Resorted

Chapter Thirty Two

"Maybe he's been taken sir, the place has been turned upside down." Harry tried to reason an excuse. Dumbledore wasn't necessarily looking around. He was glancing at the area before resting his eyes on the chair that looked out of place. Wading through the he went over to the armchair, taking his wand out poking at it.

It began to change form, like some spell from transfiguration. An old man stood where the chair was. Little to no hair, plump fatigue and a very similar height to Dumbledore. "Ow! Watch where you poke that thing next time Albus!" He rubbed at the side of his stomach, "I thought it was rather convincing actually. It tricked a couple Death Eaters."
"Ah yes, rather convincing, to someone who has not seen it before." Dumbledore replied. "What a wonderful house you have chosen Horace."
"I've been moving frequently. Never in the same place for more than two weeks. The Muggles who own this place are in the Canary Islands."

"We should put this place back to what it once was, don't you agree?" And Dumbledore flicked his wand. Like Harry reverses time, everything went back to it's original state. The Chandelier spun as the glass reconnected with the brass fitting. Pictures went back on the shelves, even some Horace brought with him on his travels. The couches moved to where they used to be, door closed shut with a loud thud jolting Harry slightly forwards and a rug that was crumpled together against the wall slid to a halt in-between a TV stand and a seat. It was stuck to it's place when a coffee table landed on top. The boy watched in amazement: you would think he would be used to magic by now, but something new makes him gape in the Wizarding world.

"Right well... tea, Dumbledore?" Horace offered them once the room was clear and all three were seated.
"No thank you, Slughorn, I'm actually here on important business." He must have given Slughorn a gesture because the man's mouth grew to an 'o' shape.
"I've already told you my answer Albus, and my mind will not be swayed." He sternly told the Hogwarts Headmaster but Harry almost wanted to laugh. "I'm not going back to Hogwarts to teach, I'll be safer on the run."
Not showing signs of disappointment, frustration, any emotion really, Dumbledore stood from his seat. "Very well, we will leave then. After, you point me in the direction of the bathroom." Slughorn gestured to a staircase making a slight turn in his finger indicating first door when you turn left.

When Dumbledore left for the stairs, they stayed in silence. Eventually, Harry stopped being polite, sitting still, so he began to wonder. His eyes landed on one image in particular. It was one of Slughorn’s: the image was in black and white, showing The Marauder’s, and his mother. The four friends were up at the front, messing around, Lily was with what looked like a young Alice Longbottom at the front being nudged by Sirius unconsciously.  They were all smiling and happy, wearing graduation hats and robes. “Don’t think I don’t know why he’s brought you here.” Slughorn huffed as their gazes merely met for a second. Slughorn’s eyes fell on Harry’s scar, “You look a lot like your father”
“Yeah, I’ve been told.” Harry said.
“Except your eyes, you’ve got-“
“My mothers.” Harry had heard it so often it was starting to become maddening. It just reminded him of what happened, how his parents died for him, to save him, and everyone still believes he is a hero. He isn’t, his mother is. Lily sacrificed herself to save Harry: he didn’t do anything other than live. It was his mother’s love that saved him, not him.  “You shouldn’t have favourites as a teacher, but your mother was one of mine.” Slughorn looked at the moving image, “Very intelligent girl- charming too, yes. I used to tell her she ought to have been in my house, very cheeky answers I received.”

“Which was your house?” Harry asked.
“My house was Slytherin.” Harry grew confused, he couldn’t imagine Slughorn in Slytherin robes, “You are too, I read the Dailey Prophet. Surprised to find the Weasley’s there, all their family was in Gryffindor. Suppose they are now because of their girl and youngest boy, Ron was his name. I’m sorry to hear about his passing, you were friends weren’t you?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah we were…”

“I remember Arthur and Molly. Very enthusiastic and loving, but brave. Molly’s brothers were the same; remind me an awful lot of your father and his friends. Surprised when Sirius was in Gryffindor, his whole family was in my house. Shame- he was a talented boy. I got his brother Regulus when he came, would have liked the entire set though.” He sounded like an enthusiastic collector who was outbid in an auction. Apparently lost in memory, he gazed upon the opposite wall, turning idly on the spot.

“Your mother was a muggle-born of course. Couldn’t believe it when I found out, thought for sure she must have been a pureblood.”
“One of my best friends is a muggleborn.” Harry had a fleck of anger in his voice, only noticeable by people who knew him, “She’s the best in my year.”
“Funny how that happens isn’t it?” Slughorn said.
“No, no not really” Said Harry coldly.

“Oh no don’t think I’m prejudice!” He exclaimed, “No, no, no! Didn’t I just say your mother was my prized student? And there was Dirk Cresswell the year after her- now Head of the Goblin Liaison office, of course- another muggle-born, a very gifted student.”
Energetically, he bounced in a self-satisfied way and began pointing at the various images, each having a moving occupant.
“All mine, each and every one. Ex-students, I mean. You recognize Barnubas Cuffe, of course, editor of the Daily Prophet. Always takes my owl should I want to register my opinion on the news of the day. And there’s Ambrosius Flume of Honeydukes, sends a hamper of chocolate to the house each birthday. That is, when I had a house. And Gwenog Jones-” Her hair was in a high, short pony, in a Quidditch uniform, Gryffindor one at that. “-Captain of the Holyhead Harpies, I get free tickets whenever I want them. Of course, I haven’t been to a match in some time...”

Harry thought it was time for a change in topic. “Why won’t you come back to Hogwarts?” Slowly, he placed the image back on the ledge like it was the most prized piece of china.
“Going to the place where the only person You Know Who feared is? Even with you there my boy, it’s been going ‘round that you are the only one who can defeat him; I wouldn’t be surprised if they attacked. Also, if I do go, I’ll have to join the Order, no, I would prefer to stay neutral and in retirement.” Harry found these absurd: Voldemort isn’t going to attack, he was beaten by Dumbledore last school year, and he wouldn’t attack.
“Sir, you would get protection from Dumbledore, there’s no apparating in or out. As long as Dumbledore’s around the castle, we’ll all be safe. And not every teacher is in the Order, Flitwick isn’t, neither is Professor Binns or Trelawney.”

Slughorn gave a thoughtful look at that, but was snapped out of it by the sound of feet patting the wooden floor of the living room. “Thank you, Horace, but we really should be going-"
“Leaving already?” he didn’t sound disappointed.
“Yes, Hogwarts business to attend to-" Dumbledore held up a magazine, it had some knitting wool and those sticks Harry doesn’t know the name of on the front, “Could I keep this? I am very fond of knitting actually.”
“Oh, yes, yes.” Dumbledore replied with ‘thank you’ and they both exited the door.

“Sir, what was that about?” Asked Harry, knowing full well something is up because they abruptly left, and Dumbledore is walking slower than normal- if that is possible.
“Alright, alright, I’ll do it!” Slughorn said from his doorway in defeat. Both people turned to face the reinstated professor.
“Thank you, Horace. You have done a large favour for me.”
“Oh and I better have that office Dunkin had! I’m not going back to that broom cupboard!”