─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
When they reached compartment C, they saw at once that they were not Slughorn's only invitees, although judging by the enthusiasm of Slughorn's welcome, Harry was the most warmly anticipated.
"Harry, m'boy!" said Slughorn, jumping up at the sight of the group so that his great velvet-covered belly seemed to fill all the remaining space in the compartment. His shiny bald head and great silvery mustache gleamed just as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat. "Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Mr. Longbottom!"
Neville nodded, looking scared. At a gesture from Slughorn, they sat down opposite each other in the only three empty seats, which were nearest the door. Clara glanced around at their fellow guests. She recognized a Slytherin from their year, a tall black boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes; there were also two seventh-year boys Clara did not know and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn and looking as though she was not entirely sure how she had got there, Ginny.
"And I presume you are Clara Dupont?"
Clara snapped back to look at the Professor. His lips were curled into a smile, which she politely returned. "Yes, sir. Thank you so much for the generous invitation, it's wonderful to be here."
"Of course, of course! Now, do you know everyone?" Slughorn asked. "Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course —" Zabini did not make any sign of recognition or greeting, nor did Harry or Neville: Gryffindor and Slytherin students loathed each other on principle. Clara waved and in return received a small nod.
"This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you've come across each other —? No?" McLaggen, a large, wiry-haired youth, raised a hand, and Harry and Neville nodded back at him. "—and this is Marcus Belby, I don't know whether —?" Belby, who was thin and nervous-looking, gave a strained smile. "— and this charming young lady tells me she knows you!" Slughorn finished.
Ginny grimaced at Harry and Neville from behind Slughorn's back. She winked at Clara before going back into her conversation with Marcus.
"Well now, this is most pleasant," said Slughorn cozily. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on licorice wands, and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things... Pheasant, Belby?" Belby accepted what looked like half a cold pheasant. "I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles," Slughorn told the group, now passing around a basket of rolls. "Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"
Unfortunately, Belby had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant; in his haste to answer Slughorn he swallowed too fast, turned purple, and began to choke.
"Anapneo," said Slughorn calmly, pointing his wand at Belby, whose airway seemed to clear at once.
"Not...not much of him, no," gasped Belby, his eyes streaming.
"Well, of course, I daresay he's busy," said Slughorn, looking questioningly at Belby. "I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard work!"
"I suppose..." said Belby, who seemed afraid to take another bite of pheasant until he was sure that Slughorn had finished with him. "Er...he and my dad don't get on very well, you see, so I don't really know much about..."
His voice tailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to McLaggen instead. "Now, you, Cormac," said Slughorn, "I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"
"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was," said McLaggen. "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour; this was before he became Minister, obviously —"
"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus too?" beamed Slughorn, now offering around a small tray of pies; somehow, Belby was missed out. "Now tell me..."
It was as Clara had suspected. Everyone here seemed to have been invited because they were connected to somebody well-known or influential — everyone except Ginny. Zabini, who was interrogated after McLaggen, turned out to have a famously beautiful witch for a mother (from what Clara could make out, she had been married seven times, each of her husbands dying mysteriously and leaving her mounds of gold). It was Neville's turn next: This was a very uncomfortable ten minutes, for Neville's parents, well-known Aurors, had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange and a couple of Death Eater cronies. At the end of Neville's interview, Clara had the impression that Slughorn was reserving judgment on Neville, yet to see whether he had any of his parents' flair.
"Now, Clara, your father is very well known at the Ministry, and of course your mother, what a tragic death, but we shouldn't talk about such sad things, so... how is Louis?"
Clara put down her glass slowly, debating whether or not to lie. It wasn't as if her running away wouldn't get around eventually, but she didn't really want to deal with that at the moment.
"He's... fine. Always working, you know how it is with the Ministry and... other things." She cleared her throat, and hoped he would move on to another student.
"Well that's not surprising, your father has always been very hardworking! Let's hope it runs in the family, eh?" Slughorn said, sending a wink towards Clara. She smiled uncomfortably before grabbing her glass off the table and downing the rest of the liquid inside.
"And now," said Slughorn, shifting massively in his seat with the air of a compere introducing his star act. "Harry Potter! Where to begin? I feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer!"
He contemplated Harry for a moment as though he was a particularly large and succulent piece of pheasant, then said, "'The Chosen One,' they're calling you now!"
Harry said nothing. Belby, McLaggen, and Zabini were all staring at him.
