Thank you to everyone who left a comment for the last chapter. I am still stuck on writing chapter 66, it is giving me a lot of bother at the moment and it is quite an important chapter. I hope to get it done soon.
I'd also like to apologise for this chapter as I did use the sixth book 'Horace Slughorn' chapter for this chapter. I can promise there are only two more chapters like this to come (chapters 61 and 64 respectively) and then I won't be using any more of JKR's work directly. I do apologise for that as I know a few people are frustrated with chapters more or less taken from the book.
There will be a preview at the end of the chapter...
Chapter Fifty-Nine: Horace Slughorn
Sunday 27th December 1995
Since the attack on the Burrow, the Weasley's had moved permanently into Grimmauld Place, as had Hermione, whose parents had agreed to going into hiding. They had said their farewells that morning. Only Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall knew where they were staying, and for their safety, Hermione would not be able to communicate with them via owl post, however an arrangement had been made, if it was deemed safe enough for her parents to be brought out of hiding for a day at least once a month so that Hermione could see them. It didn't seem fair that she had to cut them out completely, and considering what had happened to Hermione only two months previously, it wouldn't be right for her parents to not know their daughter was safe.
However, Harry was not with his family and friends, instead he had just Apparated (with Dumbledore) to a small suburban street, in the outskirts of a small town. The houses were all semi-detached and looked identical, but were probably completely different on the inside.
"Professor? What do you need me for?" asked Harry, curiously. "Sirius didn't exactly tell me what you wanted..." They walked down the road, the road lights lighting their way. They turned to the left when they reached a corner which led them into a small roundel close. The houses, here, were detached, but were small.
"This, Harry, is the town of Chatham. The reason I require your help is that once again, we are one member of staff short. We are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts."
"How can I help with that, sir?" asked Harry. He couldn't see why the headmaster would need his help with something such as asking an old worker to return to the school he had once worked at. He shivered; a cold mist had descended over the road. "Professor, there aren't any Dementors around, are there?"
"No, there isn't, Harry, however the combination of winter and the presence of them being loosed upon the world has combined to make it a rather cold evening, more so then usual on a winter's night. You do not need to worry; we won't be away from safety for too long."
Harry swallowed, and pulled his coat further around his body. He had noticed that Dumbledore hadn't answered his original question, however he assumed it wouldn't be too long before they found out, especially since the only place they could go from here was into a house. The only exit from the roundel that they were walking down was from where they had come from.
"Just here, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly, halting in front of one of the small houses, however, upon inspection of the outside of it, Harry got the instinct feeling that something was wrong. It probably didn't help that the front door was hanging off its hinges and there – he swallowed – blood splattered across it.
"Oh dear, oh dear..." muttered Dumbledore as he walked closer to the door, wand now in hand.
Harry dug into his pockets and grasped hold of his. He pulled it out and followed his Professor to the front door, heart beating fast in his chest. Dumbledore reached out and stepped into the house, lighting his wand as he did so, so that they could see inside the house. The stairs was right in front of them, but to the right was another door: this one was open. Holding his illuminated wand aloft, Dumbledore walked into the living room, with Harry cautiously following behind.
Harry gasped in shock. The room was a total mess; a grandfather clock lay splintered at their feet, a piano was on its side, its keys strewn across the floor; the wreckage of a fallen chandelier flittered nearby. Cushions from the settee lay deflated, their fathers oozing from slashes in their sides; fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything. Dumbledore raised his wand higher, so that its light was thrown upon the walls, where something darkly red and glutinous was spattered over the wallpaper. Harry took a small intake of breath: he thought the stuff on the front door had been blood but now he was certain it wasn't.
"Not pretty, is it?" Dumbledore said. "Yes, something horrible has happened here." He caught Harry's eye.
Harry was frowning. Something didn't seem right, something didn't add up. "Professor, if Death Eaters attacked this place, why is there no Dark Mark in the sky? It doesn't feel right... it feels rushed, like a set-up to make us leave..."
"Very astute, Harry," smiled Dumbledore. "Sirius has been teaching you how to interpret things from an Auror's eye, hasn't he?"
