Chapter 1
Horace Slughorn had always been something of a creature of comfort. As a young man, he had pursued a career in academia, teaching potions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had been quite successful in this field, earning a reputation as one of the best potions masters in the wizarding world.
Slughorn was a portly man with a round face and rosy cheeks. He had thick eyebrows that matched his salt and pepper hair, which he kept slicked back with a generous amount of pomade. Despite his rotund appearance, he was quite nimble and quick on his feet, thanks in part to all his years chasing students around Hogwarts. He was often seen wearing a waistcoat and bow tie, with a pocket watch chain draped across his chest. His most distinctive feature was his large, hooked nose that seemed to dominate his face.
After the fall of Lord Voldemort at the hands of the young Harry Potter, the wizarding world was filled with a sense of relief and hope. Everything seemed to change on that fateful Halloween night. But few were as ecstatic as Horace Slughorn, the esteemed potions master of Hogwarts. Slughorn's jubilation was palpable, and he made no attempt to hide it.
Albus Dumbledore, the wise and experienced headmaster of Hogwarts, couldn't help but notice Slughorn's peculiar behavior. His intuition told him that Slughorn's exuberance might be rooted in something more than just the typical relief felt by all wizards.
As he watched Slughorn revel in the downfall of the most powerful dark wizard of their time, Dumbledore began to ponder the possibilities of Slughorn's motivations. Was it possible that Slughorn had some sort of connection to the Dark Lord's downfall? Did he have something more to gain then the average man? Or could it be that he was simply pleased that the Dark Lord's reign of terror had finally come to an end?
Dumbledore knew that he had to investigate further, so he approached Slughorn one day with the intent to ask about his unbridled joy. He expected Slughorn to be taken aback by the sudden confrontation, so he decided he should tread lightly.
As Dumbledore entered Slughorn's office, the sound of his polished black boots echoed off the stone walls. His tall figure was draped in a flowing, deep purple robe that swept the ground as he walked. His long white beard cascaded down his chest and his piercing blue eyes peered out from behind half-moon spectacles, surveying the room with a calm yet intense gaze. Despite his advanced age, Dumbledore moved with a fluid grace, as if he were gliding across the floor rather than walking. The room seemed to grow warmer with his presence, as if he brought with him an aura of power and wisdom that radiated from his very being. As he took a seat across from Slughorn, his presence commanded attention, and his gaze fixed unflinchingly on the potions master.
"Albus, what brings you down to my humble dwellings," Slughorn asked joyfully whilst motioning his arm about the room. His office was a luxurious and ornate space, filled with antique furnishings and rich fabrics. The walls were lined with bookshelves, overflowing with leather-bound tomes and magical artifacts. The room was scented with a sweet fragrance that lingered in the air, adding to the cozy and inviting atmosphere. The overall effect was one of wealth, indulgence, and comfort.
"Horace, I have noticed you have been in the highest of spirits since Tom has been defeated." Dumbledore probed, not hesitating or wasting anytime.
"Well, yes. No more than the anyones I suppose," he responded defensively. There was a pause, the deafening silence was only hampered by the sound of rushing sand in a green hourglass that sat on Slughorn's desk.
"One might be curious," Dumbledore continued on, not acknowledging that the potion master had said anything, "as to the reasoning-"
Slughorn jumped up from his desk and darted out the room, interrupting Dumbledore, "Oh great heavens would you look at the time, I am late for tea with Professor Binns. Excuse me, headmaster," he said, rushing past him.
This behavior may seem strange to some, but Slughorn was a man with a secret, one that he kept tightly guarded from the prying eyes of those around him. The mere thought of his hidden knowledge being exposed filled the elderly man with dread. He suspected that Dumbledore's persistent questioning hinted at a deeper understanding of his secret, and it left him deeply unsettled.
Many years ago, when Tom Riddle was but a student at Hogwarts, Slughorn had taken the young man under his wing and had mentored him. The two had grown quite close, with Slughorn becoming fond of the charismatic and intelligent young man. It was during a leisurely meal together that Tom had broached a topic that made Slughorn deeply uncomfortable: horcruxes, the darkest and most evil of magical practices.
