Chapter 33: Private Conversation
Chapter 33: Private Conversation
After Professor Mcgonagall and the other two left, Slughorn waved over the bar owner, Rosmerta.
"Two steaks, and if you have any roasted pork knuckle, that would be even better."
The charming Rosmerta smiled.
"By coincidence, I can make it today for lunch."
Slughorn looked very pleased.
"That's great. Make sure to brush on extra honey; I love that flavor."
No wonder he was so chubby, given his love for meat and sweets.
After ordering their lunch, they didn't continue drinking but instead ordered two butterbeers, a popular drink among students.
With only the two of them at the table, the atmosphere gradually turned cooler.
Sherlock leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands over his stomach, waiting quietly for Slughorn to speak first.
He could tell that the person who had invited him here was the portly old man in front of him, and Professor Mcgonagall had merely been a messenger.
After Professor Mcgonagall and the others left, Slughorn's smile faded, and his expression turned somber.
It was as if he had finally dropped all pretenses and was now showing his true self to Sherlock alone.
"To be honest, Sherlock, Minerva and the others don't want me to mention your mother to you."
Holding a large glass of butterbeer in front of him, he didn't drink but instead turned his head to look out the window at the gray, rainy sky, his tone cold.
"I know what they're worried about. After what happened to Sally, she doesn't seem like a mother anymore. They hope you will never remember this part of your life. I even suspect that after I left, they might have erased—"
He suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
Slughorn put down his glass, closed his eyes in pain, and leaned back in his chair.
Sherlock remained silent, deep in thought about what Slughorn had said. The unsaid part of that sentence was particularly thought-provoking.
"Sorry, I must have had too much to drink. Don't take what I just said to heart. Mcgonagall and Dumbledore are the best people you have in this world right now. You can trust them completely and unconditionally."
Slughorn seemed to have composed himself, sitting up straight in his chair and giving a self-deprecating laugh.
"Of course, I have no right to say such things, given that you have no reason to trust me."
"I remember the last time I saw you seventeen years ago, at the funeral. You were hiding in a corner, holding the toy wand your mother gave you for your first birthday, sitting alone on the floor with your knees hugged to your chest."
"When I found you, I could already guess what kind of person you would become. After being the Head of Slytherin at Hogwarts for so long, I've seen countless students and know how different experiences shape people. But I couldn't do anything. I'm just a weak, old man, like a stray dog, hiding away to escape the consequences of my actions."
Sherlock's frown deepened as he listened.
He remembered how the original owner of his body had never mentioned his family in his diary, even though his mad mother's portrait hung in his study and his Muggle father was still alive, even sending people to persuade him to take over the family business.
Yet, neither his time at Hogwarts nor his life after graduation had any mention of his parents in the diary, as if the original owner felt nothing for them, leaving no emotional trace behind.
Slughorn's words seemed sincere, and it was clear he had been close to the original owner's mother and genuinely cared for Sherlock.
His previous neglect of the original owner seemed to stem from a fear of something, a desperate need to hide.
"What happened to my mother back then?"
After the steaks were served, Sherlock finally spoke, his voice soft.
This was the first time he had taken the initiative to speak to Slughorn, but the other man didn't give him a satisfactory answer.
"I'm sorry, Sherlock, but I can't tell you", Slughorn shook his head. "We made a pact and even set a Fidelius Charm to bury this secret forever. Only Dumbledore can reveal it to you when he deems the time is right."
Sherlock remained silent, his thoughts troubled.
He hated dealing with these older wizards. They always played games, sometimes without even revealing the rules.
"What did you come to see me for specifically?"
"I wanted to warn you, Sherlock." Slughorn's expression was incredibly serious, and he stared intently into Sherlock's eyes. "Hogwarts is very dangerous, especially with Dumbledore and that boy both present."
He pulled a small glass bottle from his pocket, containing a golden liquid that shimmered and flowed slowly.
Slughorn placed the vial in front of Sherlock.
"The only help I can offer you is this—Luck Potion. It's a potion that can temporarily bring good fortune. You should carry it with you; it might come in handy in a critical moment."
"Don't underestimate it. The effect of Luck Potion is strong, but you can't drink too much in a short period. Otherwise, it won't bring you good luck; instead, it will cause serious problems. I've only used it twice in my entire life, and what I'm giving you is a single dose."
Sherlock looked at the vial, which, by its appearance alone, seemed like a work of art.
If it truly could bring good luck, then this potion was indeed powerful.
Slughorn continued.
"I don't know why Dumbledore approved your application, perhaps he believes that the resentment the Dark Lord had for this position isn't as strong as it once was. But I still think it's a risky move."
Hearing this, Sherlock's surprise was evident, though he kept it hidden as he asked, "You're talking about the Dark Lord's curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? It really exists?"
"It exists, but it's not a curse", Slughorn said with great seriousness. "You're a master of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Sherlock. You should understand the difference between dark curses and dark magic. Curses, venomous curses, and maledictions are the three levels of dark curses, with maledictions being the most dangerous and taboo. Unforgivable Curses fall under the category of maledictions."
"However, when the Dark Lord harbored resentment toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, his power wasn't as strong. Therefore, what lingers on this position is just a venomous curse. This venomous curse is highly obscure; even Dumbledore doesn't know what it is or how to remove it."
"However, I can assure you that as long as you don't harbor malicious intentions in your role, the effects of the venomous curse will be minimal. I believe Dumbledore approved your application for this reason."
"Regardless, as long as you remain in this castle, you must be extremely cautious. Hogwarts has never been the safest place in the wizarding world, and even with Dumbledore here, it is more dangerous than any other place!"
"Lastly, I hope you believe me when I say this, Sherlock."
Slughorn stared into his eyes.
"Don't resent your father. He didn't abandon you and your mother out of choice. Don't hate him; he is the most pitiable person."
After saying this, Slughorn didn't speak further. He finished his steak, ate the honey-glazed ham, and then hurriedly left Hogsmeade, no one knowing where he went.
After he left, Sherlock didn't immediately depart. Instead, he sat quietly, staring at the remaining third of his butterbeer, recalling every word Slughorn had said.
Through this meeting, he was certain that this fat old man was not just a minor character in the original story.
The background of the original protagonist was far more complex than he had imagined.
(End of Chapter)
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