"Thank you for the compliment, Professor Slughorn—"
Amosta chuckled, then glanced around the room.
"I think there's no need for us to talk in the dark, is there? If you'll allow it, I can help tidy up."
"Oh, far more polite than Dumbledore."
Slughorn muttered and waved a hand at Amosta.
"Be my guest—"
Amosta flicked his wand. The scattered furniture hopped back into place piece by piece, decorations restored themselves in midair, feathers burrowed back into the cushions, damaged books repaired themselves and lined up neatly on the shelves.
Everything damaged was restored. Amosta caught a glass bottle rising from the floor and had the thick red liquid on the ceiling fly into it.
Examining the Dragon blood beneath the restored light, Amosta shook his head and casually set it on the small wooden table beside the sofa.
A bottle containing at least twenty ounces of Dragon blood, along with the box of candied fruit, was pushed toward Professor Slughorn, who had settled back onto the sofa before the fireplace.
"Oh, excellent quality. I'd wager the collector drew the blood before that poor Dragon had even breathed its last!"
Professor Slughorn blinked his little eyes, his voice full of admiration.
"Something like that—"
Amosta said. Too much time had passed; he could not remember whether that Dragon had actually died at the time.
"But if this is only to compensate me for the Dragon blood I lost, there's no need for so much. This bottle alone is worth at least a hundred Galleons—"
Yet after his praise, a measure of wariness returned to Slughorn's eyes.
"Consider the excess compensation for disturbing your rest with my late-night visit."
Amosta said with a smile, and the retired Slytherin Head of House's look of appreciation deepened.
"Then thank you for the compensation—"