It all began late that evening, when Horace Slughorn found himself slowly waking up because something bright was right up against him. Scrunching his face and placing a protective arm over his eyes to shield the light, Slughorn tried to fall back to sleep. But the light moved and persisted.
Slughorn gave up and squinted at the source of irritation. It was patronus, that much he could make out in his current delirious state. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed a cat with spectacle markings around the eyes.
"Minerva," he muttered, before grabbing his wand and rushing out of his room. He was still in his emerald pajamas.
Slughorn thought that he should have really taken more effort this year to lose weight. It had been going well while he was on the run, but two years at Hogwarts had allowed him to relax (somewhat) despite the Death Eater presence, and he had really gained weight.
That made running all the more difficult for Slughorn as he panted his way toward Ravenclaw Tower. He was joined with Professors Filius Flitwick and Pomona Sprout moments later, but his plump figure kept him constantly at the rear, pushing hard simply to keep up.
He began hearing noise in the distance, the clattering of metal and the unmistakable cackle of spellwork. There was a duel going on, and Slughorn was hoping beyond hope that one or more of his Slytherins did not get themselves into trouble.
He rounded the corner to find Minerva and Filius standing firm, both with their wands pointed at Severus, who was at the moment struggling with a suit of armor. Slughorn slowed down to catch his breath, and attempted to blink out the whiteness coming into his vision. When he glanced up again he saw Minerva, Filius, and Pomona all sprinting after Severus.
Slughorn groaned and gave chase again, this time far behind. This kind of exercise was not something he was used to doing. His weight could possibly be fatal, Slughorn mused. Especially with a war going on.
"Coward! COWARD!" Minerva was yelling, but Slughorn was still too far behind to see what was happening. He rounded the corner.
"Harry!" He yelped in surprise upon seeing Harry Potter standing with the odd Ravenclaw girl and the three professors. "My dear boy . . . what a surprise . . . Minerva, do please explain. . . . Severus . . . what . . . ?" Slughorn clutched his stomach and bent over, wheezing loudly.
"Our headmaster is taking a short break," Minerva said, pointing to the hole in the window. Beyond Slughorn could barely make out the figure of a flying black object in the distance.
Slughorn stopped to catch his breath one more time but the next thing Minerva said caused him to lurch in surprise and fear.
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is coming," Minerva said rather nonchalantly, given the situation. Gesturing to Harry, she continued, "Potter has work to do in the castle on Dumbledore's orders. We need to put in place every protection of which we are capable while Potter does what he needs to do. "
"You realize, of course, that nothing we do will be able to keep out You-Know-Who indefinitely?" Pomona Sprout pointed out.
Minerva smiled ruefully. "Thank you, Pomona," she replied. "I suggest we establish basic protection around the place, then gather our students and meet in the Great Hall. Most must be evacuated, though if any of those who are over age wish to stay and fight, I think they ought to be given the chance."
Slughorn had nearly stopped breathing. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was coming to Hogwarts. Here. Where he was. This night was turning out bad.
"Agreed," Pomona replied. "I shall meet you in the Great Hall in twenty minutes with my House." With that said, she ran off muttering about Devil's Snares and Tentaculas and Snargaluff Pods.
Filius simply pointed his wand out the window, closed his eyes, and began singing incantations of incredible complexity while waving his wand in intricate patterns.
Slughorn had to admit that he was in awe of his colleagues – how they were able to keep such a cool demeanor in the face of such adversity was beyond him. Panic swelled up in his chest as the full magnitude of the situation suddenly hit him.
Harry was asking Filius about the whereabouts of some kind of a diadem. But Slughorn wasn't listening. He was already planning his way through the castle to gather his stuff, and deciding on the quickest and most efficient exit strategy. As a Slytherin, Slughorn knew when to be cunning and to employ methods of trickery and when it was time to get the hell out. This was time to get the hell out.
Filius had finished his dance and he with Minerva and the two students were just about to leave when Slughorn fgathered his wits.
"My word," he puffed. Slughorn felt a bead of sweat trickle down the side of his face and felt his palms go clammy. "What a to-do! I'm not at all sure whether this is wise, Minerva. He is bound to find a way in, you know, and anyone who has tried to delay him will be in most grievous peril — "
Minerva cut him off. "I shall expect you and the Slytherins in the Great hall in twenty minutes, also. If you wish to leave with your students, we shall not stop you. But if any of you attempt to sabotage our resistance or take up arms against us within this castle, then, Horace, we duel to kill. "
Slughorn's eyes widened. "Minerva!"
