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Chapter 1234: Persuasion
🕑 Added 2024-09-17 20:55:35 +0000 UTC"For old time’s sake..." Slughorn said softly.
His large round eyes scrutinized Evan, Harry, Hermione, and the lightening-shaped scar on Harry's forehead.
"Oh, the past is always worth remembering," he squinted and took three deep breaths. "Albus, who are these three?"
"Harry Potter, Evan Mason, Hermione Granger … you should have heard of their names." Dumbledore made the introduction, and then pointed to Slughorn. "Children, this is an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn."
"Evan Mason, Harry Potter?" Slughorn murmured. "Yes, I’ve heard of them."
"Good evening, Professor!" said Evan, bowing slightly to Slughorn.
"Don’t call me that, child. I’m not a professor anymore; I haven’t taught in years," said Slughorn quickly, as if startled.
He stopped looking at Evan and the others and turned to Dumbledore with a sharp expression on his face.
"I know what you're trying to do, Albus. So that’s how you thought you’d persuade me, is it? Well, the answer’s no!"
As he spoke, his face turned resolutely away with the air of a man trying to resist temptation.
"But you won't refuse us a drink, at least?" said Dumbledore.
Slughorn hesitated.
“All right then, one drink,” he said ungraciously.
As he turned and fiddled with the bottles and cups, Dumbledore smiled at them.
He waved his wand and conjured up three chairs, not unlike the one that Slughorn had so recently impersonated, and motioned for the three of them to sit down.
Next to the chairs were a newly burning fire and a brightly glowing oil lamp. Evan sat in the middle and Harry was on the other side of the oil lamp.
Dumbledore, for some reason, wanted to keep them as visible as possible, directly opposite Slughorn's position.
Sure enough, when Slughorn turned around, his eyes fell immediately upon them.
"Hmph," He said, looking away quickly as though frightened of hurting his eyes.
"Here —" He gave a drink to Dumbledore who had already sat down, thrust the tray at Evan and the others, and then sank into the cushions of the repaired sofa and a disgruntled silence.
"Well, how have you been keeping, Horace?" Dumbledore asked.
"Not so well," said Slughorn, shaking his head. "Weak chest. Wheezy. Rheumatism too. Can’t move like I used to. Well, that’s to be expected. Old age. Fatigue."
“And yet you must have moved fairly quickly to prepare such a welcome for us at such short notice,” said Dumbledore. “You can’t have had more than three minutes’ warning?"
"Two. Didn’t hear my Intruder Charm go off, I was taking a bath," Slughorn said, half irritably, half proud. Then, he seemed to pull himself back together again. "Still, the fact remains that I’m an old man, Albus. A tired old man who’s earned the right to a quiet life and a few creature comforts, as I told you before."
He certainly had no lack of creature comforts, even drinking specially brewed wine.
As for the room, it was stuffy and cluttered, yet nobody could say it was uncomfortable.
In addition to the things left by the original Muggle owners, there were many items clearly belonging to Slughorn — such as the exquisite and elegant set of drinking glasses, unique soft chairs and footstools, books, boxes of chocolates and plump cushions.
If someone didn’t know who lived here, they would have guessed at a rich, fussy old lady.
Evan knew Slughorn was a very shrewd wizard, embodying all the traits of a Slytherin, and someone who knew how to enjoy life.
At the very least, he knew how to enjoy life better than any wizard he knew.
"You’re not yet as old as I am, Horace," said Dumbledore.
“Well, maybe you ought to think about retirement yourself. I've heard about the recent troubles," said Slughorn bluntly. His pale gooseberry eyes had found Dumbledore's curse-ridden hand. "Reactions not what they were, I see."
"You’re quite right," said Dumbledore serenely, shaking back his sleeve.
There, Evan saw that his arm was also covered in intricate, dark green curses.
They intertwined and extended upward along his arm.
What was that?
Evan had never seen such a curse before. He originally thought it was some kind of magic rune, but now it seemed that it was not the case.
It looked more like a curse, not just an injury from a spell by accident.
"I am undoubtedly slower than I was," said Dumbledore. "Dangerous magical experiments and adventures are no longer suitable for me. But it’s also undeniable that these ventures have yielded much, and our current progress is beyond what we imagined. On the other hand..."
He shrugged and spread his hands wide, as though to say that age had its compensations.
But Slughorn wasn’t listening to Dumbledore; his eyes had fallen on Gaunt's ring.
He frowned slightly, and a few wrinkles appeared on his wide forehead.
Evan remembered that fifteen-year-old Riddle had told him and Dumbledore that Slughorn had seen this ring before.
The ring was now exactly the same as before, except that the Resurrection Stone was kept with him.
Not to mention, the soul inside the ring had been let loose!
Fifteen-year-old Riddle, Slughorn's most favored student, was surely watching him now.
But if he knew about this, or if Dumbledore somehow unleashed Riddle, Slughorn would probably run away in terror.
All those curses eventually converged on the ring, or rather; they seemed to have spread out from that very spot.
Evan couldn't help but wonder, what on earth was Dumbledore trying to do? Magic involving Riddle's soul?
"So, all these precautions against intruders, Horace … are they for the Death Eaters’ benefit, or mine?" asked Dumbledore.
"Hmph, what would the Death Eaters want with a poor broken-down old buffer like me?" demanded Slughorn.
"I imagine that they would want you to turn your considerable talents to coercion, torture, and murder," said Dumbledore. "You hold a high position among them, and many of them respect you, don't they? Are you really telling me that they haven’t come recruiting yet?"
The Death Eaters, especially the early ones — Voldemort’s original group—were mostly Slytherin students.
Back then, Slughorn had been their Head of House, and he was very good at winning people's hearts.
Slughorn eyed Dumbledore balefully for a moment, then muttered, "I haven’t given them the chance. I’ve been on the move for a year. Never stay in one place more than a week. Move from Muggle house to Muggle house — the owners of this place are on holiday in the Canary Islands — it’s been very pleasant, I’ll be sorry to leave. It’s quite easy once you know how, one simple Freezing Charm on these absurd burglar alarms they use instead of Sneakoscopes and make sure the neighbors don’t spot you bringing in the piano."
