ARC 6

PART 1: Hermione, Home and Heads.

As the days went by, September the first was steadily approaching nearer. After getting the guitar on his birthday, he tried learning it with the help of the books, he tried practicing the songs, and he prevailed. Steadily, as time went on, he began to get better at playing the guitar and at singing.

But nothing lasts forever as September the first had made its presence known. It was the morning of the first of September. The morning had a slight chill to it but otherwise it wasn't that warm nor that cold. But however, a particular chilly breeze came by and blew Harry's cap, from his nightstand into his face, which woke him up from his deep slumber.

And our Harry here, just moments prior, had drool coming out from his mouth and staining the pillow. As he groggily opened his eyes, he noticed his window was left open and a chill breeze was coming in.

You see, in these times of the year, chill breezes were fairly common in the mornings. But however, an imminent problem had risen up. Everywhere across the United Kingdom, at all times of the year, was this thin layer of fog which emanated depression, anxiety and made you feel what you had exactly felt in the most traumatic moments of your life. This fog is not limited to the magic world. Even the muggles have noticed it and have begun speculation as to what it could be.

Across news channels, many speculated the undead were returning. Many thought that a sort of doomsday is nearing steadily. Nobody knew what was going on. Nor what had caused this.

Not even the ones in the magical world.

Many in the world of magic thought this was a layer of fog which has been spread by the sudden uprise of rogue dementors. Many thought this was the sign of Death looming over their realm. All of them had faith in one thing. That, it would all end soon.

But little did they know, this would be one of the most brutal wars, in the history of man.

As Harry got up, he noticed his window being open wide despite remembering that it was closed the night before. So, he went over to the window and closed it.

As he was making his way to the bathroom, still half asleep, he stubbed his toe on one of the legs of the bed, which woke him right up.

"Argh!" exclaimed out Harry. As he walked into the bathroom, his eyes travelled to the mirror and the first thing he saw was his own reflection.

His hair looked windswept than ever, his arms looked lean and strong but the scar gash that Wormtail had made all those years ago, stuck out more than anything on his white-complexion.

His emerald-green eyes had hints of blue in them and his face had a drool stain running down from the corner of his mouth to his chin. He was steadily growing a stubble and his lightning bolt scar still looked as if it were carved on his skin just moments prior.

He reached over to the holder which kept the toothbrush and toothpaste and started brushing his teeth. As he was mid-scrub, sets of images flashed across his eyes for only him to see, him to understand and him to think about.

He saw a multitude of pictures all differently depicting the death of Albus Dumbledore. Some had him stabbed in the back while he was unaware. Some had him falling from the astronomy tower, some had his head being bitten off by a humanoid creature which towered over him. Before he could think much about these, the topic of the images changed.

He only saw flashes of what could be described as...someone screaming for help. A black substance, covering the person from head to toe, from which, the person was trying to free themselves but only could scream for help. The black substance would not let go of the person. And all of a sudden, the voice of the scream which Harry couldn't recognise, changed to match his own scream.

He could hear himself screaming in that vision.

He could see himself screaming as he tried to get the black substance off of him but it latched on all the more. But however, due to desperation, the mirror Harry screamed out of pain and he was calling for help. Despite his efforts of taking the substance off of him, he failed.

The substance would not let go.

As he kept staring at the mirror, he saw it again but…. differently... He was standing there, the thing covering him from head to toe, but this time, he wasn't putting any fight nor screaming for help. It was as if he had given up. It was as if...it had won.

He saw another vision which solidified what he was thinking. The substance letting Harry go, but to be exact, it was letting go of what was left of Harry.

As the thing slithered away in his vision, he took a step back in shock at the sight he saw.

Slathered in blood as red as the eyes of Dracula, muscles barely hanging on and nothing of his skin, eyes, hair left, it could only be described as Harry's skeleton being covered in his blood with just a few strands of muscles hanging on.

Thud.

The sudden appearances of these images sent Harry tumbling down backwards with a loud yell mixed with a multitude of emotions ranging from surprise to freight to horror which was loud enough for people nearby to hear but no-one was around, or so Harry thought.

His mind tuning out the outside world, Harry could only stare back at the mirror in horror as realisation dawned upon his face.

Dumbledore was going to die.

But then, as he remembered the other visions, he remembered seeing something else in one of them as well. In one vision, the mirror Harry had freed himself from the black substance for a few moments only. And those few moments were what the real Harry needed.

He noticed that the face of the mirror Harry was younger than his current face. It was like how he looked like in fifth year.