"The time has come for Slytherin House to decide upon its loyalties," Minerva said forcefully. "Go and wake your students, Horace."
"B-b...but...the D-Dark...Lord, Minerva! H-he...he's coming here!" Slughorn sputtered. His words fell on deaf ears as the room had emptied while he stood there in shock. Slughorn shook his head. What a predicament!
From the heights of the base of Ravenclaw tower to the depths of the dungeons where the Slytherin common room was located was quite a hike. Slughorn hated every moment of it, for it gave him more time to ponder on the situation. The more he thought, the more he wanted to turn heel and sprint out of the castle as fast as his pudgy body could take him.
But that would be shirking his duty. There was his reputation to worry about, too. Although if he ended up dead, his reputation would be the last thing he would be worrying about.
This internal debate was raging in his head until he clambered into the Slytherin common room. A couple of fifth years who were studying for their O.W.L.s looked up from their books to glance at him.
"H-hello kids," Slughorn managed to stammer. "Will you mind waking everyone up for me? I've got an important announcement to make."
That said, he found the nearest armchair and sunk himself into it. He closed his eyes and sighed, a myriad of thoughts running through his head.
"Ahem."
Slughorn opened his eyes and saw one of the fifth years, Astoria Greengrass, sitting across from him, staring at him intently.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"You'll see," Slughorn replied, waving his hands as if it wasn't a big deal. "Go be a dear and help the others wake everyone up, will you?"
Astoria shrugged. "No need," she said as the first group of students began trickling into the common room. "They're coming down already. So there's no reason for me to get up and do work that will be done anyway."
Slughorn couldn't argue with that logic.
After a few moments, when trickle of students stopped, Slughorn stood. He glanced across the sea of faces, from nervous first years to sleepy fifth and seventh years to mischievous-looking sixth years. Their faces all had a tinge of green as the lake cast an eerie shadow into the common room at night.
Slughorn clasped his hands together and nervously began speaking. "Professor McGonagall has asked us to meet in the Great Hall."
Murmurs and hushed whispers immediately broke out and one over-enthusiastic first year called out, "What happened to Headmaster Snape?"
Slughorn tugged at his hair nervously. "Umm...he jumped out of a window."
The room fell silent. A lone voice humorously yelled out, "What?"
Slughorn realized his mistake and quickly tried to remedy the situation. "N-no...he's alive, you see? He can fly without a broom..." Slughorn fell silent.
"Prefects!" he barked. "Lead everyone to the Great Hall. You'll learn more there."
Immediately the room was a flurry of activity as the younger students flocked towards the prefects while the older students either meandered around, unwilling to take orders from Professor McGonagall, or they left (hopefully for the Great Hall) on their own accord.
Professor McGonagall was standing at the Headmistress' podium speaking to the increasingly nervous and twitchy hall with a magnified voice.
When she was done she indicated to the staff and prefects to take the students over to the Room of Requirement, the evacuation point.
A Hufflepuff boy, Ernie Macmillan, had bravely stood up and yelled, "And what if we want to stay and fight?"
There was a murmur of agreement and a some scattered applause.
"If you are of age, you may stay," Minerva responded.
"What about our things?" called a girl at the Ravenclaw table. "Our trunks, our owls?"
"We have no time to collect possessions," said Professor McGonagall. "The important thing is to get you out of here safely."
"Where's Professor Snape?" shouted a girl from the Slytherin table, who Slughorn identified as Astoria's older sister Daphne.
"He has, to use the common phrase, done a bunk," replied Professor McGonagall, and a great cheer erupted from the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws.
Slughorn was twitching and completely unsure of himself. Minerva was in the middle of handing out instructions to the prefects when a loud, magnified voice could be heard echoing through the walls of the Great Hall. Slughorn jumped in fear and clutched his heart.
"I know you are preparing to fight." The voice of Voldemort rang out loud and clear. "Your efforts are
futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."
The room was completely silent.
Voldemort continued. "Give me Harry Potter and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you should be rewarded. You have until midnight."
