We would like to express our gratitude to Mr. Arthur Weasley for his suggestion of preventing counterfeit and shoddy single-volume books by drawing on the anti-counterfeiting marks used in Muggle publications. Here, we would like to remind all readers that the so-called advance copies of the fourth volume that you may have read through various strange channels are not written by myself.

This book is dedicated to Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

——Iris·[Only visible to wizards in detail]

"I will send Iris and Harry together to Godric's Hollow to meet you after things here are finished," I heard Professor Dumbledore saying to my parents as I hurried downstairs. Harry looked rather ill at ease. He was standing on the doormat at the door, constantly smoothing down the messy hair on top of his head. My mother placed the two cups of brewed hot tea on the tray onto the table and invited him in to have a drink, but it was obvious from my father's expression that he hoped Harry would stay on that doormat.

"Or perhaps Severus doesn't plan to go?" Professor Dumbledore seemed not to be aware at all of how awkward the atmosphere was on the first floor. He took the cup of tea my mother handed him with his left hand and drained it in one gulp.

"I think it's better for me to stay by your side," my father said, gazing at the right hand that Professor Dumbledore had always kept in his pocket. "And I don't think it's a good idea for Black to see me in that state."

"Sev!" My mother gave my father a reproachful look. "Do you really have to say something sarcastic at a time like this?"

"I'm just telling the truth," my father shifted his gaze and looked out of the window. The unseasonal mist once again enveloped the yard at dusk. "Didn't we come to an agreement last night?"

"Er, I'm all packed," I cleared my throat and spoke up. Everyone downstairs turned around and looked at me. I self-consciously reached out and tugged at the hem of my deep black dress. "Er, I was worried about not having enough time, so I just changed into the clothes I was going to wear tomorrow. Is that okay?"

"Of course it's okay," Dumbledore said gently. "I hope you have your wand ready, Miss Iris."

"Should I change into something more suitable for moving around?" I looked a bit nervous. After all, I had never had a conversation with Professor Dumbledore outside of school. Even at Hogwarts, I would basically only see him from a distance across the long tables of the four houses and the steam of the abundant food in the Great Hall, sitting at the staff table and giving everyone a kind smile. I had no idea where Professor Dumbledore was going to take Harry and me today. My mother said he hoped we could do him a small favor – I really couldn't imagine what kind of help I could offer to Professor Dumbledore.

Professor Dumbledore, however, seemed very easy-going. "It doesn't matter. I'm just reminding you and Harry that if you encounter any danger, you can fight back without any hesitation. But I don't think we need to worry about that tonight at least, since you're with me."

"See you tomorrow," my mother kissed me on the side of my face. Although her eyes were still red and puffy, she still smiled at me.

"See you tomorrow," I whispered to her.

"Then let's set off. If we're going to pay an impromptu visit to someone without prior notice, it's better not to choose too late a time." Dumbledore motioned for Harry and me to follow him. The evening sun was slowly being covered by the night. The cold that didn't belong to mid-July was lurking in the darkness, ready to swallow everything up. The street lamps didn't light up with the usual orange glow as the night fell. I somewhat regretted putting my coat in my bag and asking my mother to take it to Godric's Hollow for me.

"I don't think either of you have passed the Apparition test yet, have you?" Professor Dumbledore stopped at an empty intersection.

"No," Harry finally said his first words since we met. "We won't turn sixteen until the end of July this year, Professor."

"Ah, then you'll have to wait another year," Dumbledore stretched out both of his hands. "You've both accompanied your parents in Side-Along Apparition before, right? Miss Iris, grab my right arm, but I hope you can control your strength a bit. My right arm isn't in a very good state at the moment."

"This is –" I looked at Dumbledore's right hand in shock as it became dry and charred black, as if all the flesh on it had been burned away. "Professor, this is serious –"

"Certainly, it would have looked even worse without your father's help," he said casually. "But that's not the point right now. Hold on to me."

