Chapter XVII: Slughorn's Christmas Party
(Sirius P.O.V)
If possible, Bellatrix's face had sunken even further, her skeletal structure now clear as day through her thin skin. Her body hung numbly from the magic restricting chains, and the rumbling of her stomach had grown not only loud, but continuous. Sirius sighed as he sat across from the woman in the attic, his eyes resting upon her limply hanging head. "You know that you'll die if you don't eat, don't you?" Sirius said the woman's eyes now raised to meet him, "You've been here for damn near a month. Wizards, we have better endurance than muggles, but it doesn't make the pain of starvation any easier."
"Shut up," Bellatrix said weakly, each word making her sound like she was closer and closer to the brink of death.
"If you died tonight," Sirius said, "I wouldn't care, with all the pain you've caused other people, you deserve nothing less than a torturous death." Sirius stood walking closer to the woman as he placed a steaming plate of porridge beneath her face, "What I want to understand is why you are so eager to die for a man who has had close to a month to try and find you, and hasn't done a single thing to come to your rescue?"
"You're a blood-traitor," Bellatrix grumbled, "You'd never be able to understand. My master's ambition, a world where those unworthy to wield magic are exterminated, anyone with eyes could see that is the only future worth living for, and if I have to die to serve my master, so be it."
"Bellatrix, we will kill Voldemort," Sirius said with tired eyes, "And when we do, his Death Eaters will be thrown through the veil and executed for their crimes. I've already watched a friend of mine get thrown through it, I'd like to spare myself the pain of seeing a family member suffer the same fate." He walked back taking a seat against the wall once more as he whispered, "Tell us everything you know, and I'll do everything in my power to help you. I'll get you a therapist, a nice prison room, a place where you can get the help you need. Who knows, maybe even one day you can return to the wizarding world as a reformed woman."
Bellatrix spat on the floor with disgust as Sirius smirked, "Do you remember those days that we would all go to the Lake House during the summers before Hogwarts?" Sirius watched as Bellatrix's eyes fell upon him, "Because I do, I remember when Andromeda was caught by your dad playing with some Muggle boys who'd found their way to the nearby river bed. He was so mad, I had wanted to do something but I felt paralyzed with fear, your dad, he was a lot bigger than me at the time."
"I remembered feeling so angry, watching helplessly as your dad removed his belt, so blinded with rage that he was actually going to beat Andy for associating with those muggles," Sirius smiled, "And then, do you remember what happened next?" Bellatrix looked away in her eyes glaring down at the ground, "You got in his way, taking the hit for your sister. He was so caught off guard by what you did we managed to get the belt away from him before he had a chance to hit you or Andy again. I remember how your sister cried, seeing your bruised and beaten cheek asking you why you got in the way. Do you remember what you told her?"
"Shut up," Bellatrix growled, tears forming in her eyes.
"You told her that family protects each other no matter what?" Sirius finished, "I don't know what happened to you Bella, I don't know what Voldemort did to you, but I promise you, you don't have to keep living this way. Helps us, Bella. Help us, help you."
"Shut up!" Bellatrix roared, her eyes glossy and yet full of hatred, "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Sirius gazed on sadly as Bellatrix struggled against the chains, "I don't need help from blood traitors like you, Sirius! I don't need help!"
Sirius sighed rising to his feet, his eyes soft and tired, "Eat, Bellatrix, he's not worth dying for." Sirius caught one last glance at Bellatrix, the tears that ran down her face, dripping on the ground below, her eyes set upon the porridge, as Sirius closed the door exiting the attic. He shook his head, descending the stairway, his own heart feeling heavy as he entered the Weasley kitchen.
"Any luck?" Emmeline whispered, but Sirius answered with silence as Emmeline's head dropped, "I see. Well, you can't blame yourself, Sirius, she made her own choices, you can't force someone to change just because you wish they could."
"I know," Sirius whispered, "I just wish I could get a bit of good news right now."
"Well then you're in luck," Tonks called out, lifting an opened letter in her hands, "Because according to this letter, phase one of you plan to replace Fudge is a go. As, after careful consideration, Amelia Bones has decided in favor of your plan."
