"Good evening, Horace." Dumbledore straightened up again.
The armchair vanished in the blink of an eye, replaced by a short, heavyset, balding old man crouching on the floor.
He rubbed his stomach and squinted up at Dumbledore through one watering eye, his face twisted in pain.
"You didn't have to jab me that hard with your wand," he complained as he struggled to his feet. "That hurt like hell."
The light from Dumbledore's wand illuminated his gleaming bald head, his prominent eyes, and his thick silver mustache, which resembled a walrus's. It also caught the shining buttons of the plum-colored velvet jacket he wore over pale purple pajamas.
Horace was quite short, barely reaching Dumbledore's chin.
Once he was standing, he stretched and asked gruffly, "What gave me away?"
Dumbledore replied with his usual gentle yet all-seeing smile.
"Horace, your Transfiguration was quite impressive, but you neglected to conceal your magical presence. Naturally, I noticed you. How have you been lately?"
"Not well at all," Slughorn replied immediately. "Shortness of breath, asthma, rheumatism, and my legs aren't nearly as nimble as they used to be. Still, I suppose that's to be expected. I'm getting old and useless."
"And yet you managed to prepare this elaborate welcome for us remarkably quickly," Dumbledore said. "You couldn't have had more than three minutes' warning that someone was coming."
"Two," Slughorn replied, sounding equal parts irritated and pleased with himself. "I was taking a bath and didn't hear my Intruder Charm go off. Still," he added, regaining his composure and putting on a stern expression, "the fact remains that I'm an old man, Albus. A tired old man who has earned the right to live quietly and enjoy a few creature comforts."
He certainly wasn't lacking in creature comforts, Harry thought as he looked around.
The room was cramped and cluttered, but no one could have called it uncomfortable. There were soft chairs, footstools, drinks, books, boxes of chocolates, and piles of plump cushions everywhere.
If Harry hadn't known who lived here, he might have guessed the occupant was some wealthy, rather particular old lady.
"You're younger than I am, Horace," Dumbledore pointed out.
"Yes, well, perhaps you should consider retiring too," Slughorn replied bluntly.
It was obvious that he had already guessed why Dumbledore had come.
Not long ago, Hogwarts' Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had been arrested by the Ministry of Magic, which meant there was presumably another vacancy on the Hogwarts staff.
Unfortunately, Horace valued his life far too much. He had long known just how dangerous the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts could be, so there was no chance he would willingly accept such an offer.
Dumbledore, however, showed no intention of asking him immediately.
Instead, he poured glasses of Firewhisky for himself and Slughorn, who had only just returned to human form. Beads of condensation ran down the glasses as Dumbledore spoke without accusation, his voice carrying only a gentle curiosity.
"Horace, you must have heard that Tom Riddle has already been defeated by Harry. I personally witnessed Harry destroy his final Horcrux. At long last, the wizarding world can sleep peacefully again."
He pushed the glass toward Slughorn and watched as the older man's fingers tightened around it, his knuckles turning white.
"But when you heard the door begin to open just now, your first instinct was still to Transfigure yourself into an armchair and hide. Why?"
Dumbledore's voice softened.
"I know you aren't a coward. You've simply been trapped by the fear of those years for far too long. But look at Harry. He has already endured the darkest night for all of us. You no longer need to spend your life hiding behind furniture and listening for every little noise even while enjoying a drink, do you?"
Slughorn's fingers suddenly clenched around the glass. Firewhisky sloshed over the rim and splashed onto his sleeve, but he didn't seem to notice.
He merely glanced sideways at Dumbledore, his voice filled with a chill that refused to fade.
"Dead? Dumbledore, you're far too optimistic. There was something wrong with Tom Riddle even when he was a student. Do you really think a single spell could put someone like him in the grave for good?
"He knew more Dark magic than any of us ever realized. He's like a rat hiding in the sewers, silent enough that everyone thinks he's gone, while in reality he's only waiting for the right opportunity.
"Don't let this brief period of peace fool you. Sooner or later, he'll crawl back out, and when he does, he'll be more terrifying than ever."
Dumbledore fell silent.
He knew that fear of Voldemort had already burrowed far too deeply into Horace's heart.
Perhaps this time, he truly wouldn't be able to persuade his old colleague to return to Hogwarts.
But then Harry, who had been sitting quietly nearby, suddenly spoke.
"Professor Slughorn, I understand what you're worried about. Professor Dumbledore and I already discovered the secret of the Horcruxes, and we've destroyed almost all of them. Voldemort isn't the threat you should be worrying about anymore.
"If anything, we should be more concerned about Death lurking in the shadows. The threat he poses to the wizarding world is far greater than Voldemort's. I'm even worried that Voldemort might join forces with Death and come after us together."
Slughorn's Firewhisky glass struck the edge of the table with a loud clink. Half the drink spilled out, but he remained frozen in place, his eyes widening until they looked ready to pop out of his skull.
"Death?!" His voice rose sharply. "Mr. Potter, you mean the Death from the old stories? The one with the scythe who waits beyond the veil?
"That's just a story wizards tell children. How could he suddenly become our enemy?"
Slughorn leaned forward half a step, unconsciously clutching the tablecloth. His fingers turned white as disbelief and panic filled his voice.
"I've lived this long and only ever heard about Death in bedtime stories! The figure who supposedly gave people the Deathly Hallows and reaps the souls of wizards...
"But those are stories! How could something from a children's tale suddenly become an enemy we actually have to fight? That's impossible. Absolutely impossible!"
Seeing Horace becoming increasingly agitated, Dumbledore sighed helplessly and cast a Calming Charm on him.
Dumbledore wasn't particularly surprised by his reaction. When he had first learned that Death truly existed, his own response hadn't been much better.
Once Horace had calmed down, Dumbledore looked at Harry.
"Please, Harry. Tell him everything that happened."
Harry proceeded to explain everything they had learned about Death.
By the time he finished, Slughorn sat motionless, staring blankly ahead for a long time.
Harry continued, "That's why, Professor Slughorn, now that even Death himself has appeared, nowhere in the wizarding world can truly be considered safe.
"At present, the safest place in the entire wizarding world is undoubtedly Hogwarts, because both Professor Dumbledore and I are there. So I sincerely recommend that you return to Hogwarts and accept a teaching position.
"And we aren't asking you to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. You'll be teaching Potions. Professor Snape will be taking over Defence Against the Dark Arts."
At those words, Horace finally stopped resisting.
He let out a long sigh.
"All right. I accept."
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810.