I had never liked the feeling of Apparition. I didn't dare to grip Dumbledore's emaciated arm too tightly, but there was this panic that I would get lost in that oppressive feeling of being squeezed in from all directions in the very next second, not knowing which strange corner I would be dumped into. And then –

This place seemed to be a deserted village. Sparse houses were clustered around an ancient war memorial, and only a few of them had their lights on. It was even colder here. I touched my arm, and suddenly felt a weight on my shoulder. Harry took off his coat and draped it over me.

"It seems that James preferred taking you on trips by broomstick," Dumbledore said to Harry, who was constantly rubbing his ears and eyes, in a light-hearted tone. Harry mumbled in agreement.

"Come to think of it, have you mentioned to anyone else what I told you at the end of last semester, Harry?" We wordlessly followed Dumbledore around a street corner, passing by a telephone booth and a bus stop. Just when I thought that the somewhat awkward silence would accompany us all the way to our unknown destination, Dumbledore suddenly asked Harry. Harry stopped in his tracks all of a sudden, as if he had run into an invisible wall.

"Er, no," Harry replied. "I haven't mentioned that to anyone, Professor."

"I don't want you and Neville to shut yourselves off because of what I told you. To be honest, that's something I've been very worried about," Dumbledore studied Harry's eyes carefully and then sighed. "We've been losing things all the time, so we need to cherish what we still have even more. If you keep everything from your friends, I think they'll feel hurt too."

"Er," Harry glanced at me quickly. "But Professor, you asked me to promise you at that time –"

"Yes, so I think I need to explain some things to Miss Iris in person," Dumbledore's sky-blue eyes turned to me, who was listening to their conversation with a bewildered look on my face. "I don't want you to have any unnecessary misunderstandings with your friends because of this."

"What?" I asked, feeling uneasy.

"To put it simply, I told Harry and Neville something that you don't need to know for now – this kind of situation may occur frequently this school year. I don't want you to think that I asked them to keep it a secret from you out of distrust," Dumbledore said softly. "Of course, this kind of concealment will surely make you feel some kind of emotions. Just blame this old man for it."

"Then this matter is related to me too?" I asked sensitively. "Otherwise, why can't I know about it?"

"Well, that's the hard part to explain," Dumbledore replied. "I think this is also what Harry is puzzled about, why we have to keep something from you that seemingly has nothing to do with you. But I think... you'll find the answer yourself one day, Miss Iris."

"Is it another 'right time'?" I asked reflexively, but suddenly realized that this might reveal that I had seen my father's memories.

But Dumbledore didn't seem to care. He led us up a steep and narrow street. On both sides were neatly arranged two-story houses. The faint sound of church bells could be heard not far away. The mist around us was getting thicker and thicker. I thought uneasily of the Dementors that had already escaped from Azkaban and participated in several large-scale attacks on Muggles, and couldn't help but grip my wand tightly.

"I think James will find time to attend Amelia's funeral tomorrow, right, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Harry's voice became heavy, and I also lowered my head. "He said he would definitely go, even though it seems that the Ministry has already filled up his schedule for the next half month."

"Your father has done a very courageous thing," Dumbledore said calmly. "Taking up the position of Minister of Magic at this time involves much more risk and pressure than the honor one can gain."

"If... Amelia hadn't died, Dad might have continued to refuse," Harry took off his glasses and wiped them. "Dad thinks that because he refused too firmly, the Death Eaters turned their attention to her, so he has to take responsibility for it."

"Those who are alive are always like this, always feeling that being alive is a kind of guilt and remorse," Dumbledore sighed. "We have suffered so many losses. I think it's this way. Stay close to me, children."

"Aren't you curious about where this is, or what I've brought you here for?" Probably feeling that the previous topic was too heavy, Dumbledore asked on his own initiative.

"This is the village of Budleigh Babberton. I specifically paid attention when I passed the bus stop just now," I wiped the tears welling up in the corners of my eyes. Although the shock of learning that Mrs. Black had been brutally killed by the Death Eaters had started to subside after a few days, hearing things related to her from others still made me feel sad – not long ago, I had greeted her politely at King's Cross Station, but tomorrow I would have to put on a deep black dress to express my condolences at her funeral.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "Alas, I can't remember how many times I've said this in recent years, but there's no way around it. Hogwarts is short of another teacher again. So I hope you can help me persuade a retired colleague to go back to work. He briefly substituted for your class in the third year. I wonder if you still have any impression –"

"Professor Slughorn?" Harry and I asked in unison with great surprise.

