Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Seven - After the Burial

The days were growing warmer as patches of blue sky began to peek from behind thick, puffy clouds, but these signs of approaching summer did nothing to improve Harry's mood. They served only as a reminder that the end of the school year was drawing ever closer, as was the deadline for questioning Slughorn. Snape had afforded him an opportunity, but Harry still had no idea how he was supposed to persuade Slughorn to part with a memory he had apparently been suppressing for decades.

Now that he and Hermione were friends again, he could appeal to her for advice. But in typical Gryffindor fashion, she recommended bold action.

"You just need to explain why the memory is so vital," she said, "If you reveal to Slughorn that you're the Chosen One, and that you need the memory to defeat You-Know-Who, then I'm sure his sense of justice will prevail."

"Hang on, I thought you said the prophecy was nonsense?" Harry asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I never said it was all nonsense, just that there are parts of it… Well, I just don't think we properly understand its meaning yet."

Harry shook his head. Hermione was convinced that the "neither can live while the other survives" part of the prophecy held some hidden meaning. Every week or so, she would come across something in a book and bring it to Harry, but his opinion remained unchanged. Dumbledore had been very clear about what the prophecy meant, and if Harry wasn't the one who would kill Voldemort, then why show him the memories he had collected? Why tell him about the prophecy at all?

He tried asking Nell for a Ravenclaw's perspective, and her answer surprised them all.

"Why don't you try Felix Felicis?"

"Try what?" asked Neville.

"A good luck potion," Nell explained, "Harry won it off Slughorn during potions class. Why not take it and then try questioning Slughorn again?"

The tiny phial she was referring to was currently wrapped in a pair of Harry's socks, tucked into a snug corner of his school trunk. He hadn't so much as sampled a drop of the liquid, and though there was a satisfying irony in the thought that Slughorn himself had supplied Harry with the tools to secure the memory he tried so desperately to hide, he was still reluctant to go this course.

"The thing is," said Harry hesitantly, "I've been sort of saving it. For a special occasion."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, "What could be more important that getting that memory?"

"Oh, I don't know," Harry replied with a shrug, "Killing Voldemort, maybe?"

This effectively silenced Hermione's protests, though Nell was quick to observe that without Slughorn's memory, Dumbledore would give him no more private lessons. That information could be vital to Harry's success in his war against Voldemort.

At last, Millie suggested that Harry simply take Snape's advice, and persuade Slughorn.

"Easy for you to say," said Harry with a sigh, "What? You think I should do what Hermione said? Just tell him I'm the Chosen One and hope that convinces him it's for a good cause?"

"Not exactly," Millie replied. "In a case like this, it helps to have leverage against your target. What are Slughorn's weaknesses? How can they be exploited?"

"Sounds like you're suggesting blackmail," Blaise said with a giggle.

But Harry understood Millie's meaning a bit better than Blaise. He reflected on what he knew about the professor. Slughorn liked sweets, especially crystalized pineapple. But Harry didn't think bribing him with candy like Tom Riddle had many years ago would work a second time.

And yet there was more to Slughorn than a love of fine food and drink. He liked anything that gave him the appearance of wealth and status. He was a collector. He collected people. Dumbledore had told Harry as much in the very beginning. He had wanted Harry to allow himself to be collected, but this wasn't enough. Slughorn would have his guard up around Harry now. But if there was someone else… Someone Slughorn considered a favorite…

He had an idea, and quickly formed a resolution. He would spring his plan that very night, and if he couldn't coax the memory from Slughorn, then he would use the Felix Felicis the next day.

They were lounging on the grounds, Harry turning over his new plan in his mind while his friends reviewed Ministry leaflets with titles like "Common Apparition Mistakes and How to Avoid Them." They would be taking their exams that afternoon. While they swapped tips with one another, Astoria Greengrass approached timidly. She passed a scroll to Harry without a word before darting away from the group of intimidating sixth years.

Harry experienced a jolt of panic as the parchment was pressed into his hand. He assumed it was another missive from Dumbledore.

"He said we wouldn't have any more lessons until I got the memory!" Harry complained, unrolling the scroll hastily, "But I haven't talked to Slughorn yet!"

"Maybe he wants to know how it's going?" suggested Blaise.

