Chapter 12:
Slughorn awoke in Amelia Rowles' home and made his way to the kitchen. As he entered, he saw Beezus pouring juice for a young boy, who looked to be about 11 years old. Just then, Amelia walked in.
"Good morning, Professor," she greeted him with a smile. "I hope you slept well."
"I did, thank you," Slughorn replied, eyeing the young boy. "I didn't realize you had a child."
Amelia chuckled. "This is Fletcher. He'll be starting at Hogwarts this coming year. Just got his letter yesterday, in fact."
Slughorn nodded, trying not to seem too surprised. "Congratulations, Fletcher. I'm sure you'll do well."
"Thank you, Professor," Fletcher said, looking up at Slughorn with wide eyes.
"Would you like some breakfast, Professor?" Amelia asked, gesturing towards the table.
"That would be lovely, thank you," Slughorn replied, taking a seat. "And please, call me Horace."
"Not sure I can do that, Professor," she retorted with a smile.
As they ate, Amelia explained that she was a single mother. Her pureblood-crazed father had insisted on who she should marry, but when she refused and was kicked from the family, she never bothered to marry. Hence, her last name remained the same as when she was a student at Hogwarts.
Slughorn nodded politely, not wanting to pursue the awkward line of conversation any further. Instead, he turned to Fletcher and asked him about his interests and hobbies.
As they ate, Slughorn struck up a conversation with Fletcher. The boy was full of energy and curiosity, asking Slughorn all sorts of questions about Hogwarts, he was very excited to learn that Horace was a former professor.. Slughorn couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as he talked about his past achievements and the students he had taught.
"You must be excited to be going to Hogwarts," Slughorn said, breaking the silence.
Fletcher nodded eagerly. "Yes, sir! I can't wait to learn magic and make new friends."
Slughorn smiled. "You'll have a great time. And who knows? Maybe you'll end up being one of the greatest wizards of your time."
Fletcher's face lit up at the thought, and Slughorn couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at having inspired the boy.
As the day wore on, Slughorn and Fletcher continued to bond, after all, it was just them and Beezus in the house with Amelia away at the ministry. They played wizard's chess and talked about the different creatures in the wizarding world. Slughorn couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was a teacher again, something he missed very dearly..
As the evening approached, Amelia returned from work. She was tired but happy to see that Slughorn and Fletcher had gotten along so well.
"Thank you for taking care of me, Amelia," Slughorn said as he prepared to retire for the night. "It's been a pleasure getting to know you and your son."
The days turned into weeks in the Rowle household and Slughorn stayed. Amelia was very happy to let him live with them as long as he privately tutored Fletcher in potions, she believed having a head start before starting school would be very beneficial for him.
Towards the end of July Slughorn said it was time to move on, both Amelia and her son were sad to see the potions master go but Slughorn insisted. He was going to Diagon Alley to try to find a room. However, when he arrived by floo powder he realized it was way too crowded, he had not accounted for the start of the school term. He was worried he would be recognized and panicked. So many of his former students were around with their children buying them school supplies. While everyone seemed to be distracted by the sudden onset of rain, he could not take the chance. He quickly ducked in and turned the first corner he saw and ended up in Knockturn Alley.
Slughorn trudged through Knockturn Alley, pulling his long coat tightly around him as the rain beat against his face. He felt a deep sense of unease as he walked past the dark shops and seedy establishments that lined the street. It had been quite some time since he had set foot in this place, and he had hoped never to return.
As he passed by a dingy inn called "Hour of the Owl," Slughorn caught a glimpse of light through the window and decided to seek shelter inside. He pushed open the heavy wooden door and was greeted by the sight of a grizzled man sitting behind the front desk. The man looked up as Slughorn entered, his eyes flickering with suspicion.
Slughorn approached the desk and attempted to book a room, but was met with a curt response. "Sorry, we're full up," the man growled, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Please, you gotta have something, just for the night. I will pay double," Slughorn begged, not wanting to go back out in the rain.
"Full up," the man barked back.
Slughorn felt a pang of frustration and anxiety wash over him. He didn't want to stay in this wretched place any longer than he had to, but it seemed he had no other choice. He sighed deeply and turned to leave, the sound of the rain drumming against the roof and windows of the inn growing louder as he stepped back towards the street.
As Slughorn opened the door to leave the inn, a rough hand suddenly grabbed his arm, causing him to spin around in surprise. A disreputable-looking man with shifty eyes and a crooked nose, wearing worn and stained clothes with the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke and cheap alcohol about him.
"What do you want?" Slughorn asked sharply, pulling his arm away from the wizard's grip.
"I couldn't help overhearing your problem," he replied, his voice slurred slightly. "I know a place you can stay."
Slughorn eyed him suspiciously. "What kind of place?"
"A muggle dwelling in the south of London," he said. "An old married couple owns it, but they're vacationing in the Canary Islands. 10 galleons and the address is yours."
"Yeah, and I have a bridge to sell you," Slughorn retorted sarcastically. He turned his back to the shabby wizard and was about to leave when he heard him say, "You calling me a liar? Mundungus Fletcher is a businessman, dammit!"