Despite his reluctance to discuss such a dangerous subject, Tom's charming and manipulative demeanor had eventually worn down Slughorn's resolve, and he had divulge more information than he ever intended. It was only after Tom had risen to power and become known as Lord Voldemort that Slughorn began to fear the consequences of his actions. He couldn't shake the feeling that his former student had used the knowledge he had provided to perform the most vile of magical rituals.
Slughorn now lived with the guilt and fear of his past actions, praying that his secret would remain buried and that he would never have to face the consequences of his mistakes.
That very night, after being approached by the headmaster, Slughorn retired from the post which he had held for over half a century, absolutely determined to take the secret conversation he had with young Tom Riddle to his grave.
With the weight of this secret being too much to bear, Slughorn went quietly into his newfound retirement.
Slughorn had always been a bit of a collector, and his love of fine wines and books had only grown over the years. He spent most of his days lounging in his comfortable armchair, surrounded by his massive personal library and indulging in the finest vintages.
For nearly a decade, he enjoyed a quiet and peaceful retirement, hosting occasional reunions for his former students in his spacious home. He relished the opportunity to catch up with old friends and reminisce about the good old days at Hogwarts.
But as much as Slughorn enjoyed his retirement, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for the world of potions and magic that he had left behind. He missed the excitement of discovering new ingredients and brewing complex potions.
However, around the time that the news of a dark wizard named Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban was permeating the wizarding world, Slughorn began to hear other disturbing rumors.
He heard that Lord Voldemort was, in fact, not gone, but living in a ghostly form, trying to come back. These rumors would indicate that his worst fear may be true. Young Tom Riddle had succeeded in creating a horcrux and was not truly dead.
The tremendous guilt he felt, believing that he himself had given Voldemort all the information he had about horcruxes began to take a toll on the old wizard's health. He lost weight, he did not sleep, and he startled at the slightest noise.
Once another year passed and word was circulating that the Dark Lord was back, Slughorn was beside himself. Cornelius Fudge, the current minister of magic, was insistent that these were just rumors and that the Dark Lord had not returned. Slughorn still feared the worst. He trusted the rumors more than the government, especially since he knew what Tom was capable of, even as just a teenager.
Just when Slughorn thought things couldn't get any worse, there was an unexpected visit at his home.
BANG! Slughorn's front door blew off its hinges, and in walked Corban Yaxley. A tall man with broad shoulders and a thick neck. He had dark, beady eyes that seemed to always be narrowed in suspicion. His nose was long and crooked, and his mouth was set in a permanent sneer. He had a small scar above his left eyebrow, and his yellow, straw-like hair was slicked back with grease and tied in a ponytail. He walked with purpose, sporting a black walking stick held firmly in his left hand. The stick is tall and sleek, made of smooth ebony wood that seems to absorb faint light. The handle had been intricately carved with serpentine patterns that seem to writhe and twist in the shadows. It had always been common practice for wealthy and powerful wizards to have their wands modified so that they can be stored in a walking stick: Yaxley was no exception.
Corban Yaxley was known for his cold demeanor and his loyalty to the Dark Lord, and he was feared by many within the wizarding world. Despite his intimidating appearance, Yaxley was a cunning and skilled wizard, capable of using a variety of dark spells and curses to cut down his enemies.
As Yaxley crept through the house, Slughorn's heart was pounding in his chest. He had barely managed to transfigure himself into an armchair in time, and now he watched with fear as the Death Eater strutted through his home, calling out his name.
"Horace Slughorn?" Yaxley shouted in a deep voice, "Lumos," he muttered, igniting the tip of his wand with light to search the dark rooms. "I just want to talk! I won't hurt you, I promise."
But Slughorn knew better. He had heard the rumors about Yaxley, about the brutal methods he used to recruit new members for the Death Eaters. He knew that if he was caught, he would be forced to join their ranks, or suffer the consequences.
So he sat there, frozen, as Yaxley searched the house. He could hear the Death Eater's footsteps growing louder as he approached the room where Slughorn was hiding. He remained perfectly still, praying that he wouldn't be found.
After about a quarter of an hour, Yaxley resigned that nobody was home, muttered "I'll be back," under his breath and walked out.