Only one question was flying all over his mind and was written on his face.

What does this all even mean?

As he was lost in thought, he didn't notice Hermione rushing into the room as she heard the yell. She immediately held Harry's hand and shoulder as she lifted him up. Worried, she began asking what happened.

"Harry, are you alright? What was- What was that yell all about? And why did you fall over?" She asked at a rapid rate.

Harry could only stare back in the eyes of his reflection as he replied, "I dunno."

Time flew by before he could even say, "Quidditch." People bustled around the manor, getting ready to go to Hogwarts. Molly prepared the food as everyone present in the house came down to eat breakfast in the morning. As all of them sat down to eat, Harry's couldn't stop thinking about the visions he had seen.

He thought as he lifted a spoonful of eggs into his mouth, " What was even that?" Possible explanations flew across Harry's mind. Dumbledore dying, the black substance on his younger self, did this all show what could have happened? Were these visions of an alternate reality? And the black substance, what was that?

Usual breakfast chatter, with occasionally Molly Weasley chastising her children to eat quicker and to get ready, Remus listening to what Bill Weasley was saying with an occasional nod of acknowledgement, Kingsley Shacklebolt laughing at a joke cracked by Moody who was also chuckling and Hermione animatedly talking to Tonks and Ginny Weasley.

Ron kept talking while shoveling food into his mouth. Bits and pieces of food flew out until his mother reprimanded him. After that, he kept talking but only realized Harry was not talking at all. He had a glassy gaze as he was lost in thought.

Ron swallowed his food and then asked, "Harry, mate, why aren't you talkin'? Are ya alright?"

His question broke Harry out of his stupor as he replied, "Wha- Ron? Yeah man, I was thi- I mean I was just lost in thought."

He carefully studied Harry's face and then continued, "About what?"

Harry stumbled over his words for the briefest of moments to cover up what he was actually thinking about, "Um…nothing really. Just thinking about how my life has been so far," and then he gave a false grin as to cover up his lie. Ron noticed it not reaching his eyes. He looked totally unconvinced but he chose not to comment about it.

But instead, he said, "Oi Harry, pass me the marmalade?" And so, breakfast went by in a jiffy and everyone was sent upstairs to get ready.

As he entered the room he was sharing with Ron, he took his Muggle Clothing and began changing while Ron was changing in the bathroom. As he put on his shirt, his mind wandered back to the times when he saw these visions after Sirius's death. In the summer of last year, the fake vision from Voldemort and then twice this summer.

One had this massive ship which as he could remember was in space. There was this big purple guy with a gauntlet in his hand and a double-edged blade. That person had taken a blue stone from another smaller guy which reverberated waves of power. Then there was this one of Ragnarök. When is this going to happen? He doesn't know. When is Odin going to die? No idea.

But what he does know is that the end of Voldemort is near.

Harry walked down to the fireplace with his trunk and Hedwig's cage. His broom was kept in his trunk. As he stepped down the last step, he met Ginny, Hermione, Molly and Remus waiting for Ron and him in front of the fire place.

"Is he here yet, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Not yet Harry"

And then as she said that, Ron lumbered down the stair case, trunk following him behind with Pigwidgeon's cage on top of it.

Molly had a frown on her face as he asked, "What took you so long, Ronald?"

Ron stupidly looked at her for a second before saying, "Wha-? Oh, Mum it was just that I had forgotten the keys to my broom."

Molly raised an eyebrow at that. "Really Ronald? Again? This is the third time in 2 weeks. At this rate, you'll need a Remembrall."

Embarrassed, Ron scratched the back of his neck then nervously apologized, "Eh sorry mum. Now can we get going?"

Molly didn't say a word and let the kids through as they one after the another, flooed to King's Cross.

In northwestern London lay King's Cross Station, a Muggle railway station that was one of the busiest in the city. It was a perfectly ordinary station, with big plastic numbers over each track and guards who have never heard of Hogwarts School. However, every 1 September, as the clock overhead approaches eleven o'clock, and the InterCity 125 pulls into platform nine. A strange crowd turned the occasional Muggle head. The crowd was wizarding children, bearing enormous trunks and caged owls and other unusual pets, making their way toward — and then through — the solid metal barrier between platforms nine and ten.

Through this barrier, of course, lay Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, home of the famous Hogwarts Express. There, a look back at the barrier revealed it is instead a wrought-iron archway with the words "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters" on it. Over the scarlet steam train's billowing smoke, there was a sign announcing that the Hogwarts Express would depart at eleven o'clock. The platform also had a distinct smell — one which lifted the spirits of young wizards who, like Harry Potter, look forward each summer to the start of term.