But Harry had been mistaken. The note had not come from Dumbledore, but from Hagrid. Harry's eyes ran across the tear-soaked note hastily.

Aragog died last night. Harry, you've met him, and you know how

special he was. Blaise and Millie, I know you'd have liked him. It

would mean a lot to me if you'd nip down for the burial later this

evening. I'm planning on doing it round dusk. That was his favorite

time of day. I know you're not supposed to be out that late, but you

can use the cloak. Wouldn't ask, but I can't face it alone.

"This evening…" Harry said after reading the note aloud, "But I'm supposed to be meeting Slughorn at the greenhouses tonight!"

He tried to convince either Blaise or Millie to go in his stead, but one look at Neville's face was enough to convince them that it was a bad idea.

"Aragog?" Neville asked, his face pale, "No… Not that giant spider? The one who's… Who's family tried to eat us? Harry! You can't think of going back into that forest, can you?"

"I don't know if we can go into the forest, these days," Harry said thoughtfully, remembering the events of last year. The centaurs were already restless, as it was.

"Never mind the forest!" Hermione interjected, "Filch locks the doors at dusk. Students aren't even supposed to be on the grounds after sunset!"

"What are you going to do, prefect?" Harry replied teasingly, "Dock points from Slytherin? You know I have to sneak out, anyway! It's the only way to get close to Slughorn."

Hermione looked at him disapprovingly, but she didn't try to dissuade him. Instead, she advised, "I've heard that acromantula venom is very valuable. Perhaps you can invite Slughorn to go with you?"

Harry was glad that they were friends again. Hermione was a genius. He was on the point of telling her so, when a couple of girls passed by them in the courtyard. He paused, not wanting to be overheard, and yet something in their somber expressions attracted his attention.

"Are they alright?" he asked in a lower voice as the girls proceeded into the castle.

"Of course not," said Nell, glancing up from her leaflet and watching the girls retreating backs with pity, "They're the Montgomery sisters."

"Who?" asked Blaise.

"You haven't heard? Their little brother was attacked by a werewolf. Rumor has it the Death Eaters wanted their mother to do something for them, and she refused. The boy was only five years old. He died in St. Mungo's."

"He died?" Harry repeated, horrified. "But I thought… I thought werewolves only bit their victims? Changed them?"

Nell shook her head, "No, Harry. Most werewolves can't control themselves when they attack. It's rare for a victim to survive. When they do, they become a werewolf themselves."

Hermione nodded her head in melancholy agreement, "And a child like that… They're so vulnerable…"

"Do they know who did it?" Harry asked, already feeling a presentment that he knew the answer. "Do they know who the werewolf was?"

"I don't think anyone knows for sure, but everyone is saying it was Fenrir Greyback."

Harry felt a nauseous coiling in his stomach. He was thinking of Remus, another victim of Greyback's when he was a child, likely no older than the boy who had been killed. Every day, there were more dreadful stories in the papers, and worse rumors about people disappearing, being cursed, and even murdered. All of it could be traced back to Voldemort. Harry knew he needed to put a stop to it, and soon.

He arrived in potions class that afternoon more determined than ever to get the memory from Slughorn, but now was not the time to confront the professor. He would stick to his plan, and catch him unawares at the greenhouses.

"Only three of you today?" Slughorn observed at the start of class. Only Harry, Draco, and Ernie Macmillan were present, as everyone else had gone to take their Apparition exam. "Well, well… As we're so few, what do you say to doing something fun? I want each of you to brew me something amusing!"

"Excellent suggestion, sir!" said Macmillan sycophantically. Harry and Draco exchanged a glance.

"Excuse me, professor," said Harry politely. He saw Slughorn's expression fall, and knew he dreaded lest Harry take advantage of the smaller class size to ask an ill-timed question. Harry was delighted to disappoint him, for he merely asked, "What do you mean, 'something amusing'?"

"Oh, surprise me," said Slughorn airily before swiftly putting as much distance between himself and Harry as possible.

Harry began unpacking his own potion-making kit beside Draco while Macmillan made a dash toward the supply cabinet. Draco had begun flipping through his copy of Advanced Potion Making with an air of discontent. Like Harry, he seemed to find this particular lesson a waste of time.

