Faery Heroes

Chapter 33: The Slug's Return

With a deft twist of his wrist, Albus tied up the Intruder Charm and let himself into the house. The individual he was after was a hard man to track down, and hopping from one bolt-hole to another every other week made the task even more difficult. If it were not for Mundungus's efforts, he was sure his quarry would have taken even longer to locate.

Once inside, however, it was obvious where the man was, and Albus allowed himself to drift along the currents of light jazz that flowed through the hallway and into the sitting room. He waited a few minutes for the piece to end before he greeted softly, "Good evening, Horace."

Horace Slughorn jumped a good two inches into the air before landing back on the bench, his hands slapping the keys of the baby grand he had been playing. The rotund musician whirled around, eyes wide before they took in exactly who had spoken. "Albus?! How in Merlin's name did you get in here?"

"The front door, obviously." He nodded at the piano. "You always did talk about taking up music when you retired. That was actually quite good."

Horace harrumphed dismissively. "Don't try to butter me up. What do you want?"

"Can't I just visit an old friend?"

"No, you can't." The short Potions Master folded his arms over his broad belly and continued looking expectantly at the older man.

He sighed. "I might have another reason for coming by besides catching up. How would you like to return to Hogwarts?"

"My, my, this is certainly a change. For some reason, I recall you pressuring me to retire about fourteen years ago, something about having 'earned a chance for some peace and quiet'. I dare say that teaching your death-trap of a Defense class would be the exact opposite of relaxing."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not here to ask you to take that position, isn't it?" he countered brightly.

Had he expected that to mollify the man, he would have been sorely disappointed. "Really? What other class would have lost its instructor only a month into the term?"

"That should be obvious. I was hoping you would return to your old positions as the Potions professor and head of Slytherin house."

Horace chuckled, the sound sharp despite his mirth. "Can't say I'm surprised, though I didn't think Severus would last even this long. He is brilliant when it comes to brewing, no doubt about that, but there was a reason I never asked him to tutor younger students."

"Yes, I should have listened to you when you recommended I not give him your position," Albus replied with a false smile plastered onto his face. No, Severus had been anything but a talented professor, but the Prophecy had to be leaked somehow, and Severus was both qualified to take Horace's place and in a position to direct Tom to his downfall. Once the sacrifice — though he knew small-minded individuals would call it a betrayal — of the Potters was accomplished, he also had to grant the dour man the protection he promised. Had he not, Severus would have been thrown into Azkaban, which was not a place conducive to returning to the Light. "Unfortunately, what is done is done. Severus had to depart suddenly for better things, and it left me with a very important gap in the schedule. Would you not consent to teaching again, even if just for one more year?"

"I don't know. I'm old and tired, and I've become used to the slow life," equivocated Horace, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. They both knew that the chances of Albus finding anyone else willing and able to take over a class at such short notice was practically zero; this was just the old Slytherin trying to squeeze a few fringe benefits out of him as punishment for the forced retirement.