"Reparo," he rasped, pointing his wand back at the ruined door. It magically fixed itself, showing no signs of a break in.
As soon as Yaxley had gone, Slughorn jumped into action, wasting no time at all. He grabbed his briefcase, which he had put an extending charm on years earlier, making it internally about the size of a small room, and started loading it up. He included potion ingredients, books, small amounts of food, and his most treasured possessions: pictures of himself alongside his former students, all of them signed. With nothing but his briefcase and the clothes on his back, Slughorn locked up his home and left without the faintest idea of when he might return.
At first, Slughorns travels were fairly uneventful. He moved from town to town, staying in cheap inns and Taverns, trying to keep a low profile. But as the weeks turned into months, Horace began to realize that he was not the only one on the run.
There were other people out there, like him, who were trying to escape the clutches of the Death Eaters. Some were former colleagues, like himself, who had been targeted for their skills, knowledge or their blood status. Others were simply innocent bystanders, caught in the crossfire of a war that they had no part in.
As Slughhorn traveled, he began to see the wizarding world in a different light. He saw the corruption and the greed that lay just beneath the surface, and he began to wonder if he had made the right decision in staying on his own.
He thought about reaching out to Dumbledore for help, but he was afraid that he would be seen as a coward by those he respected so much. In the end, he decided to keep moving, hoping that he would find a place where he could lay low and wait out the war.
One particularly memorable stop on Slughorns journey was a cheap wizarding tavern in a small village on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. He had arrived late at night, hoping to find a place to rest his head before moving on in the morning. The Tavern was dingy and run-down, with peeling wallpaper and a musty smell that seemed to permeate every corner.
Despite its less-than-desirable appearance, Slughorn was desperate for a place to sleep, and so he paid the proprietor and made his way up to his room. The room itself was small and cramped, with a single window that looked out onto a narrow alleyway. He shuddered as he thought about the types of characters that might be lurking in that alleyway, but he was too tired to worry about it for long. He crawled into bed and fell into a fitful sleep.
The next morning, Slughorn was awoken by the sound of shouting and commotion coming from the street below. He sat up in bed and listened as the noise grew louder and more urgent. It sounded like a group of people were arguing, and Slughorn couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding wash over him.
He quickly got dressed and made his way downstairs, determined to find out what was going on. As he stepped out into the street, he saw a group of rough-looking men standing in a circle, shouting and gesturing wildly. At the center of the circle stood the proprietor of the Tavern, looking pale and shaken.
As Slughorn approached, he could hear snippets of the conversation. It seemed that the proprietor had been caught selling illegal potions to a group of students from Hogwarts, and the men were threatening to turn him in to the authorities unless he paid them a large sum of gold.
Slughorn watched in shock as the situation unfolded before him. He had always known that the wizarding world was full of corruption and greed, but he had never witnessed it first hand like this. Slughorn was from a wealthy and old wizarding family that had never lived anywhere near the poverty line. Because of this, he spent his entire life in the upper echelons of society, never seeing its dark underbelly. He couldn't believe that the proprietor, who had seemed so friendly and welcoming the night before, was capable of such underhanded dealings.
He knew that he had to get out of there, and fast, deeply disturbed that his upper class bubble had been burst. He quickly gathered his belongings and made his way to the door, determined to put as much distance between himself and the Tavern as possible.
As he stepped out into the street, he couldn't help but wonder what other dangers and temptations awaited him on his journey. He knew that he had to stay strong and true to his values, no matter what came his way.
He took a deep breath and set off down the road, determined to outwit the Death Eaters and find a safe haven in the midst of all the chaos and turmoil.
A/N (Authors Note)
This first chapter starts off with a detailed fan fiction rendition of what was briefly described in the Harry Potter canon story. Slughorn states that the death eater Yaxley had come looking for him in his own home, this scared him and inspired a nearly year long journey where he would hide from the dark lord and his followers. This is where I diverge and create my own story that is intended to be read as a concurrent tale that could run alongside the canon, rather than change it. This is a different and fun approach to fan fiction as you can imagine where all the other characters are in the main story line, as that remains unchanged until the two lines meet up again!