Percy Jackson: Braires

Valentines Making Station: Top Hat, Butterfly

The New Quidditch Pitch: "Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture."

Ambrosius came forward to give his old friend a hug.

"Horace! It's good to see you. How have you been?"

Horace chuckled and patted Ambrosius on the shoulder. "Good, very good! And you? How's business going?"

"Very nice! All of your students keeping the shop busy!"

"Glad to hear it!"

"Actually there was a particular student of yours in here a few weeks ago, that nice Riddle boy! He was asking what your favourite sweets were! I take it you got them?"

Ambrosius didn't understand why his old teacher went a little pale and bit his lip.

"Er, yes, I got them. Now, how is Mrs Flume, I heard she was pregnant again! Congratulations!"

Ambrosius let the conversation change, but he was surprised at his friend. Usually Horace Slughorn took no persuading to chatter about his new favourite student, and Riddle had been perfect for a while.

Maybe he had done badly on a test, or offended his teacher? Yes, that must be it.

…

It was fifty five years after the last time the pair spoke about Riddle when Slughorn once more arrived on Ambrosius' door step.

"Horace!" As he always had, he stepped forward to hug his friend, but the man pushed him away.

"Ambrosius! Up at the school! Harry Potter is there, and all of the deatheaters. There's going to be a battle, Ambrosius, I can feel it. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is coming, and all of the children are being sent away! Some are even staying to fight, which is worse! I don't know what to do!"

Ambrosius stared at his old friend for a moment. He knew exactly what he was going to do.

He gave Horace a pat on the shoulder. "You know what we must do, Horace. We must fight."

Slughorn slumped in his arms. "I know. We have to help." Then he looked at Ambrosius, right in the eye. "Do you remember Riddle? The young boy, so clever and charismatic. Such a genius."

Ambrosius sighed and stepped aside to let the man enter his house. He would have to talk Horace into this; it shouldn't be too hard, Horace was a kind man under his cowardice.

"Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture. We all remember him, Horace. He could convince anyone that he was a perfectly innocent model student. He was always going to do great things. His great things just turned out to be greatly terrifying! There was nothing anyone could have done to stop him."

Horace sighed and slowly looked up at his friend as he slumped down on the sofa. Ambrosius almost didn't catch the words that came out of his mouth next.

"I could."

"What?"

"I could have done. I could have… If I had never told him about… I was an arrogant fool, Ambrosius. Always have been. He was such a genius."

Ambrosius swallowed and sat down next to Horace. "What do you mean? What did you tell him?"

"Horcruxes, Ambrosius! Horcruxes! Not even Potter can kill him!"

Ambrosius felt himself shut down, and his supportive expression crumbled slowly. Not even Potter can kill him. Lord Voldemort had won.

He had won.

Ambrosius watched the single tear slide down his old teacher's face. "He came to me, Ambrosius, said it was for research, said just wanted to know what they are! He came to me, with crystallised pineapple, manipulated me, and I was such a fool. He was such a perfect student, and—"

Ambrosius wasn't listening.

They had lost the war. All because a teacher's pet asked for some information. All because of some crystallised pineapple, and Ambrosius knew why Horace wasn't talking about Riddle that day. Now, he knew. This was their fault.

No. It was Riddle's fault and that was fact. He had manipulated and tricked and murdered. And they would do what they could to stop it.

"We have to fight, Horace. We have to fight."

"I know."

…

Hours later, Ambrosius lay in the Great Hall that had been his favourite place as a child, and knew that was no place would rather be when his time was coming.

Horace came into the Hall, searching wildly for Ambrosius, and when he finally spotted him, he crumpled, as Ambrosius had done just half an hour ago.

"It's over. He killed him, Ambrosius, he's dead." His friend told him, his voice cracking slightly.

Ambrosius Flume let out a light, croaky laugh of surprise. The Wizarding World was safe.

He closed his eyes for the last time.