Speaking of which, our familiar green-eyed wizard had just made his first successful landing after being chucked out by fire places countless times in the past. His feet struck the ground, momentarily making him stumble at the sheer speed the fire place threw him out and he immediately began dusting himself and his luggage as the other witches and wizard came into sight.

After dusting off the floo dust, he raised his head and took a deep breath in as he enveloped in the autumn air. Parents and kids bustling about, Hogwarts students talking animatedly after seeing each other after a long summer, pets rattling in their cages made Platform nine and three quarters feel lively which made Harry realize how happy the world would be if Voldemort dies.

Shaking his head due to the depressive thought, he made his way to the steaming scarlet train as the others closely followed behind.

"Harry."

Hearing his name, Harry turned and said, "Yes Moony?"

Remus put one hand on his honorary nephew's shoulder and continued, "Don't try to be in too much trouble, ok? If you ever need me, just ring me through the mirror. You have the mirror, don't you?"

Harry's mind went blank for a second as he tried to recall whether he had packed the mirror in his trunk. As he remembered, he let out a small relaxed sigh as he said, "Yea I did Moony."

"Do not go looking for trouble, alright? We need you in one piece for Christmas," he joked.

Both of them shared a chuckle at that.

As their laughter died down, Remus tried to continue but he was interrupted by the rather loud bellow of the train. He then looked over to the driver's side and exclaimed, "You best be going Harry. The train's leaving. Bye kiddo!"

"Bye Moony," and then he climbed on to the compartment.

As the teens entered the train, the train began moving and all of them went to the nearest compartment to wave their final goodbyes to Remus and Molly.

Harry waved and watched them until the train turned around the corner and the platform was out of sight.

"Harry, Ron and I need to attend the Prefect meeting. We would join in a few minutes. Save the seats for us?"

"Sure Mione."

And they left. Harry could listen to Ron hiss, "Why do you allow him to call you Mione but when I call you Mione, you hate it?"

Harry strained his ear to listen but he couldn't listen to what Hermione was saying as they were a fair bit away from their compartment. As he went to sit down on his seat, he faintly heard Ron yell, "COME ON!"

He just laughed at that.

Neville and Ginny looked at him as if he was crazy. He explained to them what happened and then both of them shared a chuckle as well.

As they were trying to find their seats, something or rather someone bumped into Neville with very recognisable dirty blonde hair.

"Hello Neville. Hello Harry," said a girl with long hair and large misty eyes, who was just behind Neville.

Harry turned around to see who was talking and so did Neville. "Luna, hi, how are you?"

"Very well, thank you," said Luna. She was clutching a magazine to her chest; large letters on the front announced that there was a pair of free Spectrespecs inside.

"The Quibbler still going strong, then?" asked Harry, who felt a certain fondness for the magazine, having given it an exclusive interview the previous year.

"Oh yes, circulation's well up," said Luna happily.

"Let's find seats," said Harry, and the three of them set off along the train through hordes of silently staring students. At last they found an empty compartment, and Harry hurried inside gratefully.

"They're even staring at us," said Neville, indicating himself and Luna. "Because we're with you!"

"They're staring at you because you were at the Ministry too," said Harry, as he hoisted his trunk into the luggage rack. "Our little adventure there was all over the Daily Prophet, you must've seen it."

Neville muttered while his voice was beginning to choke up, "That I did. Gran must've been proud that I am living up to my dad's legacy."

"Aw, I am sorry Neville," Ginny apologised as she drew comforting circles with her hand on Neville's back.

"You have no need to be sorry about anything, Ginny. Also, one more thing. I got myself a new wand. Look!" He exclaimed as he pulled out a long dark wand from his pocket.

"Cherry and unicorn hair," he said proudly. "We think it was one of the last Ollivander ever sold, he vanished next day—oi, come back here, Trevor!"

And he dived under the seat to retrieve his toad as it made one of its frequent bids for freedom.

"Are we still doing D.A. meetings this year, Harry?" asked Luna, who was detaching a pair of psychedelic spectacles from the middle of The Quibbler.

"No point now we've got rid of Umbridge, is there?" said Harry, sitting down. Neville bumped his head against the seat as he emerged from under it. He looked most disappointed.

"I liked the D.A.! I learned loads with you!"

"I enjoyed the meetings too," said Luna serenely. "It was like having friends."