"Why couldn't he just excuse us for the day?" he muttered under his breath. "Goyle could be using the Room of Requirement right now, and we're stuck here doing busy work."

"Have you had any luck figuring out what he's trying to do?" Harry whispered back.

Draco shook his head. "I thought since we had a hint, I could find a way in, like with the Marauders… But it's like Dobby said. I can't get in while he's in there."

Harry would have liked to discuss the subject with Draco further, but at that moment, Macmillan returned, his hands filled with an assortment of odd ingredients. He settled himself at the same workstation as Harry and Draco, putting an end to any discussion that did not involve their brews.

Harry opened up his own textbook and began flipping through the pages. An Elixir to Induce Euphoria soon caught his eye, and he set to work. If he could convince Slughorn to try a sample, perhaps it would put him in such a good mood that he would simply cave to Harry's request for the memory on the spot.

As class drew to a close, however, Slughorn merely praised Harry for another job well-done, and quickly sped out of the room, having barely glanced at the contents of Macmillan's cauldron.

"What was Macmillan trying to make, anyway?" Harry asked after bottling a sample of his potion, just in case.

Draco shrugged. They had both left Macmillan trying to scrape off a brittle sludge from the inside of his cauldron. "I think he was trying to impress Slughorn with a concoction of his own design. Personally, I don't see the point. It's not like he'll be invited to the Slug Club, now."

Like Harry, Draco had taken a sample of the potion he made, which had earned him only a slight chuckle from Slughorn. Harry had only a small phial of his elixir, and he eyed the many bottles Draco had packed into his bookbag with suspicion.

"What did you make, anyway?"

"Giggle Water."

"... Sorry?"

"I made Giggle Water," Draco repeated. "I plan to offer some to Crabbe and Pansy. See if they'll tell me what Goyle is up to after a few sips."

Harry stared at him, then burst out laughing. "I can't believe Snape chose you as prefect over me! That's diabolical!"

Draco smiled, then joined in Harry's laughter. The pair were still joking about the number of rules Draco was breaking, and all with Slughorn's tacit permission, when they returned to the common room.

"I passed!" Blaise cried, launching himself into Harry's arms the moment he stepped through the door. "Nell, too! I wish you could have seen me, Harry! I apparated clear across the room! Much farther than Hermione, even!"

"Congratulations," said Harry, returning his friend's joyful hug as he glanced around the room. He expected to see Millie reclining nearby, taking her success with more quiet grace than Blaise, but she was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Millie?" he asked, "Surely not still taking her exam?"

"Oh, she's in the hospital wing. Splinched herself," Blaise replied carelessly. Seeing the worried looks on both Harry and Draco's faces, he quickly added, "She's completely fine! Left one of her fingernails behind, I think. Snape had her patched up in a moment, but you know how Madam Pomfrey is. Wanted to make sure nothing else had been overlooked."

"That's a relief," said Harry, "She wasn't too disappointed, I hope?"

"Our Millie? Not a chance. She said she's almost got the hang of it now. There'll be plenty of time to practice before you all test again this summer."

Blaise was curious to hear how Harry's class with Slughorn went. After Harry advised him that class ended the same as always, with Slughorn running away, he added, "Nothing's changed. I'll still slip out toward the greenhouses tonight and confront him there."

"Have you thought about what you're going to say to him?" Draco asked.

Harry had been thinking of the various pieces of advice his friends had given him all day, paired with what he knew of Professor Slughorn's personality.

"Don't worry," he told Blaise and Draco, "I've got a plan. But I think I'd like to borrow some of that Giggle Water."


Harry was sure to plan his exit before the doors of the castle would be locked shut for the night. Just before dusk, hidden under his invisibility cloak, he struck out for the greenhouses. He didn't have to walk far. Professor Slughorn was standing outside in a vegetable patch, chatting with Professor Sprout. Harry stopped a few yards away, leaning against a low stone wall while he waited underneath the cloak, a serpent coiled and waiting to strike.

"I do thank you for giving me notice, Pomona," Slughorn said courteously. "Most authorities agree that they are at their most efficacious if picked at twilight."

"That's just what Severus was saying," said Professor Sprout warmly, "And I must say, he was perfectly right! That enough for you?"

