Sweet Revenge

Slughorn Reinstated

As Harry and Co. plus Draco (Draco refuses to be grouped with Co., for he finds it incredibly rude to his blond self) were piling into the thestral-drawn carriages, many kilometers away, Tom was sitting in his wingback chair, busy watching Rodolphus watch Bellatrix "puff up" Slughorn. 

Over the summer, Tom had ordered his little minions to fix Slughorn's house to suit the vibe of a person on the run and drop Slughorn in the midst of it all (Bellatrix was more than happy to follow this order a bit too precisely). This provided for a properly harried look when Dumbledore dropped in on top of Slughorn with his jar of lemon drops and asked for knitting magazines and whether Slughorn would be interested in being Potions professor for the coming year. Of course, Slughorn accepted since, being the materialistic man he was, he did not wish to lose his sumptuous suite at Slytherin Castle. 

          "Miss Black! Miss Black! I-I implore you! Not the rhinestones! Miss Black, please! No!"

Bellatrix cackled as she fastened the rhinestone bow tie on and pulled, causing Slughorn to choke a little. 

           "Sir, I think it looks great on you! And," she added a little more seriously, "It's Mrs. Lestrange now."

Rodolphus's eyes softened and he sent Bella a hint of a smile. 

In the end, Slughorn settled for a portly brown plaid, a dark green and red shimmering bowtie (which, unbeknownst to him, Bella had charmed to form rhinestones whenever he was out of Slytherin Castle), and a russet leather overcoat with a white, rigid collar through which he felt so impermeable as to feel confident in not getting wet when it rained. He proceeded to open the window and luxuriously splay out his fingers, felt something wet that was not the rain outside that he imagined, and looked up to see Bellatrix's owl flapping away somewhat awkwardly with a heavy package tied to its leg. He left in a carriage with perhaps a dent or two to his dignity. 

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As Slughorn left, Tom watched through the large window in his study. When the carriage was out of sight, he softly let go, and the drapes swished back into place. 

The room descended into darkness, but soon, a shimmering light came from his wand. It was silvery like a patronus, but just light enough not to be dim and just dim enough not to be light. Soon, it became bulbous and expanded to form a shimmering not-yet-there sphere of light from which, after some moments, there was a rearranging of sorts into the office of Severus Snape who looked to be expecting Tom. Tom stepped into the glowing sphere which closed over his head. It was dark once again in the room. 

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Severus Snape was practicing his menacing expressions in order to scare the incoming Gryffindors when he felt a strange prickling sensation. Being familiar with the spell, he turned and stared not overly disrespectfully at the corner of his new Defense Against the Dark Arts office in which there was an odd distortion as if heat was warping the stone. 

He watched as the distortion became distorted to an unnatural degree before, finding it the perfect opportunity, pierced it with his perfect, sharp, mean, I-am-evil-do-not-mess-with-me-or-I-will-curse-you-little-children stare. When the figure stepping through materialized, he did a double take and straightened his face to the appropriate degree. 

Then, finding it necessary to be a slightly more dramatic than usual, swept into a most complicated bow with lots of robe swishing and diverse facial expressions. 

Tom watched this odd dance (which he compared in his mind to a rather electrified chicken) for five silent minutes with an unassuming expression while Snape did his little jig in the middle of the damp, stone-walled office in altogether uninterrupted obliviousness.