"Well," Sirius said with a weak smile, "I guess that's something." His fist tightened as he looked up at the sky, Thanks, Amelia.
(Michael P.O.V)
Michael looked down at his palm the imprints from the blood rune the Slytherin had helped him place upon his middle finger and thumb still throbbed, and yet, he felt like he was flying. Michael looked down at the bracer that sat on a bench a few feet from him, before, Snap!
Faster than Michael could blink, the armguard had moved from the chair, the bracer securely tied to his wrist as he chuckled. His smile broadened as he lifted his arm in the air, a laugh releasing from his lungs. I did it, Michael whispered, Finally, I got it. Michael had felt as if he was glowing, tucking the bracer into an expanded drawstring pouch before walking up towards the Ravenclaw Tower, after all, tonight was quite the event, the Christmas Party of one Horace Slughorn.
Though he was met by quite a different vibe upon entering the Common Room, as Claire found him with a rather unhappy look, shaking her head, "Normally I don't mind, but would it kill you to be on time for something?"
"I don't know, never tried it. I think it's too risky to experiment with it now," Michael said with a laugh forcing a begrudging smile to her face, "Don't worry, I'll get dressed quick, plus, you're forgetting I know the secret passageways."
Claire sighed, bringing a smirk to his face as he quickly raced into his dormitory, before snapping once more, this time switching into his suit. God, I love this spell, Michael thought as he lifted up his tie, God I hate you so much. He shook his head relenting to his fabric oppressor as he tied the knot around his neck, before pushing it up. He paused for a moment, taking a look at his bun before untying it and summoning a comb to his hand. Eyes on the prize, Corner, eyes on the prize.
'Grooming' himself properly had taken a couple of minutes, but part of him felt it was worth it just from the look that emerged upon Claire's face, the girl's jaw nearly falling to the ground, "Michael, you- you brushed your hair?"
"Don't get used to it Pretty-Bird, this is more of a two-time thing," Michael said with a shrug as he offered his girlfriend his arm, "Figured it won't be right to shame you, after all, you are my invite to this thing."
"Two-time thing, when's the other time?" Claire said, her brow raised, wrinkles forming on her forehead.
"Our wedding day of course, now come on Pretty Bird, let's get moving," Michael said, with a gentle chuckle, the tinge of red that formed across Claire's entire face becoming far too comical to deal with. Michael reached back, taking the girl's hand before, in a flash, they exited the common room.
Michael had taken great joy in guiding Claire through all the secret passages of the castle, watching as the girl's eyes lit up with both wonder and confusion as they snuck between walls, slid down slides, and even jumped into a trampoline pit before emerging from the exit which led to the dungeon corridor. A corridor that had normally been filled with a rather cold and quite feeling now rang out with music from the office door of the party host.
The smells of food permeated the air as Michael opened the door, his eyes bulging at the size to which Slughorn had managed to expand his office. Though a wave of comfort had crashed upon him as he caught Harry's eyes, the boy also looking rather uncomfortable in the crowd. Their moment of relief hadn't lasted quite as long as either had wished, however, as Slughorn seemed to manifest before Harry in the blink of an eye, a smile on his face as the potion professor engaged his best friend in what Michael could only imagine was trivial conversation.
"Come on," Claire said squeezing his hand as he dragged Michael towards the dance floor, "It's tradition to dance at these sorts of things."
"I really just want to find Dehoff and handle this."
"Jumping straight to business is actually considered quite rude at these formal events," Claire informed him, the girl leaning closer to his body as they swayed, "First there will be a lot of posturing, each man or woman discussing what exactly makes them so important. Then there will be the ceremonial exchanging of drinks between the rich and famous before finally, the floor will open for business." Michael rolled his eyes causing Claire to laugh, "Don't feel too bad about it, as we are both minors we get to skip the second step, and so long as you're dancing with me, we can bypass the first step as well. So, unless you want to go participate in a dick-measuring contest with these other aristocrats, you're going to be stuck with me."
"There are worse ways to spend my time, I suppose," Michael replied smiling as he moved his hand to the small of her back, "Is this okay?" He whispered, looking into her eyes, catching her gorgeous smile.
