"Everyone keeps staring at you, Harry," remarked Luna serenely. "D'you think it's because your glasses are on crooked?"
"Yes, I'm sure that's why," Harry chuckled, adjusting his glasses with a grin. He'd been drawing furtive glances and nods of encouragement around the castle ever since his big Quidditch victory over Cedric, and even some appraising looks from the female population. Nothing like a library study session with Luna Lovegood to pour cold water on his delusions of grandeur with a much-needed ego check.
"The weather is finally improving," said Luna, staring out a window onto the sunny grounds. "Father says we might be able to go wrackspurt-hunting over Spring Break if it's warm enough."
"Shall we take a walk outside?" Harry suggested. "Such a beautiful day as this deserves to be enjoyed properly."
"I think I'll pass," Luna sighed. "Straying too far from home seems dangerous these days."
"Trelawney rubbing off on you, is she?" Harry chuckled. The professor had become something of a recluse in recent weeks, forecasting danger at every turn and refusing to leave her quarters near the Divination classroom. She saw nothing but death and suffering on the horizon whenever she looked into his or Neville's crystal balls or tea-leaves, which was as annoying as it was disconcerting.
"I don't know if I'll continue with Divination next year," Luna sighed wistfully. "I don't feel like I'm learning anything, and the perfume in that attic gives me a headache."
"I see," said Harry. "Well...hopefully you stick with it. I'm sure your mother would have encouraged you to."
"We'll see," Luna shrugged noncommittally. Harry wasn't exactly Trelawney's biggest champion, but he didn't want to see Luna's own Seer talents go to waste. As Saul Croaker had said, having such a powerful gift and the ability to channel it was invaluable, especially as they pressed onward into the unknown. Any kind of insight Luna might be able to provide about the future was worth subjecting her to a subpar instructor in the short term.
Harry eventually bade Luna farewell and stood to leave the library. He hoped to get in a few laps around the Quidditch pitch while the weather was still nice. But as he headed for the exit, he spotted Fleur Delacour perusing the shelves and decided to greet her.
"Anything I can help you find, Miss Delacour?" he asked.
Fleur turned to face him, face already scrunched up in annoyance, but she relaxed when she saw he was not just some allure-addled admirer. "Oh, bonjour, 'Arry," she greeted him. "Just doing some research."
"For the Third Task?" he asked with a knowing grin.
"Per'aps," Fleur said evasively, narrowing her eyes slightly in suspicion.
"If that's the case, you may want to check out the creatures section," Harry suggested. "None of those will do you much good." He indicated the armful of books she was carrying, ranging from dark spell recognition to disenchanting cursed objects.
"Creatures?" Fleur muttered. "We do not 'ave to fight another monster, do we?"
"Lots of smaller ones, actually," said Harry. "Are you taking Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid?"
"Non, I am not," said Fleur. "Though we are allowed to audit any class we wish. You theenk it would be helpful?"
"Depends," Harry shrugged. "How do you like your chances against a Blast-Ended Skrewt?"
"What eez that?"
"Something worth looking into," Harry winked. "Best of luck to you, Miss Delacour." And he exited the library, laughing internally at the bewildered look on Fleur's face. He doubted there was a single book in the library that mentioned the dangerous cross-breed Hagrid had invented.
As Harry crossed the room, he spied Hermione and Krum seated side by side at a table, books strewn open around them. Hermione appeared to be laser-focused on homework, while Krum was looking up at Harry, an eyebrow quirked curiously at him. He must have noticed the other two Champions conversing in private, perhaps wondering what the topic of conversation was. Harry gave Krum a polite nod before exiting the library.
Should he alert Krum to the dangers of the Third Task as well? The creatures were one thing, but the hidden threat of the impostor was also something worth warning him about. Harry still remembered the vacant look on Krum's face in his last timeline, forced by the Imperius Curse to torture Cedric, and hoped to avoid such an outcome again.
But even approaching Krum was a dangerous proposition nowadays. He was often flanked by his Durmstrang mates, including Marko Pavlovic, who shot Harry nasty looks every time they passed in the halls or at meals in the Great Hall. Harry had no idea what Krum thought of him in this timeline, or if he would be amenable to Harry's warnings. Perhaps he too had asked around the school and heard of Harry's "dangerous" reputation, and intended to steer well clear himself.
