In Professor Horace Slughorn's office in the dungeons, the sweet scent of candied pineapple and jasmine tea hung in the air. The old Potions master hummed a cheerful tune as he put the finishing touches on preparations for his first official dinner.
His legendary Slug Club was back.
Over the past few days, Horace had devoted himself to meticulously observing all his students, searching for that "something" special—that spark of brilliance, talent, ambition, or lineage that would make them worthy of one of his coveted invitations.
He had already handed out several of them. Among his chosen ones was, of course, Harry Potter. Horace had harbored the deep hope that the famous Boy Who Lived had inherited the sweet and charming nature of his beloved Lily; however, the haughty and almost defensive attitude with which the boy had received the letter painfully reminded Horace of an exact blend of James Potter's arrogance and Sirius Black's rebelliousness.
He had also invited Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born girl in the same year as Harry, who showed exceptional aptitude and was practically the only one who raised her hand in his classes. The list was rounded out by other promising students who would ensure him good connections in the future, such as the brilliant Cedric Diggory and Susan Bones from Hufflepuff, and the perceptive Terry Boot from Ravenclaw, to name a few.
But now, Horace was on his way to find the crown jewel—his last and most important guests.
After a short walk through the castle grounds, Horace finally found them. They were sitting in the thick shade of a large tree very close to the shore of Black Lake, bathed in the gentle breeze that accompanied the autumn.
Aurelian Gaunt was leaning against the tree trunk, reading a thick book bound in completely black leather. At his side, Hestia and Flora Carrow were hugging the young wizard. One of them had her head resting on his shoulder, while the other absentmindedly played with the fingers of his free hand.
Seeing the three teenagers enjoying such a peaceful and warm moment, Horace stopped in his tracks from a distance and allowed himself a small smile. Albus... was somewhat right. Aurelian was fundamentally different from his father in many ways. Tom Riddle would never have allowed anyone to invade his personal space like that, nor would he have appeared so relaxed in public.
"Well…" Horace thought, scratching his cheek. "If having two witches as fiancées can be considered 'well.' Pure-blood stuff, I suppose." He never quite understood several of those aspects of their society.
Horace shook his head to dispel those thoughts and resumed his walk, approaching the trio.
Aurelian was the first to notice his presence. His instincts picked up on the professor's footsteps. The young lord looked up from his book, calmly closed the volume, and gave him a polite smile.
"Good afternoon, Professor Slughorn," Aurelian greeted him, without bothering to stand up. "Do you need us for something?"
The Carrow sisters also looked up, but their reactions were worlds apart from their fiancé's.
Seeing that the old professor was interrupting their sacred, peaceful time alone with Aurelian, Hestia and Flora's beautiful faces hardened. Their eyes immediately fixed on Slughorn with a withering glare. As if by reflex, both of them pressed even closer to Aurelian, hugging him tighter from the sides and radiating an aura of hostility and territoriality.
A cold bead of sweat rolled down Horace's forehead. The potions master's survival instinct warned him not to take another step.
"By Merlin's beard, these two girls are definitely something else," Horace thought, feeling a chill. "They're like a pair of cats protecting their toy."
Horace stopped at a safe distance, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped his forehead. He cleared his throat, regaining his characteristic joviality.
"Good afternoon, everyone! I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," Horace began, rubbing his hands together. "I just came to bring you something."
With a practiced flick of his wand, three elegant invitations, tied with golden silk ribbons, appeared in the air and floated gently down into the laps of the three teenagers.
Aurelian took hers, reading her name written across the top.
"All three of you are formally invited to my little dinner party tonight," Horace announced with a dazzling smile. "Welcome to the Slug Club."
Before the twins could decline the invitation, deeming it a waste of time, Horace hurried to explain.
"You see, when I was Head of Slytherin House so many years ago, I founded this club with the purpose of bringing together the brightest minds, the rising talents, and the young people with the most promising futures within Hogwarts," Horace explained, puffing out his chest a little with pride. "It's a place for good food, excellent company, and of course, to forge relationships that will be immensely useful to you in the real world. And, quite frankly, my club would be incomplete without the owner of Gauntcorp and his two brilliant fiancées."
Aurelian exchanged a quick glance with Hestia and Flora. The girls, upon hearing that Slughorn acknowledged their official status as fiancées and that the event might hold political significance for their beloved, relaxed their postures slightly.
Aurelian turned his gaze back to the professor and nodded, his smile widening slightly.
"It's an honor, Professor Slughorn," Aurelian replied, tucking the invitation into his robes. "My fiancées and I will be delighted to attend tonight."
Horace smiled so broadly that his chubby cheeks almost hid his eyes. He clapped his hands in the air, brimming with joy.
"Excellent! Wonderful! I'll be waiting for you in my office—don't be late. Enjoy your evening, lads," Horace said, turning on his heel.
As he made his way back to the castle, the old Potions master couldn't wipe the broad smile off his face. Everything was falling into place perfectly. Tonight, in the intimacy of their dinner and with the help of a fine aged wine, he would finally be able to truly get to know Lord Gaunt and discover what he was really hiding behind those dark, inscrutable eyes.
At eight o'clock sharp, the doors to Professor Slughorn's office swung open. The room had been magically enlarged and transformed for the occasion; the ceiling was draped in emerald silk curtains, and in the center of the room stood a long table illuminated by the warm glow of a crystal chandelier.
Aurelian entered, flanked as always by Hestia and Flora.
