Chapter 392: Fear
Chapter 392: Fear
"Ever since Dumbledore and I discovered that this student named Tom was creating Horcruxes, we have been searching for his other works."
Sherlock spoke in the same calm, matter-of-fact tone that Slughorn had used when telling them a story that afternoon. There was no pressure, no urgency, just a straightforward narrative.
"It has been three years now, and we have made significant progress. By delving into this student named Tom's past, we have found several other Horcruxes."
"However, we still don't know how many Horcruxes he has created or where he obtained the knowledge to do so. After all, at the beginning, he was just an orphan at Hogwarts with no power or influence, and there was no way for him to access such information."
Sherlock's voice paused here, and Slughorn continued to avoid his gaze, his face unreadable.
After a few seconds of silence, Sherlock continued with his final question.
"So, I'm here not only to catch up with you, Professor, but also because Dumbledore asked me to come and ask you if you know this student named Tom Riddle."
At this question, Slughorn finally lifted his head.
His face was pale, and his lips trembled as he looked at Sherlock.
Sherlock met his gaze calmly, exerting no pressure or further questioning, as if this were just a casual inquiry.
After a long moment, Slughorn stammered.
"I, I don't know this person. T-Tom, that name has never come up before."
As he spoke, he clearly avoided Sherlock's eyes.
But after hearing his answer, Sherlock showed no hint of doubt, only nodding calmly.
"I believe you, Professor. I will report your words to Dumbledore."
Slughorn let out a sigh of relief, as if the heavens had intervened to help him. At that moment, Silke returned from outside with a bottle of whiskey and a spread of food, which she laid out on the table.
Sherlock poured Slughorn half a glass of whiskey and, during the meal, did not mention their earlier conversation. Instead, he expressed his gratitude.
"Thank you for your help the last two times, Professor. If it weren't for you, I might be lying in a coffin instead of sitting here drinking with you."
Slughorn looked puzzled.
"Last two times?"
Sherlock explained how, during the final task of the Triwizard Tournament, Silke had used the luck potion to find him, which allowed Dumbledore to bring the Aurors in time.
Slughorn sighed.
"You should thank Vera, not me. My luck potion only provided some assistance."
Sherlock turned to Silke and smiled, his hand naturally finding hers under the table, which was slightly cold.
"Of course, I thank her."
Silke smiled back at him, her smile warm and gentle.
To ease the tension, Slughorn drank a bit more and, as the conversation continued, he asked about the topic they hadn't finished discussing that afternoon.
"Vera mentioned that her father is an Auror at the Ministry of Magic? What's his name? He might have been my student."
Silke didn't hide anything.
"Eddie Butler, he was indeed your student, but that was over a decade ago. He was killed in a battle with the Death Eaters."
Slughorn fell silent.
At first, when he heard Eddie's name, he was about to say that he had some memory of the student. However, after Silke finished speaking, he couldn't bring himself to say anything.
Sherlock refilled his glass with more wine.
"Her father was killed by Bellatrix. I also investigated what happened to my mother, and the one who ultimately drove her to madness was Bellatrix. You've probably heard about her recent escape from Azkaban. I actually think it's a good thing. If she had stayed on that island, Vera and I would have had a harder time seeking revenge. Now that she's escaped, it gives us an opportunity."
He seemed to have had a bit too much to drink, rambling about the things he had kept bottled up inside.
"Then there's the Dark Lord. I know, Professor, you're afraid of saying that name, but I'm not. No matter how powerful he is, he's still a human, and humans can be killed. I stabbed him once, but I didn't finish the job, and he managed to escape. But in a way, that's a good thing. If he had died so easily, it would have been too easy for him."
"How many people has he killed? How many more have died indirectly because of him? I'm not someone with a strong sense of social responsibility in the Wizarding World, but I know my mother's death and my friend's death are connected to him. He deserves to die."
Slughorn listened to Sherlock's tale, continually raising his glass, silently sipping the whiskey.
He was silent, but his eyes clearly showed a struggle.
Sherlock continued, as if confessing or talking to himself.
"To be honest, Professor, I might have been interested in the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts before, but after teaching for a year, I no longer wanted to stay. Yet, I never chose to leave, even though I knew you were right when you said this isn't the safest place in the Wizarding World, and perhaps nowhere else is as dangerous."
"I never chose to leave, not because I love teaching or because I can't bear to part with the students. Do you know why, Professor?"
Slughorn's voice was hoarse as he responded.
"Why?"
"I'm afraid", Sherlock said, covering his forehead. "I'm afraid that my presence could cause problems. The more I know, the more I realize the impact I've had on this school. These impacts seem positive on the surface, but I know better. I know whether they are truly good or bad isn't something that can be judged by appearances alone."
"I need to stay here, to do everything I can to make everything better, better than it was before. Only then can I feel at ease, feel at ease with this castle and with those children."
Slughorn had clenched his teeth at some point.
After Sherlock finished speaking, he seemed to have made a significant decision. He drew his wand, pointed it at his temple, and pulled out a silver thread representing a memory from his mind!
(End of Chapter)
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