The walk out of the neighborhood had this air of awkwardness and from Harry's viewpoint, tension. There were no words exchanged between Dumbledore and Harry Potter. Eventually, it seemed they were far enough from the Dursley's for Dumbledore's liking, and he stopped abruptly.
"This will do, Harry." Dumbledore nodded as he spoke, confirming something to himself. Harry didn't like it.
"You have not, of course, passed your Apparition test," Began Dumbledore and Harry scowled in response. Of course, he hadn't everyone with half a braincell knew you had to be seventeen to do so.
"So, you'll have to hold onto my arm very tightly, preferably my left." Dumbledore finished with a chuckle, waving around his withered appendage on the right. Harry gripped his preferred arm silently.
"Good. Well, here we go." Dumbledore said with a nod, but he didn't give nearly enough of a warning. Everything went black, Harry couldn't breathe. He felt claustrophobic, he felt like he was dying. His eardrums were ringing, his eyeballs were slowly being pulled from his skull, then as soon as it began it was over.
Harry opened his eyes, but his brain didn't comprehend. Nausea flooded him and he keeled over and vomited. All that came out was bile, acidic bile that burned his throat. He hadn't eaten in a while; he just wasn't hungry much lately. There was a hand on his back as his lungs searched for air.
"Son, are you alright?" Concern lacing Dumbledore's voice.
"Fine. I'm fine." Harry stood straight, not looking in Dumbledore's direction. He just wanted to get this over with.
"Tell me Harry, has your scar been hurting?" Asked Dumbledore randomly just as Harry was beginning to fully register his surroundings. Harry blinked away his confusion as he turned to face Dumbledore.
"No, it hasn't." Harry said numbly, realizing as he spoke that indeed it hadn't been hurting at all. Not an ache, not a pinprick in two weeks.
"I believe that Lord Voldemort has finally realized he should hide his thoughts and feelings that you've been enjoying." Teased Dumbledore, Harry frowned in response. They began to walk together. They were in some sort of village; it was late so only silence echoed from the abandoned streets. They turned a corner where Harry and Dumbledore passed a telephone booth and a bus shelter. A small village, but not one out of touch with modern society.
"This, Harry, is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton." Announced Dumbledore with a grin. Harry nodded; questions filled his mind, but he didn't care enough about the answers to ask them. Dumbledore went on and on about things like Harry was responding. He spoke of why they were there, to convince a colleague to become a Hogwarts staff member. Harry found his mind drifting off, lost in the endless cycles that used to be concerning. Hateful thoughts that he had plenty of.
Harry briefly wondered why they didn't just Apparate there, but no way in hell would he subject himself to that again. At some point Dumbledore had stopped talking, maybe running out of words or maybe he had realized Harry's mind was elsewhere.
They'd stopped walking, in front of them lay a cute little stone house, something was off though. Dumbledore cursed under his breath; the door had been almost ripped off the hinges. Harry and Dumbledore glanced around the street for possible culprits, but nobody was there.
"Wand out and follow me, Harry." Whispered Dumbledore underneath his breath, drawing his wand and holding it in his decaying hand. Harry fumbled around in his pocket, snatching and pointing his own wand towards the door. Dumbledore very carefully opened the door, a soft creak seemed like a huge boom to Harry.
"Lumos!" Cast Dumbledore and a delicate bloom of light ignited on his wand. They approached a door to the left, Harry trailing just slightly behind. They entered a scene of complete destruction. A grandfather clock lay splintered on the floor, forever stuck in time. A beautiful chandelier was in pieces on the ground. Couch cushions had been torn up with the stuffing flying around the room. Fine China reduced to sharp shards of porcelain. It was a disaster. Harry must have made a noise because Dumbledore acknowledged him.
"Not pretty, is it?" Dumbledore let out a weak chuckle, shaking his head.
"Something terrible has happened here." Dumbledore said Harry couldn't see that for himself. Harry was terrified of finding that professor's body lying on the ground somewhere. There were suspicious stains leading up the wall, a terrible reddish brown that made Harry nervous. Dumbledore somehow knew what Harry was thinking just by him staring at those stains.
"He's still here." Stated Dumbledore, waving his illuminated wand around to scan the room. Harry didn't see anyone there; this place was completely deserted. Without warning Dumbledore's wand shot out and hit the seat of an overstuffed armchair.
"Ouch!" Shrieked the chair, which Harry realized wasn't a chair at all. Where the armchair was, there was now a fat, bald, old man with watery eyes. Harry's eyes widened in surprise. As, the man, who was revealed to be named Horace and Dumbledore spoke, it turned out that the man had faked the entire scene. The man's eyes slid over to Harry, a delighted glimmer in his eyes as his attention moved to Harry's forehead.
"This," Began Dumbledore motioning towards Harry.
"is Harry Potter. Harry, this is an old friend of mine, Horace Slughorn." Introduced Dumbledore, Slughorn brightened at the sound of his own name.
"Lovely to meet you Mr. Potter, but this won't persuade me. The answer is no." Said Slughorn with determination. Harry almost missed it, but there was something devious about Dumbledore at that moment. Dumbledore pulled a bottle of red from his robes. Suddenly Slughorn looked hungry.
