The Headmaster's office door was flung open, and Madam Pomfrey swept in like a gale, her nurse's hat askew, a bulging medical bag clutched in her hand.
Behind her, Professor Slughorn huffed and puffed, his round face flushed, while Professor Flitwick nimbly hopped onto the nearest chair.
"Good heavens!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, spotting Dumbledore lying on the bed.
She immediately bent down beside the bed, her wand tracing intricate diagnostic runes over Dumbledore's form.
Professor Slughorn leaned forward, his ample belly nearly touching Madam Pomfrey's shoulder.
"Let me see, let me see—" he mumbled, pulling a crystal vial filled with a purplish liquid from his waistcoat pocket.
As Professor Slughorn prepared to drop the purple liquid into Dumbledore's mouth, Snape suddenly spoke: "Professor, what is that?"
"Oh, this is my special Vitality Draught," Professor Slughorn replied without looking up. "It temporarily boosts the patient's life force."
"Using stimulating medicines rashly before confirming the cause might not be entirely appropriate," Snape said.
"Ah," Professor Slughorn's hand paused mid-air. He turned and said, "Yes, yes, my apologies, I overlooked that." His beard quivered, and he put away the crystal vial. "Severus, come and have a look with us."
Snape walked to Dumbledore's side, leaning down to carefully observe the Headmaster's complexion. The silvery-white long beard had lost its former lustre, and faint, eerie greyish-blue patterns were visible beneath his skin, like some venom spreading through his veins.
"I believe it might be related to Inferi," Snape said.
"What?" Madam Pomfrey looked up.
"The place we went to should, in theory, have a large number of Inferi," Snape said, pointing to the black spots gradually appearing on the back of Dumbledore's hand. "This symptom reminds me of the Inferius Curse described in Most Potent Potions. A dark magic wielded by dark wizards through evil, mass murder and suffering."
"You've read that book?" Professor Flitwick gasped. "Are you saying You-Know-Who cursed Albus using a method similar to creating Inferi?"
"Not entirely," Snape shook his head. "But I think the principle might be similar. The dark magic described in the book slowly devours the victim's life force, transforming them into a state somewhere between life and death."
Madam Pomfrey's wand tip suddenly sparked with a string of red flares: "He's probably right. The Headmaster's life energy is being corroded by some dark force."
"If that's the case—" Professor Slughorn's face grew serious. "Regular treatments might not be very effective." He hesitated. "Unless—"
"Unless what, Horace?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"Unless we use unicorn blood," Professor Slughorn said hesitantly, "or some other even more wicked potions."
The office fell into a deathly silence. The flames in the fireplace crackled softly, as if shocked by the suggestion.
"Absolutely not!" Madam Pomfrey was the first to break the silence. "That is an extremely brutal act, to slaughter a pure, gentle, helpless creature to save one's own life!"
"That wasn't a formal suggestion!" Professor Slughorn mumbled. "I was merely saying that such a method is effective..."
"The cost is too great," Professor Flitwick jumped down from his chair, waving his short arms agitatedly. "As is well known, from the moment unicorn blood touches one's lips, the drinker shall be forever cursed."
"Professor Flitwick is right." Snape nodded. "Even if the Headmaster were to awaken, he would only possess a half-life, neither truly living nor truly dead." He turned to Professor Slughorn. "We must find other methods."
"If powerful potions cannot be used," Professor Slughorn said, "then we can only proceed slowly."
"Yes," Snape said, looking at Professor Dumbledore's serene face. "We can try to concoct some compound potions, gradually breaking down the curse within him. But this could take a very long time, months, even a year."
"Perhaps we should first try a combination of rue, belladonna, and bezoar—"
Just as they were discussing treatment plans, a faint groan came from the low bed in the corner.
The father of the Muggle father and son was slowly opening his eyes. When he saw his surroundings clearly—stone walls, spinning silver instruments, portraits dozing on the wall—his pupils widened in terror, and he clutched the child lying beside him tightly.
"Don't be afraid," Madam Pomfrey immediately walked over, her voice softening. "You are safe."
