Inspired by a recent rereading of The Half-Blood Prince, and some of Slughorn's comments about Lily: "vivacious, you know, charming girl," "very brave, very funny." I wanted to see more of their relationship, and more of Lily as a young student.
The mitzvot of Purim are to eat sweets, and to share them with others. So please consider this story your virtual Purim present. Chag sameach!
The comfortable life of a Hogwarts professor suited Horace Slughorn very well. It wasn't merely the excellent pay and the chance to influence young minds; it was all the little perks that came with the job, too. Students had to eat whatever food the kitchen House-Elves prepared for the Great Hall, and while everything they made was delicious, professors had the privilege of requesting any food they'd like. They could have it served at their table during meals or Apparated straight to their offices. Slughorn took advantage of this quite often, for he believed it was important to always have some delicious dessert food in his office in case anyone important - or potentially important - stopped by.
He was walking from a classroom to his office one autumn afternoon with a tin of freshly-baked ginger biscuits when he passed a group of First-Years - Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, mostly - studying on the grass of the courtyard. A few glanced up hungrily at the smell of his biscuits, and he couldn't blame them; they did smell divine. Since it was early in the term and he was still scouting out the newest students, looking for possible additions to his Slug Club, and since he was feeling generous, he decided to stop and share.
"It seems I've bitten off more than I can chew again," he said, approaching the group and holding out the tin. "Would any of you care for a biscuit?"
The children all grinned delightedly and grabbed one. They chorused, "Thank you, Professor," and Slughorn smiled, wondering which of their names might appear next to a quote like "Horace Slughorn has been a mentor to me ever since my first year at Hogwarts" in The Daily Prophet twenty years from now.
"Mmm, these are delicious," one boy said, and Slughorn put in, "Fresh from the Hogwarts kitchen. The House-Elves here make finer biscuits than you'll ever taste."
That was when the red-haired girl, Lily Evans - who seemed bright enough to be a Ravenclaw, even though the Sorting Hat had put her in Gryffindor - looked up at him as if he'd just issued her a challenge. She took a bite of her biscuit and tilted her head as she chewed. "Ha!" she laughed triumphantly, after she'd swallowed. "My mum's are better."
Now it was Slughorn's turn to laugh. He could see now why the Sorting Hat put this girl in Gryffindor. "Oh, your mum's are better?" he repeated, chuckling. "But my dear girl, aren't you Muggle-born?"
Lily pursed her lips, then threw her shoulders back and narrowed her green eyes at him. "So?" she challenged.
"Well, I'm sure your mother's biscuits are good, but she must make them non-magically, correct? And the House-Elves use magic."
He felt certain that nobody could argue with that, but to his surprise, a slow smile spread on Lily's face. "But you don't... but Professor, you can't really think that's all there is to it?" she asked, laughing a little, as if he's missed the point completely. "I mean, the House-Elves are like slaves, aren't they?"
Slughorn's jaw dropped. She was right, of course; House-Elves were, essentially, slaves to their wizarding masters. It was one of those things that everyone knew but nobody ever talked about. After all, the creatures enjoyed being enslaved, so what was there to talk about? Slughorn had never heard it put so bluntly. And how had Lily even figured out that House-Elves act as slaves? She seemed to understand a great deal about the wizarding world for an eleven-year-old Muggle-born.
He was too astonished to speak for a moment, then asked, "Wh... where did you hear that?"
"Mmm, a friend told me," she answered, giving him a sly little smile. "My point is, you think that a bunch of House-Elves magicking up dozens of biscuits for a professor they don't even know, and doing it because they have to obey, is going to taste better than my mum taking the time and effort to bake one batch of biscuits for me and my sister because she wants to do it?"
"I don't think..." Slughorn began to say, but he stopped. For some strange reason, when she put it that way, it did seem obvious that of course her Muggle mother's biscuits would taste better. He scratched his chin and tried again, "Well, I..." But then one of the other students pressed her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh, and Slughorn got the distinct impression that this first-year girl had just made him a look a fool. But that didn't bother him, for he knew that he'd just found the next addition to his little club. He laughed and said to Lily, wagging his finger, "You know, my dear, we value cunning in Slytherin House. I think you might make a good Slytherin."
Lily immediately put on a face of exaggerated devastation. "Oh, don't rub in it, sir," she pleaded, as if in horrible pain. "I begged and begged the Sorting Hat to put me in Slytherin, but it said I wasn't conniving enough!"
"Ha!" Slughorn answered, and he walked away across the courtyard still chuckling to himself.
A week later, he found a package leaning against his office door. Curious, he unfolded the note taped to the top and read.
Professor Slughorn, my mum just mailed me a batch of her very own homemade ginger biscuits. I've decided to share some with you, because they're delicious, but do you know what tastes even better? PROVING YOU WRONG! Haha, taste these and see for yourself.
Slughorn smirked. Lily had a lot of good nerve, all right. He unwrapped her package inside his office and found a small plate of ginger biscuits, but he hesitated before trying one. They looked uneven and a bit lumpy, clearly prepared without magic, and Slughorn had rarely eaten any Muggle-made food.
He took a small bite, not expecting to be impressed... but it was rather good. It was delicious, actually. Slughorn reached for another, then another, and before he knew it, he'd eaten nearly the whole plate. They all tasted so good that for a moment, he wondered if perhaps Muggles could somehow do things just as well as they could, without needing magic or wands or spells.
But then he came to his senses and laughed at himself. He had nothing against Muggles, but the idea that they could possibly be equal to witches and wizards at anything was absurd.
But still, as he ate the last biscuit, Slughorn had to admit that Lily was right. Her mother's were better.