Once they sat down according to the seating chart that was taped to the chalkboard, their new teacher emerged through the door. He was wearing a puffy brown satchel around his enormous torso. He moved to the front of the class and began his speech. "Hello, my name is Horace Slughorn. I am told you studied 100-watt SimpleBake ovens in your fifth year." A few students nodded. "This year, we will be returning to microwaves. I believe you students are old enough to use them. Let's go over the basics." He walked to one of the kitchens and pressed the button to open the microwave door. He pointed inside. "Does anyone know what this is?"
"Inside the microwave," Hermione smirked.
He looked at his seating chart. "I'm looking for a term, not a description, Miss Granger."
"It's the cooking chamber," Harry answered.
"Very good… Mr. Potter." He ruffled around his satchel making the corner of a red box appear. When Slughorn found what he wanted, he pushed the box back down. "Please accept this lucky charm." He held out a small rainbow shaped marshmallow. "Don't worry, my hands are clean. Enjoy."
"Is there a cereal box in there?" Ron asked.
"What an interesting question. Back to the microwave, does anyone know what this is?" He pointed to the glass on the door while digging through his satchel again. He looked around the dull class and picked a small purple horseshoe out of his bag. Hermione was the only one with her hand raised.
"Miss Granger?"
"The food gawker mechanism," she smirked.
He held the marshmallow between his thumb and index finger. "No, that is incorrect. Mr. Potter? Do you know?"
"I wanted to give other people a chance to answer but, it's called the observation window.
"Yes! Here, you have earned this lucky charm." He handed him the purple marshmallow. As the class went on, he learned names quickly and he handed out pink hearts, red balloons, orange stars, blue moons, and more. "Before I let you go, I'd like to invite some of you to my club. I will collect those who I feel are going places and then show extreme favoritism so that I may mooch off your future success. It's called the Slug Club. We will have parties and eat supper together on numerous occasions. I shall inform you of my selected students right now." Slughorn cleared his throat. "Ron Weasley."
Ron didn't take a moment to think. "I'll only join if you invite Hermione and Harry."
Hermione gaped at Ron as Slughorn tipped his head from side to side. "Potter sure," he said. "But Granger… it is the only legal way to get Weasley to join... No, no." He looked back to the class. "I'd love to have you in my club, but we permit only the most intelligent of pupils. You may change your mind at any time, Mr. Weasley."
"I'm intelligent!" Hermione snapped.
Slughorn ignored her. "Mr. Potter, would you like to join?"
Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. "Would it be alright if I did?"
"I guess so," Ron said.
"I don't know why you want to," Hermione grumbled. "Slug Club. Sounds like something McGonagall would create."
"Great!" Slughorn said. "That's everyone of note in this class. Until tomorrow."
Last year they would have been plagued with another class after this one and then homework to top it off, but this year, classes went back to ungraded bliss. They had so much time after school, they decided to move Dumbledore's Army meetings to seven o'clock instead of eight.
After a week everyone had gotten back into the routine of Hogwarts. The Fictum Post had been at half-length newspapers over the summer due to the lack of news, but now the morning and evening papers were full. Schedules gradually disappeared from students' hands as they walked through the corridors. Every club came back except for the "Protect" Harry Potter Club, thankfully. Harry had gotten a lot of new Dumbledore's Army ideas from Roo in Australia. The first D.A. meeting of the year would be next week. The first Slug Club meeting was planned for Friday. Harry joined for the knowledge and experience of the club. He's the Protector and King of Hogwarts, he should take any opportunity to learn more about the school and activities. The meeting would be held during lunch.
"In the invitation, he said there'd be awesome stuff. And he said you should come, Ron," Harry said as he walked with Ron and Hermione to the cafeteria on Friday afternoon.
"What kind of awesome stuff?" Ron asked.
"I dunno. He said no one should pass up an opportunity like this. Apparently, the first meeting of the year was always his favorite. He goes all out. He said a lot of other stuff too. It was a long invitation." Ron looked at Harry as they walked, intrigue written all over his face.
Hermione glanced at him but refixed her gaze straight ahead. "If you're this curious, you should go," she said. Ron stared at her, but didn't say anything. "And Harry'll need backup incase Slughorn starts acting like a couple of his colleagues."
"Are you sure it's alright?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, go for it. Just don't get yourself killed."
"Okay... But I don't want this to be a permanent arrangement. I've got a lot of business things to manage. I don't have time to be chatting with Slughorn every lunch."
"Oh, sure that's the reason," Harry muttered.
"Huh?" Ron asked.
"Nothing, nothing."