Slughorn looked over to Harry, standing nearly hidden by the wall behind the Gryffindor table. For one scary moment, Slughorn had the urge to reach out and grab Harry protectively, to hand him over to Voldemort, to save himself. But the moment passed and left Slughorn feeling exhausted.
But someone else had voiced Slughorn's momentary feeling out loud. Pansy Parkinson had stood up and pointed at Harry. "But he's there! Potter's there! Someone grab him!"
There was a sudden, united movement from the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff tables as their occupants stood up in one motion to face the Slytherin table, several pulling out wands from pockets and sleeves and pointing them at Pansy menacingly.
"Thank you, Miss Parkinson," said Professor McGonagall in a clipped voice. "You will leave the Hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your House could follow."
Slughorn blinked rapidly and glanced at Minerva, who was staring at him oddly. Filch had roughly grabbed Pansy by the elbow and was leading her out of the Great Hall, followed by a troupe of Slytherins.
Minerva was dispersing underage Gryffindors from the table while staff and the Order of the Phoenix were spreading out, each attending to their tasks.
Kingsley Shacklebolt walked up to the Headmistress' podium to describe the battle plan. Slughorn wasn't listening. He slid out of the Great Hall silently during the speech. Slughorn had every intention of evacuating himself with all the other students.
He followed the anxious horde of students up to the seventh-floor corridor and into a room that Slughorn was absolutely certain did not exist before. Inside was a small hole wide enough for only one line of people at a time. There was a mad dash at the foot of the passageway and Slughorn saw Zacharias Smith push him and a group of frightened first years aside to scramble in.
Horace felt guilty evacuating with the group of first years, and he definitely had a much better conscience than Zacharias Smith. He waddled over to a pair of prefects and began ushering students through the room, stopping once in a while to help a kid who had fallen over in the chaos.
The room emptied out and he saw the Slytherin prefects exit through the passageway while the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff prefects climbed the stairs to join their classmates in the Great Hall.
Hischoice was clear. Slytherins were cunning, yes, but not stupid, like the Gryffindors. Or too smart for their own good like Ravenclaws. Or too heroic like the Hufflepuffs. The eerie voice of Voldemort rang in his ears. No, Slughorn was leaving right this instant. He ran through the passageway.
Hog's Head was a flurry of activity. Aberforth was had gathered a group of Hogsmeade shopkeepers and residents and organized a series of drop-off points for the students to side-along apparate to. The room was echoing with cracks every second and people apparated in and out.
Slughorn sat down at the bar and watched as men and woman appear and immediately, without question, headed to the portrait hole that led to Hogwarts. He ran a hand through his hair. Was this, what he was doing, wrong? Suddenly, Voldemort's voice rang through Hogsmeade a second time and Slughorn jumped in surprise.
"You have fought," said the high, cold voice, "valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. " Slughorn inadvertently shivered. "Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. "
"Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."
"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."
"Better to be alive and shamed than dead but a hero," Slughorn muttered to himself. So he apparated away.
Slughorn had apparated as far as was physically possible in one go. And then he did it again. And then again. He was in Ireland now, stumbling across the farmland with no specific destination in mind. It was dark out, past midnight.
He was beginning to feel pangs of guilt for leaving Hogwarts behind to its doom. No, Slughorn did not suffer any delusions like his colleagues. If Voldemort wanted to, and with Albus Dumbledore out of the way, he could get into Hogwarts. The resistance at Hogwarts couldn't possibly stop them.
Cursing his conscience, Slughorn continued down the path until he came across a small roadside diner. Not caring that he was still in his emerald silk pajamas, he walked in. There were no heads turning to look at him when he walked in. The diner was empty save a waitress cleaning tables and an old lady sitting at the counter, drinking some fizzy muggle drink.
Slughorn slumped on a chair next to the old lady and sighed. He could stay the night in Ireland, and should the Death Eaters emerge victorious, it would only be a few short steps to Iceland, Greenland, Canada, and then to America. He could go into hiding, Voldemort would never be able to find him. He could live a comfortable life, buy himself a nice little cottage in middle-America, with all the crystallized pineapples he could eat.
The waitress approached him, eying his pajamas with a grin on her face. "What'll you be having then?"
Slughorn blinked. "Oh!. Umm...you don't happen to have some crystallized pineapples, would you?" Slughorn inwardly kicked himself for not having the sense to bring some with him on the run.
