I swung a sword at Hogwarts

Harry followed Dumbledore closely into the drawing room.

It was a mess, the grandfather clock was broken into pieces, the face was cracked, and the pendulum had flown out.

The piano fell to the ground, and the black and white keys were scattered all over the floor.

The broken pieces of the chandelier sparkled.

The cushions were thrown all over the place and feathers were leaking out of them.

Dumbledore raised his wand higher, illuminating the wall.

A lot of sticky dark red liquid splashed on it.

Such a tragic scene made Harry gasp.

Dumbledore looked around. "It doesn't look good, does it?"

He said solemnly: "A horrific incident occurred here."

They walked carefully to the middle of the room and carefully examined the broken pieces at their feet.

A bad feeling lingered in the two of them.

The only good news was that they didn't find any bodies anywhere.

"There was a struggle, and then they dragged the man away, or he escaped, didn't he, Professor?" Harry tried to guess positively.

But there was so much blood splattered, it wasn't a reason to think positively.

From the ceiling, a drop of thick dark red blood fell onto Harry's forehead. Dumbledore seemed to have discovered something and touched the blood on Harry's forehead with his finger.

He tasted it with his tongue, and his expression changed as he understood something.

Dumbledore's expression calmed down after his initial surprise and worry, and he said, "I don't think so."

As he spoke, Dumbledore silently clenched his old wand in his hand.

Harry asked in confusion: "You mean he..."

"Still here, yes, that's right."

In a flash, the tip of Dumbledore's wand dug into the cushion of the bulging armchair.

To Harry's surprise, the chair let out a scream: "Ouch!"

Dumbledore smiled and politely greeted, "Good evening, Horace."

It was originally an armchair, but in the blink of an eye it turned into a fat bald old man standing up.

The fat old man rubbed his belly and complained to Dumbledore: "You didn't have to poke so hard with your wand."

The fat old man was wearing a patterned suit, the same as the armchair.

The bulging body of the armchair quickly became shorter and thinner as if it was deflated.

The fat old man asked in confusion, "How did it get exposed?"

"My dear Horace," said Dumbledore, with amusement, "if anything had happened to you, there would not be walls of dragon's blood."

"Yeah, yeah, I should have thought of that," Slughorn said gloomily, "Who discovered the twelve uses of dragon blood, huh..."

As he was speaking, Slughorn suddenly stopped talking. He saw Harry beside Dumbledore, like a pirate who had discovered treasure.

Dumbledore took it all in, pretending not to notice, and said calmly, "Let me introduce you, this is my old colleague, Horace Slughorn."

"Horace, I think, you know who he is."

"Harry Potter," Slughorn said, still looking directly at Harry.

Harry felt very uncomfortable being stared at. He was a little embarrassed and didn't know what expression to make.

"If you don't mind, would you like me to help you clean up?" Dumbledore said politely.

Slughorn responded, "Please."

Harry saw Dumbledore wave his wand, and pieces of furniture jumped back into place, and decorations returned to their original positions in mid-air.

Damaged books are automatically repaired and neatly arranged on the shelves.

The oil lamp also flew back to the small table and lit up.

Under Dumbledore's magic, everything was restored to its former state.

Even the blood stains on the wall were wiped clean automatically.

Harry heard a crunching sound and looked down to see that he was stepping on a glass pendant from the chandelier.

He quickly moved his feet away, and the glass pendant returned to the chandelier, and everything was back to normal.

"Dragon blood is rarely seen on the market these days," Dumbledore waved his wand, restoring a fallen bottle to its original state, and said easily, "Where did you get it from?"

"Yes, that was my last bottle, and the price is outrageous right now," Slughorn replied, his heart hanging on Harry's. "There are suddenly fewer wild dragons, and there have been several dragon escapes in Romania."

"This makes the scarcity of Fire Dragon Blood much higher."

Hearing him say this, Harry recalled that he seemed to have seen it in the newspaper.

Ron's second brother Charlie also said that there were fire dragons escaping in Romania. They didn't understand why because these dragons were usually very peaceful.

Charlie Weasley speculated that it might be mating time.

But that obviously doesn't make sense.

Dumbledore saw that Slughorn was still staring at Harry and suddenly asked, "Are you hiding from someone, Horace?"

"Come on, Albus, do you really want me to say it?" Slughorn's expression became embarrassed.

Who else could he be hiding from? Of course, it was his old friend Dumbledore, whose position he had taken.

Dumbledore, however, seemed to see nothing and said, "Can we at least have a drink, for old times' sake?"

This suggestion made Slughorn hesitate for a moment, but he nodded and said, "Okay, let's have a drink."

Harry had no idea what their conversation meant.

Despite his doubts, Harry was led to sit down by Dumbledore.

It's just that this position made Harry feel as if he was placed in the most conspicuous place.