"Of course," said Slughorn, watching Harry closely, "there have been rumors for years...I remember when...well — after that terrible night — Lily — James — and you survived — and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary —"
Zabini gave a tiny little cough that was clearly supposed to indicate amused skepticism. An angry voice burst out from behind Slughorn. "Yeah, Zabini, because you're so talented...at posing..."
"Oh dear!" chuckled Slughorn comfortably, looking around at Ginny, who was glaring at Zabini around Slughorn's great belly. "You want to be careful, Blaise! I saw this young lady perform the most marvelous Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I wouldn't cross her!" Zabini merely looked contemptuous.
"Anyway," said Slughorn, turning back to Harry. "Such rumors this summer. Of course, one doesn't know what to believe, the Prophet has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes- but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a disturbance at the Ministry and that you were there in the thick of it all!"
Harry simply nodded. It was clear he didn't have any interest in speaking of the event, but Slughorn continued anyway.
"So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond — you were there, then? But the rest of the stories — so sensational, of course, one doesn't know quite what to believe — this fabled prophecy, for instance —"
"We never heard a prophecy," said Neville, turning geranium pink as he said it.
"That's right," said Ginny staunchly. "Neville and I were both there, Clara too, and all this 'Chosen One' rubbish is just the Prophet making things up as usual."
"You were there too, were you?" said Slughorn with great interest, looking from Ginny to Neville, and back to Clara but all of them sat clam-like before his encouraging smile.
"Yes...well...it is true that the Prophet often exaggerates, of course..." Slughorn said, sounding a little disappointed. "I remember dear Gwenog telling me (Gwenog Jones, I mean, of course, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies) —" He meandered off into a long-winded reminiscence, but Clara had the distinct impression that Slughorn had not finished with Harry, and that he had not been convinced by Neville and Ginny. The afternoon wore on with more anecdotes about illustrious wizards Slughorn had taught, all of whom had been delighted to join what he called the "Slug Club" at Hogwarts.
Clara could not wait to leave, but couldn't see how to do so politely. Finally the train emerged from yet another long misty stretch into a red sunset, and Slughorn looked around, blinking in the twilight.
"Good gracious, it's getting dark already! I didn't notice that they'd lit the lamps! You'd better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on nogtails. Harry, Blaise — any time you're passing. Same goes for you, miss," he twinkled at Ginny. "Well, off you go, off you go!"
As he pushed past Harry into the darkening corridor, Zabini shot him a filthy look that Harry returned with interest.
"Miss Dupont!" Slughorn said, shaking her hand as she walked to the door of the compartment.
"Thank you again for inviting me sir, I had a wonderful time."
"Of course, of course, you should stop by my office some time to discuss some potion technique, or if you have any stories to tell, I'm a wonderful listener."
Clara could tell by the hopeful look in his eye that he wanted her to expose the events that happened at the Ministry. She removed her hand from his and smiled tightly.
Harry, Ginny, and Neville followed Zabini back along the train. Clara quickly caught up the group, placing herself next to Ginny.
"I'm glad that's over," muttered Neville. "Strange man, isn't he?"
"Yeah, he is a bit," said Harry, his eyes on Zabini. "How come you ended up in there, Ginny?"
"He saw me hex Zacharias Smith," said Ginny. "You remember that idiot from Hufflepuff who was in the D.A.? He kept on and on asking about what happened at the Ministry and in the end he annoyed me so much I hexed him — when Slughorn came in I thought I was going to get detention, but he just thought it was a really good hex and invited me to lunch! Mad, eh?"
"Badass!" Clara said, giving the red head a high five.
"Better reason for inviting someone than because their mother's famous," said Harry, scowling at the back of Zabini's head, "or because their uncle —"
He trailed off for a moment before turning back to the group with a twinkle in his eyes.
"I'll see you guys later," said Harry under his breath, pulling out his Invisibility Cloak and flinging it over himself.
"But what're you —?" asked Neville.
"Later!" whispered Harry, darting after Zabini as quietly as possible, though the rattling of the train made such caution almost pointless.
"What an idiot." Clara said.
"Agreed."
The two girls turned on their heels and began to walk back to their own compartment.
"You coming Neville?"
"Yeah, sorry!"
The boy rushed to their side and the three bounced through the train. Clara was ready to start the school year, and although she wished Harry would quit his hero shit, she knew there was nothing she could say or do to stop him. It was just who he was.
A/N
Hi guys!
Sorry this chapter is short
and it's been so long since I last updated. I've
been out of town so I didn't have my laptop
with me. Expect more updates soon, and some chapters
much better than this. Much love for everyone
reading this story!
xoxo