Harry shuffled on his feet. "Yeah, he has. Telling me to hone our senses; standing here, it doesn't feel like anyone has attacked this place."
"Sirius will be pleased his methods are being used effectively here." Dumbledore cast his wand around, looking at everything in the room, but stopped, peering at an overstuffed armchair that was lying on its side. "I think who we are looking for, is still here." He walked right over to the overstuffed armchair and poked his wand right into it.
"Ouch!"
"Ah, good evening, Horace," said Dumbledore, straightening up again.
Harry's jaw dropped. As soon as Professor Dumbledore had poked the armchair with his wand, it had immediately transformed into an enormous fat, bald, old man who was massaging his lower belly and squinting up at the Headmaster with an aggrieved and watery eye – clearly Dumbledore had managed to poke the man in the eye. He had prominent eyes and a sliver, walrus-like moustache. He wore a maroon velvet jacket however it was draped over a pair of lilac silk pyjamas.
"There was no need to stick the wand in that hard, it hurt!" the man exclaimed, clambering to his feet. He sighed. "What gave it away?"
"As I am sure you overheard my young student here worked it out. The Dark Mark would have been above your horse," said Dumbledore, looking quite amused.
"Oh, the Dark Mark! I knew there was something vital I had forgotten!" He clapped his hand to his forehead. "Wouldn't have had time anyway, I'd only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when my alarms went off to say that you were in the house. I'd noticed that someone was coming before that! I was just closing my curtains upstairs when I saw you coming. I rushed down here, hoping to fool you."
Dumbledore chuckled, seemingly un-offended by the wizard's attempt to fool him. "Would you like my assistance clearing up?"
The man nodded. They stood back to back, the man barely reaching the middle of Dumbledore's chest, waving their wands in one identical sweeping motion. Instantly the furniture flew back to its original place; ornaments re-formed in midair, feathers zoomed into their cushions...until everything in the room was spotlessly clean and where they should be.
"I am wondering, what kind of blood was that?" asked Dumbledore.
"On the walls and the front door, you mean? Dragon! My last bottle and prices are sky-high at the moment. Still, it might be reusable." The short man stumped over to a small crystal bottle standing on one of the bookshelves that Dumbledore had recently repaired, and held the bottle up to the light, scrutinising the liquid with it. "A bit dusty but it is still useable." He set the bottle back down and then his gaze fell upon Harry, who had stood silently behind Professor Dumbledore. "Oh! Oho!"
"This," said Dumbledore "is Harry Potter. Harry, this is a friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn."
Horace Slughorn's expression was shrewd as he focused on the Headmaster. "So that's how you thought you'd persuade me, is it? The answer is still no!"
Harry watched, his green eyes taking in Slughorn's hesitation. Finally, he gave in and nodded his approval for one drink, although Harry noticed he did so reluctantly. On Dumbledore's smile and wave of his hand, Harry sat down in a chair, feeling as if he was in the spot-light; he figured that if his Professor needed his help, he needed to be somewhere, where he would be the centre of attention. Though he couldn't figure out how he could persuade Horace Slughorn to return to Hogwarts, especially after he had just said no. When Slughorn turned around, back towards Harry, his eyes fell upon him and he looked away quickly. He thrust a glass at Dumbledore, who had sat down without invitation, and then gave the tray containing the remaining drink to Harry. Slughorn sank into the cushions of the repaired sofa and an uncomfortable silence fell in the room.
Harry listened as Dumbledore questioned his old colleague about how he was keeping, noting that Slughorn said that he wasn't keep so well and listed his symptoms, though Harry found it ironic that the man had managed to create such upholstery with little warning, suggesting that he wasn't as ill or old as he was making himself out to be. Harry nearly snorted when Slughorn claimed that he was a tired old man who had earned the right to quiet retirement and a few creature comforts; certainly, if anyone deserved that Professor Dumbledore did.
The conversation turned to Dumbledore's blackened hand, which over the months, Harry had got used to seeing, however upon Slughorn's enquiry about it, the Headmaster merely claimed that he was slower than he had been. He was certain that the condition of Dumbledore's hand would become relevant in their lessons, but he would have to wait for that.
