The Slug Club buzzed with activity. Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood debated complex magical theory, Ginny Weasley and the Caro sisters practiced charms, while Horace Slughorn held court with a nervous Hufflepuff and a pair of eager Ravenclaws.
Set apart from the others, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy slouched in their chairs, locked in idle chatter.
"Honestly, Scarface, you're worrying about nothing," Malfoy drawled, delicately licking his chocolate-wasabi ice cream. "And really, you don't need to tag along. Tom Riddle isn't sending me to my doom."
It was clear that unless Malfoy truly went out of his way to fail, Tom Riddle likely wouldn't bother lifting a finger.
"I know, I'm not worried about your safety."
Harry sighed, glancing up. "I'm worried your clumsiness will mess things up for the Master."
"..."
Malfoy's appetite vanished in an instant, despite the, shall we say, unique flavor of his ice cream.
Forcing a smile, Malfoy said, "Scarface, where did you pick up such an arrogant attitude? I know you still adore me!"
"Adore you, my arse!"
Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Don't spout such rubbish, or I'll leave you to it and hex your feet together."
"No, Scarface!"
Malfoy's eyes widened in mock panic. He liked the idea of having company, even if it was Scarface, while doing Tom Riddle's bidding.
Thankfully, Harry was merely teasing him. Spotting Harry's thinly veiled smirk, Malfoy slumped back into his seat.
They moved on to other topics.
Inevitably, however, Malfoy maneuvered the conversation back to the rumors swirling through Hogwarts.
"It's all that blood-traitor Weasley's fault! I knew they couldn't keep their mouths shut!"
Malfoy was visibly bristling.
"And how do you know it wasn't Crabbe and Goyle who blabbed?"
"They have no friends except me! Who else would they tell?"
"..."
Harry opened his mouth, then thought better of it. No need to twist the knife. "Alright, but you need to learn to control your tongue, or the Master might make sure you never speak again."
"Ugh..."
The image of himself, mouth agape but silent, sent a shiver down Malfoy's spine. He instinctively clapped a hand over his mouth.
"He wouldn't do that, would he? Heh..."
Malfoy chuckled nervously, and when Harry remained silent, he swiftly changed the subject.
They were just getting around to discussing the details of their upcoming weekend task when...
"Hello! Harry, Draco, shouldn't you be studying your spells?"
Horace Slughorn, one hand in his pocket, the other raised in greeting, approached their corner. "Remember, mastering magic is a marathon, not a sprint. It requires persistent effort."
Slughorn's expression retained its familiar, genial smile, but his words carried a gentle reprimand.
He didn't want Harry and Malfoy to squander their potential; in his eyes, they were destined for greatness.
"Harry, I don't believe I've told you about your mother."
Slughorn conjured a chair and settled in front of them.
"My mother?"
Harry was surprised that Professor Slughorn had known Lily Potter.
"Yes, a truly remarkable witch."
Slughorn's aged eyes clouded with reminiscence, and a nostalgic smile spread across his lips. "I had the pleasure of teaching her Potions. She possessed an exceptional talent for the subject; she even invented a few clever shortcuts during her time here."
"She excelled at everything else, too. Diligent, always able to apply her knowledge to new situations. And so kind, a truly wonderful girl... It's a tragedy that I never had the opportunity to see her again. I would have loved to invite her to join my Slug Club reunions. She would have meshed perfectly with the new members..."
Slughorn seemed to realize he had revealed too much, casting a concerned, almost apologetic glance at Harry. "I am sorry, Harry."
"It's alright, Professor."
Harry offered an understanding smile. "I am pleased to hear you say that. It means she—my mother—was truly exceptional. I am proud of her."
Harry's words visibly relieved Slughorn, and the two of them began reminiscing about Lily's Hogwarts days.
"..."
Malfoy stood awkwardly to the side, feeling utterly ignored.
Suddenly struck by an idea, Malfoy blurted out, "So, Professor, what about my father? You must have taught him as well, correct?"
"Your father? Who is your father?"
Slughorn blinked, momentarily at a loss. "Oh, Lucius Malfoy, he... he is a fine man."
Slughorn smiled weakly, trying to mask his forgetfulness.
"..."
Malfoy's face fell, a picture of embarrassment, eliciting a soft chuckle from Harry.
"Ahem, Professor Slughorn, I was just wondering about that too."
Harry decided to throw Malfoy a lifeline. "I imagine you taught my old man as well, right? I seem to remember he was in the same year as my mom."
While Harry found some of James [Potter]'s behavior distasteful, using him to bail Malfoy out of this awkward situation wasn't entirely unpleasant.
"Ah, James?"
Slughorn's face soured, as if recalling unpleasant memories. "Harry, I do not wish to mislead you. Your father was a very talented wizard, demonstrating significant aptitude in subjects such as Transfiguration, not to mention Quidditch. I dare say he may have been the finest Quidditch player Hogwarts has seen in decades, but..."
Slughorn glanced at Harry warily, and when he detected no adverse reaction, pressed on.
"But he... he lacked restraint. Arrogant, constantly leading pranks, flouting school rules purely to indulge his so-called humor, utterly self-centered, and wasting his considerable talent on puerile nonsense! Too arrogant and too undisciplined..."
Slughorn trailed off, suddenly worried he had crossed a line, but Harry still displayed no reaction. "I did not actively recruit him to the Slug Club, as he lacked the necessary temperance... however, he seemed to have matured in the end, perhaps learning to sacrifice himself and use his gifts responsibly."
While he had no knowledge of the exact reasons for this "sacrifice"—perhaps a desperate act of resistance driven by desperation, or perhaps simply horrendous luck—whatever the reason, it was always best to assume some element of sacrifice, correct?
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