NABC Chapter 255 Meeting Gift
Chapter 255 Meeting Gift
Chapter 255 Meeting Gift
Slughorn kept a cold expression on his face.
"This is Harry Potter." Seeing that he couldn't persuade his old colleague, Dumbledore chose to use his trump card.
"That won't convince me. I'm telling you, Albus, the answer is still no."
Slughorn's gaze swept past Harry and turned to Dumbledore. He even deliberately pushed Harry away and turned his face to the other side.
Dumbledore jokingly picked up his glass, poured two glasses of wine, and declared that everyone should have a drink to remember the past.
Horace Slughorn reluctantly took the glass, then sat down on the sofa, sinking deep into its center.
Dumbledore, holding his wine glass, said, "Why so formal? We haven't seen each other for years. How are you doing?"
Slughorn immediately replied, "Not good. He's old and useless."
He repeated "I'm old and useless" heavily, clearly warning Dumbledore that he was an old man in his twilight years and completely incapable of accepting important teaching and research tasks.
Harry sat to the side, listening to the two centenarians talking with such vigor, and wondered if he would be speaking so loudly if he hadn't slept well last night.
In just a moment, he came to the conclusion that he would not be able to speak with such vigor if he stayed up all night.
Just as Senior Ryan said, anyone who claims to be old and about to die has physical abilities far superior to that of a young person—he secretly rolled his eyes.
Although the room was magnificent, it was rather cluttered, yet no one would find it uncomfortable. Everything seemed disorganized, but it was all within easy reach. It was hard to imagine how pleasant it would be to lounge lazily on the sofa, surrounded by snacks, drinks, and books.
"Albus, you're older than me, it's time to consider retirement." Slughorn earnestly advised Dumbledore. Lying down alone isn't true lying down. Seeing his good friend's hard work, he would only feel envious. Lying down with his good friend is what it means to truly lie down.
"I think Minerva is a great candidate; her abilities have been proven over the years."
Dumbledore could have continued chatting about everyday things, but he didn't want to engage in such a meaningless conversation: "Horace, Voldemort has been captured—and now Harry can foresee a portion of Voldemort's power through his magical connection with him."
"Voldemort!" Slughorn was startled, shuddered, and yanked off a lock of his beard.
Harry noticed that the atmosphere between the two old gentlemen had changed. What was once a meeting between old colleagues had become ambiguous and unclear, like two acquaintances meeting on a rainy night, each holding the hilt of their swords. When their eyes met, one pressed for answers, while the other backed down.
"This is so unlike you—" Slughorn whispered. The Dumbledore of the past was gentle and never so sharp.
"As you get older, things change." Dumbledore suddenly stood up. "I'd like to use your bathroom."
He walked to the other end of the room, the door closing behind him. A moment later, Slughorn slammed his fist onto the sofa: "My God, I almost don't recognize this world anymore!"
He looked at Harry, then at Harry's scars, and examined Harry closely: "You look a lot like your father. Your eyes are like your mother's."
Harry was getting tired of hearing this phrase countless times; basically everyone who knew his parents would say it to him.
"Your mother, Lily Evans, was one of the brightest students I ever taught. I often regretted that she was a Gryffindor. What I regretted even more was that she was Muggle-born—"
Slughorn spoke as if he were an avid collector who had acquired a famous painting, only to discover that the artist was a country bumpkin.
"Sir, I have a very good friend. She is the best student in the whole year and is also Muggle-born." Harry thought of Hermione. When talking about students, he most easily thought of this top student who single-handedly suppressed the second to tenth students in the year.
Slughorn grinned smugly. "Sometimes these strange things happen. I have many favorite students who are also Muggle-born. For example, Dirk Clydeway, he's Muggle-born. A while ago, due to a change in the Ministry of Magic's leadership, he became the head of the Goblin Liaison Office. He visits me and often tells me about the goblins."
Harry couldn't quite remember the goblin liaison office, because he was very nervous at the time. But that wasn't the point. The point was that he wanted to refute Slughorn's claim that it was strange for someone of Muggle origin to achieve success.
"Sir, it's not surprising at all. Apart from my friend, Senior Ralph, who also works at the Ministry of Magic, is not of pure-blood noble birth."
Harry readily provided examples. His time at the Adventurers' Club gave him a vast network: "Not to mention Senior Ryan, he's an orphan."
As Harry spoke, Slughorn got up and walked to the cabinet to take out the glittering photo frames on it. Each frame contained many small, animated figures—images captured by magical photography.
Upon hearing Harry's words, Slughorn's smug expression froze, and his rising emotions were instantly crushed. He slowly said, "Oh, yes. Ralvin, the youngest Deputy Minister of Magic in the British Ministry of Magic—and Lane, the youngest big shot in the international wizarding world."
At that moment, they all heard a rhythmic knocking sound, like a visitor politely knocking on the door.
But this place seems to be hidden away, so why is someone standing at the door knocking? Harry stood up in surprise and looked around.
Slughorn's face was filled with mixed emotions. He pulled his hand back, knocking over many upright photo frames on the cabinet.
"Sir, is someone knocking on the door?" Harry asked.
Slughorn looked out the window, a kind of obsessive expectation gleaming in his eyes: "Yes, he truly deserves to be the youngest great man in the history of the magical world."
"Mr. Slughorn, Lane Welsh, I apologize for bothering you. Have the Headmaster and Harry arrived yet?"
The sound, played at a moderate volume, made Harry unconsciously turn around, but he couldn't see Ryan anywhere.
But the sound felt like it was coming from right next to me!
Slughorn's eyes grew brighter and brighter as he waved open the door and stood at the entrance to greet Ryan.
"I've heard so much about you, Mr. Slughorn. The headmaster often speaks of you to me, and Professor Snape also fondly remembers your teachings. Both gentlemen tell me that you are the most outstanding potions scholar in the world."
Ryan entered the house and began with polite conversation, then handed over a gift.
A small gold cup engraved with a badger.
Slughorn, a seasoned connoisseur, immediately recognized the cup's value upon receiving it: "This looks like a Hufflepuff piece, quite old, a rare treasure. I've heard the Four Great Masters each left behind their own treasures—it can't be this, can it?"
"I just feel like this thing is a bit sinister, like it can guide others to possess it." He looked at it carefully, then looked up and inadvertently caught sight of the scar on Harry's forehead.
The golden cup fell and landed on the ground.
The thick carpet made no sound.
Just like the chubby Slughorn who couldn't even speak.