They dropped Hermione off and headed for Slughorn's classroom. He was standing in the center of the room wearing his usual satchel and a fancy waistcoat with golden buttons that looked like they'd burst off any moment. Harry took a step back as he stared at his coat, realizing how similar the buttons were to shrapnel.
"Is that everyone?" Slughorn asked as he began a headcount. "One, two… five, six… Mr. Weasley, you decided to join us! Marvelous. And Crookshanks makes eight." He picked up a ginger cat that was lying down on his desk chair.
"You invited Hermione's cat, but not her?" Ron squinted.
"I invite those who have or will have success and-or connections."
Harry's face twisted. "Crookshanks is a cat."
Slughorn held the smushed-face kitty lovingly in his arms. "I can feel great potential in this one. You would too if you had seen the innovative way he caught a toy mouse earlier." He led them to the door. "Let's be on our way."
The Slug Club held mostly people Harry knew, along with one new face. Sarita Skeeter and Colin Creevey were there, along with Luna Lovegood and somehow, Neville Longbottom. Sarita's appearance had changed a lot in the past year. Warmth had been brought to her previously white-pale face. Her short curly hair became longer, straighter, and more of a dirty blonde color. She stopped wearing her usual six-inch heels and she didn't chase after people annoying them into giving her gossip. In general, she was a much more cheerful person.
"I'm sure you're all wondering my name," the new face said as they followed Slughorn.
"Not especially," Luna said dreamily as she stared at the flooring of the hallway.
"Cormac McLaggen. Seventh year. King of the school, really."
"That's Harry. He's the King of Hogwarts," Ron interrupted. He was met with an icy glare from McLaggen.
"I just relocated to these coordinates from Scotland. I'm Scottish."
"You don't sound it," Ron said. "Also, we are in Scotland. And Hogwarts takes in students from all over. You should see our foreign exchange program. Last year we even got two students from Foreignstan."
McLaggen's glare worsened and Sarita tried to change the subject. "I heard Slughorn was trying to get Dumbledore to add caviar to the budget," she whispered.
"I wonder if he succeeded," Neville said.
"I do indeed hope so," McLaggen replied. "I shan't ingested a satisfactory basin of caviar since dining with the Prime Minister, many fortnights passed."
"Okay, no," Ron said bluntly. "Caviar is terrible. People only say it's good because they think it makes them sound rich and powerful. I recently threw a bowl at Will Fences during a luncheon because he was going on and on about the stuff. I saw him feed it to the plant behind him."
"Please," McLaggen scoffed. "You met with Will Fences? The tech leader, Will Fences?"
"And you've met with the Prime Minister?" Ron retorted.
"Have you any idea whom my parents are?!"
"Do you even know who the Prime Minister is?" Ron asked.
"Of course I do!"
"Then tell me their name. And I'll take either the Scottish Prime Minister or the English one."
"I will not be subjected to the tyranny of a peasant simile to yourself."
"Hey look, the Gargoyle Corridor," Colin said, desperate for a conversation changer.
Slughorn was indeed leading them down the Gargoyle Corridor. For a moment after they passed their History of Magic classroom, Harry wondered if they'd be eating lunch in Dumbledore's office. They spent most classes chatting about nothing anyway.
"Here we are! Room 119, my office," Slughorn said as put Crookshanks on the ground. He used both hands to search his satchel for the key. He fumbled with a rusty piece of metal and then unlocked the door. They walked onto a small platform and then down a wooden staircase. The windowless, underground room had a lamp on every flat surface, each one looking completely different. It was a simple office that desperately needed to be cleaned. The grime and dust had formed an alliance in the war against cleanliness. They clearly won the battle on Brown Carpet, making it look almost squishy. Slughorn was combatting the distinct smell of mildew by using disposable air fresheners. Excusing the hum from the large refrigerator, it was quiet. A worn trunk sat beside a lofty desk that sat in the corner of the room. Behind the desk was a tall, faded brown armoire. In the center of the room, there was a large round table with several small white bowls stacked at the center. On top of some napkins were shiny silver spoons. "Sit, sit! Make yourselves comfortable!" Slughorn exclaimed as he took the red box out of his satchel and dumped a bunch of small brown shapes into the trunk beside his desk. "I'll go get the food." He flattened the box and went to the armoire. He unlocked it, put the flat box, in and then took out two other boxes of cereal. "I already took the brown stuff out of these boxes. Nothing but the best for my Slugs!" The Slugs, as he called them, glanced at each other uncomfortably. "This was actually my original office when I taught here many years ago," he said as he started pouring marshmallows into the bowls.
"Oh, so this is the job you retired from?" Harry asked.