Maybe Harry would get the chance to speak with Krum around their upcoming Quidditch final. Tensions would be high in the lead-up to the match, but during or after might be a good time to approach him. Harry could even see a world where he allowed Krum to beat him, in order to soften him up enough for a cordial conversation.
But no, Harry's competitive spirit would never let that happen. He wanted to beat Krum, and badly. Now that the weather was improving, he was finding time to fly almost every day, either during practices with his team or by himself on the pitch. He was growing tired of using the school brooms and wished desperately to have his Firebolt back, and began scheming ways to convince Lily to let him have it the next time he saw her.
Fortunately, such an opportunity arose a few days later, when Harry received a letter from James at breakfast:
Dear Harry,
I wanted to remind you that the International Potions Conference is coming up on the first Saturday of April. Your mother will be honored there for her mastery, and she would like for you and your sister to be there. Luckily, the event will be held at Hogwarts this year, so you will not have to travel. Make sure you have something nice to wear.
I know these events aren't the most exciting to attend and you may find yourself bored talking to a bunch of stuffy old potioneers. Just remember that this is a very important day for your mother, and we are doing this to support her. I expect you to be on your best behavior and represent your family well – these events can be important networking opportunities, even if you don't end up going into the field yourself!
Congratulations again on your Quidditch victory! Amos Diggory now owes me a bottle of Firewhiskey, and it's been fun to rib him about it over the past couple of weeks. I'm excited to see you fly against Krum, and I'm sure you are too. No pressure, of course – he is the best of the best, and there's no shame in losing to an elite athlete such as himself.
I can't make any promises, but if the potion conference goes well and you play your part, I can try to convince your mother to let you have your broom back for the final match. Just don't act desperate about it! You know how stubborn your mother can be when she's on one of her crusades.
Speaking of which, I hope you are still preparing hard for your final task! You've done wonderfully in the tournament so far, and we will be very proud if you manage to win. But your survival comes first and foremost – do not slack off or take anything for granted! Dumbledore still has concerns about a plot against Neville Longbottom's life – personally, I think he's gone a bit barmy, but I would still exercise caution just in case.
Love,
Dad
P. S. – Feel free to invite Miss Bell along to the conference! Your mother is eager to meet her, even if I have convinced her not to pester you about it.
Harry hadn't even considered inviting Katie as an option. That would certainly go a long way towards making the event more tolerable. He was a bit nervous about introducing Katie to his parents, though he knew it was irrational – James already knew her from his year of teaching, and Lily would of course love the girl immediately. Still, it was a step they hadn't taken yet, and it made him anxious to think about all the same.
That anxiety didn't abate much when he brought up the subject with Katie later that day. "Of course I'll go with you, silly!" she smiled. "I was going to be there anyway. My dad goes every year, to network and advertise ingredients from the farm. This way you'll get to meet him!"
"Great," said Harry, suppressing a groan. Now both of them would be meeting each other's parents – twice the reason to be anxious and dread the event. He would rather face off with Krum on a toy broom and complete the Third Task with a prank wand than endure a fancy networking event. It's for Mum's sake, Harry reminded himself. And Katie will be there. It'll be alright.
To take his mind off of it, Harry spent the next few evenings in the Room of Requirement practicing his spell work. He hadn't utilized the room much lately – though it still vaguely smelled of smoke and ash due to the Fiendfyre damage it had sustained the year before, it remained a sanctuary of sorts.
Harry envisioned a makeshift combat arena complete with moving training dummies and various cover areas to resemble a battlefield environment. He spent hours dancing and dodging about the space, taking out dummies with the powerful new spells and curses he'd added to his arsenal. It wasn't as if he could practice the Blood-Boiling Curse or Entrail-Rupturing Curse against other humans, so he had to make do with maiming and disemboweling the plastic dummies the room provided.
Eventually Harry paused for breath, panting and examining the devastation he had wrought around him. It took him a moment to realize that his mind had subconsciously recreated the graveyard at Little Hangleton, with the cover areas resembling tombstones and other stone effigies marking the various plots. He felt a shiver of foreboding as he realized that his brain was still preparing for such a fight to happen once more.
That won't come to pass this time, he told himself adamantly. He had already taken steps to prevent Voldemort's resurrection in this timeline, and planned to take more before the Third Task. But the night was still deeply ingrained in his mind, and he desperately wished to avoid the same feeling of helplessness he'd felt on that terrible night.