"Wh-where is this?" the man stammered, his gaze darting between the wizards. "Who are you?"
"I am Poppy Pomfrey, the Matron of Hogwarts. This is a school," she answered gently. "Can you tell us your name?"
"Wells, Byron Wells," the man's voice was hoarse. The boy in his arms stirred, opening his eyes.
"Dad?" the boy weakly called out, then looked around in confusion. "Where's Mum?"
The room suddenly fell silent, and Snape exchanged a worried glance with Professor McGonagall.
"I'm very sorry," Snape stepped forward and said. "Only the two of you were found alive at the scene."
The boy's eyes instantly welled up with tears, and a heart-wrenching "Mum!" tore through the air.
Madam Pomfrey swiftly waved her wand, and the boy immediately slumped in his father's arms, falling into a deep sleep.
"What did you do to him?" Mr. Wells clutched his son in terror.
"Only made him sleep," Madam Pomfrey explained. "It's better for him this way. Excessive emotional turmoil is detrimental to recovery."
Mr. Wells checked his son's breathing, and only when he confirmed it was steady did he relax slightly. He looked up, his gaze a mixture of fear and wariness: "Who exactly are you people? And who were those—those masked figures?"
"Masked figures?" Snape asked. "Can you tell us in detail what happened, Mr. Wells?"
"My family and I were resting at home," Mr. Wells exhaled heavily. "Suddenly, several people like you broke in," he glanced nervously at Snape, "only they wore terrifying masks. Then we fell unconscious. When we woke up, we were in that cave." His voice began to tremble. "We saw two people fighting there."
"Look, was one of them him?" Snape immediately pointed at Dumbledore and asked.
"Yes," Mr. Wells looked carefully and nodded. "The other one—" he shivered. "The other person looked terrifying."
"Did the other person have any distinctive features?" Snape pressed.
Mr. Wells thought for a moment: "He—he had no nose."
Good grasp of the important details, Snape thought. His lips almost instinctively curled upwards, but he managed to suppress the twitch of his muscles in time, avoiding an ill-timed smile.
McGonagall and Professor Slughorn exchanged a shocked glance. Professor Flitwick let out a small gasp: "You-Know-Who!"
"You-Know-Who?" Mr. Wells asked, confused.
"Never mind that," Snape said. "What else did you see?"
"We hid behind a rock—couldn't see very clearly." Mr. Wells wiped sweat from his forehead. "We only saw lights of various colours. Later, the person with no nose left through an arched opening."
"There were a few other people like us who also went through that archway," his voice lowered, "but they let out a series of screams, so we didn't dare go out and just stayed in the cave."
Snape stroked his chin: it seemed Professor Dumbledore hadn't pursued the Horcrux but had followed the Death Eaters' abduction of Muggles to the cave. This neatly explained why Muggles were present.
"And then?" Professor McGonagall asked softly.
"We carried this gentleman," Mr. Wells pointed to Dumbledore, "to the side of the rock. But we had no food or drink, and after some time, we passed out." He looked around the strange room again. "Until we arrived here."
"Thank you, Mr. Wells," Professor McGonagall said. "You need rest." She looked at Madam Pomfrey. "Poppy, please take them to the Hospital Wing." Then, she turned to Mr. Wells. "Once you are more stable, we will send you home."
Madam Pomfrey nodded. "No problem." She helped the Wells father and son out of the office.
After the door closed, Slughorn flopped into the nearest armchair, pulling out an embroidered handkerchief to wipe his forehead: "Merlin's beard! You-Know-Who himself abducting Muggles—this is highly unusual."
"Albus tracked them," Professor Flitwick squeaked. "I wonder what he found."
"Perhaps we'll only know once he awakens," Professor McGonagall took a deep breath, turning to Slughorn and Snape. "The continued treatment rests with you both."
"I'll have the house-elf, Kreacher, responsible for caring for Albus," she rubbed her temples tiredly. "At least now we don't have to rush to repair that 'Founder's Boat'."