Sure enough, Slughorn turned around again with the bottle and cup in hand and saw Harry.

Slughorn looked away hastily and handed the cup stiffly to Dumbledore.

He sat on the armchair that had just been repaired.

"How are you, Horace? How are you feeling lately?" Dumbledore asked in greeting.

"Not bad," Slughorn replied reluctantly. "I've been living in fear for the last year, but things have gotten better lately."

Slughorn was not a very courageous man, but he was a man of influence.

When he learned that the Death Eaters had reappeared, he was extremely nervous.

What's more, with what happened at Hogwarts, Dumbledore resigned as headmaster.

Fortunately, good news came from the Ministry of Magic.

The Death Eaters were wiped out, which made Slughorn agree to become the headmaster of Hogwarts.

"I swear I had no intention of taking your place, Albus," said Slughorn, "and you know I wouldn't like that."

"Yes, of course I am aware of that," said Dumbledore calmly, "but I am delighted that you are the successor to the Headmaster."

"Really?" Slughorn wondered.

"Of course it's true. You should know me, Horace?" Dumbledore said with a smile, "Perhaps you are troubled by something now."

"If you're talking about the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, I admit that it is true," said Slughorn. "It's a position that almost no one wants to take."

"The Death Eaters were captured, but their leader is still here."

Slughorn was a little worried and anxious, which made Harry dislike this old man's irresponsibility.

"Oh, I haven't introduced you to him yet," Dumbledore said, as if he had just remembered. "Harry has a very good understanding of Defense Against the Dark Arts. You should know his achievements."

Harry was suddenly called out and was a little dumbfounded.

Dumbledore winked at him playfully, then suddenly stood up and asked Slughorn, "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Oh, sure. It's the second door on the left down the hall."

Harry noticed that Dumbledore winked at him again before he left.

It's just that the cross-server chat made it difficult for Harry to understand what he meant.

Harry and Slughorn were left alone.

The atmosphere was a little dull.

Slughorn looked at Harry and said, "You look a lot like your father."

It was the same old cliché that almost every elder Harry met would say.

"It's just that the eyes don't look the same, your eyes..."

"My mother, yes," Harry said before Slughorn finished.

"Lily, lovely Lily," Slughorn said, looking into those eyes. "She is a very clever person, which is even more remarkable considering that she was born into a Muggle family."

"I have a good friend who is also Muggle-born, and her grades are one of the best in the whole year." Harry replied with some dislike.

"No, no, no, please don't think I'm biased," Slughorn said quickly, "Your mother has always been one of my favorite students. I often told her that she should be in my house."

When mentioning this matter, Slughorn was not angry, but smiled a little, "I often get very rude answers from her."

"Which house are you in?" Harry asked.

"I was Head of Slytherin," said Slughorn.

Hearing about that college, Harry looked a little unhappy.

"Oh, come on," said Slughorn, knowing what Harry was thinking. "Don't take it personally. I suppose you must be a Gryffindor like her, right?"

With a smug smile on his face, he pointed to the many shiny photo frames on the cabinet, each of which had a moving little person in it.

"Look, your mother is right there, in the front."

Harry moved closer; Slughorn was standing next to him.

He saw a picture of his mother, standing next to a younger Slughorn, surrounded by a group of students.

Slughorn said complacently, as if introducing him to a collection of treasures: "You should know Barnabas Guffey. He is the editor of the Daily Prophet. I always send owls to give him my views on current affairs."

"But in recent years, he has been surpassed by another editor. To be honest, I never thought Rita would become the editor-in-chief. She used to like spreading rumors in school." Slughorn said.

Harry listened to his introduction and moved his eyes from the photo of his mother.

Holyhead Harpies captain, Gwenog Jones.

Also the owner of Honeydukes sweet shop, and Sirius's brother, Regulus Black.

Slughorn also said that he taught every member of the Black family except Sirius.

On the cabinet where the photos were placed, there was a special basket for letters. Harry asked curiously, "What is that?"

Slughorn kept talking about his students. When he heard the question, he subconsciously said, "That's a letter from John Wick. He often asks tricky questions. I need to think carefully before I can answer him. He is such a smart man."

"It's the same in school," Harry said, not knowing what was going on. "He's always ranked first and has never been surpassed."

When this matter was mentioned, Slughorn reacted belatedly and said in surprise: "Oh my God, I just remembered that you are in the same grade as him."

Although he did not teach John Wick, Slughorn considered the correspondence with him an honor and placed it in the cabinet of honor.

Harry forced a smile, his eyes fixed on the few letters that had been exchanged.

I don't know what John and Slughorn were talking about, but it took a long time for someone who Dumbledore called very smart to answer.

...

Chapter 416 Furong's Love

"Let's talk about something else. Dumbledore said you were excellent at Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Perhaps feeling that the atmosphere had suddenly become depressing, Slughorn brought up another matter.