The evening of the potions conference arrived sooner than Harry would have liked. He opted to wear the same dress robes he'd worn to the Yule Ball, after Katie reassured him it was not a faux pas to do so. The castle was mostly deserted when he made his way up to Gryffindor Tower, with most of the student body enjoying the pleasant spring weather outdoors. He would have loved to join them in relaxation, perhaps with a casual broom ride around the grounds, but instead he readied himself for a boring evening to support his mother.
Katie and Dahlia were both waiting for him outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. Both wore simple dresses for the occasion, Katie's blue with a matching hair tie and Dahlia's red with little frills. "You look beautiful," Harry greeted his girlfriend with a smile and a kiss.
"And you're dashing as always," Katie complimented him back.
"What am I, then, yesterday's trash?" Dahlia quipped, forgotten to one side.
"Your beauty goes without saying, Dahlia," Katie smirked. "Unless you're fishing for compliments from your brother?"
"Hmph," Dahlia sniffed, her snark clearly outmatched.
"Not inviting Neville to the conference?" Harry asked his sister.
"Why would I?" asked Dahlia, folding her arms. "He's not my boyfriend or anything."
"Oh," said Harry, surprised. "I just thought—"
"He didn't have the balls to ask me out properly after the Ball," Dahlia shrugged. "And I wasn't going to waste time waiting for him to do so. Now c'mon, we're gonna be late." And she led the way down the stairs, a bemused Harry and Katie following behind.
The conference was to be held at a little-used banquet hall in the south wing of the castle. Most students usually avoided the place, known as one of Peeves the Poltergeist's favorite haunts, but Dumbledore must have found a way to tempt him away for the evening. The place looked more opulent and full of life than Harry could ever recall, filled with ornate decorations and round cloth-covered tables surrounding a simple stage.
Already the room was full of guests, with more trickling in by the minute. Harry, Katie and Dahlia entered the hall and looked around; it appeared that the rest of the Potter family had not arrived yet. Katie led Harry across the room towards a large man sipping a cocktail in the corner.
"Hi, Daddy!" she greeted the man with a warm hug. "This is the boy I was telling you about, Harry Potter."
"Pleasure to meet you, Harry!" grinned the man, giving Harry a firm handshake. He was a burly fellow who looked like he spent most of his time working outdoors, but he had a cheery air about him that reminded Harry much of Katie's own pleasant demeanor.
"Likewise, Mr. Bell," said Harry politely.
"Please, call me Elias. Katie's told me a lot about you...she says you're a most impressive young man."
"Oh, I don't know about that—" Harry chuckled modestly.
"Please...top of your class, a talented Seeker, and the youngest-ever Triwizard Champion to boot?" Elias Bell grinned. "Don't sell yourself short, Harry! I'm sure you'll go on to great things in life."
"Thank you, sir," Harry bowed. "So, Katie tells me you run a farm?"
Harry chatted with Elias for a few minutes about the magical creature business, which sounded surprisingly complex and interesting to him. Care of Magical Creatures had never been a favorite subject of his, mostly because it involved learning how to survive such dangerous beasts with only minimal instruction from the rather reckless Hagrid. Elias invited him to come visit over the summer, to which Harry readily agreed.
"And you must be the youngest Potter," said Elias, offering his hand to Dahlia as she approached. "I believe congratulations are in order for your mother's achievement!"
"You should tell her yourself!" Dahlia encouraged. "She just arrived."
Indeed, Harry spied his mother and father entering the hall across the room. Lily Potter looked stunning in an elegant purple gown, beaming and accepting the praise of several attendees. James looked similarly pleased, a proud husband on his wife's arm as they glided elegantly across the space.
Harry gently took Katie's arm and guided her towards his parents, feeling a bit nervous. "Hi, Mum," he said, clearing his throat. "This is my girlfriend, Katie."
"Oh my, is it really?" Lily said excitedly, wrapping Katie in a hug. "So great to finally meet you, dear! You must be something special to catch our Harry's eye."
"Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Potter," Katie smiled shyly. "Congratulations on your mastery."
"Good to see you again, Miss Bell," James grinned, shaking Katie's hand.
"You too, Professor," said Katie. "We've missed having you around this year."