"Yeah, it's perfect." Michael rocked, the girl in his arm, the music on the radio switching tempos to a far more upbeat song, as the two began to swing, with Michael pretending to be in the lead thanks to Claire's rather robust dancing skills. "Spin me," she whispered coming in closer.
"Wha-," He wasn't even given a chance to finish as Claire clenched his hand, spinning out before rolling back into his arms, her head leaning against his chest, "Some actual warning next time would be nice," He whispered, "I almost dropped you."
"That would have been unfortunate," Claire replied teasingly as the two continued to rock, the night feeling like it was slipping away faster than Michael had ever expected. It was only one the pace had slowed, and the cups laid empty on the serving trays did he hear Claire whisper once more, "Now then, looks liked the drinks have been had and the dicks have been measured, it's negotiating time. Ready?"
"Yeah," Michael nodded, his eyes following a man with a rather large top hat and a whisker-like beard, "He doesn't look too intimidating, this could definitely be worse." Claire nodded, wrapping her arm around his as the two left the dance floor. Michael had wanted to make a b-line for his target, but in an attempt not to appear desperate, he weaved through the crowd, stopping as Claire made momentary idle chit-chat with those who recognized her before finally, he'd found himself before Dehoff himself.
Clearly sensing Michael behind him the man turned, his drink nearly falling out of his hand, the red tinge on his face implying quite a severe drunkenness, "Oh, apologize, good fellow, I seem to have misplaced my hat, have you seen it anywhere?"
"You're um, you're wearing it, sir," Michael said kindly.
Slowly, he watched, biting his tongue as the man slowly reached for his hand before releasing a jovial chuckle, "Ah, well would you look at that, thank you for informing me, I could have been quite the victim of some tomfoolery had I not been alerted by you kind sir. Your name please, young man?"
"It's Michael, sir," He said, extending his hand towards the drunken man, "Michael Corner."
"Truly," Dehoff said, his eyes widening in recognition, "Well I do say, this is quite a fortunate encounter as you were just the person I was looking for, young man. My old friend, Horace, said you'd discovered quite an intriguing way of utilizing my Bimetal Alchemical Thread, is that true?"
"Uh," Michael started, his voice becoming absent in the face of the large man's rather unnerving drunken gaze.
"Yes, he did," Claire said reaching out her hand, "Claire, Claire Belmont sir, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Michael's girlfriend."
"Ah, Miss Belmont, it is a pleasure to meet you as well, my nieces, they are big fans, perhaps you'd sign something for them if you have the time?"
"I'll do you one better," Claire said, the inflection of her voice becoming predatory, shocking Michael from his bewildered state as the girl pressed forward, "Perhaps if negotiations go well, I'll send you nieces some limited edition accessories, with a signed photo as well. Though I suppose that is entirely in your hands. You see my boyfriend, as I'm sure you've read, despite his age, is currently engaged in the battle against Death Eaters, as he happens to be Harry Potter's best friend."
The man's eyes widened, now realizing he was on the backfoot of the negotiating discussion, "In his research, he's found a way to utilize your thread as a way of binding metal to dragon-hide while allowing magic to flow through both," Claire's eyes suddenly fell upon him as she smiled, "Show him, hon."
Michael snapped, the bracer suddenly appearing on his arm as he placed it in front of Dehoff, charging his magic through the metal causing the newly inscribed runes to light up with magic. "Remarkable," Dehoff whispered, "Muggle metals are believed to be incapable of withstanding magic, and yet, there is no doubt about it, magic is clearly radiating through that brace." Michael smiled as the man looked up at him, "Why, this is nothing short of astounding."
"Mr. Dehoff," Michael said regaining his composure, "I want to make it clear to you that I have no intention of selling your product, nor do I intend to sell this armor as it would be far too impractical for anyone not familiar with the armor to use. All I ask, is that you supply me with the thread required to finish crafting my armor. My girlfriend, she was right when she said I am Harry Potter's best friend, and as such, I cannot allow him to continue fighting alone on the front lines. But in order for me to help him, I need you to help me. I'm not asking you to donate your thread to a child for resale, I'm asking you to donate your thread to a soldier who is trying to make a better world for your nieces. This is your opportunity to make your mark on the right side of history, I'm asking you to do the right thing."