"That's right," Dumbledore smiled. "I'm really glad I brought two smart students out with me."

"Er, won't my dad be at Hogwarts next year?" I felt a bit panicked. "He –"

"Your father will of course still stay at Hogwarts," Dumbledore interrupted me. "We reached a certain consensus. Of course, in your father's opinion, it took a bit too long to reach this consensus."

Harry made a face as if he had just eaten bitter melon. It seemed that he, like me, had guessed the personnel adjustment at Hogwarts for the next semester – that is to say, his wish of never having to see my father in class again because he thought he couldn't get an "O" in Potions class had come to nothing.

"Oh, dear me." Dumbledore suddenly stopped in his tracks. I was still thinking about the fact that my father had finally become the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher as he wished, and I bumped into Harry's back. Before I could rub my nose, following Dumbledore's gaze, at the end of the well-maintained path was an open front door that looked as if it had been violently damaged. The whole door hung crookedly in the wind.

Harry and I had already drawn our wands. Harry stretched out his hand to block in front of me and motioned for me to step back behind him. Dumbledore looked at both sides of the empty street and signaled us to follow him in a low voice.

"Lumos!" When we walked along the path in the garden and came to the front door with broken hinges, after carefully listening to the movement inside the door, Dumbledore lit the tip of his wand. Harry and I followed closely behind him as instructed, and I felt my heart beating abnormally fast due to nervousness.

The living room was in a mess. An old grandfather clock was shattered at my feet. The floor was covered with broken glass and piano keys scattered everywhere. A piano had been knocked over on the ground as if it had been severely hit. The reflective glass and crystals seemed to come from the broken chandelier. The cushions were thrown around in a mess, and the white fluff was exposed from the torn openings. I also smelled the distinct smell of blood in the air – but this smell of blood was strange. I felt as if I had smelled a similar smell in my father's private medicine cabinet.

Harry drew in a sharp breath. By the light of Dumbledore's wand, we saw the dark red blood splattered on the wall. It didn't seem to have dried yet, and some of it was still dripping slowly.

"Did they... drag him away?" Harry said slowly as he looked around. "I don't see... a body."

"I don't think so," Dumbledore seemed overly calm. He walked towards a bulging armchair that had been knocked over on the side.

"Professor," I gently scraped the wall with my index finger, and then rubbed the viscosity of the liquid between my thumb and index finger to confirm my guess. "This doesn't seem to be human blood."

"That's why I asked your mother to make sure you came along," Dumbledore showed a sly smile. Suddenly, he thrust the tip of his wand into the cushion of the bulging armchair. The chair let out a scream. Harry seemed to be startled, and he almost jumped up to stand in front of me.

"Good evening, Horace," Dumbledore straightened up and said with a smile. "I've brought two students to visit you."

In the blink of an eye, the armchair turned into a bald, fat old man. As he rubbed his belly, he squinted his eyes that were tearful from the pain and glared angrily at Dumbledore. "Even if I gave myself away, there was no need to stab so hard, was there?"

Horace Slughorn, the old professor who had once taught my parents Potions and had also briefly substituted for our class for a while. After not seeing him for a few years, he looked even fatter. He was wrapped in a brownish-purple velvet robe, and the pajamas could be seen peeking out from the collar. The silver beard on his chin was shaking comically with anger.

"How did I give myself away?" He staggered to his feet and asked gruffly. "Even if that girl could smell the dragon blood, it wouldn't be enough for her to conclude that I was behind all this disguise, would it?"

"My dear Horace," Dumbledore said calmly. "If the Death Eaters had attacked you, they would have left the Dark Mark in the sky above the house."

"Hmph!" Slughorn laughed. "I thought something was missing. But I guess it's too late now... the Dark Mark, hmph!"

