Keep Breathing ♢ James Potter

4 | Property of Astrid Nova Black

Harry did not expect to start the day by apparating to a random neighborhood with Dumbledore to meet one of his old colleagues. He certainly didn't expect Dumbledore's friend to be disguised as an armchair. But, then again, lately, every day seemed like a mystery to Harry.

After introductions and Slughorn's refusal to return to Hogwarts, Dumbledore excused himself to use Slughorn's bathroom.

Slughorn turned toward Harry and examined his appearance. "You're very much like your father. Except for the eyes, of course. You have your—"

"My mother's eyes," Harry interrupted, "yeah." He'd heard this so many times, especially from Sirius.

"Lily. Lovely Lily." Slughorn sighed as he reminisced about the time he spent as a professor, speaking fondly of Harry's mother. "She was exceedingly bright, your mother. More so, even, considering she was Muggle-born."

"My best friend's Muggle-born," Harry responded, slightly offended by the comment. "She's the best in our year."

"Oh, please don't think I'm prejudiced. No, no, no," Slughorn quickly clarified. "Your mother was one of my absolute favorites."

Slughorn walked over to a shelf lined with photos of past students and pointed to one in particular. "Look, there she is. Right at the front. All mine. Every single one of them. Ex-students, I mean. Do you recognize Barnabas Cuffe? Editor of the Daily Prophet. He always takes my owl whenever I wish to comment on the news of the day. Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyhead Harpies. Free tickets whenever I want them. Though I haven't been to a match in some time."

Harry's gaze shifted across the photos until he spotted a boy who looked like Sirius—except this student had blue eyes and wore Slytherin robes.

"Ah, yes! Regulus Black. No doubt you recognize his older brother, Sirius, who passed a few weeks ago, and his older sister, Astrid Black. I taught the whole Black family, except Sirius. It's a shame. A talented boy. I got Regulus when he came along, of course, but... but I'd like the set."

While scanning the various photos, Harry noticed something hidden behind a few frames—a photo showing a couple running across the Quidditch pitch. The boy had messy brown hair and glasses, while the girl had black hair and a warm, loving smile. The two looked more in love than many couples Harry had seen.

Before he could study the photo more closely, Dumbledore walked back into the room and interrupted.

"Horace!" Dumbledore said cheerfully as he strolled in. "Do you mind if I take this? I do love knitting patterns."

"Of course, but you're not leaving, are you?" Slughorn beamed, clearly enjoying the company—especially with someone as important as the Boy Who Lived.

"Oh, I know a lost cause when I see one," Dumbledore said with a mischievous glint in his eye, one that only Harry seemed to catch. "Regrettable, I would have considered it a very personal triumph if you had consented to return to Hogwarts. Ah well, you're like my friend Mr. Potter here. One of a kind. Well, goodbye, Horace."

"Goodbye..." Slughorn hesitated, then continued, "Alright. I'll do it. But I want Professor Merrythought's old office, not the water closet I had before. And I expect a raise. These are mad times we're living in—mad!"

"They are, indeed," Dumbledore chuckled, clearly amused by his dear friend's antics. He knew Slughorn wouldn't pass up the opportunity to have a student as famous as Harry Potter.

As Dumbledore and Harry made their way out of Slughorn's house and onto the street, Harry turned to his professor. "Sir, exactly what was all that about?"

"You're talented, famous, and powerful," Dumbledore explained, "everything Horace values. He's going to try to collect you, Harry. You would be his crowning jewel. That's why he's returning to Hogwarts. And it's crucial he should return."