Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

This time, Elaine tipped her head back and finished the mug of milk mixed with alcohol in one go. She swayed slightly, then reached out toward the bottle on the table.

Evan stopped her and nudged her under the table with his foot, telling her she couldn’t drink any more!

Elaine lifted her head and looked at Evan. Her pale face was unusually tinged with a flush, and her wine-red eyes seemed even deeper, shimmering under the candlelight.

Their eyes met briefly. Evan gave in and poured her a little more, silently telling Elaine not to cause trouble.

Also, don’t push your luck — she was still a child and shouldn’t be drinking!

While Evan and Elaine were silently communicating, Slughorn’s gaze shifted away from the unicorn hair in Hagrid’s hand.

His eyes moved carefully around the cabin, looking for more treasures that he might be able to convert into a plentiful supply of oak-matured mead, crystalized pineapple, and velvet smoking jackets. Then, Slughorn refilled Hagrid’s mug and his own, and questioned him how he was able to look after so many creatures.

Hagrid, becoming expansive under the influence of the drink and Slughorn’s flattering interest, stopped mopping his eyes and entered happily into a long explanation of bowtruckle husbandry.

The Felix Felicis gave Harry a little nudge at this point, and he noticed that the supply of drink that Slughorn had brought was running out fast. Harry had not yet managed to bring off the Refilling Charm without saying the incantation aloud, but the idea that he might not be able to do it tonight was laughable.

Harry pointed his wand under the table at the emptying mugs and they immediately began to refill.

Hagrid and Slughorn didn’t notice it. They were now swapping tales of the illegal trade in dragon eggs. Evan saw what Harry was doing and gestured for him to let him handle it.

Without making a sound or even using a wand, Evan could cast the Wine-Beautifying Charm and the Refilling Charm.

Sure enough, Slughorn’s mug emptied and refilled, emptied and refilled again.

But because of that, Evan no longer had time to watch Elaine. Still, as long as he kept the wine bottle out of reach, things should be fine.

The conversation continued, and the atmosphere gradually became lively.

Before they knew it, Evan and Harry had also drunk quite a bit, and Elaine had secretly had more too — but at that point, it didn’t really matter.

If even the three of them were like this, there was no need to even mention Hagrid and Slughorn.

After an hour or so, Hagrid and Slughorn began making extravagant toasts: to Aragog, to Hogwarts, to Dumbledore, to elf-made wine, and to —

“Harry Potter!” bellowed Hagrid, slopping some of his fourteenth bucket of wine down his chin as he drained it, but he didn’t notice it at all, and eagerly reached for more wine to fill his massive mug.

“Yes, indeed,” cried Slughorn a little thickly, “Parry Otter, the Chosen Boy Who — well — something of that sort,” he mumbled, and drained his mug too.

“Next toast, to Evan Mason!”

“To Beewin… Mayshin!” Slughorn slurred, then downed his drink.

Who was Beewin Mayshin? Evan silently refilled Slughorn’s mug with a sigh.

Slughorn looked drunk, but he wasn’t as drunk as he seemed.

He still remembered his goal. Not long after this, Hagrid became tearful again and pressed the whole unicorn tail upon Slughorn, who pocketed it with cries of, “To friendship! To generosity! To ten Galleons a hair!”

And for a while after that, Hagrid and Slughorn were sitting side by side, arms around each other, singing a slow sad song about a dying wizard called Odo.

“Aaargh, the good die young,” muttered Hagrid, slumping low onto the table, a little cross-eyed, while Slughorn continued to warble the refrain. “Me dad was no age ter go … nor were yer mum an’ dad, Harry…” 𝙧𝐚ꞐȰ𐌱È𝘴

Great fat tears oozed out of the corners of Hagrid’s crinkled eyes again; he grasped Harry’s arm and shook it.

“Bes’ wiz and witchard o’ their age I never knew … terrible thing … terrible thing …”

And Odo the hero, they bore him back home

To the place that he’d known as a lad,

sang Slughorn plaintively.

They laid him to rest with his hat inside out

And his wand snapped in two, which was sad.

“… terrible,” Hagrid grunted, and his great shaggy head rolled sideways onto his arms and he fell asleep, snoring deeply.

“Sorry,” said Slughorn with a hiccup. “Can’t carry a tune to save my life.”

“Hagrid wasn’t talking about your singing,” said Harry quietly. “He was talking about my mum and dad dying.”

“Oh,” said Slughorn, repressing a large belch. “Oh dear. Yes, that was — was terrible indeed. Terrible … terrible …”

He looked quite at a loss for what to say, and resorted to refilling their mugs.

Evan did not interrupt, because Harry seemed to have something in mind.

“I don’t — don’t suppose you remember it, Harry?” Slughorn asked awkwardly.

“No — well, I was only one when they died,” said Harry, his eyes on the flame of the candle flickering in Hagrid’s heavy snores. “But I’ve found out pretty much what happened since. My dad died first. Did you know that?”

“I — I didn’t,” said Slughorn in a hushed voice.

“Yeah … Voldemort murdered him and then stepped over his body toward my mum,” Harry went on sadly.

At that, Slughorn gave a sudden shudder, and his gaze slowly filled with fear.

He tried to look away, but it was as if some invisible force held him, and he did not seem able to tear his horrified gaze away from Harry’s face.

“He told her to get out of the way,” said Harry remorselessly. “He told me she needn’t have died. He only wanted me. She could have run.”

“Oh dear,” breathed Slughorn. “She could have … she needn’t … That’s awful. …”

“It is, isn’t it?” said Harry, in a voice barely more than a whisper. “But she didn’t move. She stood in front of Voldemort’s wand. Dad was already dead, but she didn’t want me to go too, she protected me. She tried plead with Voldemort … but he just laughed … he killed her without hesitation. …”

“That’s enough!” said Slughorn suddenly, raising a shaking hand. “Really, my dear boy, enough … I’m an old man … I don’t need to hear … I don’t want to hear …”

“You liked her, didn’t you?” said Harry, Felix Felicis leading him on. “You said before that she was your favorite student.”

“Harry!” said Slughorn, his eyes brimming with tears once more. “I don’t imagine anyone who met her wouldn’t have liked her. … Very brave … Very funny … very clever … very charming… she was my absolute favorite … Ah, it was the most horrible thing…”

“Yes, you like her so much, but you won’t help her son. She gave me her life, but you won’t give me a memory.”

Hagrid’s rumbling snores filled the cabin, and Evan looked at Harry and Slughorn intently.

Beside him, Elaine sat quietly in her chair, while Harry looked steadily into Slughorn’s tear-filled eyes. The Potions master seemed unable to look away.

“Don’t say that, Harry, don’t say that, please, don’t say that again!” He whispered, tears falling from his eyes, “It isn’t a question … If it were to help you, of course … but no purpose can be served …”

“It can,” said Harry clearly. “Dumbledore needs information. I need information. It would help us more than anything. We need that memory.”

“That memory is very important, sir.” said Evan softly. He thought Harry was being incredibly bold — was it really okay to push Slughorn like this?

But Harry knew he was safe: Felix was telling him that Slughorn would remember nothing of this in the morning…

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