𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑

the one with slughorn

“She lives in the poetry
she cannot write.”

•

I STUMBLED BREATHLESSLY as the three of us arrived at a deserted looking village.

"Are you all right?" asked Dumbledore, looking down at Harry solicitously. "The sensation does take some getting used to."

"I'm fine," said Harry, rubbing his ears. "But I think I might prefer brooms."

"And you? Second time apparating, does it feel good?"

"Peachy," I said, feeling like I left my ears behind at Privet Drive.

Dumbledore smiled, drew his traveling cloak a little more lightly around his neck, and said, "This way." He set off at a brisk pace, past an empty inn and a few houses. According to a clock on a nearby church, it was almost midnight. "So tell me, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Your scar, has it been hurting at all?"

Harry raised a hand unconsciously to his forehead and rubbed the lightening emoji mark. "No," he said, "and I've been wondering about that. I thought it would be burning all the time now Voldemort's getting so powerful again." 

"I, on the other hand, thought otherwise," said Dumbledore. "Lord Voldemort has finally realized the dangerous access to his thoughts and feelings you have been enjoying. It appears that he is now employing Occlumency against you."

"Well, I'm not complaining," said Harry.

We turned a corner, passing a telephone box and a bus shelter. Harry looked sideways at Dumbledore again. "Professor?"

"Harry?" 

"Er — where exactly are we?" 

"This, Harry, is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton," I said, spreading my hand around. 

"And what are we doing here?" 

"Ah yes, of course, I haven't told you," said Dumbledore. "Well, I have lost count of the number of times I have said this in recent years, but we are, once again, one member  of staff short. We are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts." 

"How can I help with that, sir?" 

"Oh, I think we'll find a use for you and Miss Firegold," said Dumbledore vaguely. "Left here, Harry."  We proceeded up a steep, narrow street lined with houses. All the windows were dark. We turned left and the church clock chimed midnight behind us.

"Sir — I got a Ministry of Magic leaflet by owl, about security  measures we should all take against the Death Eaters."

"Yes, I received one myself," said Dumbledore, still smiling. "Skylar did one too although she tossed it into the fire immediately. Did you find it useful?" 

"Not really," said Harry with slight amusement.

"No, I thought not. You have not asked me, for instance, what is my favorite flavor of jam, to check that I am indeed Professor Dumbledore and not an impostor."

"I didn't," Harry began.

"For future reference, Harry, it is raspberry although of course, if I were a Death Eater, I would have been sure to research my own jam preferences before impersonating myself." 

"Er, right," said Harry. "Well, on that leaflet,  it said something about Inferi. What exactly are they? The leaflet wasn't very clear."

"Zombies," I said gravely. Harry's wide eyes turned to me. "Magical zombies. The apocalypse is coming."