"Is that dragon?" asked Slughorn, trying to sound nonchalant but failing. Dumbledore nodded, swishing the liquid around.
"I had used the last of mine to fake this scene." Croaked Slughorn, pointing around as he licked his lips.
"It's quite limited y'know, but I was certain you'd be convinced." Said Slughorn begrudgingly.
"Why don't I stay? We could share a glass or two." Offered Dumbledore with a smile, but his eyes were sharp. Slughorn hesitated, but he stared intently at that bottle.
"Fine, but only for a bit." Slughorn gave in, plopping his rather round self in a surviving chair. Dumbledore pulled a glass from his robes, pouring a generous amount and handing it to Slughorn. He took a greedy sip, closing his eyes to savor the flavor. Dumbledore poured himself a glass too but didn't seem intent on drinking it.
Harry visibly saw Slughorn opening up, it took minimal prodding from Dumbledore for Slughorn to talk. He promised Dumbledore he wouldn't come back, and it seemed he meant it. He said he was ready to retire, and Dumbledore should too. Dumbledore nodded and conversed with Slughorn. Harry got the impression that the old man was lonely and was eager for the company. Harry was almost nauseous with how many words Slughorn was spewing, so he was relieved when Dumbledore took a break to use the bathroom.
Unfortunately, that's when Slughorn focused on him
"Don't think of me as a fool. I know what he's doing." Said Slughorn abruptly, standing up and wandering over to the fireplace. He grabbed the poker and fiddled with the ashes, frowning at them. He peeked over at Harry, scanning his scar then his face.
"You look so much like your father, except more tired." Commented Slughorn. Harry was honestly tired of people comparing him to his father, so he just shrugged.
"Except for those eyes, almost like your mothers." Rambled Slughorn. Maybe if Harry spoke Slughorn would stop talking.
"Yeah, I get that a lot." Harry couldn't keep the annoyance out of his voice. Slughorn narrowed his eyes at Harry but didn't say anything.
"Hmpf. Yes, well. You shouldn't have favorites as a teacher, but she was one of mine." He got that dreamy look in his eyes that people got when remembering something fondly.
"Lily Evan. One of the brightest I ever taught. She should have been in my house; such ambition was wasted in Gryffindor." Slughorn sighed. Harry's legs were getting tired, he started alternating which one held his weight to help with the aching muscles.
"I was Head of Slytherin. I supposed you'd be in Gryffindor; houses tend to run in families. Except for Sirius Black of course, you've heard of him, right?" Harry went numb, he couldn't feel his fingers. Everything went dull around him and he felt ice cold and too hot at the same time. He could feel his eyes burning somewhere distantly.
"Well, he died a few weeks ago-" Harry wanted to scream, hit Slughorn, do anything but he found his body out of his control. All Harry could do was bottle it all up while nodding and smiling. Slughorn was saying more, but Harry couldn't understand him, Harry's ears were ringing. Slughorn didn't seem to mind Harry being silent, nobody seemed to care when Harry was silent.
Dumbledore came back in shooting Harry a strange look before turning to Slughorn.
"Ah, Albus! Upset stomach? Me and Mr. Potter here were having the most wonderful conversation." Announced Slughorn joyfully.
"No, I was merely reading your Muggle magazines. I'm sorry to end your discussion, but I believe it is time for us to go. Come along, Harry." Dumbledore called out; Harry stumbled over a blank look on his face.
"You're leaving?" Questioned Slughorn disappointed.
"Why of course. I know a lost cause when I see one." Dumbledore shook his head gravely. Slughorn seemed agitated by that statement, twisting his hands for a moment before sighing.
"Alright! Alright! I'll do it." He finally burst out.
"You'll come out of retirement?" Dumbledore clarified.
"Yes! Yes! I must be mad but yes." Slughorn said while shaking his head and he was forced to endure the full power of Dumbledore's twinkling. Dumbledore grinned so brightly it blinded the room.
"Then, Horace, we shall see you on the first of September." With that Dumbledore took his leave, Harry following behind. Harry only heard a grunt in response. They left the small stone house, closing the garden gate behind them.
"Well done, Harry!" Dumbledore congratulated once they were out of Slughorn's earshot, but that only confused the disorientated Harry.
"I didn't do anything." Harry deadpanned, eyes drifting down to his feet.
"Horace is a socialite, Harry. By talking to him you showed him what he could gain!" Said Dumbledore like that was Harry's master plan. He didn't do shit. Harry wiped his nose, for some reason it was leaking.
"He enjoys collecting famous or influential people like gems, no doubt you'd be the jewel of his collection. 'The Boy Who Lived', in his eyes you're a diamond." A shiver went down Harry's spine at Dumbledore's words. He didn't want to be anyone's 'diamond'. Harry didn't want to be anyone's savior or anyone's 'Boy Who Lived'. Sometimes Harry wished he hadn't survived Voldemort.
"Right, grab onto my arm Harry. Let's get you to your friends." Dumbledore stretched out his arm for Harry to grab and he hesitantly did so. Harry didn't want to Apparate again, but he didn't argue as suddenly they were whisked away.