Coup de Foudre [Fred Weasley] [6]

⚡️ Chapter 44 ⚡️

Vega landed on her feet in the past and looked around to where she knew that the people of their interest would be standing – there was the much younger Slughorn, with his thick, shiny, straw-coloured hair and his gingery-blond moustache, sitting again in the comfortable winged armchair in his office, his feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, a small glass of wine in one hand, the other rummaging in a box of crystalised pineapple.

And there were the half dozen teenage boys sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them, Marvolo's gold-and-black ring gleaming on his finger. Vega bit her lower lip, her breathing at the low as she anticipated what was to come. Harry and Dumbledore landed beside Vega just as Riddle asked, "Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?"

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," Slughorn said, wagging his finger reprovingly at Riddle, though winking at the same time. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are,"

Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't," Slughorn continued onward. "And your careful flattery of the people who matter – thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favourite –"

Several of the boys tittered again.

"– I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years," Slughorn said. "Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple, I have excellent contacts at the Ministry,"

"Ugh," Vega muttered.

Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. It was then that Vega noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as their leader. She tilted her head, trying to recognise their faces to names.

"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," Riddle spoke when the laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing,"

A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Vega was sure they were enjoying a private joke, undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader's famous ancestor. But she disliked that she thought the same as him.

"Nonsense," Slughorn said briskly. "Couldn't be plainer you come from decent Wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom, I've never been wrong about a student yet,"

The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn's desk chimed eleven o'clock behind him and he looked around just as Vega had expected.

"Good gracious, is it that time already?" Slughorn asked. "You'd better get going, boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery,"

One by one, the boys filed out of the room. Slughorn heaved himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk. A movement behind him made him look around; Riddle was still standing there and Vega clutched her hands into fists.

"Look sharp, Tom," Slughorn advised the boy. "You don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect..."

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something," Riddle replied.

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away..." Slughorn said.

"Sir, I wondered what you know about... about Horcruxes?" Riddle asked.

Slughorn stared at him, his thick fingers absentmindedly caressing the stem of his wine glass, questioning, "Project for Defence Against the Dark Arts, is it?" But Vega could tell that Slughorn knew perfectly well that this was not schoolwork.