Harry was irritated as he heard that Professor Slughorn had now holed himself in his office. The only times the man came out of the room was to teach and had stopped coming to the Great Hall for meals.

Harry kicked the wall in frustration. Why couldn't the man just hand over the memory? It could have saved them all this bother.

So he went to Dumbledore's office. He gave the password to the gargoyle and ascended the stairs.

"Enter, Harry."

Harry gave an amused chuckle. He hadn't even knocked. He opened the door and strolled in.

"Someday, I'm going to find out how you can do that," said Harry.

With a wry smile, Dumbledore waved his hand over the large three-sided mirror behind him. At once the view changed to the hallway outside the entrance.

"How did you - "

Harry was at a loss for words. This was honestly impressive.

"Every time someone attempts to come in here this mirror flares up and shows an image of who is outside this office," smiled Dumbledore. "Unfortunately it is its own form of magic. I can only see the individual. It's how I missed Alastor for Barty Crouch every time he came by the office."

There was a twinge of remorse on the man's voice.

"Anyway, that is now the past," continued Dumbledore. "And Alastor has forgiven me for not noticing. I couldn't believe I never noticed a single thing off with the man. I need to spend more time among my friends."

"What brings you by Harry anyway?" queried Dumbledore.

"Slughorn," growled Harry.

"Ah, I have heard from the man himself how you approached him," said Dumbledore, rising from his chair and looking into his Pensieve. "He was happy to show me that memory."

Harry had a sinking feeling.

"And I must say," spoke Dumbledore, his voice sounding crisp. "You handled that badly."

"Excuse me," snapped Harry.

"You did not prepare," he said. "You didn't cover your bases, and never even tried to figure out a strategy. You charged in without thinking."

Harry said nothing. Hermione was very disapproving over how he handled it.

"But there is also another thing I wonder," said Dumbledore, turning away from his Pensieve and facing Harry. "Horace told me you are an 'absolute wonder' with Potions. He said you are his best student since your mother was at Hogwarts. But Professor Snape had a very different opinion."

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. He did not want to give up his Potions book. The book was the greatest thing to have happened to him in a long time.

But he decided to be honest.

"I hadn't bought the book in Diagon Alley since I thought I was out of the class," said Harry. "It was a spare that was in the cabinet. It has better instructions than the one everyone else has."

Dumbledore beamed. "Excellent Harry," he said. "There are many different ways of teaching. And any instructions written in it might help you understand it better."

Harry mentally sighed in relief. But he also realised he hadn't actually read the instructions over again. Maybe reading the basics and instructions might make him understand it all better.

"It's good to see you trying at a subject, Harry," said Dumbledore, still beaming. "Heaven knows you aren't the smartest student around here."

Then the penny dropped as Harry realised Dumbledore was right. Good Merlin, just how lazy was he?

"Anyway, about the memory," said Dumbledore. "Why didn't you prepare."

The answer was out of Harry's mouth before he could help it. "I didn't feel like it."

The beaming headmaster now looked sadly at Harry. "I see," he said softly. "I guess this place never felt like a school. Especially with how you have been treated around here."

That was certainly true though, thought Harry sadly. The school had turned on him more times than he had cared to count.

"I guess I'm just surprised. I honestly thought your Slytherin tendencies would help you obtain the memory."

"Excuse me," growled Harry. "I am nothing like those slimy snakes."

Dumbledore looked at Harry sadly. "I see. To you, apparently all of Slytherin is like Draco Malfoy."

"Harry, do you have your cloak on you right now?"

"I always have it," said Harry blandly.

"Put it on."

Harry did so.

"Do you know what you are being right now, Harry?"

"What?"

"Sneaky."

Harry pulled off his cloak and stared at it in surprise. He never thought of it as being sneaky, but now that Dumbledore pointed it out it all made sense.

"No wonder the hat wanted to put me in Slytherin," said Harry with a shocked expression on his face.

"I know you've got the cunning to outwit Horace," continued Dumbledore. "You have traits from every house. You're as brave as a Gryffindor, if a bit reckless. You've got the famous Hufflepuff loyalty, Ravenclaw's wit, and Slytherin's cunning. Combine them all and you own the world. It's time you put those traits to good use."

With newfound resolve, Harry stood up and left the room, throwing his Invisibility Cloak over himself and sending a smirk at the old man.

lIlIlIlIl

Harry knocked on Professor Slughorn's door. The man opened up the upper door to see who it was and promptly shut it.

"Alohomora," Harry whispered. To his surprise the lock gave way. He opened the door.

"Harry, what do you think you are doing?" he asked, shocked that the boy could be so brazen to just barge into his quarters.

"We need to talk Professor?" said Harry, keeping his tone neutral and only slightly unhappy.

"I've already said everything I need to say," muttered Slughorn.

In response Harry slammed the Daily Prophet down on the man's lap.

"Read that," ordered Harry.

Slughorn read the article captioned: You-Know-Who Slaughters Devon Muggle Family.

When he was done he looked back at Harry. "Is there something in this I'm supposed to understand."

"If he was stopped years ago that couple in the picture would have seen their three children grow up, get married, give them grandchildren, and still be with each other in their twilight years."

"Instead we got a maniac whose bloodthirstiness knows no bounds," spoke Harry. "A maniac who kills Muggles or anyone for sport. A maniac who wants to enslave us all like cattle. And it will happen unless we take the fight to him. But we can't."

"There's only one person who can help," said Harry sadly. "But he refuses to help. Refuses why I don't know. Maybe he wants it to happen. Or maybe the more likely answer is because he is a coward."

Each word was like a knife going through Slughorn's stomach. He looked at his now trembling hands. He felt like he wanted to cry, and then he noticed once again the picture of the Muggle family in the Prophet's front page. Their eyes were unmoving, but at that moment he felt that those eyes were judging him, asking him "Why?"

"I'm sorry," said Slughorn. He was close to tears. "I'm just so ashamed. I'll give you the memory. All I ask is for one thing."

"What is that, Professor?" asked Harry, now giving the man a warm smile.

"Don't blame me for Lily's death," he said, barely controlling his breathing.

"I don't," said Harry softly. "She likely loved you like an uncle. I never knew my mum, but I know in my heart that she wouldn't blame you. And that she would skin alive anyone who thinks different."

Slughorn let out a sad chuckle. "That she would."

lIlIlIlIl

"What did you do to Horace, my dear boy?" queried Albus. "The man has been far too grateful and emotional all day. I've never seen him like this before."

"Me," said Harry in a stunned voice. "What made you think it was because of me? I don't see how that would happen when I'm not in Slytherin. I can't play people's emotions without it being seen a mile away. I am a reckless Gryffindor after all."

Harry enjoyed the sight of Albus Dumbledore looking at him agape. It was hard to get one up on the man, but he had done it.

The Dumbledore closed his shocked mouth and peered at Harry inquisitively. "That is certainly a Slytherin answer Harry."

Harry turned and found the object he was looking for: The Sorting Hat.

"I always told you you'd do great in Slytherin."

AN: I wrote this last year but didn't like it. I found it and thought I'd finish it, make it somewhat good. Hope you all enjoyed it.