Wizet replied, "Even with a healer assisting the treatment, they generally only make it to around forty."
"Throughout the process, the patient grows weaker and suffers more and more because of the magical illness, until they can only spend the rest of their life confined to a sickbed."
Chris drew in a sharp breath, frowning. "Hiss! That sounds awful! Only a little better than being locked up in Azkaban."
"That's all in the past now!" Terry said lightly. "Wizet has overcome this magical illness, so they won't have to die in such pain anymore."
Wizet said, "It wasn't just my achievement. I'm very grateful for Mr. Slughorn's help."
"If it hadn't been for his wholehearted assistance, it would certainly have taken me a great deal of time to refine the entire treatment plan."
Anthony viewed things far more practically. He pressed his lips together and did not voice what he was thinking.
Wizet had always been like this. He always remained sincerely grateful toward those who had helped him.
Anthony understood clearly that it was precisely because Wizet maintained such a mindset that he could keep improving and continue receiving help from others.
Whenever Newt Scamander, his great-uncle, had guests over, Anthony could always hear various visitors' assessments of Horace Slughorn.
Having absorbed all that over time, he had come to know Horace Slughorn fairly well.
Horace Slughorn's knowledge did not come free. He favored only wizards with connections, talent, or those destined to make a name for themselves in the future.
Once those wizards became famous, he would use them as conversation pieces, boast, "I helped him back then," and thoroughly enjoy the admiring looks cast his way.
It had to be said that Horace Slughorn was indeed a typical Slytherin. No wonder he had once become Slytherin's Head