"So, all these precautions against intruders, Horace, are they for the Death Eaters' benefit or mine?" asked Dumbledore, lightly.
"What would the Death Eaters want with a poor broken-down old buffer like me?" demanded Slughorn.
Harry watched, his eyes flickering between Slughorn and Dumbledore, as he listened to their conversation. It turned out that Horace Slughorn hadn't even given the Death Eaters a chance to recruit him (and it was well known that those considered of worthy blood were getting regular offers from the Death Eaters) and that Slughorn had been on the move for nearly six months already, never staying in the same place for more than a year. He moved from Muggle house to Muggle house, staying one step ahead of the Death Eaters. Dumbledore claimed that it seemed a rather tiring existence for an aging man on the search for a quiet life, and had just mentioned about returning to Hogwarts, when Slughorn interrupted him.
"If you're going to tell me my life would be more peaceful at that pestilential school, you can save your breath, Albus! I might have been in hiding, but I know that you had a Death Eater as your previous Defence teacher! And she was an Auror to boot! How do you know that you don't have any other hidden Death Eaters on your staff, aye?" demanded Slughorn.
The news of Avril Leverg being a Death Eater had been released by the Daily Prophet the previous day; clearly Slughorn wasn't completely out of the loop to know about that so quickly.
"Ah, well you see Horace she has deceived us all for years. It is only through pure luck we learnt of her true nature," explained Dumbledore, quite calmly. "I understand from the students that she wasn't a very good teacher, isn't that right Harry?"
Harry look stunned, shocked even. He had never heard of any bad talk about Professor Leverg; in fact she had been quite good, though she had been a bit overzealous in actually showing them the Unforgiveable Curses which Sirius had taught them about but not shown them. She had even gone so far as to test the Imperius Curse upon the students, which was something Harry had never even told Sirius about. Slughorn was watching him expectantly. He swallowed, moving his jaw to say something. "She wasn't as good as our other Professors," he said, "she was rather tough and she did keep picking on me to use as a demonstration for various defences she taught us." That much was true.
"Well, all teachers have their own methods of getting knowledge across," replied Slughorn.
"I guess so," said Harry, uncertainly.
Dumbledore stood up rather quickly, casting his eyes around as he did so. "I was wondering if I could use your bathroom?"
Slughorn had clearly thought they were about to leave as his hopeful expression turned to one of disappointment. "Up the stairs, second door on the right."
Dumbledore strode from the room leaving Harry to sit uncomfortably in silence with Slughorn. Clearly the Headmaster expected Harry to do something that would make the man return to Hogwarts. Slughorn got to his own feet but seemed unsure of what to do, casting a furtive look at Harry, he crossed to the radiator against the wall and leant against it.
"Don't think I don't know why he's brought you," he abruptly. His eyes lingered over Harry's face, resting for a few seconds on his scar. "You look very like your father."
"Yeah, I know," said Harry. Was this how he was supposed to change Slughorn's mind?
"Except for your eyes, you've got your –"
"My mother's eyes, yeah," replied Harry. He bit his lip wondering whether he should take the risk and ask the question that was on his mind or not? "Did you teach them?"
"Yes, I did," said Slughorn. "You shouldn't have favourites as a teacher, of course, but your mother was one of mine. Your father, on the other hand, wasn't as brilliant as her at Potions though."
"You're a Potions Master?" asked Harry.
"Didn't you know?" Slughorn looked wary.
"I just assumed that you'd be the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor..." trailed off Harry, his mind whirling as he wondered who that position was going to, but the answer floated before him immediately. It has to be Snape. Why else would Professor Dumbledore require a new Potions Master? He didn't like that one bit, but chose to ignore it for now, knowing that Dumbledore was counting on him to convince Slughorn to come out of retirement. "What was my mum like, in your classes?" He heard so much about his father from Sirius and Remus that he never really heard much about his mother.