"Yes it is! It's good to be back. I would have come willingly, but that lady with pink hair and her friend had other ideas." He put the second box down and crossed the room to get milk from the refrigerator. He unscrewed the cap to the first carton and started to fill the bowls. Harry watched as the marshmallows floated to the top. "Aren't these brighter colors incredible?" They felt inclined to nod. Crookshanks stared at the stream of milk from his own chair between Luna and Sarita. Slughorn grabbed another bowl. "You know, I wanted to get you guys caviar for your first Slug Club meeting, but when I proposed the idea, Dumbledore just started laughing. Then Hagrid walked in. I asked him if we could make room in the budget for caviar and he started laughing too!"
"Shame," McLaggen said as he eyed Ron.
"It's not," Ron said, mirroring McLaggen's expression.
"Oh well. Cereal's good for you. It provides the necessary sugar to keep your nervous system going and the milk… it tastes good." He finished filling eight cereal bowls, and then filled a bowl only with milk for Crookshanks. "None of you are lactose intolerant, right?"
They shook their heads. "I'm allergic to shellfish, but I can drink milk," Luna said.
"Good. I heard about a special form for injuries related to one of the professors. I don't want a form like that. Shellfish, I'll make a note of it." He handed a bowl to each person and then prompted everyone to take a spoon, even Crookshanks. The cat ignored him and didn't seem to care when Slughorn placed a spoon in front of him. He hopped onto the table and sat down, licking the milk and waving his tail across the smooth wooden surface.
The milk in each bowl became a swirl of colors as the meeting went on. Slughorn asked each member what they wanted to do after Hogwarts. He even asked Crookshanks, but he wasn't given an answer.
"Your mysterious personality intrigues me, Mr. Crookshanks." The cat scratched himself with his leg.
"I want to be a photographer," Colin offered. "At first, I wanted to be a journalist, that's why I started The Fictum Post. But Sarita took over and I realized I preferred taking pictures for articles instead of writing gossip."
Sarita went pale with guilt. "Sorry about that."
"No worries. All's well that ends well."
"What about you, Ms. Skeeter?" Slughorn asked. "Are you planning on continuing to run The Fictum Post?"
"No, I want to keep it exclusively run by students. I'll hand my position to someone once Colin and I graduate. I'd like to write for the Almost Daily Prophet."
"I'm sure that won't be difficult. With The Fictum Post, they'd be mad not to hire you. How about you, Mr. Weasley?"
"My maple syrup empire isn't going anywhere anytime soon. I've already got my career."
"So do I," Harry said. "I'm a superhero. And I'll be writing some memoirs soon."
"Fascinating! Certainly, personal memoirs would be far better than a fictional series written by a sad bathroom dweller."
"I want to do something with plants," Neville said.
"Very interesting. Miss Lovegood? Any ideas as to what you'd like to do?"
"My father's a hippy," she said in her dreamlike voice. "But that's not much of a career. I like horses."
"Horses? Such majestic creatures. You could go into horseback riding. Plenty of people love that sort of thing."
"Oh! That's a wonderful idea. You have a lot of time to decide. Before I became a professor, I collected box tops for a living."
"From the boxes of lucky charms?" Harry asked.
"Righto!"
"I thought money from box tops went to schools. And aren't they an American thing?" Ron asked.
Slughorn laughed. "They do indeed exclusively go to schools. So I just started my own elementary school!"
"What?" Sarita interrupted.
"Façade Elementary. Zero students, and one teacher. Then I used my experience from running it to land my job at Hogwarts!"
Luna stirred a rather extravagant iced drink she had brought to the meeting. "I think that's illegal," she said, the words gliding out of her mouth rather than intending to make a statement.
"We don't even have elementary school here," Colin reminded. "It's primary school. Right?"
"Is any persons going to inquire me?" McLaggen said loudly.
"Yes, go ahead," Slughorn said.
"I'm going to be rich and famous."
"That's not a career," Ron said.
"You only think that because you aren't rich and you aren't famous."
Ron dropped his spoon into his bowl. "Hey, I choose not to be famous. And I'm a millionaire. I drive my personal golf cart to Care of Magical Creatures every day."
"I thought you gifted it to Harry," Neville said.
"Point is, I bought one. And I gave one to Dumbledore too. I mean, look at my luxury watch!" He waved his wrist around.
"Cheap. You said you were a millionaire?" McLaggen shook his head. "Boasting about your alleged wealth. Tsk tsk. I would envisage someone who claims to have millions of dollars would be a bit more sagahshus."
"Sagacious," Ron corrected.
