Chapter Four: Enter Horace Slughorn
After their trip to Diagon Alley, the Weasleys returned to the Burrow. Hermione went with them, as she had been staying with Ginny for almost a week. Staying at the Burrow was always fun. Hermione enjoyed being around her friends in the summer, and she had always enjoyed being friends with the spunky Ginny.
The only downside to staying at the Burrow that summer was Ginny's constant complaining. Apparently Fleur Delacour had indeed stayed in Britain to "eemprove 'er Eenglish." More specifically, she had gotten a part time job at Gringotts and met Bill. Over the year they decided to marry, so Fleur was ever-present in the Burrow.
Hermione didn't necessarily care for her, but Ginny and Mrs. Weasley outright despised her. Mrs. Weasley passed it off by saying she simply thought that they rushed into the marriage, but Ginny had no problem with showing her distaste with the woman, going so far as repeatedly insisting that Tonks would be a much better addition to the family.
But finally the summer drew to a close. Hermione found herself packing once more for Hogwarts. She was sad about the upcoming year, for she knew that the castle wouldn't be the same without Harish and the twins.
"No doubt there will be a scramble for power now that Harish is gone," Ginny said.
"Of course, I wouldn't be surprised if Draco comes out on top," Hermione said.
"I don't know," Ginny said. "You are pretty talented and it helps that the entire house is convinced you are a Black."
Hermione sighed.
"I don't want to be on top," she said. "I just want to excel in my studies. And it wouldn't be right, even if they are gone…"
"You'll miss Fred, won't you?" Ginny asked.
"No," Hermione differed, picking up the last pile of dirty clothes that would need cleaning before term started. Then, she paused at the doorway. "Well…Maybe a little."
Ginny smirked and watched Hermione go.
When Hermione entered the kitchen, she found Fleur sitting at the table, in full flow about plans for her wedding to Bill, while Mrs. Weasley kept watch over a pile of self-peeling sprouts, looking bad tempered.
"…Bill and I 'ave almost decided on only two bridesmaids, Ginny and Gabrielle will look very sweet togezzer. I am theenking of dressing zem in pale gold—pink would of course be 'orrible with Ginny's 'air—"
"Ah, Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed loudly, cutting across Fleur's monologue. "Good, just give those clothes to me."
She took them from Hermione and set them in a basket nearby.
"Now, you'd better get on, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said. "I want the trunks ready tonight, if possible, so we don't have the usual last minute scramble."
And in fact, their departure the next morning was much smoother than usual. They woke up th next morning to find the trunks packed; Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, safely enclosed in his traveling basket; and Ginny's new purple Pygmy Puff, Arnold, in his cage.
"Au revior!" Fleur called as they all loaded into Mr. Weasley's car.
They arrived at King's Cross with plenty of time left over and Hermione and Ginny chose a compartment for themselves. Hermione only set her things down before going to the prefects' carriage. Ginny found herself sitting there alone, but in no time she was joined by Luna, Neville, Daphne, and Dean. Soon after that, conversation was going rapidly.
"Do any of you know if we're continuing with DA this year?" Neville asked.
Draco nodded.
"Harish said he wanted us to continue," he replied.
"That's good," Dean said. "I liked DA."
"It was like having friends," Luna agreed.
It was one of those uncomfortable moments when she said something unbearably blunt and truthful.
"We're your friends, Luna!" Neville exclaimed once her statement sunk in.
"That's very kind of you," she said.
Then, Draco jumped up and dashed off—he had forgotten that prefects were supposed to meet in their own carriage.
Talk soon turned to Quidditch after he left. They debated teams for a good ten to twenty minutes, and then fell silent and resorted to looking at the countryside as it sped by. The weather beyond the train windows was rather patchy; they passed through patches of chilling mist, then out into weak, clear sunlight. It was during one of the clear spells, when the sun was visible almost directly overhead, that Hermione and Draco finally entered the compartment.
"Hello, everyone," Hermione said with a smile, sitting beside Ginny. Draco sat across from the redhead.
"Did you see the lunch trolley on you way here?" Ginny asked.
Hermione shook her head.
"But you wouldn't be hungry if you had eaten breakfast," Hermione said.
"It wasn't my fault I slept in," Ginny protested as she stood. "Well, I'm going to go find it."
And with that she left the compartment, slipping by a third year girl who came into the compartment before the door slid shut.