Professor Horace Slughorn, wearing a plum-colored robe, set down his glass of mead and hurried toward them with open arms.
"Mr. Gaunt! Misses Carrow!" Horace greeted them enthusiastically. "Welcome, welcome. Please, take a seat; I've saved you a spot right over here."
Aurelian nodded in thanks and made his way to the seats indicated. As he approached the table, a smile spread across his face when he saw who was sitting in the chair next to him.
"Cedric. I'm glad to see you here," Aurelian greeted him, sitting down beside him.
"Same here, Aurelian," the Hufflepuff replied, returning his smile as he settled in. "Though I must admit, I don't know what to expect from this dinner. Slughorn has been very mysterious about it."
The two friends began chatting in hushed tones, commenting on the peculiarities of the dinner and the club's atmosphere. Hestia and Flora, seated on the other side of Aurelian, also ended up joining the conversation. To the twins' surprise, they discovered that Susan Bones, the niece of the Head of the Department of Magical Security who was sitting across from them, was someone they didn't find particularly annoying. The Hufflepuff girl was polite, knew how to keep her distance, and didn't stare at Aurelian, which was enough to earn her some tolerance from the Carrow sisters.
When the pendulum clock in the corner struck a quarter past eight, Slughorn noticed that one seat remained empty.
"Well, I suppose we'll start without him," the professor announced, rubbing his hands together and taking his seat at the head of the table.
With a double clap from Slughorn, the castle's magic took effect. Instead of soup or some kind of salad, a huge crystal bowl filled with assorted flavors of ice cream appeared right in front of each guest.
Horace winked at them, bursting into laughter at his students' surprised expressions.
"Life is too short, and dessert is the most important meal of all, my dear students," declared the professor, picking up his silver spoon. "That's why I always start my dinners with a delicious ice cream. Bon appétit!"
As the minutes passed, the ice melted completely, and the atmosphere became extremely pleasant. Everyone enjoyed the unusual but delicious first course while answering the occasional probing question the professor subtly tossed out to better understand their talents and connections.
Suddenly, the office door burst open.
Harry Potter rushed in, his hair more disheveled than usual, his robes poorly buttoned, and his breathing ragged.
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry I'm late, Professor!" Harry apologized awkwardly, crossing the room under everyone's watchful gaze to plop down heavily in the last empty chair.
Beside him, Hermione Granger covered her face with her hands, looking at him in embarrassment at his lack of punctuality and manners.
Slughorn simply laughed it off and carried on with the evening. During the main course, the professor strategically focused his attention on the Lord of Slytherin. Aurelian calmly answered the questions the professor threw his way. He spoke humbly about Gauntcorp's massive growth over the years, and with a charming smile, he promised Slughorn he would send him some prototypes of his newest brooms and help him master the Arcane Patterns to improve his potion-making. Slughorn seemed on the verge of bursting with joy.
When dinner finally ended around midnight, Horace accompanied his guests to the door. He approached Aurelian, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"It's been a pleasure, young man. Remember that my doors will always, always be open to you whenever you want to come talk or have tea," Slughorn told him.
"I really appreciate the gesture, Professor. Have a good night," Aurelian replied with a nod.
He left the office alongside Hestia and Flora. They walked in silence until they were a safe distance away, and when they found themselves completely alone, the twins' masks slipped.
Hestia snorted and crossed her arms.
"That dinner seemed utterly ridiculous to me," she complained, rolling her eyes. "The old man talks and talks as if he were doing us a favor."
Flora nodded.
"Exactly. He expects us to believe that being in his club will help our future. He's delusional. It's the exact opposite. It's the others at that table—including him—who will benefit immensely just from knowing Aurelian and breathing the same air as him."
Aurelian looked at them, smiled sidelong, and let out a small chuckle.
"That's the reality of things, my darlings. That's what happens when you're at the top," Aurelian told them, raising his hands to gently stroke both their heads. "But admit it—the food was exceptionally good."
The girls sighed and reluctantly nodded at their boyfriend's caresses.
"I suppose so," Hestia murmured. "Just for that ice cream and the stew, we'll tolerate sitting with them again."
They continued walking down the corridors, but as they turned at an intersection near the kitchens, a tall, slender figure stepped out of the shadows, startling the girls slightly.
It was the new caretaker. Dumbledore had hired him in early September to fill the vacancy left by Mr. Filch when he became a teacher. He was carrying an oil lantern in one hand.
When he saw the students, the man with the pale face and strangely vacant eyes stopped. He gave them a smile that didn't reach his eyes and nodded slowly.
"Good evening, young people. The hallways are dark at this hour… be careful," the night watchman told them in a raspy, monotonous voice.
"Good evening," Aurelian replied stiffly, barely nodding his head.
Aurelian took the girls by the waist and quickly guided them on their way to the Slytherin dormitories, without looking back.
As they walked away, Aurelian frowned in the darkness. That man unsettled him deeply. Even though he had clearly seen him cast the occasional cleaning spell to help with his work, Aurelian could sense absolutely no magical signature emanating from him. It was like standing in front of a black hole, an empty shell.
"A wizard who casts spells but leaves no trace in the environment" Aurelian thought, clenching his jaw as the entrance to the Slytherin common room loomed ahead of them. "That's nearly impossible… unless he has extremely exceptional control over his magical power."
"The best thing," he decided, "is to keep my eyes wide open and stay alert; something wasn't right about that guy."
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