The waitress looked at him weirdly. "No, sir. I'm not sure what you mean by a pineapple that–"
"No, of course not," Slughorn interrupted. "Just ignore me, delusional from sleep you know." He waved his head around, imitating craziness.
The waitress nodded slowly. "Okay...so what will you be having?"
"Just a coffee please," Slughorn muttered.
While the waitress busied herself with the coffee, Slughorn noticed that the old lady had been staring at him the whole time. She pointed a knobbly finger at him. "Those markings on your pajamas..."
Slughorn glanced down and saw the insignia of Slytherin house on them. He was attempting to think of a cover-up story but the lady interrupted him. "You're a Slytherin!"
Slughorn didn't know whether to be shocked that this old muggle lady knew what a Slyhterin was, or when she suddenly stood up and brandished a wand at him. "You're not one of those Death Eaters are you?"
Slughorn suddenly jumped to his feet and waved his arms wildly. "No! No!" He pulled up his left sleeve to show the lady that his forearm was, in fact, un-tatooed.
"Your coffee, sir," the waitress said, appearing from the back room and having seen nothing that had just transpired.
"Ah, yes, thank you very much." Slughorn said. He picked up the mug and downed half of the liquid, closing his eyes and sighing contently.
"Who are you then, and what are you doing here?" The old witch asked him.
"You-Know-Who has attacked Hogwarts," he said. "So naturally, I fled."
The old lady's eyes widened. "My grandson!" She jumped to her feet and made a move to dash out of the diner. Slughorn quickly reached out and grabbed her arm.
"No! You'll get killed!"
The lady stared at him. "What are you doing here?" she yelled. "You must be a teacher at Hogwarts. Why aren't you helping them fight off Voldemort?"
Slughorn grimaced at mention of You-Know-Who's real name. "I-I..." He was at a loss for words. Suddenly Slughorn felt very vulnerable, standing in a diner somewhere in the middle of Ireland facing an old lady who seemed infinitely braver than he for simply having the courage to run towards the fighting.
"I was doing some recruiting. You know, to find families... and friends of Hogwarts students to reinforce...the defenses...," Slughorn lied.
The old lady didn't look convinced. "Yeah. All the way in Ireland. Well you found me, at least. What's your name by the way?"
"Horace Slughorn."
"Slughorn?" She pointed a finger at him accusingly. "If I don't see you at Hogwarts I'm going to be reporting you to Minerva."
She turned around and ran out of the diner with a speed surprising for someone her age. "I'm Augusta Longbottom, by the way," she yelled back.
Slughorn couldn't feel any more guilty as he watched the old woman leave the diner, presumably to join the fight. He turned around and saw the waitress, staring at the pair with a bemused grin on her face.
"What?" Slughorn asked, as he returned to finish his coffee. No, he had some pride left in him. In one night he had done many shameful things, but he was not to be out done by an old lady. Smacking a few sickles on the counter, Slughorn turned and walked out with a determined look on his face.
"Sir!" the waitress called out, waving the sickles "You didn't pay!"
Slughorn ignored her.
There was some merit to the whole recruiting lie that he had offered Augusta, Slughorn mused as he apparated into the Hog's Head. The pub was just as crowded as it was before he left, except that the room was full of adult wizards rather than scared students.
He glanced around the room. There was a Chinese couple who must have been Cho's parents. He recognized Madam Rosmerta and several other Hogsmeade shopkeepers and residents who had helped students apparate out had stayed behind in the pub. And sitting in a corner looking like she was crying sat Mafalda Weasley. Abeforth, however, was nowhere to seen.
Slughorn made a move to head over to Mafalda and comfort her before the door opened and Charlie Weasley clambered in, followed by a small group of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor alumi.
"Professor Slughorn!"
"Hello Weasley," Slughorn greeted. He hadn't known Charlie all that well while he was at school. He had resigned the summer before Charlie's second year and thus hadn't gotten to know him very well.
"I'm glad you're here," Charlie continued. "I've been running around gathering the people who have come to Hogsmeade to try and protect Hogwarts from You-Know-Who. I could use a little help."
And that was how Slughorn found himself actively involved in the war effort, yet still on the sidelines in a method that would keep him safe. He felt his rebelling conscience relaxing.
