𝐌𝐀𝐃 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 → 𝒸. 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓁𝑒𝓎

⤷ 05| HORACE SLUGHORN

"Well, how have you been keeping, Horace?" Dumbledore questioned the wizard.

"Not so well," Horace said at once. "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," Dumbledore said. "You can't have had more than three minutes' warning?"

Horace said, half irritably, half proudly, "Two. Didn't hear my Intruder Charm go off, I was taking a bath. Still," he added sternly, seeming to pull himself back together again, "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."

He certainly had those, June thought, looking around the room. It was stuffy and cluttered, yet nobody could say it was uncomfortable; there were soft chairs and footstools, drinks and books, boxes of chocolates and plump cushions. If June had not known who lived there, she would have guessed at a rich, fussy old lady.

"You're not yet as old as I am, Horace," Dumbledore said.

"Well, maybe you ought to think about retirement yourself," Horace said bluntly. His pale gooseberry eyes had found Dumbledore's injured hand. "Reactions not what they were, I see."

"You're quite right,' said Dumbledore serenely, shaking back his sleeve to reveal the tips of those burned and blackened fingers; the sight of them made the back of June's neck prickle unpleasantly. "I am undoubtedly slower than I was. But on the other hand . . ."

He shrugged and spread his hands wide, as though to say that age had its compensations, and June noticed a ring on his uninjured hand that she had never seen Dumbledore wear before: it was large, rather clumsily made of what looked like gold, and was set with a heavy black stone that had cracked down the middle. Horace's eyes lingered for a
moment on the ring, too, and June saw a tiny frown momentarily crease his wide forehead.

"So, all these precautions against intruders, Horace . . . are they for the Death Eaters' benefit, or mine?" Dumbledore asked.

"What would the Death Eaters want with a poor broken-down old buffer like me?" Horace demanded.

"I imagine that they would want you to turn your considerable talents to coercion, torture and murder," Dumbledore said. "Are you really telling me that they haven't come recruiting yet?'

Horace 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 used instead of Sneakoscopes and make sure the neighbors don't spot you bringing in the piano."

"Ingenious," Dumbledore said. "But it sounds a rather tiring existence for a broken-down old buffer in search of a quiet life. Now, if you were to return to Hogwarts—"

"If you're going to tell me my life would be more peaceful at that pestilential school, you can save your breath, Albus! I might have been in hiding, but some funny rumours have reached me since Dolores
Umbridge left! If that's how you treat teachers these days—"

"Professor Umbridge ran afoul of our centaur herd,"Dumbledore said. "I think you, Horace, would have known better than to stride into the Forest and call a horde of angry centaurs 'filthy half-breeds'!"

"That's what she did, did she?" Horace said. "Idiotic woman. Never liked her."

Harry and June chuckled and both Dumbledore and Horace looked round at them.