Alexandra Dursley {Golden Trio}

Chapter 91 - Horace Slughorn

Slughorn was so much fun to write! And thanks for reading :)

 Al had thrown all her things into her trunk, which she had magically adapted over the years. It now had a cushioning charm on it on top of the feather-light charm. Ten minutes later, when Al was sure she'd packed everything she might need for Hogwarts, she pulled it down the stairs, and balanced Dill's cage on top.

 She headed into the lounge, where Harry and Dumbledore were sat in silence sipping at fresh glasses of mead. "More mead, Al?" Dumbledore offered.

 "No thank you, Professor," she said, sitting herself back down.

 "Well then, there's one last thing before we go," Dumbledore said as the bottle settled back down, "Harry, along with yourself, will turn seventeen in a year, and become of age. I was going to ask your parents to provide him with a home until that point, as that's when the enchantments I've cast will break, but I see that will no longer be necessary. So, shall we?"

 The three strode into the hall where two trunks and two owl cages stood waiting for them. Al had almost forgotten the snowy owl that Sirius had bought Harry for his fifteenth birthday. Hedwig, he'd called her. Stupid name really. "We will not be needing these yet," Dumbledore said, and with a wave of his wand, they disappeared.

 "Hold on," Al said, midway through fastening her cloak, "Where are we going then?"

 "I was hoping Harry and yourself would accompany me on a short errand?" Dumbledore said, "Or did he not say?"

 Al glared at her cousin, "No, it must've slipped his mind."

 "Ah," was all Dumbledore said, and they left the house, with Al locking the door behind them. She followed them down Privet Drive to the exact spot that Remus had brought them to not two weeks ago. "Remus tells me you have experience in side-along apparation?" Dumbledore asked them and they nodded. "Very well, if you could take my arm," he said, offering his left arm.

 Al held his left arm gently and suddenly felt it pull away and her grip tightened. She also grabbed onto Harry, not knowing if he would have the sense to hold on. She felt the now-familiar sensation of apparating, and then she was in a completely different place.

 Al glanced around before following just behind Dumbledore and Harry, who were having a conversation about what was going on in the Wizarding World. Al, who was reading the Daily Prophet from cover to cover, tuned out, and glanced around. The village was much like Privet Drive - everything neat and prim - and yet it seemed far more quaint and homely.

 "Oh dear." They stopped outside a house with a door hanging off its hinges. Al looked up and down the street and saw no sign of anyone, and she wasn't surprised given the late hour. She saw Dumbledore do the same.

 "Where are we, Professor?" Al asked quietly.

 "Visiting an old colleague of mine," Dumbledore informed her. They headed silently up the path and into the house, with Dumbledore lighting his wand tip so they could see better. They walked into what appeared to be a living room in chaos. Feathers from torn upholstery scattered the floor and fine china and ornaments accompanied it. Blood splattered the walls and a piano was turned on its side with a few keys missing. There was a smell of port in the air, yet the bottle was still intact, if on the floor. "Al?" Dumbledore asked.

 "Yes, Professor?" she asked in return, wondering what he wanted.

 "What do you think?"

 Al looked around and took a deep breath. "Well it wasn't Death Eaters," she said definitively, "There's no Dark Mark. But that doesn't mean it wasn't someone in league with Voldemort - werewolves that have allied themselves with him perhaps?"

 Al glanced around at the chaos on the floor, "This - this isn't making any sense to me. Normally,  if there's a fight, there's a pattern to the destruction. A central point with paths of damage flying out, or a zigzag sort of shape where people have had a hand to hand combat, you see it a lot in dulling. This," she gestured to the floor, "is too random. Suggests maybe somebody smashed it up - possibly muggles breaking in. But they would have little motivation. And that doesn't explain the blood."

 Al now went over to where the blood splattered the walls, dark and glistening. She picked some of it up on her finger and squeezed it between her thumb and index, then pulling it apart. It stretched like warm taffy. "Too dark to be fresh, too sticky to be old," she observed, "Not human?" She walked over to the fireplace, and put her hand out. "Warm - someone lived here very recently, most likely a witch or wizard as muggles don't generally light fires in summer." Al scraped her finger down the side, smearing blood on it. She watched as it sizzled away the soot. "Dragon's blood," she concluded, "Excellent oven cleaner."

 Al walked over to the only armchair that showed no damage, next to where the bottle of port lay. "Intact bottle, yet a strong smell in the air, suggests someone was drinking it as recently as the fire was lit."

 "Conclusions?" Dumbledore asked, looking amused.

 Al shrugged, "Someone wrecked their house to get away from you but they were in a rush. Possibly alarm wards around the area. And they may still be here."

 "Excellent," Dumbledore said, swooping down and prodding the armchair. Moments later, a man stood there, plump and with a watery eye.

 "There was no need to stick it in that hard," the man complained, "It hurt." The two wizards raised their wands and everything flew back into place, looking as neat as ever. Then the man looked at Harry and had the usual reaction. "Oho," he said and then his eyes flew up to his scar.

 "This is Harry Potter," Dumbledore said, "and Al Dursley. Both of you, this is Horace Slughorn."

 "So that's how you thought you'd get me?" Slughorn said, "Well, the answer's still no. And really, Albus? An Auror?" he gestured towards Al. "Not exactly necessary-"

 "I'm not an Auror," Al interrupted quietly.

 "Al is one of our top sixth-years," Dumbledore said proudly, "She has fought alongside Harry here a grand total of four times now. Including in the Department of Mysteries." Al frowned - she didn't really think first-year counted.

 "A Gryffindor, no doubt?" Slughorn asked her, raising his eyebrows.

 "No, Sir," Al said, "Slytherin. Although I do get that a lot."

 Slughorn raised his eyebrows and then frowned at her, "No!" he said to Dumbledore, "Still no!"

 "Well, perhaps we can stay for a drink?" Dumbledore suggested, "For old time's sake?" Slughorn frowned even more and collected the port bottle, pouring out two glasses. The two wizards made small talk and Al used this time to think.

 Every year Hogwarts was a teacher short for Defence, except Slughorn was clearly not a Defence teacher. Al's best guess would be Potions, given the dragon blood, which would mean Snape got the Defence job. He'd only last a year, but what would happen after that? Dumbledore would still want him as a spy, so why risk anything happen to him? Defence teachers never got a decent end. Al worried very much what that might mean for Dumbledore, especially given the curse he'd run into.

 "You've a very keen mind, Miss Dursley," Slughorn said, and Al realised Dumbledore had wandered off. "Was it really that obvious?"

 "Only if you were trying to figure out what happened," Al told him, standing up too, "If you assumed Death Eaters had attacked it would've worked very well. Aside from the Dark Mark."

 Slughorn nodded, before going to join Harry at the picture frames on his wall. He began talking about Harry's mother, and then all the famous people he knew, and then about Voldemort and Dumbledore. Al thought he must quite like to brag about all the students he'd taught.

 Finally, Dumbledore returned, having been to the toilet, and Al fastened her cloak around her, bidding goodbye to Slughorn. They weren't halfway down the pathway when Slughorn came rushing after them. "Alright, alright, I'll do it!"

 Dumbledore turned to him, a faint smile dancing on his face. "Excellent," he said, "We shall see you on the first of September." And with that, Dumbledore turned and headed off down the street, with Harry and Al in his wake.