"Plenty, plenty," said Slughorn, his arms full of leafy, green plants. "This should be enough for my third-years, with some to spare if anyone over-stews them!"

The professors bid each other farewell. Harry watched as Professor Sprout headed inside one of her greenhouses, while Slughorn made his way back toward the castle, walking directly past Harry's hiding place.

Harry whipped away his invisibility cloak with flourish, causing Slughorn to stop dead in his tracks.

"Evening, professor," he said casually.

"Merlin's Beard, Harry!" Slughorn gasped, look at him warily, "You gave me a fright! What are you doing outside of the castle?"

"I'm going to see Hagrid," Harry replied. This was, of course, part of his plan. Slughorn would be expecting him to ask about the horcruxes again. Harry needed to lure him into a false sense of security. This way, he could condole his friend, and get the information he needed at the same time.

"But it's nearly nightfall!" Slughorn exclaimed, "Harry! I can't let you go wandering the grounds in the middle of the night! It's dangerous! Not to mention against the rules!"

Harry thought he did a rather convincing job of looking downcast as he muttered, "But sir, I have to see Hagrid… It's really important…"

"Hagrid is a big man, I'm sure whatever he needs, he can take care of it himself."

"But sir, it's not like that!" Harry protested now. He could see curiosity on Slughorn's face, and proceeded further to say, "You see… I don't want to get Hagrid into any trouble, but he… He's been caring for this giant spider. He's had it for years. And it died. He's really upset about it…"

Slughorn's eyes widened. "I had heard rumors that there were acromantula in the forest… So it's true then? And you say Hagrid has a specimen on him now?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry, "Aragog just passed away this morning. I promised I'd help with the burial… Hagrid won't be in any trouble, will he?"

"No, no…" Slughorn said hurriedly, "But… But I can't in good conscience let you go down to his cabin by yourself, Harry! You'll be locked out of the castle, you know!"

"Well, if you came with me, sir…" Harry suggested tentatively, "I'm sure Hagrid wouldn't mind. I'll bet he'd appreciate giving Aragog a better send-off."

"Yes, of course!" Slughorn said, his eyes gleaming with avarice, "I'll tell you what, Harry. I'll meet you there with a bottle or two… We'll send the poor beast off in style! And I'll change my tie. This one is a little exuberant for the occasion…"

Slughorn bustled back to the castle, carrying his armful of hemlock and humming happily to himself. Harry remained standing a moment longer, surprised at how quickly Slughorn had abandoned his intention of not leaving Harry to wander the ground alone. For a moment, he considered chasing after Slughorn, unwilling to let him out of sight, lest he change his mind about coming. However, he didn't want to risk raising Slughorn's suspicions. Trusting in the professor's greed to get the best of him, Harry threw his cloak back over himself, and continued his walk down to the gamekeeper's cabin.

"Yeh came," Hagrid croaked when he opened the door and saw Harry emerge from under his invisibility cloak.

"Of course I did," Harry said, giving Hagrid a comforting pat on his elbow, which was the highest place he could reach on his giant friend. "Blaise and Millie say they're sorry they couldn't make it. Millie got splinched during her Apparition exam."

"She did not?" Hagrid said. As distraught as he was over the death of his precious spider, he still had room to be concerned for Millie. After Harry reassured him that she would be fine, however, he soon gave a great sob, and began mourning the loss of Aragog anew.

Harry continued to pat him consolingly on the elbow as he asked, "Where are we burying him? The forest?"

"Blimey, no," said Hagrid after blowing his nose loudly on a spotted handkerchief. "The other spiders won' let me anywhere near their webs now Aragog's gone. Turns out it was only on his orders they didn' eat me! Can yeh believe that, Harry?"

Harry wisely kept his thoughts to himself, and instead advised Hagrid in a soothing voice, "Hagrid, Professor Slughorn met me as I was coming down here."

"Not in trouble, are yeh?" asked Hagrid, looking up with alarm. "I know yeh shouldn' be outta the castle in the evenin' but I thought since I'm yer teacher n' all…"

"I'm not in any trouble, Hagrid," said Harry reassuringly, "In fact, when he heard what I was doing, he said he'd like to come pay his respects to Aragog, too. I hope that's alright?"

