C070 - Slughorn & Clues
AN: Four pictures are up on the link in the note I leave behind in the actual Author's Note at the bottom. You don't have to pay for it.
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"Mister Macnair, is it?"
The jovial voice greeting me outside the Great Hall after breakfast on Thursday belonged to someone I was already resigned to see. In fact, I knew Slughorn was going to be my tutor not only because of my meta knowledge but also because Grindelwald confirmed it during one of our nightly discussions via two-way mirror.
I learned quite a bit about Dumbledore's sneaky manipulation tactics from the disgruntled dark lord, but I rarely asked about it and took everything he said about his former lover with a grain of salt. Instead, I focused mainly on what Grindelwald could teach me in the form of spells.
"Lord Slughorn? You'll be my teacher?" I asked as I faked my surprise and used what little I knew about the man to my advantage. Horace Slughorn was a huge narcissist and easily flattered.
"Indeed, indeed," the big-bellied old man said with a jovial laugh and gained a big smile. "Albus had nothing but praise for you. Alas, it would be a disservice to allow someone like you going without proper instructions in the illustrious field of potions!"
Yet still, he was orange in my Eagle Vision. Dumbledore sent him here with a mission.
"Have you decided on a classroom, Lord Slughorn? You must know this castle better than a mere second year student like me," I asked without showing my suspicions.
"Yes! And I finally got my wish to teach potions in a room that isn't in the stuffy dungeons! All it took was me resigning for over a decade and coming back in the time of need," Slughorn exclaimed with a big laugh and dragged me forward with a hand on my shoulder. Never mind that I knew for a fact that it was his own need born out of Dumbledore's manipulations and not the needs of the school. I certainly didn't ask for his presence.
"Oh my, how sturdy! As expected from a dueling champion, Talion. May I call you Talion?" The potions professor praised as he reached up and pressed on my muscular arms. It seemed he wanted to confirm something with those touches, so I got a little more wary.
"Of course, Lord Slughorn. Professor Flitwick is quite strict when it comes to bodily fitness," I explained even when I didn't need to and keenly noticed that he didn't want to change the way I addressed him. "But that is neither here nor there. Since meeting you seems to be fate, may I be so bold and offer a question of my own?"
By then, we had reached the stairs, and Slughorn dragged me up instead of down to the dungeons where Snape and his potion classrooms were at.
"Certainly, my boy," the potion master agreed instantly.
"I found notes of my mother, Selena Macnair. In the potion notes, especially, she claimed that she left a bit of an impression on you?"
The previous head of house Slytherin gained a fond smile, followed by a pained expression that I didn't particularly find real. He wasn't the best of actors, or it was on purpose to mislead me. With a sad sigh, Horace Slughorn answered, "Selena was a prized student. If she had been allowed to spread her wings, she would have surely become someone of renown outside the school. Be it potions or her other studies, she was a diligent young witch. I never liked your grandfather, and sure enough. Please pardon my undue remarks, but Walden Macnair was a narrow-minded and cruel wizard. Your mother deserved better."
The orange outline on the man didn't flicker once in my Eagle Vision. This declaration seemed... rehearsed, too. As if he was reciting a script. Well, Dumbledore probably gave him his opinion and got him here by telling the man about the specter of Voldemort at last year's Halloween and embellishing the story in the headmaster's favor. Maybe Slughorn knew of a potion or ritual that would help Tom regain his body, like the one Voldemort used to get his body back in canon, and so Slughorn feared for his life in case of Tom Riddle's return.
Since I didn't bother to ask a follow-up question as it was apparent Slughorn didn't yet bother to care about me for his little Slughorn club, what followed was Slughorn grilling me on my potion knowledge for an hour in his office, where he was apparently still not done unpacking. I hadn't seen him before, so maybe he only moved in this morning.
"Your theoretical knowledge is quite adequate, Talion. Severus tried to have me believe that you were a no-good slacker who couldn't tell a tea pot from a cauldron," Slughorn judged with a pleased smile when he was done.
"Snape's opinion of me is quite biased," I said with narrowed eyes. I no longer wanted to take this man's arrogant demeanor and not so subtle probing, so I decided to rattle him a little. "Of course, that is likely because my mother's actions got him tortured at the hands of Voldemort," Slughorn gasped at the mention of the name, "The dark lord seemed to have dished out quite a bit of torture after her alleged defection. I know from Lord Malfoy's mouth that there were consequences for the other low-lives of the death eater ranks. Especially Walden Macnair. His house elf, who is now mine, had quite a few stories to tell..."