"I'm supposed to deliver this to Neville Longbottom," she said. Perplexed, Neville took a scroll from her and untied the purple ribbon that sealed it as the girl left.
"What is it?" Dean asked.
"An invitation," Neville replied.
Neville Longbottom,
I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.
Sincerely,
Professor H.E.F. Slughorn
"Who's Professor Slughorn?" Neville asked, staring down at the invitation. Everyone else shrugged.
"New teacher, I suppose," Hermione replied.
"I guess I have to go," Neville said glumly, standing.
He made his way out of the compartment and sifted through the crowd until he found the right place. There, he saw at once that he was not the only invitee.
"You must be Mr. Longbottom!" Slughorn exclaimed, jumping up at the sight of him so that his great velvet-covered belly seemed to fill all the remaining space in th compartment. As he waddled over, Neville couldn't help but think that the man greatly resembled a walrus, with a blubbery build, shiny bald head, and a great silvery mustache.
At a gesture from Slughorn, he sat in the only remaining seat, which was nearest the door. Neville glanced around at his fellow guests. He recognized a Slytherin from their year, a tall black boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes; there were also two seventh year boys Neville didn't know and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn and looking as though she was not entirely sure how she had gotten there, Ginny.
"Now, do you know everyone?" he asked Neville. "Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course—"
Zabini did not make any sign of recognition or greeting, nor did Neville; while Neville got along with a few Slytherins, he did not like talking to all of them. Zabini, on the other hand, despised Gryffindors and Muggleborns alike, so he too remained silent.
"This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you've come across each other—? No?"
McLaggen, a large, wiry haired youth, raised a hand, and Neville nodded back at him.
"—and this is Marcus Belby, I don't know whether—?"
Belby, who was thin an nervous-looking, gave a strained smile.
"—and this charming young lady tells me she knows you!" Slughorn finished.
Ginny grimaced at Neville from behind Slughorn's back.
"Well now, this is most pleasant," Slughorn said 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 started and 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 Neville as they passed 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," Slughorn said calmly, pointing his wand at Belby, whose airway seemed to clear at once.
"Not…not much of him, no," Belby said, his eyes streaming.
"Well, of course, I daresay he's busy," Slughorn replied. "I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard work!"
"I suppose…" said Belby, who seemed to be afraid to take another bite of pheasant until he was sure that Slughorn was done 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 trailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to McLaggen instead.
"Now, you, Cormac," he said. "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," McLaggen agreed. "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour."
"Ah you know Bertie and Rufus?" Slughorn beamed, now offering around a small tray of pies; somehow, Belby was missed out. "Now tell me…"
Neville soon determined that everyone there had been invited because they were connected to someone well-know or influential—everyone except Ginny. Zabini, who was interrogated after McLaggen turned out to have a famously beautiful witch for a mother (from what Neville 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 not very fun for Neville, for everyone knew the reason why he had been invited there. On top of being the Chosen One, his parents had been well-known Aurors that were tortured into insanity. Neville got the impression that Slughorn was reserving judgement on him to see if he had any potential.
"And now," Slughorn said. "The pretty young lady. Now, tell me, where did you learn to perform that magnificent Bat-Bogey Hex?"
"From my brothers," Ginny replied. "Fred and George."
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. Neville 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 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. Neville, 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 Neville, into the darkening corridor, Zabini shot him a filthy look that Neville returned with interest. He and Ginny followed him back along the train.
"I'm glad that's over," Neville said to Ginny. "Strange man, isn't he?"
"Yeah, he is a bit," Ginny agreed. "He saw me hex Ron and I thought I was going to get a detention, but he just thought it was a really good hex and invited me to lunch! Mad, eh?"
The two of them had reached their compartment. Neville opened the door and followed Ginny inside. They resumed their original seats. Suddenly questions came from all around.
"What did he want with you, Neville?"
"Where have you been, Ginny?"
"What did you talk about?"
"He invited almost everyone there because they were related to someone famous," Neville informed there.
"Almost?"
"I got invited because he saw me hex Ron," Ginny replied.
Draco sniggered.
"I think we'd better get our robes on," Hermione said, standing. "Come on Ginny, Luna."
By the time they had returned, everyone had changed and Hogwarts could be seen in the distance. Not five minutes later, the train bumped to a halt. Another year at Hogwarts had begun, and everyone wondered what it would be like without three infamous Slytherins.