"Did he?" said Hagrid, tearing up again, "Tha's… Tha's righ' nice of him, that is. An' not turnin' yeh in either…"

His voice quivered and broke. There was a knock at the door, and while Hagrid struggled to control his sobs, Harry went to answer it himself. Slughorn stepped majestically over the threshold, wearing a black silk cravat and holding a crate containing several bottles of vintage port. Harry smiled to himself. It seemed that the bottles of Giggle Water he'd brought with him would be unnecessary, after all.

"Hagrid," Slughorn said in a somber voice, "So very sorry to hear of your loss."

"Very kind of yeh," Hagrid mumbled mournfully, "Very kind…"

"Where is the poor creature?"

"Out here," said Hagrid in a shaking voice. He motioned toward the rear door of his hut. From the window, Harry could see the rather horrible sight of Aragog's enormous dead body, laying on its back, its legs curled and tangled. "Figured we'd bury him jus' beyond the pumpkin patch."

The tree of them stepped into the back garden. The moon glistened through the trees, its silver rays mingling with the yellow light spilling from Hagrid's cabin. Hagrid had already dug a hole nearly ten feet deep. All that remained was to say a few words, and move the massive pile of dirt that rested next to the spider's body.

"Magnificent," said Slughorn, approaching Aragog's head. Harry thought he heard the tinkling of glass bottles as Slughorn bent over the spider's large pinchers, as though examining the creature's large, hairy head.

"It's not everyone appreciates how beautiful they are," said Hagrid with a sniff. Tears were leaking from his eyes. "I didn' know you were interested in creatures like Aragog, Horace."

"Interested? My dear Hagrid, I revere them," said Slughorn, straightening up once more. "Now then, shall I say a few words? It may be difficult for you, Hagrid, who knew him best."

Hagrid seemed relieved by the offer, for as he hefted Aragog's body into the hole he'd dug himself, he began to sob again. Slughorn must have collected a good amount of venom from Aragog, for he stepped up to the edge of the pit, and pronounced in a slow, impressive voice, "Farewell, Aragog, king of arachnids, whose long and faithful friendship those who knew you won't forget! Though your body will decay, your spirit lingers in the quiet, web-spun places of your forest home. May your many-eyed descendants ever flourish and your human friends find solace for the loss they have sustained!"

"Tha' was… Tha' was beautiful!" Hagrid wailed as Slughorn waved his wand, moving the heap of dirt over the pit so that it formed a smooth mound over the body of the spider.

"There, there," said Slughorn bracingly, "Now, then… Let's get you inside. Up you come, Hagrid! We'll have a few drinks in honor of our dear, dear friend…"

Hagrid collapsed in a very large chair at his dining table while Slughorn uncorked one of the bottles he had brought with him. Harry watched as he poured out two glasses and one large mug for Hagrid.

"I've had them all tested for poison," Slughorn advised, catching Harry's eye. "Had a house-elf taste every bottle after what happened to your poor friend Zabini."

Harry felt himself flush with indignation as he wondered which elf had been ordered to complete the task. On a normal occasion, he might have made some biting retort, but tonight he held his tongue.

He accepted the glass from Slughorn, but did not take a sip. Instead, he watched as the two professors chatted between themselves. Hagrid spent several minutes reminiscing about Aragog when he was still small, but as the drinks continued to flow, their conversation drifted to other topics. While they discussed the various creatures that lived in the forest, the ways in which Hagrid cared for them all, and whether or not he thought it was advisable to introduce his third-year students to hippogriffs, Harry kept a close watch on their drinks. Slughorn had done a fair job of keeping his glass and Hagrid's mug refilled, but the bottles were soon nearly empty.

Harry had yet to perform a single non-verbal spell, but he was feeling confident tonight. Without reaching for his wand, he practiced waving his hand underneath the table. He smiled as he watched the cups and bottles magically refill themselves, and thought with pleasure that Snape would be proud if he could see the progress Harry had made.

After another hour or so, Hagrid and Slughorn had left off their discussion of the illegal trade of dragon eggs, and began making elaborate toasts to anyone and everyone they could think of.

"To Harry Potter!" bellowed Hagrid when they had run through Hogwarts, Dumbledore, elf-made wine, and wine in general.