Slughorn had just returned with a group of parents he found gaping at the pyrotechnic display that was Hogwarts and was greatly surprised when he noticed a small group of seventh-year Slytherins waiting in Hog's Head to rejoin the battle. It didn't say anything good about his trust in his own house, but he greeted them gratefully nonetheless.
"They blocked the portrait hole from the inside," Millicent Bulstrode informed Slughorn. She jabbed her wand at the caved-in hole and swore under her breath. "But we'll clear this out, don't worry."
Urquhart appeared behind them. He was a big man who looked like he had some troll-blood in him, and Slughorn had always found him to be rather dull. But he raised his wand and blasted the rocks into pieces.
"How did you do that?" Tracey Davis asked incredulously. She obviously had harbored the same impression of him as Slughorn had. "I've already tried that spell a hundred times!"
"Wonderful! You managed to open the passageway!" Charlie had just walked in through the door with some more parents, the mother looking as if she had been crying.
Charlie climbed into the hole. Slughorn clambered in after him, followed by nearly two dozen shopkeepers, parents, and the small group of Slytherins whom Slughorn would forever be proud of. This wasn't time for self-reflection but Slughorn felt smug (and for the first time, brave!) as he ran towards the school and towards the battle he had been running away from merely an hour earlier.
The battle was in full swing by the time Horace Slughorn ran into the Great Hall, looking impressively out of place in his silk pajamas and extremely plump frame. House elves swarmed around him, wielding kitchen knives and hacking at the knees and shins of the Death Eaters. Centaurs clambered on top of the tables, shooting fiery arrows at the remaining few acromantulas. And Death Eaters everywhere were succumbing to the sheer fact that they were largely outnumbered.
A great time to enter the fray, Ol' Sluggy, Slughorn complimented himself. He thought he would be safe. That he wouldn't even have to fire a single spell. But his mere presence meant that he could tell everyone he knew that he was part of the battle. He could boast of being one of the few Slytherins who stayed to "fight".
Over the noise of the battle, Slughorn heard a scream. He turned around and saw Voldemort advancing on Astoria Greengrass (who seemed to have, underage, snuck back into the castle). "You will pay for your father's treachery, Greengrass," Voldemort snarled. He raised his wand...
"Protego!" Slughorn yelled, jumping between Voldemort and Astoria. "You will not harm my students, Tom!" Slughorn yelled, with courage he didn't know he had within him.
Voldemort's eyes were slits as he examined Slughorn. "Professor," he grinned, mock bowing. "How nice of you to join the battle. I'd have thought you would have run off by now. After all, it was you who leaked my little secret..."
Slughorn had to admit that he was deathly afraid of You-Know-Who. But who wasn't? However, it was he who informed Dumbledore and Harry of the existence of the horcruxes. Voldemort must be furious with me, Slughorn thought with fear.
Voldemort snarled at his own mention of his (now lost) horcruxes and raised his wand menacingly to kill Slughorn for his treachery. Slughorn grabbed Astoria's arm and jumped out of the way as the jet of green light bounced harmlessly off the wall.
Slughorn waved his wand and the resulting bang left Voldemort off-balance for a moment, enough for Slughorn to gain the upper-hand in the duel, but only for a short while. Tom Riddle was definitely a far more powerful wizard than Horace Slughorn. Sweat began accumulating on Slughorn's brow and his palms as he gripped his wand more tightly, moving ever on the defensive and not able to get a single attack in on Voldemort.
I was home free, Slughorn thought to himself. I can't believe I ever got myself involved in this. But then he thought of Astoria, and of the students he had worked so hard to protect that year. So he fought on.
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort snarled. Slughorn jumped out of the way and landed on a large pile of debris. Quickly rolling off before another flash of green hit the debris, Slughorn managed to clamber to his feet and shoot a series of firebolts back.
Voldemort growled as a firebolt singed his robes. Slughorn was growing tired and his plump frame accurately showed that he had little stamina. He knew pausing to catch his breath would be fatal, but he could hardly help it. He bent over just as a jet of red light passed over his head, only to be blocked by Voldemort.
Minerva McGonagall had joined the fray against Voldemort. Kingsley jumped in moments later after killing Thorfinn Rowle. And so it happened that the three of them joined in on a dance, trying to gain the upper-hand against the powerful dark wizard but finding no opportunities. Even with three he was still too fast for him.