"Talion, you shouldn't say his name. There's a taboo on it!" Slughorn exclaimed, clearly appalled at my lack of respect for one of the most powerful students to leave his care. Well, not respect for the student itself but the fear he should have inspired in me.
"Oh? You think I'd be afraid of a mere ghost? If he does come back, there's no way he'll be as powerful as before. There's always a price to pay for such things. I'll deal with him for what he did to my mother if he does make it happen," I answered with a careless shrug. I wanted to portray myself as something I was not to the man who would report to Dumbledore, who would hopefully get confused. I wanted Slughorn to think I was reckless and overconfident, and in turn, I wanted Dumbledore to think I was preparing to fight a dark lord - which technically wasn't a lie but I didn't want Dumbledore to know how.
Slughorn seemed speechless for a moment before he stood up and walked a little back and forth behind his desk. Stories about torture at the hand of Tom seemed to have rubbed him the wrong way for more than one reason. With a complicated expression, the man eventually dismissed me as he said with a clearly forced smile, "That'll be enough for today. You've given me quite a bit to think about. I will use this time to revise your curriculum and how to best prepare you for the exams. Maybe have you brewing a few potions as well."
Outside his office, I rolled my eyes. 'Brew a few potions?' I thought with a scoff. What was the point of him being here if he wouldn't teach me about actually making a potion?
At least it seemed stories about his former star pupil dealing with disloyal dissenters hit the mark and made the man less sure of himself and his place in the world.
Though... I could have just given Dumbledore a way to further push Slughorn into the headmaster's camp.
Shit. That wasn't my intention.
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Sunday during Survival Club, I was outside stalking a magical elk together with Lara. Different from the benevolent leaves-and-berry-eating mundane brethren of this species, this magical elk called Sharpmouth-Redfur was a true nightmare. Originally, the fur of this elk was brown like regular elk, but they ate so wildly and purposefully unclean, their entire front was a dirty blood red from all the dried blood of their food: smaller critters and whatever dared to try and take its food. According to Kettleburn, it was a mark of pride for these dagger-teethed monsters to look like they shower in blood.
Giving the young witch a signal, I took out one of my throwing knives and silently enlarged it. Instead of finding another spell combination, I perfected the one I used on those trolls almost a year ago.
Most of my spells I learned for combat last year were by now silent cast if I didn't bother to hide my prowess. Something I achieved quite handily with diligent training under Flitwick and my own, as well as my constantly improving Occlumency abilities.
The knife was banished from a tricky angle from above the elk right between its eyes, killing the animal instantly.
"You're a bit scary, you know," Lara commented when our silence was no longer needed. We were both disillusioned and impossible to smell even upwind, thanks to our spells. "That thing would tear us into pieces before we knew what happened... and here you are turning it around on it and have it die without knowing how or why."
Walking over to the animal with my wand raised to clean the corpse and get my knife back, I answered, "I'd like to think that Hagrid gave us the task for a reason and I don't think the reason was to get us killed."
"Well, I guess. Will you skin it?"
"Ew. Look at it," I pointed out. "I doubt even Hagrid would use fur like this to make a coat. Would probably have to wash it for weeks to get that smell out."
Taking a small sniff near the dead magical creature, Lara merely nodded. She was seldom squeamish, so the acidic and pungent smell of unwashed, bloodied fur didn't seem to bother her.
"By the way, the cave is close to here," Lara said as I had the corpse float behind us. Hagrid said he'd like the meat for his thestrals. They think this elk is a delicacy, apparently.
"The one you proposed we use for the potion?"
She nodded.
"Well, we could still collect the week-old dew untouched-by-sunlight inside," I proposed and had her guide us over with the huge dead elk floating behind us.
"Here," she pointed out and, with her own wand, bend away some shrubs to show the mouth of a small cave.
After putting down the carcass, I cautiously entered inside. Lara was still green in my vision, but I didn't want to fall into a trap, no matter how old or from whom.
Silently releasing a 'Lumos Maxima', I saw the cave was barely as big as Harry and I's dorm room, though much more narrow. What caught my attention, however, was a golden outline on the wall in the far back.
