Harry Potter and the Time Fluke

Passion Ensues

An elderly man with snow-white hair, thick round glasses, and clothes as eccentric as Dumbledore's hobbled up from behind Slughorn. Harry was absolutely astonished that Slughorn had managed to get Flamel to attend.

"Flamel, here, is a famous alchemist, Mr. Evans–the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone! Why, he's over six hundred now!"

Flamel gave a somewhat strained smile at this, and Harry though it would be best to change the subject, but his good intentions to make the old alchemist less uncomfortable were stolen by another.

"Here you are, Nicolas. I'd wondered where you'd gotten off to. Good evening Horace, Mr. Evans." Harry wondered if the party could get any worse as Dumbledore sidled up to the little grouping.

"Evening, Albus, I was just introducing your friend Nicolas to young Mr. Evans here. Mr. Evans is quite the potions maker–has the makings to become an alchemist himself one day!"

Now, Slughorn was pushing it. While Harry's skills with potions had far exceeded his previous abilities held while Snape was Potions Master, he was nowhere near–and probably never would be–the level of an alchemist.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have to disagree with that statement," Harry said with a tiny, cordial smile. "I don't believe I'll ever be at that level in this lifetime."

"Nonsense," Sluhorn said with a dismissing wave. "I know talent–trust me, Harry, I've seen many talented youths in my time here. With a bit more effort, you could become great! Maybe even make your own Stone," he finished with a wink. It was at this point that Harry decided Slughorn was probably a touch inebriated from one too many pre-party drinks. Very bad taste, for the host. Or, Slughorn was just acting as he always did, boasting first and thinking of the consequences later.

Dumbledore used the edgy silence to once again save the day. "Actually, Nicolas, there was someone with whom I wished to introduce you to. A Mr. Splottering–owns a very interesting, if not well-known, publishing company."

"Yes, yes, Splottering!" Slughorn said, delightedly. "Pulled himself up from nothing, he did. And now look at him! He was one of my students, of course–graduated only five years ago! Amazing accomplishment, simply amazing!" The trio disappeared into the crowd.

Suddenly feeling very claustrophobic with the eyes of many upon him, Harry thought it would be best to step outside and breath some fresh air. Another reason for his choice was the cluster of girls near him, all of who were eyeing him as though he were a tasty treat they couldn't wait to devour.

Making his way over to the exit, Harry passed through the sheer, silver hangings and out the glass doors onto the balcony. It was, thankfully, deserted. He didn't think he would be able to deal with any more people for a while after having been in that stuffy, crowded room. He hoped no one had seen his stealthy exit from the party; he didn't want to be bothered anymore.

The outside was not as extravagantly decorated as the party's interior through the frost-stained doors, but there was a string of fairy-lights wrapped around the railing and hanging from awning like twinkling icicles. A few cushioned benches dotted the stone terrace, and Harry made a quick beeline towards one that was partially hidden in shadow. Oh, what he wouldn't give for a strong dose of Calming Drought, right about now. It was nerve-wracking just being in the same room with Tom, and he was sure the other boy had been sending him meaningful looks ever since he'd arrived, giving off the clear intention that he wished to talk to Harry.

The sounds of music and laughter coming from the party got louder all of a sudden, and then dimmed. Curious, Harry tilted his head towards the doors and immediately tensed, catching eyes with the exact person he wanted to see least of all at the moment.