Sparks were flying as Voldemort blocked every curse and spell that the three of them threw, no matter how skillful the timing was or how well the trio worked together. Voldemort moved with uncanny grace for a man of his stature and power. He seemed to be able to do magic with his bare hands. With his wand hand, he would block Slughorn's hex, with his other, bare hand, he would redirect Minerva's transfigured daggers at Kingsley, who would then deflect them back.
The transfiguration and the blocking would continue, with neither side getting the upper-hand but the three challengers feeling more tired and weary as the duel wore on.
Slughorn ducked as a Killing Curse came within an inch of blasting his ear off. He jabbed his wand in retaliation and saw his curse bounce off just like every other... Slughorn was resigning himself to the hopelessness of the situation and was fighting just to stay alive.
He was so focused on finding a weakness with Voldemort's dueling style that he hadn't noticed Molly Weasley bring down Bellatrix Lestrange fifty feet away. Voldemort roared in fury at the loss of his final lieutenant, his most loyal soldier. And like a bomb, a jet of green light seemed to burst out of Voldemort himself and Slughorn felt himself flying across the Great Hall.
This is the end, Slughorn thought to himself. No wizard except for Harry Potter ever survived the Killing Curse. And he was no Harry Potter. With that last thought, Horace Slughorn blacked out.
Slughorn awoke in the Hopsital Wing, blinking furiously as he tried to block out the bright light filtering in through the windows. He tried to sit up and Madam Pomfrey promptly rushed over to him.
"Wh-What happened?" Slughorn asked dizzily. "Where's Y-You-Know-Who? A-and Harry P-Potter...?"
Madam Pomfrey patted him on the head. "Now, now, calm down. You need rest, Professor."
Slughorn nodded and resigned himself back into bed. He was too tired to think about Voldemort, of Horcruxes, of Killing Curses... He fell back to sleep.
Three Months Later
Horace Slughorn happily walked out of Flourish & Blotts, clutching the latest edition of Hogwarts: A History. It was official. He, Horace Emilien Francis Slughorn was a survivor of the Killing Curse.
Harry had tried to explain to him about the magic of love, of sacrifice. He had tried explaining that Lily sacrificed herself so Harry would live. And how Harry sacrificed himself for Hogwarts and its inhabitants.
Slughorn hadn't really been listening to the details, though. All his life he had been collecting students with potential, currying favor with the high and the powerful, all to gain influence within the highest echelons of wizarding society.
Now he didn't have to. His actions during the Battle of Hogwarts warranted almost instant recognition. Only seven of the nearly two-hundred wizards defending Hogwarts had been Slytherin. And he was one of them. Not only that, but he had personally dueled Voldemort one-on-one for a short amount of time. And he had survived a Killing Curse.
What with the book royalties and parties he would be paid to attend, Horace Slughorn didn't need his teaching post at Hogwarts anymore to maintain a relaxed and comfortable retirement. But he found himself growing rather fond of the school he had fought so hard to protect.
And besides, the Snape portrait in the Headmistress' office persuaded him to stay on as Head of Slytherin House. "There is no other Slytherin out there both politically correct enough and qualified enough."
Severus didn't flatter, and Slughorn was pretty sure it was unintentional. But being the only one of something was good, and Slughorn was very proud of himself. And so, he remained at his teaching post until his death, where he was buried on the grounds of Hogwarts, next to Albus Dumbledore and other fighters in the Battle, a war memorial sprouting up around it.
Yes, Slughorn was a cowardly man. A Slyhterin who had no thoughts but of self-preservation. He overcame that during his life-time, however, and gathering the courage to duel Voldemort one-on-one would forever be his proudest moment of life.
He was sure that if he had died by Voldemort's hand, he would still be proud. After all, his actions during the war single-handedly (some would also argue Severus' had a hand in it too) reshaped the image of Slytherin House, saving a generation of Slytherins from the discrimination and hatred an entire war was fought to prevent.
I always found Slughorn to be a fascinating character since his introduction in HBP and when I read him dueling Voldemort in DH along with the likes of McGonagall and Kinsley I was pleasantly surprised. I hope you enjoyed my take on Slughorn's experiences during the Battle of Hogwarts. Please Review!