"Oh?" I exclaimed as I looked at what appeared to be a cave painting by the most mathically inclined and meticulous caveman ever. Four circles and three lines connected them in a particular way. But the imprint and color were incredibly faint. I doubted that anybody without Eagle Vision giving it an outline would ever see this painting for what it was.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lara asked from over my shoulder as I stared at the picture for a short while.
"I... I think it's part of something the founders left behind," I muttered under my breath as I remembered the stone slab at the bottom of the Black Lake.
There were four disks that could be turned... these circles were just about in the same positions as those disks.
After imprinting the position of the lines in my mind, I looked at Lara and quipped, "This actually helps me more than you can imagine. Thanks for bringing me here! Do you want a hug as payment or something?"
Lara gained a smile, shoved me back, and went out of the cave without saying a word.
Floating the elk over to Hagrid once more when I walked out of the cave, I briefly thought about calling Patrick over but decided against it. The last letter he sent me through Urd, one of my three new elves, showed that everything was going fine.
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[POV Amanda Evert]
Life was never supposed to feel this easy after getting out of that hellhole of a brothel. Nobody came to capture us back, or at least nobody that got past that elf, I supposed. We had good food and roofs over our heads.
The elf, with seemingly no common sense of how much money was worth, had given me thousands of pounds to buy us thirteen women whatever we wanted. Beautiful, modest clothing in the highest quality I had ever worn was of no consequence to the elf, he didn't even hesitate to give me more money when I tried to test the waters and say I ran out when I exited the second shop during the first outing.
He merely handed me a similar stack of thousands of pounds and took back my earlier purchases to Goldsborough.
This young master must be doing incredibly well if he didn't care at all about the money I wasted on perfumes and shoes. Dressing up with makeup and sexy clothes will never feel the same after being forced to do so for the pleasure of disgusting men, but feeling pretty and comfortable in our own skin... I'd like to think it would help us in the long run.
Just like Lady Tonks and those three mind healers she brought over on the fourth day. Lady Tonks never once revealed how and why she knew about us or who paid for such services... but she didn't need to. That elf's master must have arranged and paid for this.
"You be calling, Mistress Evert?" The elf in question appeared before me after asking for him in one of the bigger buildings in this village. It was almost dusk and most of us girls were in this particular house.
"Yes, Patrick. I finished the books on psychology... I hate to bother you like this, but do you think I could get more?"
Determined to not be a burden, most of the rescued girls picked up useful hobbies and threw themselves on the path of education. The veela and two others wanted to become seamstresses. Most of the others picked up gardening and herbology to help with the gardens and the dryads tending to obscure magical plants.
One other girl picked up where she left off. She was a muggleborn who quit Hogwarts during the fourth year to attend a business school and learn economics. Sadly, her tormentors from Slytherin that made the woman quit actually went out of their way to catch her anyway and eventually sold her to the brothel owner a few weeks later.
Another muggleborn witch wanted to become a healer. Both of her parents used to be surgeons before the scum who caught her during a home invasion killed them when she was on summer break from Hogwarts just before her N.E.W.T. year.
Personally, I decided to divide my attention on three topics. I finished my muggle education, determined to finish graduation. Then, I picked up anthropology and psychology books out of personal interest in the hopes I could eventually make it a career.
"Patrick be unsure where to find more books about this topic. Patrick only ever goes to small bookstores, stupid Patrick," the elf said as it chided itself and Amanda bit her lower lip. She often wished to be helpful, but she still made little mistakes while addressing this blessing in the form of a scarred and sinister-looking elf.
"That's okay, Patrick. If you wish, we could just go to Leeds, Sheffield, or maybe Manchester together? There's bound to be the books I want there. You know, they are university cities, so I'll find an appropriate store for sure if I ask around."
"That be fine idea. Patrick will take you tomorrow morning," the elf confirmed and popped away after adding, "The potions for your body be ready according to Mistress Tonksy."
And, my third topic of learning was something I couldn't believe was real when I stumbled upon it in the young master's library. A building the elf had converted on orders by this mysterious young wizard to give us something to do. Muggle Sciences and introductory magical tomes were a weird mix... but a book on assassination techniques - that was weird even in such a library.
As such, I and a few of the healthier girls began exercising according to the book's teachings, and we distracted ourselves from darker thoughts by tiring us out constantly.
Little did I know this book was left there for us to find on purpose, and these potions that helped us get stronger faster were something paid for with a life debt...