"So, you don't need Felix Felicis?"
"Of course not, dear Professor Dumbledore."
Sherlock said with complete confidence.
"After preparing for so long, if we still can't get what we want from that professor, that would be the strange thing."
Hearing Sherlock say this, Dumbledore put away the Felix Felicis. "Well, since you're so confident..."
Sherlock's confidence seemed to influence Dumbledore as well, and his steps became increasingly light.
He didn't ask Sherlock what method he would use to obtain that secret from Slughorn, only agreeing with Sherlock to watch for his cues when the time came.
"I take back my earlier assessment. This professor's house isn't just well-stocked—he's the richest person in this entire village."
When they arrived at Slughorn's doorstep, Sherlock said this.
He said so because the building before them was obviously much more upscale and impressive than the other houses nearby. At first glance, you could tell this wasn't the home of an ordinary person.
"Oh, let me see, who's come to visit?"
Just as the two were speaking, a smiling old man quickly walked out of the house.
The afternoon sunlight illuminated his shiny bald head, his bulging eyes, his walrus-like silver-white mustache, and the gleaming buttons on the brownish-purple velvet jacket he wore over his pale purple pajamas.
He walked up to Dumbledore and stopped, the top of his head only reaching the chin of the much taller man.
At first glance, Sherlock had already determined that this old professor had just woken from an afternoon nap, and had also set up defensive magic similar to intrusion charms outside his room, which is why he could know immediately when someone came to visit.
"I'm very sorry to disturb you, Horace."
Dumbledore said with a smile, though his tone didn't sound apologetic at all.
"It's hard to believe that you, old fellow, would actually come to visit me."
Slughorn didn't seem to mind Dumbledore's tone at all.
Or rather, when he saw Dumbledore's visit, his expression showed some delight.
As he spoke, his gaze moved past Dumbledore to Sherlock and Harry standing with him.
When he looked at Sherlock, his gaze only swept past briefly.
But when he saw Harry, his gaze suddenly froze.
His eyes lingered on Harry's forehead, and on the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.
Noticing Slughorn's round eyes growing wider and wider, Dumbledore immediately began introductions.
"I think you've already noticed, Horace. This is Harry Potter, a Hogwarts student about to enter his fourth year. Beside Harry is Sherlock Holmes. He's Harry's best friend at school, and also the one who truly caught Peter Pettigrew a year ago."
Hearing Dumbledore's introduction of Sherlock, Slughorn finally gave him proper attention.
Dumbledore then gestured toward Slughorn and said to Sherlock and Harry.
"This is an old friend and colleague of mine, named Horace Slughorn."
After brief pleasantries, Slughorn invited the three of them into his home.
Just as Sherlock had said earlier, from the outside alone, Slughorn's house was already the richest and most luxurious in this village.
But after they entered Slughorn's home, they discovered that the interior was even more impressive than the exterior.
The room was spacious and bright, with thick dark carpets that almost swallowed the sound of footsteps.
The air was filled with the sweet scent of candy, the rich aroma of wine, and the smell of leather-bound books.
Occupying the central position of the room was an extremely large, extremely soft crimson velvet sofa.
Surrounding the sofa were several matching armchairs, each equipped with fluffy cushions and elaborately crafted footstools.
On the low table in front of the sofa were stacked boxes of exquisitely packaged chocolates and a plate of colorful Sugar Quills.
If Ron were here, he would recognize them at once as top-grade goods from Honeydukes.
Several plump silk cushions were casually scattered on the sofa and armchairs, creating a lazy, comfortable atmosphere.
In the corner of the room was even an elegant cart loaded with a dazzling array of bottles and crystal glasses, sparkling in the reflection of the fireplace.
Tall bookshelves lined the walls, stuffed with thick-spined hardcover books and photo albums.
Sherlock and Dumbledore were fine, but Harry's eyes were dazzled.
If you didn't know who lived here, just looking at these soft colors, soft fabrics, abundant snacks and books, he would have guessed this was the home of a distinguished, somewhat particular noblewoman.
Slughorn, like a king touring his kingdom, skillfully guided them to the most comfortable seats, then walked enthusiastically to the drinks cart.
"What would you like? I have everything here... Albus, the usual for you? Pure honey water? Don't worry, I have plenty of tooth-strengthening potion. How about some refreshing Butterbeer for the children? Or try my collection of top-grade oak-aged mead? I guarantee you'll love it!"
He deftly took out gleaming glasses, his tone full of pride in his collection.
Dumbledore smiled and nodded.
Sherlock and Harry both asked for Butterbeer.
Slughorn poured himself a large glass of amber liquid, then settled contentedly into the main armchair, his body sinking deep into the pile of fluffy cushions.
As a result, because his legs were too short, they couldn't reach the floor.
But he didn't mind, making a comfortable sound, and immediately began chatting.
Once the floodgates opened, the old man became unstoppable.
He began talking about his time working with Dumbledore at Hogwarts.
From his conversation with Dumbledore, Sherlock and Harry learned that he was slightly younger than Dumbledore, barely of the same generation.
Soon, his topic turned to the outstanding students he had taught, especially those from prominent families or with exceptional gifts who later achieved great success.
With a proud smile on his face, he pointed to the many gleaming picture frames on the cabinet, each containing moving little figures.
"These are all my former students, all signed photographs. You'll see Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet—he's always very interested in hearing my views on current affairs. That's Ambrosius Flume of Honeydukes—every year on my birthday, he sends me a gift basket. Because I was the one who introduced him to Ciceron Harkiss, which got him his first job!