"There's one more thing we need to deal with," Snape said. "We cannot let You-Know-Who know that Professor Dumbledore has lost his fighting capability, otherwise Hogwarts will no longer be safe."
"What do you mean?" Professor McGonagall frowned. "Oh, right." She said. "Albus's crucial work for a long time has been to thwart You-Know-Who's actions, preventing him from personally acting and causing widespread destruction. If he doesn't appear for a long time..."
"You-Know-Who will realize something is wrong," Professor Slughorn suddenly understood. "And then launch attacks without restraint." His face immediately paled. "You're right, Severus. But what can we do?"
"The solution is right there in your Potions classroom, Professor," Snape said. "We need to create the illusion that Professor Dumbledore has not lost consciousness."
"Polyjuice Potion!" Professor Slughorn's eyes suddenly lit up, and he gasped. "Of course! We can have someone impersonate Albus!"
"Then who will play him?" Professor McGonagall looked around, her gaze finally settling on Snape. "Severus, why don't you? We all have our own duties."
"I don't have any objections," Snape shrugged, speaking in a deliberately nonchalant tone. "However, if I were to play him, I would probably be unable to resist running off to Austria to invite an outsider who could contend with You-Know-Who. In that case, I fear the first thing the Headmaster would do upon waking would be to furiously point his wand at me."
Professor Slughorn suddenly let out a soft chuckle, his round belly jiggling a few times.
"He's right, Minerva," he said. "No matter who it is, Severus is definitely not a good candidate."
"Then I'll do it," Professor McGonagall also managed a tired smile. "But—" she frowned worriedly. "This won't fool them for long either. I don't have Albus's power, and if 'Dumbledore' doesn't appear on the front lines against You-Know-Who for a prolonged period..."
"This will buy us time," Snape said swiftly. "Meanwhile, we still need to continue repairing that boat, preparing for evacuation at any moment, as a double safeguard."
Professor McGonagall pondered for a moment, finally nodding. "Organizing the students will be up to you, Severus." She suddenly remembered something and looked at Slughorn. "Horace, are you planning to leave Hogwarts with us? I intend to have Pomona stay—"
Before she could finish her sentence, Professor Slughorn spoke: "I intend to stay here too, Minerva."
"Are you sure, Professor?" Snape looked at him. "This is too dangerous for you."
"Someone must stay behind to protect the remaining students, even if the Death Eaters might not harm them," Professor Slughorn's voice was surprisingly firm. "And—" he hesitated, "I'm acquainted with most of the Death Eaters. I'm the most suitable person."
Snape narrowed his eyes, silently mouthing the word "Horcruxes."
Slughorn's face instantly whitened, but he quickly composed himself: "Precisely for that reason, I need to stay. Severus, I believe your Potions mastery is already sufficient to care for Albus on your own."
"Professor," Snape gazed at his Head of House, a man known for his diplomacy and self-preservation, "you need to think this through. Staying here could very well be more dangerous than leaving."
"A life of constant upheaval isn't suited for an old man like me," Slughorn stroked his upturned moustache, offering a smile. "Besides, don't underestimate your Head of House, Severus. I've lived this long; it's time I was brave for once. Moreover, considering what I've done, there's no turning back, is there?"
Professor McGonagall's eyes glistened with tears.
Professor Flitwick hopped onto a chair and patted Professor Slughorn's shoulder: "I'll stay with you, Horace. If those little rascals dare to cause trouble in my castle, they'll get a taste of my duelling skills!"
"You'd better go with them, Filius," Professor Slughorn said with a laugh. "Your fiery temper from your youth will clearly be more useful with them."
As they prepared to temporarily leave the Headmaster's office, a large, silvery-white creature with antlers squeezed through the wooden door, leapt to the Headmaster's bedside, and lowered its head to look at him.
Almost simultaneously, the office door was violently flung open again. A tall old man with wiry grey hair and a beard, and eyes as bright a blue as Dumbledore's, burst in.
Aberforth strode to Dumbledore's side, remained silent for a moment, then sighed softly: "My foolish brother."
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