Harry and Amelia Potter

6.11

Slughorn stands at the head of a table, goblet raised to the students seated before him, which in addition to Harry, Hermione, and I, include Marcus Belby, Blaise Zabini, Neville Longbottom, Cormac McLaggen, and the Patil twins. A distinctive crystal hourglass sits in the center of the table.

"To Hogwarts' best and brightest!" The Professor toasts. "Here, here!"

Hermione exchanges a wry glance with Harry, who notices that one setting is empty. The Padma and Pavarti make, and drink, their toast in perfect unison. Neville stares hopelessly at the vast array of forks, knives and spoons placed beside his plate.

"Which one do I use for the soup?" He asks me. I lean over and whisper into his ear.

"Start on the outside and work your way in." He nods with gratitude. Hermione grins, looks up, and gets a wink from Cormac.

"So tell me, Cormac. See much of your Uncle Tiberius these days?" Slughorn asks, trying to make conversation.

"Yes, sir. In fact, I'm meant to go hunting with him and the Minister for Magic over holiday."

"Well, be sure to give them both my best. What about your uncle, Belby? Working on anything new?" He then turns to the rest of us. "For those of you who don't know, Marcus' uncle invented the Wolfsbane Potion."

As he speaks, Belby never once looks up from his plate.  "Dunno. He and me dad don't get on. Probably because Dad thinks potions are rubbish. Says the only potion worth having is a stiff one at the end of the day."

"And you, Miss Granger? What is it your family does in the Muggle world?" Slughorn asks her. All eyes fall on her.

"My parents are dentists. They tend to people's teeth."

"Fascinating. And is that considered a dangerous profession?"

"No. Though, a boy named Robbie Fenwick did bite my father once. Needed ten stitches." As Slughorn nods, the door groans. Everyone turns. Ginny rushes in.

"Miss Weasley! Come in, come in."

"Sorry, I'm not ordinarily late." She falters, eyes red, uncharacteristically flustered.

"No matter. You'll be just in time for dessert. That is... if Belby leaves you any." As Ginny moves to her seat, I whisper to Harry and Hermione.

"Look at her eyes. They've been fighting again. Her and Dean." Harry nods, then stands as Ginny reaches the table, the only one. I notice, eyeing him with amusement as he sits.

"What?" He asks me.

"Nothing." I smile.

The rest of the dinner goes smoothly. Thankfully, Slughorn didn't ask Harry and I too many questions about our lives outside of Hogwarts. I don't know about my brother, but I didn't want to get into it about our lives with the Dursley's.

"Thank you, one and all, for a most stimulating evening. We'll have to do it again." He says his goodbyes. Harry and I stay in hopes to get some information out of him. Slughorn closes the door, turns, sends a floor lamp crashing down and, catching it, finds Harry and I. "Oh. Potters."

"Sorry, sir, we were just admiring your hourglass." I tell him, looking at it.

"Ah, yes. A most intriguing object. The sands run in accordance to the quality of the conversation. When it is stimulating, the sands run slow. When it is not..."

Our eyes see the sand run down fast. Harry catches on to what he was saying. "I think we'll be going."

"Nonsense. You both have nothing to fear. As for some of your classmates, well, let's just say, they're unlikely to make the shelf." Slughorn steps to a makeshift bar, begins to construct a drink.

"The shelf, sir?" Harry questions.

Slughorn gestures to the photographs, now ranged like a menagerie atop a low bookcase. Once again, Lily Potter and Regulus Black up front.

"Anyone who aspires to be anyone hopes to end up here. Then again... you two are already someone aren't you, Harry and Mia?

"We don't really know how to answer that, sir." I tell him, stifling a fake laugh.

"Your mother was modest too. Your father not so much. As you can see, he did not make the shelf." Slughorn smiles genially, turns back to his drink, using a pair of tongs to drop ice into his glass.

"Did Voldemort ever make the shelf, sir?" I ask, breaking the silence. Slughorn stiffens, his back to Harry and I. His hand trembles and the ice slips from the tongs. Harry notices that.

"You knew him, didn't you, sir? Tom Riddle. You were his teacher."

"Mr. Riddle had many teachers while here at Hogwarts."

"What was he like?" I ask, genuinely curious. We can see the vein in Slughorn's temple pulsating. Fearing I may have overstepped... "I'm sorry, sir. Forgive me. He killed our parents, you see..."

I stop, my brother and I both frown. Slughorn turns, studies us, then nods.

"Of course. It's only natural that you should want to know more. I'm afraid I must disappoint you both. When I first met young Mr. Riddle, he was simply a quiet, albeit brilliant, boy committed to becoming a first-rate wizard. Not unlike the others I've known. In fact, not unlike... the two of you. If the monster existed, it was buried deep within."