saying:
"Ah, look at me... I'm too excited."
As he spoke, his eyes quickly scanned the door and window, then swiftly returned to the visitors, occasionally sneaking a glance at Elliott, suspiciously and cautiously watching his healer.
Deep within his eyes, the unshakeable fear appeared like a monstrous creature hidden underwater, occasionally revealing a shadow then quickly disappearing again.
"Mr. Slughorn, how do you feel now?"
Harry asked in an unprecedented gentle voice, fearing a louder voice might frighten him.
"Me? I'm fine! Really!" Slughorn said loudly, "I certainly know that person... that person is dead, I can distinguish fantasy from reality!"