Slughorn stopped. Fletcher? He knew that name. This was a man he used to buy less-than-legal potion ingredients from many years ago.
"Dung?" he said, looking closer at him. "It's me, Horace."
"Sluggy?" he questioned. There was a pause, and both men smiled and embraced in a hug. "Been too long, old friend, how have you been?"
"Not bad," Slughorn lied, trying to get a move on it. "Hey, listen, if you were serious about that house, I will pay up."
Fletcher pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to him. "This one's on the house, old-timer," he said with a wink.
Slughorn couldn't believe his luck. Things were finally breaking his way. He said goodbye to his old friend and made his way to the address.
Slughorn arrived in the south of London later that evening and made his way to the address Mundungus gave him. He set up his usual wards around the premises and proceeded inside.
The quaint and charming small stone house had a thatched roof and ivy climbing up its walls. In the front, it had a small garden with a wrought iron gate and a narrow cobblestone path leading up to the front door. Slughorn moved about the house, carefully placing his framed pictures on the walls. The interior of the house was cozy and inviting, with wooden beams across the ceilings and stone walls. The furnishings were simple but elegant, with plush armchairs and a large Persian rug in the sitting room. He flung his wand towards the fireplace, and it crackled merrily to life, casting flickering shadows across the room. "This will do," he smiled.
After three weeks of staying there, Slughorn had grown very comfortable in the house. He even developed somewhat of a routine that always ended with a night time bath. As the water filled the tub on this particular night, he strolled through the home, admiring everything about it. In the dining area, a large wooden table was set with fine china and crystal glasses. A chandelier hung above, casting a warm glow across the room. Slughorn had already set out a bottle of his favorite wine and a plate of cheese and crackers, anticipating a relaxing evening ahead.
On his way up to the second floor, Slughorn passed a small study, where he had set up his potions lab. The room was lined with shelves containing a variety of rare and exotic ingredients, from powdered unicorn horn to the eye of a newt. A cauldron sat bubbling away in one corner, emitting a pungent aroma.
Slughorn continued on to the bedroom, where a large four-poster bed dominated the space. The walls were painted a soft, soothing blue, and a large window provided a stunning view of the rolling hills of the English countryside. He carefully placed his framed pictures on the bedside tables, where he could admire them as he drifted off to sleep.
Overall, the small stone house in Budleigh Babberton was a cozy and welcoming retreat, a peaceful oasis in the midst of the bustling city. Slughorn felt lucky to have stumbled upon it, and he settled in for the night, looking forward to his last few days of rest and relaxation before the muggles returned home and he had to move on once again.
Nearly a half hour passed since Slughorn had entered the tub, his eyes closed as he let the warm water soothe his tired body. A waterlogged copy of The Daily Prophet sat beside the tub with the headline, "Sirius Black: An Innocent Man Murdered."
Just as Slughorn was starting to doze off, the intruder charm he set a few weeks back went off, jolting him back to alertness. Someone other than himself was on the premises.
With a sudden burst of energy, Slughorn jumped out of the tub, sending water splashing everywhere. He grabbed his wand and magically threw his clothes on, not bothering to dry off first. As he ran to the window, he tried to catch his breath and think about what to do next.
Peering out into the garden below, Slughorn saw two figures lurking in the shadows, both appeared to have their wands out and ready. It was too dark to make out who it was initially, but he soon realized it was Albus Dumbledore, and what looked like a teenage boy.
"Mundungus you rat," Slughorn said to himself. He figured that it was Fletcher who told Dumbledore where to find him, seeing as he was the only one who knew, and they were both in that phoenix club together.
Relieved it was not Yaxley or another Death Eater, and that therefore his life was not in immediate danger, Slughorn still wanted to hide from Dumbledore. The last time the two had met was very awkward and he did not want a repeat of that. So he hatched a plan and started running.
As he reached the bottom of the staircase, he could hear Dumbledore's voice growing louder, talking to the strange teenager no doubt. Slughorn knew he had to act fast. He quickly waved his wand, sending objects flying in every direction, trashing the cozy interior of the house. Then, in a desperate attempt to make it look like a fight scene, he grabbed his last vial of dragon's blood and spilled it on the walls, creating a gruesome spectacle.
Finally, Slughorn began to transfigure himself into a large, blue striped armchair. "This trick had worked on Yaxley nearly a year ago," he thought to himself. "Hopefully it works again." And as soon as the last of his body was done morphing into furniture, the front door swung open and in walked Dumbledore and the young, unknown boy.
A/N
This final chapter was very fun to write. The second portion is essentially the fourth chapter of the Half Blood Prince, titled "Horace Slughorn," only from Slughorn's perspective, not Harrys. I kept everything in this chapter as close to canon as possible, from the name of the village Slughorn is squatting in, to his use of dragon's blood. This is now where the Slug Trail realigns with the canon. Hope you this minor divergence from the canon gives a greater appreciation for the underwritten character that is Horace Slughorn.