The meeting ended with ten minutes left of lunch, so Harry and Ron went to the cafeteria to find Hermione. Sarita and Colin had some FicPo things to take care of, but Luna Lovegood joined them in their journey. Neville and McLaggen apparently had other things to do as well. Crookshanks had left as soon as his bowl was empty.
They found Hermione giving belly rubs to Crookshanks who was lying on the Gryffindor table. Carefully avoiding giving any information about where her traitor cat was before, they spoke for a few minutes. Sarita entered the cafeteria and Luna waved her over to them.
"Hey, guys," Sarita greeted as Luna started fiddling with her bracelet.
"Back already?" Harry asked. "That reporter made it sound like something terrible was going on."
"Well, I've told them to be very urgent about things of this nature. That being, a potential problem. Let me explain. Using our resources, we've set up a list of people to keep an eye on. Ever since Umbridge. And the Dursleys. Anyway, we've got a new code yellow student."
"Can you tell us who it is?" Hermione asked.
"Yep. Just don't tell him. It's Cormac McLaggen."
"I could've told you that," Ron said.
"We had gotten quite a few complaints. The reporter was notifying us of several others. With his performance at the Slug Club meeting, Colin and I made him an official code yellow."
"What has he been doing?" Harry asked.
"Breaking windows with his autographed rocks. And also asking out just about every girl he sees," Sarita said as she rolled her eyes.
"Sounds charming," Hermione replied. The doorway caught her eye and she saw the student in question. Cormac McLaggen was walking in. He carried a broom and charged towards Katie Bell, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. She was laughing with her friends around the edge of her table, arms and legs engaged with her discourse.
Cormac didn't even wait for a pause in the conversation. While the captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team was mid-joke, he made a demand. "Put me on the team. I wanna be the captain."
"No," she answered, not a moment to think.
He didn't stop there. "No? But I'm the best Quidditch player ever!"
Turning to face him, she crossed her arms and leaned against the table, nearly sitting on it. "I saw you at tryouts. You don't even know how to play Quidditch. You don't even know how to ride the broom. You're not getting on the team. And you're especially not going to be the captain." There was almost a chuckle to her voice. To some extent, this was amusing.
"Look, I didn't know that you're not allowed to trip or kick other players with your broom. Everyone makes mistakes."
She scoffed. "Ha! We told you six times."
"I must not have heard you."
"The sixth time I reminded you, you blew a raspberry and then tripped me with your broom. And I wasn't even on the field."
McLaggen was taken aback. "Is that naught common courtesy here in the coordinates of England?"
"We're in Scotland."
"There you go! I'm Scottish. In Scotland, we act incredibly disrespectful to convey understanding."
Katie looked thoroughly unamused. "I'm Scottish. We don't do that."
"What part of Scotland? Maybe it's regional."
She shot her friends a look, as if telepathically making fun of him. Then she returned to answer his question. "Dundee," she said, with the slightest of grins.
McLaggen laughed. "I've never heard anything moreso fictional. Dundee? Really? Next time, try coming up with something a little more realistic."
She was still grinning. "Well, where are you from?"
His face became serious. No, he had not thought this far into his persona. "Candyland."
Katie gave a dry laugh and moved closer to him. "If you don't leave the cafeteria in the next twenty seconds, I'm gonna punch you," she smiled.
He started walking backwards towards the door. "Hey, are you free tomorrow night?"
"Yeah, but I think you'll be busy getting your limbs glued back on. Five seconds!"
And he was gone in three. The conversations of the cafeteria faded back in, Ron and Harry joining into the murmurs with Luna and Sarita. Hermione disappeared into her books and notes.
As they walked to Wand Safety, Hermione noticed Ron and Harry were acting strangely. They were not even halfway there when they began fidgeting. Over time, they moved faster, making it difficult for her to keep up. It became slightly easier once they began hopping. Hopping turned into running circles around Hermione and trying to climb the walls.
"YAAAAAAA!" Ron exclaimed as he zoomed around like Pigwidgeon.
"Are you two high?!" Hermione asked furiously.
"Nope! I didn't take anything!" Ron shouted.
"I didn't either, citizen! I would never take the drugs!"
"Then did Slughorn slip you something? I knew he was bad news."
"No, Slughorn's great," Ron replied.
"He's a good citizen!"
Luna Lovegood skipped past them as she spun around with her arms out. "Weeeeeee!" she giggled.
"Alright, what did Slughorn do?"
"Nothing!" Ron shouted. "He just gave us lucky charms. There were a lot. He took out the brown stuff."
"Ohh, he fed you sugar. That explains it," Hermione said.