This was one of those uncomfortable things Luna often said and which made Harry feel a squirming mixture of pity and embarrassment. Before he could respond, however, there was a disturbance outside their compartment door; a group of fourth-year girls was whispering and giggling together on the other side of the glass.

"You ask him!"

"No, you!"

"I'll do it!"

And one of them, a bold-looking girl with large dark eyes, a prominent chin, and long black hair pushed her way through the door.

"Hi, Harry, I'm Romilda, Romilda Vane," she said loudly and confidently. "Why don't you join us in our compartment? You don't have to sit with them," she added in a stage whisper, indicating Neville's bottom, which was sticking out from under the seat again as he groped around for Trevor, and Luna, who was now wearing her free Spectrespecs, which gave her the look of a demented, multicolored owl.

They're friends of mine," said Harry coldly.

"Oh," said the girl, looking very surprised. "Oh. Okay."

And she withdrew, sliding the door closed behind her.

"People expect you to have cooler friends than us," said Luna, once again displaying her knack for embarrassing honesty.

"You are cool," said Harry shortly. "None of them was at the Ministry. They didn't fight with me."

"That's a very nice thing to say," beamed Luna. Then she pushed her Spectrespecs farther up her nose and settled down to read The Quibbler.

"We didn't face him, though," said Neville, emerging from under the seat with fluff and dust in his hair and a resigned-looking Trevor in his hand. "You did. You should hear my gran talk about you. 'That Harry Potter's got more backbone than the whole Ministry of Magic put together!' She'd give anything to have you as a grandson…"

Harry laughed uncomfortably as he changed the subject to OWL results and Defense paper speculation.

While Neville recited his grades and wondered aloud whether he would be allowed to take a Transfiguration N.E.W.T., with only an "Acceptable," Harry watched him without really listening.

Neville's childhood had been blighted by Voldemort just as much as Harry's had, but Neville had no idea how close he had come to having Harry's destiny. The prophecy could have referred to either of them, yet, for his own inscrutable reasons, Voldemort had chosen to believe that Harry was the one meant.

Had Voldemort chosen Neville, it would be Neville sitting opposite Harry bearing the lightning-shaped scar and the weight of the prophecy… or would it? Would Neville's mother have died to save him, as Lily had died for Harry? Surely she would… but what if she had been unable to stand between her son and Voldemort? Would there then have been no 'Chosen One' at all? An empty seat where Neville now sat and a scarless Harry who would have been kissed goodbye by his own mother, not Ron's?

"You all right, Harry? You look funny," said Neville.

Harry started.

"Sorry—I—"

"Wrackspurt got you?" asked Luna sympathetically, peering at Harry through her enormous colored spectacles.

"I—what?"

"A Wrackspurt… They're invisible. They float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy," she said. "I thought I felt one zooming around in here."

She flapped her hands at thin air, as though beating off large invisible moths. Harry caught Neville's eye and hastily began talking about the new Defense Professor.

"So, who d'you reckon would be the Defense Professor this year? Neville? Ginny? What d'you think? Luna? What about you?" he asked as he turned towards the blonde girl.

Neville began thinking while Ginny spoke up which made Harry turn towards her, "Honestly, it seems like Snape could be the Professor as it is common knowledge that he has been after the DADA spot for ages. He could be the new Professor, honestly."

Harry bitterly muttered, "Atleast we could see him either get offed by the end of this year or he might be getting the sack."

Ginny nodded in agreement while Neville frowned in thought.

"I dunno Harry. It just doesn't add up. Because if you see, Snape is the potions professor, if he were to come to the DADA spot, who would take over the potions spot?"

Harry brows furrowed. "Honestly Neville, I didn't think of that. If he were to finally get the DADA spot, then someone new would most likely take over for potions. And by the way, this summer, Dumbledore and I had gone to talk to some Slughorn guy. He might be either the DADA teacher or the Potion's master."

Ginny's eyes widened. "WAIT! Slughorn? You possibly can't mean Horace Slughorn, can you?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, Myhaver and Horace Slughorn. Why? Do you know these two?"

Ginny replied, "Harry, Horace Slughorn taught Potions to my mum and dad. And if my memory serves me right, mum said he taught to your parents and Sirius as well."

Harry was quite shocked to say the least. But however at that moment, Ron's voice entered the conversation.

"Yeah mate, from what mum told us, he is pretty old. Not as old as Dumbledore perse but older than McGonagall or Flitwick."

Harry turned towards the direction the voice was coming from. "Crikey! I guessed him to be as old as McGonagall! Also, how did your meeting get over this quick?"