Bob Ogden, quite the veteran at the Ministry of Magic for you youngsters. Unfortunately, he's retired now, but back then he often came to visit this old professor, seeking my advice on problems he encountered at work.
And in the back—if you crane your necks you can see—that's Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyhead Harpies... People often wonder why I'm so friendly with the Harpies players—whenever I want, I can get free tickets!"
Every word of Professor Slughorn's fell into Sherlock's ears.
But he held his glass without hurrying to sip.
Those sharp gray eyes unobtrusively swept across the entire room.
The invaluably expensive soft chairs.
The delicate needlework on the footstools.
The bookshelves with books carefully arranged by color.
The traces of chocolate boxes carefully opened and restacked.
Slughorn himself in that exquisite velvet dressing gown and his animated expression when discussing the past.
Every luxurious detail rapidly integrated, connected, and was analyzed in his mind.
Combined with others' assessments of Slughorn before meeting him, a clear character portrait was sketched in his mind.
[Values material enjoyment, strong vanity, obsessed with past glory and interpersonal relationships]
[Enjoys the feeling of being envied and sought after—this enjoyment is both his comfort zone and the wealth he most values]
[Highly skilled, values talent, smooth and snobbish, shrewd at calculations, committed to self-preservation]
[Hasn't used Potter family hair-growth potion to treat his baldness because it's expensive, and because he feels guilty]
When Slughorn once again emphasized his former students' current positions and their friendship with him, he involuntarily glanced at the lightning-shaped scar on Harry's forehead.
A trace of complex, overwhelming guilt flashed in his eyes, and he quickly looked away as if burned.
This small detail naturally didn't escape Sherlock's eyes.
The path to his goal became even clearer in his mind.
The opportunity had come.
Sherlock's gaze inadvertently turned toward Dumbledore, nodding his head extremely slightly, his gray eyes carrying a hint that Dumbledore would certainly understand.
Dumbledore, who had already agreed to watch for Sherlock's cues, understood immediately and suddenly stood up.
"You're leaving already?"
Slughorn immediately became anxious.
He hadn't finished showing off yet!
"Horace, these memories are truly worth savoring. However... when you get older, drinking makes you easily... er, forgive me, where is your bathroom?"
"Oh, of course, of course, old fellow."
Hearing that Dumbledore wasn't leaving, Slughorn immediately pointed the way enthusiastically. "Just at the end of the corridor, on the right."
Dumbledore nodded slightly and left the living room filled with the sweet scent of candy and alcohol.
As the headmaster's tall figure walked toward that end of the room and the door closed behind him, the room fell silent.
The atmosphere in the living room also underwent a subtle change.
When only two students and a former professor remained, Slughorn seemed to feel some kind of constraint disappear.
His body relaxed even more deeply into the soft chair, he unbuttoned one button of his velvet pajamas, and the smile on his face became more casual and relaxed.
He picked up his glass and poured himself another large helping of that amber liquid.
The three began chatting again about Slughorn's glorious past.
Whenever Professor Slughorn reached a critical moment, Sherlock could chime in at just the right time.
"Is that so?"
"Oh, how amazing!"
"Professor, you were actually able to achieve that level."
"Those students who were fortunate enough to receive your instruction were truly lucky!"
Harry looked at Sherlock in surprise.
Was this still his good mate who could usually infuriate people with a single sentence?
Could he have been transformed by someone using Polyjuice Potion?
Soon, under Sherlock's flattery, Slughorn unknowingly drank a lot of wine.
Not only was his face flushed, but even his speech became somewhat slurred.
"Why hasn't Albus returned yet?"
"Perhaps he feels embarrassed?"
"Look at this Albus, can't handle just a few drinks, truly pathetic!"
"This headmaster is just pathetic!"
Harry looked at Sherlock and Slughorn in horror. Openly disparaging Dumbledore like this was terrible!
"Barry Water, the Boy Who Saved—er—something like that..."
Slughorn slurred, his teary eyes focusing almost unguardedly on Harry, and this time taking in his entire face.
Harry looked at him without speaking.
"You... uh, you look very much like your father," Slughorn suddenly said.
"Yes, sir, everyone says so," Harry said.
"Except the eyes, your eyes—"
"Are like my mother's, yes."
Harry had heard this countless times and was getting tired of it, but at this moment, for the sake of their goal, he patiently said so.
"Hmph, yes, of course. As a teacher, one shouldn't favor students. But I did favor her, your mother."
Slughorn was clearly drunk now and continued rambling.
"Lily Evans, she was one of the brightest students I ever taught—vivacious, lovely, a charming girl. I often told her she should have been in my House. Unfortunately... I often received very uncivil answers from her."
"Which House were you in?" Harry asked, though he knew the answer.
"I was Head of Slytherin House at the time," Slughorn said.
"Oh, don't hold that against me!"
Slughorn saw Harry's expression change slightly, thinking he had taken offense, and immediately waved a short, thick finger at him.
"I imagine you're in Gryffindor, just like her, aren't you? Yes, these things usually run in families. the Abbotts, the Longbottoms, the Malfoys, the Weasleys... But there are exceptions. Sirius Black was your father's good friend at school.
Everyone in the Black family was in my House, but unexpectedly Sirius went to Gryffindor! He was a very talented boy. When his brother Regulus came along, I snatched him up right away. But... it would have been nice if both of them had been in my House."
Harry: o(╥﹏╥)o
Sherlock leaned forward slightly at just the right moment, his voice not loud, but clearly inserted into Slughorn's boasting.
"Compared to them, Lily was more than just an excellent student to you."
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