There was silence for a moment before a sigh fell from his lips, "To live in a world where we expect children to solve the issues of the generations before them, it's a disgrace to our own lives. I'm an old man, Mr. Corner. If I could fight for the safety of my nieces, I would, but I'm afraid the best I can do is support you. If you claim this is to assist in the war efforts, I'll have my solicitors contact you regarding the details of our negotiations." Dehoff nodded kindly as he took his hand, "It's a blessing to know we still have men like you, people willing to fight for what is right rather than what is easy in this world. God Bless you, young man."
"Thank you, sir," Michael whispered back, his voice drenched in shock at the ease of those negotiations, watching as the man smiled, hobbling towards the seat off in the distance. He swallowed, turning towards Claire who looked at him with equal confusion, "Is um, is it supposed to be that easy?"
"No, normally these people are hardasses about-," Though whatever Claire had been intending to say had immediately become indiscernible, as from across the room, a shriek boomed the attention of the entire party turning to three people, an unmoving Harry, a collapsed Slughorn, and Daphne, who stood over the man pumping his chest rapidly with her palms. The party... was over.
(Harry P.O.V)
Harry had gotten over his issues with dressing up, after all, looking presentable had been a prerequisite for his training with Morgana, but that still didn't mean he looked forward to doing it, and unfortunately for him, he'd been doing it a lot. But there was no other option, for months he'd been setting the table, waiting for the opportunity to get the piece of the puzzle he was missing, and if one more evening dealing with the pettiness of Slughorn's ego was all it took, then he'd survive.
Honestly, he didn't want to sound so negative, truthfully, in many ways, Slughorn was the best professor he had, with his genuine skill in potions helping Harry's own skill rise rapidly. Sure he wasn't as good as Remus or Moody, but then again, one was his uncle and the other was his mentor, clearly, he had a conflict of interest. The idea of the werewolf and auror had left Harry feeling a bit down as he pondered on what exactly the lack of communication had meant, but at the same time, everyone must have been okay or Sirius would have addressed it in the letter that delivered the locket to Dumbledore.
The Locket, That was another thing that bothered Harry terribly. From what he understood, each of the anchors left behind by Voldemort had developed a method of defending themselves, but with one cursing Dumbledore to near death, and the Locket acting like a somehow even less pleasant dementor, Harry wasn't exactly excited to go about hunting the others. Though, like many other things that seemed to happen in his life, he didn't exactly have a choice.
Quickly, he swallowed those thoughts, turning towards the entrance of the office where the party was being held, feeling as if he was being watched. In truth, he was, but thankfully, it was only by Corner. How badly Harry had just wanted to race towards his friends a joke about how stupid this party was. Never in a million years, he wagered that either of them would imagine attending one of these things, and yet, there they were. Only a gentle tap from Daphne refocused his view, as heading towards him like a speeding bullet was none other than the host of the party himself, "Ah, Harry my boy, good to see you! Having fun I hope?"
"A blast, Professor," Harry said, wrapping his arm around Daphne, "Any night I can spend with my girl is already great, but your hospitality really made this night special."
"Glad to hear it!" Slughorn said, clapping his hands with delight, "But as I promised this night is only going to get better, come along, Harry, you're welcome to join as well Miss Greengrass, I have a very important guest interested in talking to you." Harry sat up, taking Daphne's hand as the two weaved behind the large man towards a sofa occupied with quite a sight, as not only had the manager of the Cannons, Ragmar Dorkins come, but he'd brought along their star-keeper Gordon Horton as well. "Ah Ragmar, Gordon, as promised, I'd like to introduce you to one of my absolute favorite students, Harry Potter."
"Mr. Potter," Ragmar said, rising from his sofa as he took Harry's hand, shaking it vigorously, "It's good to finally meet you. I've heard much about you, though, I suppose that's true of most of the wizarding world isn't, lad." Harry nodded, bringing a smile to the man's face as Harry felt Dorkins break his hold on Daphne's hand pushing him closer towards the keeper, "Harry, this is our star Keeper, Gordon Horton."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Harry said politely as the man chuckled, lifting his knuckles as opposed to the formal handshake.