"You were brilliant in the Quidditch match last month," Lily complimented her. "Dahlia always said you were a wonderful Chaser. Have you ever thought about going pro?"
Katie beamed and began explaining her hopes of playing professionally after graduation. Harry relaxed, relieved that introducing one another to their parents had gone so smoothly. He should have figured as much: everything about Katie just felt natural and easy. Almost too easy, in fact. Don't be pessimistic, Harry reprimanded himself. You're entitled to having good things happen to you, too.
"Hey there, kid," said another familiar voice. Harry turned to see Remus Lupin entering the hall, his girlfriend Alessia on his arm. Remus was wearing a tailored Muggle suit that made him look quite distinguished – a far cry from the shabby second-hand attire he used to sport. Alessia looked lovely as always beside him in a matching black gown.
"Uncle Remus!" Harry grinned, wrapping them both in a hug. "What are you doing here?"
"Supporting your mother, of course," said Remus. "Though I was also invited independently, believe it or not. A lot of potion masters are eager to meet me."
"Zey all want samples of 'is blood," Alessia smiled knowingly. "He 'as become quite the story around ze world."
"Yes, well, we'll see about that," Remus chuckled nervously. "I'm happy to be cured, of course, but I don't exactly look forward to a life of being dissected by curious scientists and Healers."
"No, just ze pretty redhead potioneer you grew up with," Alessia quipped, winking at Harry.
Remus reddened a bit at this. "That's...you know that isn't why…" he stammered, but Alessia put him out of his misery with a tender kiss. Remus grinned stupidly at the affectionate gesture, and Harry couldn't bring himself to tell the man that he had lipstick on his mouth. It was too endearing a sight for the man who had suffered such a miserable and lonely life before Alessia entered it.
The small group eventually dispersed and moved on to mingle with other guests. It was a surprisingly well-attended affair, with the banquet hall soon becoming filled with potioneers of all backgrounds. It was an international conference, after all, and Harry saw men and women from all over the world greeting his mother and offering their congratulations.
Eventually a short but excitable man took the stage and signaled for everyone to take their seats. "Welcome, one and all, to the 379th Annual International Potions Conference!" he announced in an American accent. "I'm President Victor Williams. We thank you all for coming, and we also thank Severus Snape for graciously offering up Hogwarts as a venue to host the event."
A smattering of applause met this announcement. Lily smiled over at Professor Snape, who smiled back – an expression that looked quite foreign on his usually dour face.
"As always, we are here to discuss the latest news and developments in the world of potion-making," said Victor. "But this year, we also come together to welcome a new member into the fold. Please join me in congratulating Britain's newest Potion Master, Lily Evans-Potter!"
A raucous round of applause rose for Lily, who stood and acknowledged the praise. Victor eagerly waved her up to join him on the stage, and after a moment's hesitation, Lily did so, turning to face the crowd.
"Thank you, this is a tremendous honor," she said. "None of this would be possible without my amazing family, so thank you to my husband James and my children Harry and Dahlia for supporting my dream all these years." More applause rang out at the mention of the famed Auror, as James blew kisses to his wife.
"I'd also like to acknowledge Severus Snape for his mentorship and assistance throughout the process," Lily continued. "His insight and unwavering support was invaluable through even the toughest of days...thank you, Sev." Snape preened under the glowing praise, which to Harry once again seemed foreign and unnatural for the man.
"I'll be eager to discuss my dissertation with many of you this evening, theorizing on the usage of basilisk venom as a medicinal tool rather than a destructive one," said Lily. "For that, I extend my gratitude to Remus Lupin, who kindly allowed me to use his blood for my research and inspired me to think beyond the conventional wisdom for my hypothesis."
Harry glanced over at Remus and Alessia, both looking pleased at Lily's words. He also heard the hushed murmurs of the crowd around him at the mention of the ex-werewolf...Remus' story was internationally known by now, and he would certainly find himself to be popular in conversation this evening.
"And finally, I'd like to thank one more person," Lily concluded. "I wouldn't be where I am today without the teachers who fostered my love of learning from a young age. So I'd like to dedicate this honor to my old Potions professor, Horace Slughorn."
Harry's neck nearly snapped with how fast he whipped his head around towards the source of the new round of applause. He watched as a short and squat man with a thick handlebar mustache stood and acknowledged Lily's praise with a deep and dramatic bow.