"This isn't funny," Harry retorted. I knew he was reminded of the report on the front page of the Daily Prophet before: Mrs. Black had disguised herself as a Muggle to investigate the collapse of the Brockdale Bridge and to conveniently ask the Muggles about the situation at that time. Above the Muggle house where she was brutally killed, there had been a huge skull hovering.

"Hmph!" Slughorn looked at Harry and then at me behind him, and turned to Dumbledore. "You don't seriously think that with the son of the current Minister of Magic and Lily's daughter, you can persuade me, do you? I can tell you right now, Albus, the answer is still no!"

"I think we should restore this place to its original state before talking about other things," Dumbledore said politely, raising his wand. "Do you need my help?"

Slughorn stared at Dumbledore resentfully. I felt that the breath coming out of his nostrils was almost blowing his beard up. After a second, he shook his head helplessly. "Please do."

The two of them, one tall and one short, one thin and one fat, stood back to back and began to wave their wands in unison. All the broken furniture on the floor jumped back to their original positions and returned to their original shapes. The whole house became bright and new, exuding an air of refinement. The sticky bloodstains on the wall and the bloodstains remaining on my fingertips all automatically returned to the glass bottle in Slughorn's hand. The piano let out a final ding, and the whole room finally seemed to have returned to its original appearance.

"Is this dragon blood?" I asked with interest, looking at the glass bottle. "I thought it was dragon blood, but I didn't expect it to be dragon blood from a fire dragon."

"Naturally. This stuff is incredibly expensive at the moment. I don't think your father has any either," Slughorn replied with a bit of pride. "Well, it's a bit dirty, but it's still usable."

He bent down and rummaged around in a cabinet for a while, then took out a box of something that gave off a rich and sweet aroma and placed it in front of me. "Have you had dinner?"

"Yes, I have," I said, waving my hand at the box of jackfruit preserves.

"Try some," he said gruffly. "Your mother likes these. When I was teaching you before, you always made excuses not to come to my parties, and I never had the chance to let you try them. You should have a taste too. And you, the son of James Potter..."

"Er, I was in detention with Professor McGonagall at that time," I took a piece from the box and made a feeble excuse. "It wasn't that I didn't want to come."

"You're looking more and more like your mother," he mumbled. "Time flies so fast. I still remember when you were in your third year, and in the blink of an eye –"

"It seems we should have a drink," Dumbledore interrupted. "To the old days?"

Slughorn was silent for a moment, then said reluctantly, "Just one glass."

"I'm getting old," he chattered on as he poured wine for Dumbledore. "You see, asthma, rheumatism. I have to gasp for breath after just a few steps now. One has to admit one's age. I just want to live a peaceful life and enjoy some material comforts now."

"You're still quite a bit younger than me, Horace," Dumbledore said calmly as he took the goblet. "The life at Hogwarts is also very peaceful, isn't it?"

"I've heard some rumors – even though I've been hiding here and there these days, I'm still well-informed. Albus, how did you deal with Dolores Umbridge –"

"Professor Umbridge had a conflict with some centaurs in the Forbidden Forest," Dumbledore replied. "I don't think you'd swagger into the Forbidden Forest and shout at a group of angry centaurs, 'You're all filthy half-breeds', would you?"

"Was she really that stupid?" Slughorn pursed his lips. "I've always known she was a silly woman, but I didn't expect her to be that crazy."

Harry and I couldn't help laughing.

"I'll use the bathroom," Dumbledore suddenly stood up. Slughorn looked rather disappointed. He might have thought Dumbledore was about to leave just now.

"The second door on the left down the hallway," he said perfunctorily, gesturing vaguely, and then nestled into the soft armchair and started reaching for more jackfruit preserves from the box.

"If both of you were in Slytherin, maybe I'd have some interest in going back," Slughorn mumbled after Dumbledore left the living room. "I'm really disappointed – Severus Snape's daughter was snatched away by Gryffindor! And so was Black's son. You know, except for him, his younger brother, his cousins, they were all in our Slytherin! I used to think Sirius was just a simple oddball in the family."

Harry and I exchanged a glance, not knowing how to respond to this. Fortunately, Slughorn continued to mumble, "Naturally, it's too late to talk about this now. What year are you in – sixth year, good heavens."