"Pleasure's mine, Potter, after all, it's not every day you get the chance to meet a celebrity," The two chuckled, as Gordon stood firmly, "So what's the plan for you after Hogwarts, Potter?" Horton started, "Because if Professional Quidditch is what you fancy, we'd be glad to have you. I spent all of last week observing memories collected from your matches here at the school. Granted, competition in the big league is a bit tougher, but I imagine you'll fit right in. Can't be worse than Gudgeon, I mean one snitch capture in four seasons, damn near anything's an upgrade."
"Obviously, it is against league guidelines to begin recruitment of underaged players prior to graduation," Ragmar said regaining Harry's attention before smiling sinisterly, "But then again, we won't say a word if you don't. The Chudley Cannons at one time was quite the historic franchise, and with Gordon here, we're hoping to make a comeback. Granted, there are rules in place regarding a new player's salary, but we can promise you a max rookie contract if you sign with us, Potter. Of course, we'll also throw in endorsements, getting your own brand of quidditch armor, the whole shebang all on top of a hefty 90,000,000 galleon four-year contract." Harry had never been a stranger to money but hearing the offer stated so boldly had made him feel light-headed, with even the master of composure, Daphne Greengrass sweating a bit.
Ninety-Million, for doing something I love, Harry said swallowing hard as Daphne turned to him with a smile. "I say you've definitely piqued my interest, and once I'm of age, I'll certainly be interested in starting up talks with you again."
"Splendid," Ragmar said warmly, "Now, while you know I'd love to stay Sluggy, I'm afraid business never sleeps. The trade deadline is approaching rather quickly and I need to see if we can get anything for Scotch, a good chaser is surprisingly hard to find."
"Ah yes," Slughorn said warmly, "It was certainly nice to see you again."
Gordon too rose to his feet smiling as the damn-near seven-foot man nodded at Harry, "Pleasure meeting you Harry, but I'm afraid I have to go as well, dinner plans with my agent, big poster deal and radio ad in the works. Stay safe out there my man, crazy times we live in." Harry returned the kindness wishing the large man the same before finding himself alone with just Slughorn and Daphne.
"Pity they had to leave so soon," Slughorn said, "I rather enjoy their company, though I suppose the successful didn't become that way just sitting around. That Ragmar, he's been that way for as long as I've known him, quite the pragmatic fellow." Slughorn sighed taking another sip from his glass, before smiling once more, "Tell me, Harry, how goes all this S.P.I.R.E business, is everything running well? Do you require any assistance?"
"Currently no," Harry said, "But things have been going rather well, from what I've heard, many of the students have seen their grades improving quite a bit in all of their classes. Before years end, perhaps you'll even be given a promotion, it was after all your signature which made the group possible."
"Ah thank you," Slughorn said with a chuckle, "Very kind of you, though I dare say, I feel as if I'm stealing the credit, with you being quite the exceptional teacher yourself. Perhaps Dumbledore may even offer you a position once all this business with the Death Eaters is done. Though," Slughorn said with a grin, "I wouldn't go expecting a million galleon salary of any sort, our pay is quite abysmal I'm afraid."
Harry smiled, continuing the conversation against his will using any topic he could, counting the drinks that Slughorn had been pounding back, his eyes only briefly catching a glance of Michael and Claire smiling as Dehoff walked out of their path. Their mission must have been a success. Harry hadn't even had time to move forward as Slughorn smiles, "Tell me, Harry," Slughorn hiccup drunkenly, "Have you ever had an oak-aged mead?"
"No sir," Harry said softly watching as the man pulled the mead from his liquor store, "Is it good?"
"Divine," Slughorn said as he poured three glasses, "Though you have to promise to keep a secret as this was originally intended for Dumbledore, but how could I ever pass up such a delicacy?"
"Wait what did you say?" Harry asked, his eyes widening as he watched Slughorn down the drink quickly knocking the glass from Daphne's hand leaving his girlfriend startled. Without warning, Harry watched as the man began to sway, the color beginning to fade from his face before, as if his body had been jolted by lightning, his eyes grew in panic as his hands raced to his throat.