So that's the infamous Slughorn, Harry thought to himself. He remembered Hagrid's words from the month before and vowed to speak with the man before the night was up. If there was any chance he might know something useful about Tom Riddle's past schemes, it was worth looking into.
Victor Williams presented Lily with a special plaque commemorating her mastery, drawing a final round of applause before she re-took her seat. Moments later, food and drink appeared on the tables all around the room, inviting all to eat and enjoy one another's company.
"So, Katie, have you been keeping our Harry in line?" Remus asked, grinning at the girl seated beside him. "He must be hard to keep tabs on, with how much he likes to wander."
"He's rather good at disappearing when he wants to," Katie quipped, sliding her hand into Harry's. "But I'm usually good at guilting him into inviting me along."
"He needs someone to drag him out of the library every once in a while," James agreed with a smirk. Then, after a concerned look from Lily, he added, "Though I'm sure you're encouraging him to prepare hard for his final task."
"Of course," said Katie. "Not that he needs the help. He was awfully impressive in the first two tasks."
"Pride cometh before the fall," Lily sighed worriedly, turning to her son. "You have been preparing, I hope, dear?"
"I have," Harry nodded. "I have to face a variety of magical creatures in an enchanted maze."
"Hopefully none of Hagrid's monstrosities," James grimaced. "That man has a proclivity for breeding beasts that never should have seen the light of day.
"That's for sure," Harry agreed with a chuckle, remembering his interaction with Fleur in the library earlier. Though perhaps he shouldn't be so blasé about it...the impostor Moody had been making things easier for him in his previous timeline. The maze was sure to give him much more trouble this time around, now that Neville was the intended victor and Voldemort wanted Harry dead as a main priority.
Once most of the guests had eaten and drank their fill, they stood to spread out and mingle throughout the room. Lily was whisked away immediately, a popular topic of conversation this evening with many wishing to discuss her mastery and ideas with her. She looked perfectly at ease in this environment, happily holding court with other experts in her field and engaging them with in-depth discussions on her unique contributions to the subject. Not bad for a Muggle-born, Harry thought with pride.
Across the room, Harry spotted Horace Slughorn engaged in animated conversation with an elderly Asian witch. He waited until the two parted ways, then guided Katie over towards the man.
"Mr. Slughorn?" Harry announced himself. "I'm Harry Potter. Lily Evans-Potter's son."
"Dear me...of course you are!" Slughorn said, eyes widening in recognition as he shook Harry's hand enthusiastically. "I knew both of your parents well, naturally. I can see so much of James in you...but those eyes are unmistakably your mother's."
"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," said Harry, an easy smile on his face. "My parents spoke of you often. You were their favorite Hogwarts professor."
Harry had no way of knowing if this was actually true (and in fact doubted it to be the case). But his suspicion was correct that it was the right thing to say, as Slughorn glowed with pride at these words. "I am honored," he beamed. "They were among my favorite students I've ever had, indeed, indeed."
"That is saying a lot, sir," said Harry. "Considering the number of gifted students you must have had over the years."
"Oh, certainly," Slughorn said, clearly right at home with this sort of hammed-up, overly-indulgent conversation. "But I know a brilliant witch or wizard when I see one, and your mother stood out to me straight away."
"The same way that Tom Riddle stood out to you, sir?" Harry asked innocently.
He could not miss the mild look of panic that crossed Slughorn's face, nor the way his breath seemed to hitch in his throat. But Slughorn recovered quickly with a smile. "Much the same, much the same," he said vaguely. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Potter, I must speak to President Williams about...something." And Slughorn hurried off, clearly intending to get as far away from this conversation as possible.
"That was odd," Katie remarked as he departed.
"Yes, it was," Harry agreed.
"Who's Tom Riddle?" asked Katie, looking quizzically at Harry.
"An old acquaintance of my family's," Harry said cryptically. And he guided her back across the room, engaging other attendees in conversation and accepting their congratulations on Lily's behalf.
Harry had little doubt now that Slughorn not only remembered Tom Riddle, but knew things about his past that he wanted to distance himself from. He desperately wanted to follow Slughorn and ask follow-up questions, but suspected it would do him no good. He'd have to think of a subtler approach.