"I have a question," Harry said. "Professor, you were quite willing to substitute for our class in the third year. Why now –"

"At that time, was that person resurrected at that time?" Slughorn exclaimed as if he had been offended. "Teaching at Hogwarts at this time is tantamount to publicly declaring that I support the Order of the Phoenix. Of course, I admire those brave and fearless people, but regarding this mortality rate, you should all know about Amelia Black, right?"

"Actually, we're going to her funeral tomorrow," I felt a bit uncomfortable with his tone, especially when he mentioned the mortality rate.

"Oh, right. I forgot. Your parents were both the backbone of the Order of the Phoenix back then, and surely they still are now," he waved his short, plump fingers. "Don't get me wrong. I don't mean any disrespect. I'm also very grieved, very... But you have to understand that some people aren't that noble. Some people just want to stay alive."

"I think none of those killed by the Death Eaters wanted to die," Harry said. "And they all say that with Dumbledore around, Hogwarts is the safest place – the Dark Lord is afraid of him, isn't he? Even though he's been resurrected, he never came near Hogwarts in the past year."

"That's true," Slughorn admitted reluctantly. "I've heard about the things in the Ministry of Magic. Dumbledore still seems to have enough ability for now... And it's impossible for me to join the Death Eaters. I don't expect them to treat me as a friend just because of a bit of the teacher-student relationship. But these days, the most prudent wizards had better not –"

Dumbledore came back into the room, and Slughorn was startled, as if he had forgotten that he was there.

"All right," he looked at the clock and said to us, "I think if I don't send you to Godric's Hollow now, Fiona will be worried."

"You're leaving already?" Slughorn looked surprised.

"Oh, yes," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "It seems that the outcome is already decided, so there's no need to waste time."

"Er..." Slughorn fidgeted with his thumbs restlessly. Harry and I both stood up.

"I'm sorry you won't accept this job, Horace," Dumbledore said as he tightened his traveling cloak and made a gesture of farewell. "In fact, we've greatly strengthened the security measures. If you like, you're welcome to come back and take a look anytime. Being with these children will also make you feel younger. That's what you said back then, isn't it?"

"You're too kind," Slughorn sighed. "I mean –"

"Goodbye, Professor," I said politely to him. He stared into my eyes for a moment, then his chin contracted painfully, making his face look even more comical – and then, as if he had finally made up his mind, he roared, "All right, all right! I'll do it!"

"Do you mean you're willing to come out of retirement and work again?" Dumbledore asked immediately.

"You brought a sixteen-year-old Lily Evans back to stand in front of me and look at me – I've always said that when you're sly, you're just like a snake!" Slughorn waved his hand impatiently. "I'm crazy. I'll regret this – but I'm willing. Yes, I agree."

"Great," Dumbledore smiled. "We'll see you on September 1st."

"But I have two conditions," Slughorn raised his fingers. "First, I want a raise. Second, you two have to promise me that you'll join my Slug Club."

"Er, all right," I nodded, calculating if I could find an opportunity to get detention again precisely. Harry nodded a bit reluctantly as well.

"Give my regards to your father," Slughorn mumbled to Harry. "I hope he won't just think of the detentions I gave him when he thinks of me."

"You did a good job," Dumbledore said only after we got out onto the main road. "Of course, you already have some understanding of Professor Slughorn. He likes to make friends with famous, successful, and powerful people, but that doesn't mean he's bad by nature."

"I know," I said softly. "He's always liked my mother, even though she was a Muggle-born."

"Yes, he's very tolerant of talent... and has also gained a great deal from it," he gracefully extended both hands to us. "When the term starts, he'll surely, just like before, establish his Slug Club and continue to pursue his hobby of gathering talented people. You two, Neville, and many other excellent students will become the targets he wants to recruit."

"Er, so today you were... showing him the 'collectibles' he could gather?" Harry asked.

That's a very vivid metaphor. That's right, Harry. And there are many benefits to you being able to persuade him to return to Hogwarts. Horace isn't used to living away from people – he likes being in the center of attention. So I said you did a good job," Dumbledore looked up at the night sky. "Come on, children. It's already late."