Fred snatched the letter back, quickly stuffed it into the envelope, as if the parchment itself was covered in Bubo Bulbous Fluid.
"Alright, just forget about it after reading."
He said gruffly, "Percy's nonsense, don't take a single word to heart. Right now, his mind is probably filled with nothing but the Ministry of Magic's seal."
George leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the slowly spinning Crystal Bubble on the ceiling of the lounge, his voice unexpectedly calm:
"I've always thought our inventions were fantastic, and so are our friends."
"Honestly, the only regret in my life—so far—is..."
He paused, managing a sarcastic smile, "was unfortunately becoming the brother of Supervisor Percy Ignatius Weasley."
"This letter," Fred said icily, "its only value is showing us all—what a person becomes when their mind is stuffed full of power."
Ginny softly said, "It's like someone took his real soul out and stuffed in a pile of paper that writes memos and shiny badges."
Harry felt heavy-hearted.
He thought of Dudley's fists, remembered the Dursleys' rejection of him... very unpleasant, yet it was at least blatant dislike.
They had never liked him, and he knew that clearly, nothing to be sad about.
But Percy... Percy's was different.
The Weasley Family was so warm and interesting, yet his cutting off from the family was so cold, and the reason so absurd, which was more chilling than simple abuse or dislike.
For the rest of the time, no one felt like speaking. The sandwiches tasted like wax in their mouths, and even the tea lost its flavor.
They finished their meal in silence, guessing that Molly Weasley's mood might have calmed a bit, they tidied up the trash and quietly stood up to go downstairs.
The hospital's corridors seemed very deep, they passed through heavy double wooden doors, with frosted glass bearing the names of various departments.
The air was filled with the dull scent unique to Magic Potions, disinfectants, and diseases, portraits of Healers hung on the nearby walls, the depicted faces all solemn, scrutinizing passersby with their eyes, sometimes declaring they were suffering from all sorts of bizarre ailments.
Like a medieval wizard chasing Ron, shouting he had severe flower pox, and needed to paste a toad's liver on his throat, then stand naked in a barrel of eel eyes during a full moon to cure it, infuriating Ron to no end.
This little episode finally eased the stifling atmosphere of their walk, the twins even pretended to examine Ron's freckles with great concern, clamoring to record his "major illness" to tell mom.
An annoyed Ron immediately elbowed each one, and then was hoisted up the stairs by his taller brothers, laughing.
Vid smiled, following from behind.
He really liked this about the Weasley Twins—when they were together, it seemed no dark clouds could linger long over them, even those around them couldn't help but smile.
While passing a corridor labeled "Magic Spell Injury Department (Long-Term Care)," Harry inadvertently glanced at the small window of a double door, suddenly halting in his tracks.
The next moment, he almost pressed his face against the glass to confirm he wasn't mistaken.
"What's the matter, Harry?"
Ginny, walking behind him, nearly bumped into Harry's back, stopping hastily, her face glowing with surprise, she asked.
"The person inside looks like... Mr. Slughorn."
Harry lowered his voice, uncertainly saying: "Horace Slughorn. Professor Dumbledore brought Vid and me to visit him last year. At that time... he wasn't doing well."
"That old man who was caught and tortured by the Mysterious Man?" Ron remembered, "I recall you saying he was once the Mysterious Man's teacher."
"Yes, that's him." Harry said, "He also taught my mom and dad."
Vid also approached the window, frowning: "He's still in the hospital? I thought he'd been discharged by now."
Through the small pane of glass, he saw the scene inside the ward—
Compared to the gaunt, skeletal appearance from last time, Slughorn had gained quite a bit of weight, his cheeks looking rounded.
But this didn't make him look healthy, instead it highlighted a sort of unnatural bloatedness.
His skin was ghastly pale from lack of sunlight, the whole person seemed like a mushroom grown in a cellar, gloomy, damp, and withdrawn.
Through the window, Slughorn could be seen curled up on the hospital bed like an oversized baby, arms tightly clutching a sleek-furred, bright-eyed Cheetah—
It was the Cheetah Poppet Vid had left him during a previous visit, intended to provide some comfort and companionship.
But now, the Cheetah looked utterly desolate, silently gazing at the scenery outside, its tail swaying occasionally, patting Slughorn's chubby back as if to console him.
Slughorn's head rested on the Cheetah Poppet, his gaze unfocused as he stared at the empty wall, suddenly large tears began to fall without warning, rolling down his pale, swollen cheeks.
"Merlin!" Ron whispered, "He looks terrible."
"Poor man." Fred said seriously, "He surely hasn't shaken off the shadow of being captured and tortured by the Mysterious Man."
George added, "It's unimaginable what he must have gone through."