As the night wore on, Harry quickly learned just how dull of an event a potions conference could be. The older attendees may have been eager to discuss the nuances of their craft with one another, but it made Harry want to crawl under a table and take a nap. Katie too looked less than enthused to be there, though she put on appearances otherwise as she joined her father on his rounds as he advertised his fresh supply of Mooncalf milk to the gathered crowds.
Eventually, Katie was able to make her escape. "I've got to finish a project for McGonagall's class," she told Harry. "Any chance you can join me?"
"I'll look for you in the library later," Harry promised. "I've got to stay and support my mother."
"I understand," said Katie sadly. "Join me for a run tomorrow morning?"
"Wouldn't miss it," Harry grinned. He hesitated before bidding her farewell; Katie's father and his own parents were both lurking nearby. But Katie, Gryffindor as she was, just grinned and pulled him in for a lingering kiss before departing the hall. Harry rolled his eyes as he met his father's gaze and received a surreptitious thumbs-up, nor did he miss his mother's tiny smile as she pretended not to have seen the intimate interaction.
Harry resumed his rounds, joining his parents as they made their way around the room greeting the other guests. He allowed himself to be paraded around, his various accomplishments put on display to make James and Lily look better by association. "A Triwizard Champion, at your age?" whistled an elderly African wizard as he shook Harry's hand. "Most impressive, young man, most impressive."
"Top of his class, as well," Lily beamed.
"And a first-rate Seeker at that!" James added. "He'll be facing off against Viktor Krum next month in a winner-takes-all match!" Lily looked exasperated at this mention, but it certainly seemed to delight the man all the same.
"Speaking of which," Harry muttered to his father once Lily was out of earshot. "D'you reckon she'll let me have back my you-know-what for the match?"
"Just keep playing along," James said through a fake smile as he nodded to a well-dressed man passing by. "If this night goes off smoothly, we just might be able to talk her into it later."
"Alright," Harry sighed. Then, in a change of tactics, he asked, "Any luck in tracking down Pettigrew?"
"Not yet," James sighed. "We received an anonymous tip about his whereabouts a few weeks back, but it didn't turn up anything. Though I suspect you already know this?"
"Sorry?" asked Harry, raising his eyebrows.
James leaned in close to his son, a knowing look in his eye. "An anonymous tip from a Hogwarts owl, providing suspiciously specific information?" he muttered under his breath. "I can read between the lines, Harry. Why didn't you just come to me directly with your vision?"
Harry groaned internally; he clearly wasn't as subtle as he thought he was. "You never seem to believe my visions when I bring them up," he sighed. "So I tried a different method."
"I believed you at the World Cup," James pointed out. "But you can't just pick and choose what you share with us, Harry. Your visions aren't totally reliable, and we need as much information as possible to figure out what to do with them."
"It isn't the first time I've dreamed about Little Hangleton," Harry insisted. "Please, Dad, you have to believe me on this one. Something bad is going to happen there."
"I hear you, son," James reassured him. "We are keeping a close eye on the village and the graveyard there for signs of dark magical activity. We have been since October, in fact."
"You have?"
"After you spoke with Professor Dumbledore last fall. Believe it or not, he also takes your visions seriously. So please, stop keeping them to yourself and come to one of us straight away if you think something is wrong."
"Alright," Harry sighed. James was right: Harry had to be more forthright with his knowledge of future events to prevent the worst from happening. He'd even contemplated telling James his secret in full, but could not quite bring himself to do so. He could not bear to think how his relationship with his parents would change if they discovered he was not the same boy they'd raised for the first eleven years of his life.
With the night winding down, small groups were congregating back around the tables, engaged in small talk or simply sharing drinks and appetizers that had been supplied by the house-elves. Harry once again spied Horace Slughorn across the room, a small pile of pastries in hand, taking a seat by himself in the corner.
Now's the best chance I'll get, Harry thought to himself. He carefully extricated himself from his current conversation and crossed the room until he reached Slughorn's table.
"Professor Slughorn?" Harry announced himself. "I wish to apologize for earlier. If I said something to upset you, I assure you it was not my intention."
Slughorn sized Harry up for a moment, before beaming up at him. "Not at all, my boy!" he reassured Harry. "Just old memories cropping up, not your fault in the slightest."
"May I join you for a drink, sir?" Harry asked politely, slipping into the seat opposite his. "I would be honored to get to know the man my parents respected so much."