A glazed look came over Slughorn's face. "Ah, Lily Evans, one of the brightest witches I ever taught. Vivacious, you know, a very charming girl. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my House. Very cheeky answers I used to get back too."
"What was your House?" asked Harry.
"I was Head of Slytherin," said Slughorn, but seeing the expression on Harry's face with that pronouncement, wagged a stubby finger at him and continued: "Oh, now, don't go holding that against me! You'll be Gryffindor like her, I suppose? Yes, it usually goes in families. Not always, though. Your legal guardian, your godfather, I understand, Sirius Black should have been in Slytherin. The whole Black family had been in my House, but Sirius ended up in Gryffindor! Shame – he was a very talented boy, and I'm sure a very talented and powerful Auror now. Still, I got his brother, Regulus, when he came along, but I'd have liked the set."
Harry raised his eyebrows. He sounds like an enthusiastic collector who had been outbid at auction. I'm sure Sirius will be thrilled to hear that an old Professor of his wanted to add him to his collection.
"Your mother was Muggle-born of course. I couldn't believe it when I found out! Thought she must have been pure-blood, she was so good," continued Slughorn, without a care in the world.
"One of my best friends is Muggle-born," said Harry, "and she's the best in our year."
"Funny how that sometimes happens, isn't it?" said Slughorn.
Harry's eyes darkened and his reply came out cold. "Not really."
"You mustn't think I'm prejudiced!" answered Slughorn in surprise. "No, no, no! Haven't I just said your mother was one of my all-time favourite students? And there was Dirk Cresswell in the year after her too – now Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, or course – another Muggle-born, a very gifted student, and still gives me excellent inside information on the goings-on at Gringotts!" He bounced up and down a little, smiling, and then pointed to glittering photographs that stood on the various bookcases scattered around the room. "All ex-students all signed. You'll notice Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet; he is always interested to hear my take on the day's news. And, look, Ambrosius Flume of Honeydukes who sends me a hamper every birthday, and all because I was able to give him an introduction to Ciceron Harkis who gave him his first job! And of course, Gwenog Jones, who of course captains the Holyhead Harpies... People are always astonished to hear I'm on first name terms with the Harpies, and free tickets whenever I want them!"
"And all these people know where to find you, to send you stuff?" asked Harry.
The beaming smile on Slughorn's face fell. "Not anymore. I have been out of touch with everybody for the last four months. It's strange not hearing from them... Still, if I want to stay safe, keeping my head down is the best thing to do. All very well for Dumbledore to talk, but taking up a post at Hogwarts just now would be tantamount to declaring my public allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix! And while I'm sure they're very admirable and brave and all the rest of it, I don't personally fancy the mortality rate-"
"You don't have to join the Order to teach at Hogwarts," said Harry. "Most of the teachers aren't in it, and none of them has ever been killed – well, unless you count Quirrell, and he got what he deserved seeing as he was working with Voldemort."
Slughorn gave a squeak and a shudder and the use of the name.
"Besides, apart from Death Eater spies at Hogwarts, the staff are safer than most people while Dumbledore's headmaster; he's supposed to be the only one Voldemort ever feared, isn't he?" Harry pressed.
"Well, yes, it is it true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has never sought a fight with Dumbledore," admitted Slughorn, rather grudgingly. "I suppose I can hardly be counted as a friend of his since I am rebuffing his attempts to track me down... in which case, I might as well be safer a little closer to Albus..." It appeared to Harry that he was coming around to the idea, but then Dumbledore strode back into the room and Slughorn jumped. He calmed himself quickly. "Oh, there you are, Albus! You've been a very long time!"
"I was reading the Muggle magazines," said Dumbledore. "I do love knitting patterns. Well, Harry, we have trespassed upon Horace's hospitality quite long enough; I think it is time for us to leave."
Harry got to his feet, noting that Slughorn seemed taken back. It looked like he was surprised they were leaving.
"I think I know a lost cause when I see one," said Dumbledore. "I'm sorry you don't want that job, Horace, Hogwarts would have been glad to see you back again. Our greatly increased security notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, should you wish to."
