Hope Mikaelson Goes to Hogwarts

Chapter 11: The Slug Club

Hope's POV:

"Do I seriously have to go to this?" I grumble to Hermione as she tugs on my hair, pulling it back and out of my face for Slughorn's Slug Club dinner party. "I don't know why you're complaining. You actually have a date for tonight." She grumbles. I roll my eyes. "Doesn't mean I want to go."

She just rolls her eyes, but lets me brood. Finally she's done with my hair. Not back. My hair is curly and in a high pony with pieces framing my face. "Not bad. Thanks." She just beams at me and sets to work on her own hair. Nothing much, just her usual style. 

Once we're both ready we head out of the Dormitory and into the Common Room where Harry is waiting. He grins up at me. "You look beautiful though love." He says, pulling me in and placing a kiss on my temple. 

I smile at the name and decide to, maybe, give this night a chance to not absolutely be horrible. Not likely, but at least I'm trying. I lace my fingers through his and with that the three of us head down to the dungeons for the first Slug Club meeting. 

When we get there Slughorn is ecstatic and immediately places us in the right seats. We're some of the last ones there and soon dinner starts. It's going well. One by one, Slughorn is going down the row, getting to know each member. 

After he finishes with Hermione he goes to ask me a few questions when the door opens. By now dessert has been served, but Ginny is just now walking in. "She's been crying." I notice. "What?" Harry asks. "Her eyes, she's been crying. Her and Dean have been fighting again." I explain. 

He nods at my words. "So, Miss Mikaelson, what about your parents, where did you grow up and what's your family like?" He asks. All eyes turn to me as I stiffen at the question. Dumbledore tells him what I am, but not about my family? If he knew I doubt he would bring them up. 

I clear my throat uncomfortably. "Uh, my parents passed away about seven years ago Professor." "Oh dear, I am so sorry." He says, and I can hear the sincerity behind his words. It makes the tight feeling in my chest fade slightly.

"It's fine, really. I lived with my Aunts and Uncles in New Orleans, my hometown, for a while, but I moved in with the Weaselys shortly after so I could attend Hogwarts. My mom was a-" I stop to think for a second. 

"-leader for a few of the people who resided in the bayou and my dad came from old money so he didn't really work, but he was always out of town." I say, making sure to explain my family in the vaguest way possible." 

"Ah, I see. Well, I'm sorry for your loss dear, but the Weasley family is extremely kind to take you in." He tells me with a small smile. I nod. "They are. I'm very grateful." With that he quickly moves on from me. Harry squeezes my hand under the table. "You ok?" He asks softly. I nod. 

"I am, I just wasn't expecting him to ask." He nods in understanding, squeezing my hand once more before letting go so we can continue with dessert. Soon, the dinner was over. Thank God. The most boring two hours of my life, I swear. 

Once he dismisses us, he walks us to the door, but Harry holds me back, waiting by the table for everyone to leave. Finally, once the last student is gone Slughorn closes the door, only to turn and spot the two of us. "Potter. Mikaelson." He says, shocked. 

"I'm sorry sir, I was just admiring your hour glass and Hope didn't want to leave me behind." Harry quickly lies. "Ah yes. Most intriguing object. The sand runs in it according to the quality of the conversation. When it is stimulating, the sand runs slowly. When it is not-" 

]"I think we'll be going the." "Nonsense. You two have nothing to fear. As for some of your classmates, they're unlikely to make the shelf." He tells us. I furrow my brows. "The shelf sir?" I ask, a curious tone in my voice. "Anyone who aspires to be anyone, ends up here." He says.

He points to a shelf full of frames. Portraits of different witches and wizards. "But then again, you already are someone Harry, aren't you? Hope is on her way to being the same as well." He says, sending me a kind smile. "Did Voldemort ever make the shelf?" Harry asks suddenly. 

My eyes widen. He seriously chooses the wrong times to bring these things us. First Malfoy and now Voldemort? Slughorn freezes at his words. "You knew him, sir, didn't you? Tom Riddle? You were his teacher." 

"Mr. Riddle had a number of teacher whilst here at Hogwarts." He says in a breathy tone. "What was he like?" There's silence that follows. "I'm sorry sir. Forgive me. He killed my parents." Harry says in a soft tone. 

"Of course, it's only natural you should want to know more." Slughorns says, shaking off Harry's previous questions. Not once has he shown us his face since he mentioned the shelf. Finally he turns to us. 

"But, I'm afraid I must disappoint you Harry. When I first met young Mr. Riddle, he was a quiet, albeit, brilliant boy committed and on his way to becoming a first rate wizard. Not unlike others I've known. Not unlike either of you in fact. If the monster existed, it was buried deep within." 

Harry and I exchange a glance. This led no where, so the question is...what now?