"I would be delighted, my boy!" said Slughorn eagerly. "I've heard a great deal about you as well this evening...perhaps you'll go on to even greater things than your parents!"
He reached across the table for a nearby bottle of wine, but Harry beat him to it.
"Please, allow me," he said, picking up the bottle himself and uncorking it with a flick of his wand.
"Are you quite old enough to be drinking, young man…?" Slughorn asked dubiously.
"Of course," Harry lied smoothly. He twirled his wand to summon two goblets to the table, both of which he filled to the brim with the cool red liquid.
"Impressive charm work, Mr. Potter," Slughorn appraised him as he accepted the glass Harry offered to him. "Your mother was also quite gifted in that field, you know."
"Is that why you invited her into your Slug Club?" Harry asked casually, taking a sip from his own cup (and ignoring the impulse to pucker his lips at the sour taste).
"Oh, it was certainly one of many reasons," said Slughorn. "She also had a keen mind for Potions, of course. At the time I suspected that perhaps Mr. Snape was doing her assignments for her, but I believe tonight has thoroughly disabused me of that notion."
"You must have had many brilliant students in your club over the years," Harry commented as Slughorn took a deep swill of his drink. "The best minds to ever pass through Hogwarts."
"Indeed," Slughorn nodded. "Four decades of brilliance, many of whom now occupy the highest positions in our society."
"Absolutely," Harry agreed. "Though none quite so brilliant as Tom Riddle, I imagine?"
Slughorn froze quite abruptly, looking once again stricken by Harry's words. "The name is not that familiar to me," he said evasively. "I was not particularly close with all of my students, you must understand."
"But you were close with Riddle, weren't you?" Harry pressed, leaning in close. "He was closer with you than anyone else at the school, wasn't he?"
Slughorn opened his mouth to retort, but found his words caught in his throat. He looked down at his goblet, eyes wide. "What have you done…?" he murmured fearfully.
"Answer the question, Mr. Slughorn," Harry said coolly.
Slughorn looked around wildly for assistance, but no one paid him any mind. He hadn't noticed Harry raising Muffling and Notice-Me-Not Charms around them; nor had he noticed Harry slipping Veritaserum into his goblet before handing it to him.
"Yes," Slughorn croaked, unable to lie. His eyes were slowly becoming glossy and unfocused, the effects of the truth potion gradually overcoming his fight-or-flight instinct.
"He considered you something of a confidant, did he not?" Harry deduced. "For his less than savory explorations of magic?"
"Yes," Slughorn admitted, despite trying to fight the truth from coming out.
"Did he ever ask you about Horcruxes?" Harry asked.
Slughorn looked to be panicking behind his glossy eyes, veins bulging in his neck and temple as he desperately fought against the Veritaserum. "Yes," he eventually grunted.
"What did he want to know?"
"He...sought understanding of its mechanics," Slughorn said, panting heavily with effort. "The effects that the ritual has upon one's soul."
"Was that all he asked about them?" asked Harry.
"No," said Slughorn. "He was curious about the implications of creating more than one. Splitting the soul into a more magically potent number of pieces."
"How many?" Harry pressed, heart pounding with fear.
Slughorn gulped, face twitching with the effort to resist the truth potion, but it was futile. "Seven," he croaked.
Harry felt a chill down his spine. Seven pieces...seven Horcruxes...it was more awful a thought than he could have imagined. He'd thought – perhaps hoped – that there were only a small handful: the diary, the diadem, and perhaps one more. But it seemed that Tom Riddle had indeed delved into dark magic so horrible that none could comprehend the depths of the evil he'd committed.
Slughorn suddenly grabbed Harry's arm and stared fearfully into his eyes. "You must understand, I had no idea what he would become!" he pleaded with Harry. "I never would have...knowing what I know now...such a fool I was…"
"I understand completely, Mr. Slughorn," Harry said sympathetically, drawing his wand and pointing it in the man's face. "Obliviate."
Slughorn's eyes slid out of focus as Harry removed the memory of their conversation from the man's mind. He then hit Slughorn with a silent Stunner and gently rested his head on the table, propping up his arms so that it looked like he was sleeping. Harry grabbed the bottle of wine and placed it next to him, so that he would simply think he'd drank too much, then dispelled all of his enchantments and stood to leave.