Slughorn was moving from one foot to the other, as if he was at a crossroads, trying to decide what path he should go down. Harry and Dumbledore were just turning away when Slughorn shouted: "All right, all right, I'll do it!"
Dumbledore seemed delighted. "You will come out of retirement?"
Slughorn nodded impatiently. "I must be mad, but yes!"
"Wonderful!" beamed Dumbledore. "Then we shall see you on the tenth of January when the new term begins."
"Yes, yes, I daresay you will," grunted Slughorn. "And I want a pay rise, Dumbledore!"
Dumbledore chuckled and led Harry out of the living room, out of the front door and back out of the close to the main road. "Well done, Harry."
"All I did was mention my mother..."
"Horace always had a fondness for your mother when she was at school. You also showed him how much he stands to gain by returning to Hogwarts. May I enquire as to whether you liked him?"
"Er..." Harry wasn't exactly sure. "He seemed like someone who collects people, so he can pull in favours later on in life..." He felt bad saying that. He assumed his mother would have been one of those people if she had still been alive today. "He seemed disappointed that Sirius wasn't in Slytherin."
"Ah, yes," nodded Dumbledore, "I remember when Horace learnt that the 'Black heir', as he called him then, was coming to Hogwarts, however he was disappointed that Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor. He couldn't quite believe that and I'm sure Sirius has some interesting stories that he can share with you regarding his time at Hogwarts."
"Did Slughorn pursue him then, sir, like he did my mother?" asked Harry.
"Oh, he did," smiled Dumbledore. "You must understand that Horace likes his comfort. He also likes the company of the famous, the successful, and the powerful. He enjoys the feeling that he influences these people. He has never wanted to occupy the throne himself; he prefers the backseat — more room to spread out, you see. He used to handpick favourites at Hogwarts, sometimes for their ambition or their brains, sometimes for their charm or their talent, and he had an uncanny knack for choosing those who would go on to become outstanding in their various fields. Horace formed a kind of club of his favourites with himself at the centre, making introductions, forging useful contacts between members, and always reaping some kind of benefit in return, whether a free box of his favourite crystallized pineapple or the chance to recommend the next junior member of the Goblin liaison Office."
"Why are you telling me this, Professor?" questioned Harry, curiously as to why Dumbledore was telling him all this.
"You need to be on your guard. He will undoubtedly try to collect you. You would be the jewel of his collection; 'the Boy Who Lived'..."
Harry couldn't help but think that there was more to Slughorn's appointment then met the eye, he was sure of it. But his thoughts turned onto Snape as he considered the implications of what it meant that Slughorn was taking his position. "Sir, if Professor Slughorn is a Potions Master, what is happening with Snape?"
"Professor Snape, Harry," reminded Dumbledore, "is to take the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts."
"I thought he would be," groaned Harry, but he hastily added, "not that there is anything wrong with that of course..."
Dumbledore chuckled, probably already knowing about the animosity between Snape and himself. "I did offer the post to Sirius but he declined before I could even officially offer it to him."
"What? Why?" demanded Harry, but then he felt himself going red and continued: "Sorry, it's just that he was one of the best teachers I've ever had."
"Perfectly understandable, Harry, but if you want an answer to your question, perhaps asking Sirius would be the best way for you to go. I am sure he can explain it much better than I ever could."
"I intend to, Professor," said Harry. But he knew he wouldn't be able to change Sirius' mind. He probably has a very good reason for declining it... Still, they say the Defence position is cursed, maybe at the end of this year Snape will be gone for good?
Despite Snape's hatred for him, and his own for Snape, Harry did feel bad about thinking that, especially since Snape had successfully managed to teach him Occlumency after all.
To be continued...
Please let me know what you think.
Coming next: The Slug Club - Sirius has an interesting encounter with one of his former Professors.
"I'm sure Voldemort trying to kill me every lesson would be rather entertaining for the other students."
"No... It is my fault," he moaned, the effects of the Dementors seem to lessen for just a few seconds, but then it worsened.
"Do you want me to hex you off this train because I will!"
"You're not my brother! Not any more!"
So, what is going on here, then? Find out on Thursday!
Until next time,
the-writer1988