Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters or included in this story. Everything other than the new plot belongs to J.K. Rowling. I'm not making any money off this, I'm just having a little fun.

A/N: This is shorter than the previous installment, Atonement, because it seemed like a good place to end it. There will be either one or two more parts to this installment before I move on to the next one.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was the premier magical school in Wizarding Britain, and among the best wizarding schools in the world. Since its establishment in the Ninth Century A.D. by the Four Founders, Hogwarts and its staff had been hard at work educating young witches and wizards in the ways of magic.

Hogwarts was also one of the most secure locations in Magical Britain, perhaps even more so than the Goblin-run Wizarding Bank, Gringotts. It was the only place in Britain that was considered truly safe from attacks by Voldemort and his Death Eaters, not only due to the high levels of security provided by the school's ancient wards, but the fact that the current Headmaster of Hogwarts was perhaps the only man alive that the Dark Lord Voldemort truly feared: Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore was not the only great wizard present at Hogwarts at this time. Among the staff were the Transfiguration professor, Minerva McGonagall, and the Potions Master, a man who had known and taught Voldemort - or as he'd been known then, Tom Riddle - when he'd been a student. This man was Horace Slughorn.

Slughorn was usually a calm, relaxed person who often spent his leisure either enjoying the finer things in life or meeting with his former students, many of whom had gone far in life, and enjoying the perks associated with having personal friendships with accomplished witches and wizards. These, however, were not usual times.

Fearing for his safety, Slughorn had opted for several years to remain at Hogwarts during the summer holidays in an effort to protect himself from the Death Eaters and keep out of the war. Unbeknownst to Slughorn, however, the war was about to find its way to him.

Horace Slughorn had fallen into a pattern over the summer. Having very little with which to occupy his time, he would rise from bed early most mornings and head to his office, where he would sip wine and read whichever book had caught his fancy at the time.

On this particular day, he'd chosen Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires by Eldred Worple, and had settled into a very comfortable armchair he'd positioned exactly so the light from the sole window would shine directly on his book and allow him to avoid all distractions by simply not seeing any.

Suddenly, Slughorn heard a thud, which caused him to jump from his seat. Waving his wand, he lit all the candles in the tiny office, illuminating the bookshelf and several cabinets around the edges of the room, as well as the desk and second armchair in the center.

The room had an organized messiness about it; all the items seemed to be in their proper places, if barely. Books seemed to have been tossed onto the bookshelf with no rhyme or reason, some properly standing, others piled on their sides, and otherwise squeezed into wherever was convenient. Also on the shelf was a large amount of photographs featuring Slughorn and groups of his former students. The cabinets were half opened, various potion ingredients visible stacked in ways that made sense only to the aging Potions Master, and on the desk stood an old, seemingly distraught house-elf, who had seemingly been the cause of the disruption. Indeed, a box filled with various trinkets that Slughorn usually kept on the edge of his desk lay on the floor, contents spilled out around it, apparently having been knocked over by the elf.

Reflexively, Slughorn spoke to the elf. "Aren't you going to clean that up?"

The elf stared at the Potions Master for several moments, before addressing the wizard in a quiet, raspy voice.

"Kreacher does not work at Magic School. Kreacher has come to give Slug Man message from Master Regulus."

Delighted at the mention of his former student, Slughorn sat back down in the armchair and instantly began talking.

"Wonderful," he said, "wonderful indeed! Did Regulus perhaps want to meet with me? Surely an owl would have been sufficient? Perhaps he might join me for tea?"

Kreacher stared at Slughorn solemnly, before speaking once again.

"Master Regulus cannot meet with Slug Man," Kreacher then paused for a moment, tears forming in the elf's blue eyes," because Master Regulus... is dead."

A/N: Am I evil for leaving this on a cliffhanger? I probably would be if anyone was reading these stories. Like I said last time, I won't force people to review before I update, but I'd really appreciate some reviews. It might motivate to do these more quickly, but I'll hopefully update by Saturday either way. Please review?

~ThePillowOfDoom