Nobody seemed to notice Harry's temporary absence or re-appearance at the event. He mingled politely with a few more guests, looking for an opportunity to make his escape. The party seemed to be winding down; guests were trickling out of the hall, and Filch had already arrived to begin sweeping the floors, a subtle indication for others to take their leave as well.
Eventually Harry spotted Lily seated at a table alone, kicking her heels off and reaching for a bottle of wine herself. He moved to join his mother, sinking into the seat beside her.
"These things always drag on for far too bloody long," Lily muttered, pouring herself a glass with one hand while massaging her ankle with the other. "You don't have to stay all night, dear."
"I think I'll turn in, then," Harry agreed. "I'm getting tired." In fact, he felt wide-awake, but was still so horror-struck by what he'd learned that he needed time alone to process its implications.
"Good night, sweetheart," she said, leaning over to kiss him on the forehead. "Keep preparing for that Third Task, will you?"
"I will," Harry promised. Then, clearing his throat awkwardly, he said, "Say Mum, I've got a Quidditch game coming up against Viktor Krum. It's a really important one for me...d'you think it would be possible if…?"
"Oh, all right," Lily huffed. "You've been a good sport tonight. You can bring your Firebolt back with you after Spring Break."
"Thank you, Mum," Harry said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I'll see you soon. And congratulations again." He kissed her on the cheek and stood to leave the Hall.
He needed to speak to Saul Croaker, and urgently. To hell with the investigation on the Department of Mysteries...he would find a way to meet with him over the coming spring break one way or another. Step one would be sending off a coded message relaying what he'd just learned, and making arrangements for another secret rendezvous. Perhaps at the church in Godric's Hollow again?
Harry felt an odd sensation bubbling up within him as he made his way up the stairs towards Ravenclaw Tower. At first he assumed it was anxiety, brought on by his latest revelation and the impending danger of the Third Task. But he quickly realized that it was some physical ailment brewing in his stomach, causing him discomfort. Dinner didn't agree with me, I guess, he thought.
But the next thing he knew, his body gave a great lurch, and he dropped to his knees, coughing and wheezing in the empty corridor. His insides felt like they were on fire; pain radiated throughout his entire body as he twitched and spasmed uncontrollably.
I've been poisoned, Harry realized with horror.
"Help," he croaked, but could not muster the strength to raise his voice. "Somebody…" His vision was growing blurry and dark; he could barely move his limbs, dragging himself helplessly through the empty corridor. I'm going to die here, thought Harry. Nobody will find me in time…
The Auror's Toolkit. Harry desperately clawed at his robes, trying to free the small glass cube from the folds. He finally wrenched it free, fingers trembling as he brought it up to his face, searching for the correct compartment. Only two liquids remained, and one of them was the silvery substance he knew to be Thief's Downfall. He fumbled with the lid of the other, praying that it was the poison antidote that would save his life.
Harry pried the compartment open and brought the rim to his lips, shakily drinking in the foaming liquid. Some of it dribbled down his chin as his body continued to convulse, but he forced the rest down before the cube dropped from his trembling fingers.
His vision was going dark, and he knew there was nothing more he could do. He could only pray that the antidote would save him as he slipped from consciousness, the world fading around him in a haze of blurred colors and distant sounds…
Harry didn't know how long he'd been out when he regained his senses. He was no longer face-down on the floor, so he reckoned he must have been moved – but nor was he staring up at the ceiling of the Hospital Wing, as he might have expected. He seemed to be sitting upright in a dark, enclosed space, groggily attempting to get his bearings.
Then, a cold jet of water sprayed him in the face, causing him to splutter and cough violently. He tried to wipe away the liquid from his eyes, but found that he could not move his arms; they were pinned to his side, held in place by what felt like thick ropes. His legs and torso were also bound tightly in place, strapped to what seemed to be a hard wooden chair.
The jet of water ceased, and a light was thrust into his face. Harry blinked rapidly until the blurred shapes and colors resolved themselves into the face of Severus Snape, hovering over him, wand pointed directly in his face.
"Rise and shine, Potter," Snape said sardonically.
"What the hell...?" Harry croaked, once again trying and failing to free himself. "Professor Snape? What is this?"
"Horace Slughorn has been murdered," Snape said simply, eyes narrowed with suspicion. "You have a lot of explaining to do."