16th November, 1972

The boys and I were enjoying a lovely breakfast, chatting about our latest plans for mapping the castle, when a shadow appeared behind me. A rather...large shadow.

I turned 'round and found myself face-to-face with Professor Slughorn. "Miss Stratford," he greeted me, voice booming, "Might I have a word with you?"

I raised my eyebrows and said, "Sure," I gave a shrug towards my friends as the two of us headed out to the Entrance Hall.

Professor Slughorn cleared his throat once we were alone. "Miss Stratford, I have been positively intrigued with your performance on the Quidditch pitch during the match against Hufflepuff," he said, "You are on the path to becoming an excellent player!"

I blushed slightly. "Um...well thank you, Professor," what does he want? Was he trying to steal team strategies from me?

"You're a Muggleborn, aren't you?" Slughorn asked.

I nodded, "Yes, sir." I wasn't sure how else to answer.

"Remarkable," he muttered. The way Slughorn had said it, it was like it was a bad thing to be Muggleborn. As though it was unbelievable I could be both Muggleborn and talented. It made me feel the teensiest bit angry and defensive, and I wished Professor Slughorn would just get on with whatever it was he was trying to ask.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I've extracted you from the Great Hall just to talk to you about your skills," Slughorn said, chuckling. He rocked on the balls of his feet as he continued to finger his pocketwatch thoughtfully. "You see, I have a little group...sort of an honours club. It's an excellent opportunity for networking, meeting the next generation of...er, gifted witches and wizards, see…"

Oh Merlin, I thought, he must be inviting me to his stupid Slug Club. "Yes," I said politely, "Lily and Remus are in it, aren't they?"

"Indeed they are! I'd be honoured if you came by our next meeting. It could be a good opportunity for you to meet others at the school who are more…" he looked towards the Great Hall in the direction of where James and Sirius were roughhousing. "...your own speed."

I looked up at Professor Slughorn. Has he just called Sirius and James stupid, in so many words? I raised my eyebrows.

Slughorn must've taken the expression to be his answer. "Excellent!" he bellowed.

I looked up in surprise.

"It's this Saturday evening, in my office. I'll send you an official invitation by owl," Professor Slughorn said, slapping me heartily on the back. "I'll see you later today in Potions, dear." he waddled away, smiling and whistling to himself.

I groaned. What am I getting myself into?

18th November, 1972

Lily, Remus, and I walked mostly in silence towards the dungeons, none of us looking forward to the Slug Club. From what the two of them told me, it would be a giant snoozefest.

The door to the office swung open suddenly and Slughorn appeared, framed by the opening. From behind him came the sound of big band swing music from the 40s. "Welcome!" shouted Professor Slughorn, grinning widely as he held up his hands, one of which held a goblet with a heavy burgundy mead inside, which sloshed with his movements.

"Come in, come in." he ushered us inside and I saw there were great green curtains hanging 'round the walls to cover up the dungeonous feeling to the room. There were also squashy armchairs surrounding a huge fireplace that twinkled with flames. There were shelves along one wall covered with jars of interesting potion ingredients and colourful solutions. One table in the corner held a gigantic brass phonograph, from which came the music with a raspy sort of quality to its tone that only improved the old-time feeling.

There were only maybe a total of fifteen people in the entire room, and us second years were easily the youngest. I looked at Remus a little nervously, and he shrugged, trying to tell me that this wasn't a big deal.

"Get yourselves drinks and come and join us by the fire," Professor Slughorn instructed. He waved a palm at a long buffet-style table which had goblets of the same dark mead that he was drinking, cups of pumpkin juice, and little plates with lamb skewers laying with beds of rice. The three of us took a pumpkin juice and a plate and walked over to the hearth where the others were sitting. All the chairs were taken, so we sat down on the carpet.

Professor Slughorn went one by one, calling attention to the various people and the things which made them special enough to have been called into attendance. I got the feeling that Slughorn had collected only the most important people in the school: whether they were important for their own efforts, or because of who their family was.

"So Sabrina," Slughorn began, finally getting around to me in his tedious appraisal of the group, "Do you think that with your skills you have potential for Gryffindor to finally win the Quidditch cup? They haven't won it in about six years, you know,"

I shrugged, "I doubt it would be just because of me alone. As good as I could be, it's down to the whole team synced together and working as one unit that could lead to success."

"Yes, yes, that is true," Slughorn said, "Well, I won't pretend that we don't rather enjoy your team's losses ourselves in Slytherin." he grinned and winked. I forced a smile and took a mouthful of pumpkin juice as an excuse to look away.

Slughorn chuckled, "Don't mind it at all, do we, Isaac?" he turned to a tall, slim boy who was chewing on a large mouthful of the lamb, the Slytherin star player: a beater named Isaac Horan.

The moment the party ended, the three of us headed back up to Gryffindor Tower, and Lily and I went to bed without another word. We mutually shared utter loathing for the Slug Club.