Sounds of gagging quickly began to emerge from the man's mouth before as quickly as he'd downed the drink, the professor fell to the floor. "Professor!" Daphne shouted, the shriek of another party guest drawing the crowd's attention, with a sudden clambering overtaken the airways as guests raced from the office in fright.
Harry watched as Daphne fell to her knees placing her fingers along his neck feeling the man's engorged veins before she began to pound on his chest. "Daphne, what happened to him?" Harry called out in shock."
"His pulse is slowing, his airways are closing," Daphne's eyes scanned the man rapidly, "It's moving way too fast to be an allergen, Harry," She uttered turning to face him, "I think he's been poisoned."
"What do we do?" Harry asked, scanning the room desperately.
"There's no time for me to isolate the exact type of poison," Daphne muttered as she lifted her wand, "Accio Bezoar!" Daphne shouted out desperately, Harry ducking as a stone shaped object zoomed into her hands, "Harry hold him down, I have to force-feed him this." He nodded quickly, falling atop the man, pinning down his hands and feet, watching with trembling eyes as Daphne mashed the stone in her hand before slamming it into the old man's mouth. Slughorn's body began to buck furiously beneath his grasp but Harry couldn't let up.
Come on old man, I still need you, you can't die just yet, Almost as if some god above had answered his prayers, Slughorn had suddenly stopped shaking, his eyes had remained closed, and his breathing had slowed, but the man looked to have overcome the poison. "He's safe," Daphne muttered, "He just needs rest."
"And he can get plenty of it later," Harry said a coldness overtaking him, "Daphne, you need to wake him up."
"Harry in his condition-,"
"I'll take full responsibility if he dies," Harry said, his voice calm and frightening, "Now please, wake him up. If I can't get the memory I need now, I'll never get another chance." He glanced once more towards Daphne who sighed, kneeling once more before the professor, her wand at his temple before she twisted it like a key in a lock.
The man woke up his breath ragged as he groaned, the poison that had yet to complete clear causing him to groan in agony, "H-Harry," The man whined out, "Where am I? What happened?"
"You're in your office, you were poisoned, Professor," Harry said, his voice calm. "You drank from the mead that was a supposed gift from Dumbledore, the wine was poisoned with the intent of killing Dumbledore. In short, it's only thanks to Daphne here that you're alive." Harry paused, "The man that I suspect to be behind the poisoning is none other than Voldemort, or as you would know him, Tom Riddle. Whether he sent it directly or through a proxy, I have no doubt it has to do with him."
"Harry, you know-,"
"Professor, I know that you were the one who taught Tom the secret of immortality," Harry sighed gently, "He was charming, charismatic, in a way, he was a lot like me, I don't blame you for falling victim to his trap, but I need your help if I am to finish him once and for all."
"So that's why you're here, that's what all this has been for," Slughorn said, coughing as he looked up at the sky, "I understand now, why you are here, but I- I can't help you. It would ruin me."
"Do you know why I survived, Professor?" Harry whispered pushing back his hair to reveal his scar, "The night I got this. It was because of her, it was because she sacrificed herself, because she refused to step aside. Because my mother knew that her love was more powerful than Lord Voldemort."
"You shouldn't say his name," Slughorn wheezed, rolling along the ground in pain.
"I'm not afraid of the name," Harry spat back, "I'm going to tell you something, something that others have only theorized or guessed at, it's true, I am the chosen one, the one whose fate it is to either kill or be killed by Voldemort. But in order for me to succeed I need to know what you told Tom Riddle all those years ago when he was nothing more than one of your students." The man shook his head his eyes wide with terror as Harry took a step closer to the fallen man, "Be brave Professor, be brave like my mother, otherwise you disgrace her, otherwise she died for nothing."
Harry watched as with trembling hands, the professor lifted his wand, placing the wood at his temple, a wisp of white emerging from his skull, "Please," Slughorn whispered, "Don't think badly of me when you see it, you have no idea what he was like even then. Please Lily," Slughorn whispered beneath his breath, "Forgive me."