Ron added, "Malfoy wasn't doing Prefect duty for some odd reason. Also, there was all the same rules as last year so, we were handed these rolls of parchment. See?" He then waved a roll of parchment for the compartment to see.

"Yeah, we do, Ron. Now come in and sit down," and so Ron did sit down with Hermione sitting to the right of him. "Wish the lunch trolley would come real soon. I am bloody starving. Also, instead of doing Prefect duty, Malfoy was hanging out with the other Slytherins for some reason. We saw him when we passed by his compartment."

Harry sat up straight, interested. It was not like Malfoy to pass up the chance to demonstrate his power as prefect, which he had happily abused all the previous year.

"What did he do when he saw you?"

"The usual," said Ron indifferently, demonstrating a rude hand gesture. "Not like him, though, is it? Well… that is"—he did the hand gesture again—"but why isn't he out there bullying first years?"

"Dunno," said Harry, but his mind was racing. Didn't this look as though Malfoy had more important things on his mind than bullying younger students?

"Perhaps he preferred the Inquistorial squad as being a Prefect after that seems tame but both positions hold similar levels of power. So, it doesn't add up really."

Harry's mind raced as he thought about this. But he thought to share what they were talking about earlier.

Harry shuffled a bit in his seat before leaning in forward. Seeing this, Ron and Hermione instinctively lent forward as well.

"You see, we were thinking who would be the Defense Professor this year. Ginny and I think it's gonna be Snape. But what do you think, Ron? Hermione?" he asked as he looked towards the bushy haired witch.

Hermione's brows furrowed as she lent back and thought about this.

While Ron then added to the conversation with a hint of venom in his voice, "It would serve him right to be honest. As we have seen all our DADA professors either dying or being sacked at the end of the year, Snape would do Hogwarts a favour once he gets kicked out."

Hearing this, Hermione was broken from her train of thought as she began to admonish Ron, " Honestly Ronald! Curse him all you want but he still is a Professor. When are you going to get that through the thick skull of yours?"

Disgruntled, Ron grunted out, "Yeah yeah, but that doesn't change the fact that he is bloody awful at teaching. Also, he might be my professor but you're not my mum and would never likely be so shut the fuck up Hermione."

Hermione looked defeated for the first part of his sentence but her anger rose as he heard the second sentence. Everyone could feel the temperature of the room drop as Hermione said, "Say the last sentence again, Ronald?"

Ron looked confused as his heart thudded against his ribcage which threatened to break. He stammered out, "Wha-What do you mean, Hermione? I-I dunno what you are talking about."

"Your statement after pronouncing your opinion about Professor Snape's teaching."

Ron's eyes raced around the compartment as beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. Everything felt ten times louder and ten times sharper. His heart, at least what it felt like to him, was thudding against his chest so hard that he thought it might break his sternum. Nervously, he said, " 'Mione, I just said 'shut up Hermione'."

"First of all, don't ' Mione' me Ronald and second of all, you had said something in between and right before that."

Accepting his defeat, he admitted with a sigh, "Fine, I said 'he maybe my professor but you're not my mum and would never likely be so shut the fuck up Hermione.' There. Are you happy now that I at least bloody said it?"

Then the thing he feared the most, happened. It was only short of spiders, his mom and Voldemort himself coming up here.

Hermione launched into a rant about his foul language and began to berate him.

The others couldn't help but laugh at his expense. Hermione got annoyed by this and turned to rant at them but as she saw them laughing, she also couldn't help but let laughter break her façade.

Ron also joined in their laughter a few moments later.

Time flew by faster than they could fathom. As they kept on talking, laughing and sharing anecodtes, the trolley lady came by with the sweets. Harry turned to look at his friends to ask their treat preferences.

"Hey guys, the trolley lady is here. What do you lot want? I am getting myself some chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties."

"Same here mate," Ron called out.

"Same here," Neville requested.

"Same here Harry, but Ice Mice instead of some chocolate frogs," Hermione requested.

"I'll take some Ice Mice and some Cockroach Clusters," Ginny said.

Harry got up and then ordered the respective sweets. They all turned out to be twelve galleons and fifteen sickles. Harry paid the respective amount and took back the sweets to his friends who picked out their respective choices and began eating. As they began eating, Ron voiced something which they didn't think of and frankly, didn't expect it.

Before speaking he first swallowed and then began. "Guys, if let's say, Snape even were to be the Defense Professor, who would take his place for Potions?"

All of them could only stare at him dumbly. Well, all apart from Neville.

"I actually, didn't think of that Ron."

