Harry doesn't want to be a wizard, he wants to be a superhero

"Good evening, Horace," Dumbledore said, straightening up again.

Just a moment ago it was an armchair, but in the blink of an eye it has turned into a bald, fat old man squatting there.

He rubbed his belly and squinted at Dumbledore with one painful, teary eye.

"You didn't have to stab me so hard with your wand," he said angrily, struggling to his feet. "It hurts so much."

The light from the wand illuminated his gleaming bald head, his bulging eyes, his walrus-like silver beard, and the shimmering buttons on the brownish-purple velvet overcoat over his pale purple pajamas.

He was very short, only reaching Dumbledore's chin.

After Horace stood up, he stretched and asked in a gruff voice:

"How did you get caught?"

Dumbledore would wear his usual gentle yet all-knowing smile:

“Horace, although your transfiguration is wonderful, it does not conceal your magic, so of course I can detect it.”

How have you been lately?

“Not good,” Slughorn said immediately. “I can’t breathe. Asthma, rheumatism, and my legs aren’t as nimble as they used to be. Ah, that’s to be expected, you get old and useless.”

“However, you must have been quite nimble to prepare such a welcoming scene in such a short time,” Dumbledore said. “You didn’t have more than three minutes to know someone was coming, did you?”

Slughorn said, half annoyed and half smug:
“Two minutes. I was taking a shower and didn’t hear the alarm that my intrusion spell was deactivated. However,” he seemed to have calmed down again and said with a straight face, “the fact remains that I am an old man, Albus, a tired old man, and I have the right to a quiet life and some material comforts.”

Harry thought to himself, looking at the furnishings in the room. He was certainly not lacking in material comforts.

The room was cramped and messy, but no one would say it was uncomfortable.

There are soft chairs, footstools, drinks, and books, as well as boxes of chocolates and a bunch of bulging cushions.

If Harry didn't know who lived there, he would have guessed it was a picky and sophisticated lady.

“You’re not even as old as me, Horace,” said Dumbledore.

“Yes, maybe you should consider retiring yourself,” Slughorn said bluntly.

He clearly understood why Dumbledore had come to him; the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had been arrested by the Ministry of Magic recently, so Hogwarts must have another professorship vacancy.

However, Horace was an extremely fearful person, and he already knew how terrifying the Defense Against the Dark Arts class at Hogwarts was, so how could he possibly agree to Dumbledore's request?
Dumbledore did not immediately ask Horace to agree.

He first poured himself and the newly manifested Horace a glass of flaming whiskey, the water droplets on the glass dripping gently through his fingers. His tone held no reproach, only gentle inquiry:

“Horace, you should know that Tom Riddle has been defeated by Harry. I saw Harry destroy his last Horcrux with my own eyes. The wizarding world can finally sleep peacefully.”

He pushed the wine glass towards Horace, watching as the other man's fingers gripped the handle tightly, his knuckles turning white, before continuing softly, "But when you heard the door hinges turn just now, you immediately transformed into a sofa and hid yourself. Why is that?"

I know you're not cowardly, you're just too tightly bound by the fears of the past.

But look, Harry has shielded us from the darkest night. Now you don't have to hide behind furniture anymore, or strain your ears to hear even the slightest sound while drinking a glass of wine, do you?

Horace's fingers tightened around the whiskey glass, spilling a few drops onto his sleeve, but he seemed oblivious, only glancing sideways at Dumbledore, his voice dripping with chilling coldness:
"Dead? Dumbledore, you're being far too optimistic. Tom Riddle has had an evil aura since he was in school. Do you really think a spell can send him to his grave?"
He knows far more dark magic than we imagine, so he's like a rat in the gutter, seemingly doing nothing, but actually waiting for his chance in the shadows.

Don't be fooled by this temporary peace; he'll come back sooner or later, and then he'll be more terrifying than ever.

Dumbledore remained silent. He knew that the fear of Voldemort had long been ingrained in Horace's soul, and he might truly be unable to allow the old professor to continue working at Hogwarts this time.

But just then, Harry, who was sitting to the side, suddenly said:
“Professor Slughorn, I know what you’re worried about. Professor Dumbledore and I already know the secret of the Horcruxes and have destroyed the vast majority of them, so Voldemort is not a threat at all.”

Rather than worrying about Voldemort, we should worry about Death lurking in the shadows. He poses a far greater threat to the wizarding world than Voldemort. I even fear that Voldemort might collude with Death to attack us!

Horace slammed his whiskey glass against the edge of the table, spilling half of it. He stood frozen, his eyes wide as saucers, his voice trembling:

"Death?! Mr. Potter, are you talking about the legend of the one with the scythe, hiding behind the curtain?"

"Isn't that a story wizards tell children? How did it become our enemy?"

He took half a step forward, his fingers unconsciously gripping the tablecloth, his knuckles turning white, his tone filled with disbelief and panic:

"I've lived this long, and the only time I've ever heard of Death is in bedtime stories!"
They said he'd deliver the Deathly Hallows, that he'd harvest wizards' souls… but that was all made up! How could he suddenly become someone they wanted to use against us? This is impossible, absolutely impossible!

Seeing that Horace was too flustered, Dumbledore had no choice but to cast a calming spell on Horace to calm him down.

Dumbledore was not surprised by Horace's reaction; his own reaction when he first heard of Death was hardly better.

After Horace calmed down, Dumbledore said to Harry:

"Please, Harry, tell me the whole story."

After Harry finished recounting the news about Death, Horace stood there, motionless for a long time.

Harry continued to persuade him, "So, Professor Slughorn, now that even Death has appeared, the entire wizarding world is no longer safe."

The safest place in the entire wizarding world right now is undoubtedly Hogwarts, where Professor Dumbledore and I are located, so I sincerely suggest that you go and take a job at Hogwarts.

Furthermore, we are not assigning you the role of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but rather Potions professor. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship will be taught by Professor Snape.

Upon hearing this, Horace finally stopped resisting and sighed, saying:

"Okay, I agree!" (End of Chapter)