"Parry Otter!" Slughorn said thickly, "The Chosen Boy Who… So on and so forth!"

Not long after that, the men were sitting side by side, singing a slow, sad song about a dying wizard named Odo.

"Aargh, the good die young," Hagrid groaned as he slumped onto the table. Slughorn didn't appear to notice, for he continued to warble a plaintive refrain. "Me dad was no age ter go… Nor were your mum an' dad, Harry… Nor Sirius, either… Good people, all of 'em… Gone too soon…"

Tears began to fill Hagrid's eyes again has he grasped Harry's arm and continued, "Bes' wiz an' witchard o' their age! Terrible thing… terrible…"

Slughorn had come to the conclusion of his song, just as Hagrid murmured one final "terrible" and fell into a heavy sleep.

"Sorry," said Slughorn with a hiccup. "Can't carry a tune to save my life!"

"He was talking about my parents," Harry said in a quiet voice. "About how they died."

"Oh," said Slughorn, his eyes red and watery from drink, "Oh dear… Yes, that was… Terrible. Very terrible, indeed…"

"I was just a baby when they died," Harry said, as if his thoughts were a mere reflection of the moment, and not something he had practiced saying all afternoon. "Barely over a year old. I wish I could remember them… But I heard about what happened. It was my father that died first, did you know that?"

"No…" Slughorn said in a hushed voice, "No… I hadn't heard that…"

"That's right," Harry continued remorselessly, "They weren't prepared. He didn't even have his wand, but he still tried to fight, and Voldemort cut him down. Then he stepped over his body, and came for me and my mum…"

Slughorn gave a great shudder, but he couldn't seem to tear his horrified gaze away from Harry's face. Emboldened, Harry continued in the same passionless tone.

"He'd heard of a prophecy, you see. The one everyone has been talking about. He thought it was about me. He came to kill me. Told my mum to get out of the way. That he would spare her if she gave up the boy… But she wouldn't leave me."

"Stop, stop!" Slughorn said. His already watery eyes were now overflowing with tears. "I don't want to hear this… Lily was… She was a favorite of mine…"

Harry already knew this. It was why he chose this particular story to tell. Slughorn was a collector of talented, powerful people. But it was not Harry who was his cherished prize. It had been Lily Evans. He had found Slughorn's weakness, and he would exploit it to its fullest extent.

"I've heard her cries, you know," Harry continued without mercy, "It's what I hear whenever I've encountered a dementor. I've heard her begging him to spare me. She died protecting me. That's how I survived the Killing Cursse, because of her... Now the dementors, giants, werewolves… They've all joined Voldemort's side. And I've got no one. No allies who will fight with me. And you won't even give me one measly memory…?"

"Harry, please…" said Slughorn, trembling all over.

Harry rose from his seat, leaning over Slughorn from across the table, ready to deliver the final blow. Knowing that the professor would never remember this conversation in the morning, he pushed his hair back to reveal the lightning scar on his forehead.

"When Voldemort failed to kill me, he left a mark. Do you know what that means? It means the rumors are all true. I am the Chosen One. I'm the one who has to defeat Voldemort. I'm the only one who can. And I need that memory."

For a moment, Harry thought it was all a wasted effort. Slughorn stared at him in silence, terrified, but unmoving. Harry was ready to give up. He would try again with the Felix Felicis in the morning. But then Slughorn spoke in a shaking voice, "I am not proud… I am ashamed of what… what that memory shows. I think I may have done great damage that day."

"Then help me fix it!" Harry urged, "I need to know what the two of you talked about! I need to know… Help me defeat Voldemort, or else my mother will have died for nothing!"

Slughorn gave a slight gasp, then he reached into his pocket and withdrew his wand. With his other hand, he reached inside his cloak and withdrew a small, empty bottle.

"Do not think too badly of me once you've seen it," he said, pressing the tip of his wand to his temple and withdrawing a long, silvery thread. He deposited it into the small glass vessel, then passed it to Harry, his light eyes never leaving Harry's bright green ones. Tears had begun to fall down his round, red cheeks.

"You've got her eyes…" he mumbled before dropping his head onto his arms, heaving a deep sigh, and falling fast asleep.