Ron let out a laugh as he said, "What? Hermione Granger not knowing something? I guess there is a first time for everything after all…"

At that, said witch let out an indignant snort which more so sounded like a squawk. "Either their would be a new Professor, or someone would take over his spot in Potions. And I clearly recall that all of the teachers are busy with their own subjects so none of them would be coming, but someone relatively – new."

"That's what I was saying before with Ginny and Harry here, Hermione. It just doesn't add up. If Snape is already the Potions Professor, why would he take over Defense? Even if he were to take over Defense, who would take over potions?"

Then there was a brief period of silence which Harry broke.

"I think all of us agree with you on that, Neville."

Fifteen minutes later, , the compartment door slid open again and a breathless third-year girl stepped inside. "I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Harry P-Potter," she faltered, as her eyes met Harry's and she turned scarlet. She was holding out five scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon. Perplexed, Harry and Neville took the scroll addressed to each of them while Ron and Hermione did the same and then the girl stumbled back out of the compartment.

Harry opened his invitation.

Mister Potter,

Your presence is required in the last compartment of the train in regards of the binders that tether the Dark Phoenix in the plane of the living. This has been requested by the Phoenix which leads the group of the inferno chickens. Come under your invisibility cloak.

Signed,

Professor M.H.E Slughorn.

"Who's Professor Slughorn?" asked Neville, looked perplexedly at his own invitation.

"Probably the new teacher," said Harry. "Well, I suppose we'll have to go, won't we?"

"But what does he want me for?" asked Neville nervously, as though he was expecting detention.

Hermione tsked before saying, "Neville, it wouldn't hurt to go, would it? We have to find it out as we go, it seems like."

"Alright then," he said before leaving.

As they were about to leave, Harry grunted out, "Listen," he added, seized by a sudden brain wave, "let's go under the Invisibility Cloak, then we might get a good look at Malfoy on the way, see what he's up to."

Ron was about to ask how would they all fit under the cloak but he stopped talking as he saw Harry enlarging the cloak to lengths which would cover then all.

This idea, however, came to nothing: the corridors, which were packed with people on the lookout for the lunch trolley, were impossible to negotiate while wearing the cloak. Harry stowed it regretfully back in his bag, reflecting that it would have been nice to wear it just to avoid all the staring, which seemed to have increased in intensity even since he had last walked down the train. Every now and then, students would hurtle out of their compartments to get a better look at him.

The exception was Cho Chang, who darted into her compartment when she saw Harry coming. As Harry passed the window, he saw her deep in determined conversation with her friend Marietta, who was wearing a very thick layer of makeup that did not entirely obscure the odd formation of pimples still etched across her face.

Smirking slightly, Harry pushed on with a thought, "Not anymore, Cho. I am after someone else now." When they reached compartment D, the last compartment before the compartment which had all of the train material, they saw at once that they were the only Slughorn invitees. A man, whom they presumed to be Professor Slughorn, whispered out, "Potter, are you here?"

Harry whispered back, "Yes sir."

"Good, now go near the table," he ordered as he closed the door. Harry considered Ron a tall person but Slughorn however, was even taller than Ron, who stood at an impressive 6'2.

He had a grey goatee with a handlebar moustache accompanied by oddly purple eyes which were hidden behind a pair of spectacles, bushy eyebrows and grey hair. His nose was fairly long and his lips were neither to big, nor to small. It took Harry one hard look to see that his left arm was actually, scarred beyond oblivion and his index finger was replaced with a finger made up of some metallic material.

As Harry removed the cloak, he noticed Slughorn had closed the door and had reached his hand out for a handshake.

"Hello Mister Potter, my name is Myhaver Slughorn and I am your new Battle Transfiguration Professor."

As Myhaver was talking to the teenagers, Dumbledore was pacing around his office, waiting for his potions professor to come. As his instruments ticked on and Fawkes chirped in the deathly silence of his office.

Apart from those two, the only sounds in his office were that of the outside rain, the fireplace burning merrily and his footsteps. He decided to sit down to wait for his new Potions Professor. As he was waiting, he got the shock of his life as he saw the mutilated head of Horace Slughorn, with foggy eyes and a permanent expression of terror etched upon his face, scared of a threat which Dumbledore would never know, lying right there, on top of his paper work, staring into Dumbledore's soul, giving him the shock of his life.

AN: AYE! Sorry for the late upload. I got a shit ton of pending work which is taking my time and alot of assignments to do so I couldn't update earlier. Sorry about that. What do you think of this chapter though? Review down below!