Professor position
Harry stepped onto solid ground. He was already quite used to Apparition and looked up at the place Dumbledore had brought him to.
This is an abandoned village square with an old war memorial in the center and several benches around it. The layout is similar to Godric Valley, but it is too deserted. Few houses have lights on, making it seem as if all the residents have run away.
"Welcome to the charming village of Badley Barberton," Dumbledore said in a relaxed tone, as if he were a tour guide introducing a tourist attraction.
Harry glanced around at the dark windows. "Well, if you define it that way."
“The person we’re looking for is right here, over here.” He walked briskly, leading Harry past a dimly lit pub and a few houses, around a corner, past a phone booth and a bus stop. “We’re here to persuade an old friend of mine to return to Hogwarts. The new year is coming, and I think you have a feeling we’re missing a professor.”
"Hmm, you said 'return,' did he previously work at Hogwarts?"
"Yes, he is arguably the most accomplished professor at Hogwarts in the last hundred years."
"More accomplished than you?" Harry couldn't help but ask, although... he didn't think any wizard could surpass Dumbledore's achievements—at least not in the modern era.
“In a way, that’s true.” They walked up a steep path lined with neat rows of houses. “Turn left… I think we’re almost there. Get your wands out, Harry.”
Harry pulled out his wand and said, "Uh, is this a wizarding community?"
"It's okay, you're with me."
Their destination was at the end of the alley, where a small, tidy house stood quietly in the night. Harry noticed the door wasn't locked, and a series of bad premonitions flashed through his mind. Had the Death Eaters been here? Was that why there were so few people in the village? No, maybe they had killed everyone. He had only seen lights on in a few houses, but no one!
Dumbledore, with a serious expression, pushed open the door and went in first. Harry followed, his lips pressed tightly together. He thought he might have a tough battle to fight, but why did Dumbledore call him here? Any one of the other members of the Order of the Phoenix would be more useful than him.
They stepped into the narrow corridor, the creaking of the wooden floor amplified by the darkness, and then they saw the living room—the floor littered with broken debris and shattered glass, the walls even splattered with a dark red, viscous liquid.
Harry gasped. "Professor Dumbledore, are we... are we too late? There was a fight here, and your friend was taken away by the Death Eaters?" He didn't mention the worst possibility.
Dumbledore's face was illuminated by the glow of his wand tip, but there wasn't a trace of seriousness on his face. "I don't think so," he said, lowering his hand and sticking the wand into the armchair beside him.
"Aww—Merlin's beard!"
Harry watched as the armchair transformed into a bloated, bald man.
"Albus, is this how you greet an old friend?"
Good evening, Horace.
“Of course I’m fine, if you hadn’t poked me so hard,” the man said gruffly. “How did I expose myself?”
"You forgot the Dark Mark."
“Oh right, but I don’t have time for that.” He said, waving his wand with Dumbledore, and the things in the living room began to automatically return to their original positions.
The Restoration Charm, Harry thought, he knew it too, but he couldn't use it silently yet.
They sat down beside the burning fireplace, the flames casting flickering shadows behind them. Harry felt the man glance at him several times, but always looked away before Harry looked back.
"Let me introduce you, Harry. This is my old friend and colleague, Horace Slughorn." Dumbledore then looked at Slughorn. "Horace, I think you know who he is."
“Don’t think I don’t know why you brought him here,” Slughorn shouted. “Do you think this will make me agree to your request?”
Dumbledore didn't respond to his question. He stood up and said, "Excuse me, I need to use the restroom."
Slughorn snorted loudly at his retreating back.
"..." Harry felt that perhaps Dumbledore and his old friend didn't have such a good relationship.
After a moment of silence, Slughorn met his gaze as if he had finally made up his mind. "You have your mother's eyes."
"Yes, sir, many people say that."
Slughorn exclaimed, "Lily, she is one of the smartest students I have ever taught, and one of my favorites."
"You're also from Gryffindor?"
"Oh no, I was the head of Slytherin back then."
Harry asserted that he was a headmaster a hundred times better than Snape, at least he wouldn't be so ruthless as to deduct points from Gryffindor.
Slughorn showed him the photos on the cabinet, "Those are all my former students..."
He then began to introduce the people in the photos, and Harry, upon hearing the name Regulus Black, couldn't help but glance at them a few more times. He took out his phone from his pocket and asked if he could take pictures of both his mother and Regulus.
"What's this?"
“A cell phone, sir. Muggles make things for many purposes, and Professor Dumbledore has one too.”
Slughorn peered at the photos he had taken and commented, "Not as good as a magic camera; it doesn't move."
Harry smiled but didn't say anything. However, after his interruption, Slughorn temporarily stopped introducing the famous students.
“Oh, and this too—” He held up a small fish tank, “This was a gift from your mother.”
Harry leaned closer to look, but the fish tank was empty except for water. He couldn't tell what Lily had given him—the Source of Life? Or the fish tank itself? Perhaps it was a very expensive fish tank.
“Originally, a lily petal floated here. When you looked at it, the petal would slowly sink, and just before it hit the bottom, it would turn into a small fish… such beautiful magic.” The shimmering water reflected in Slughorn’s eyes. “But the day Lily died, the little fish disappeared.”
Harry imagined the scene through his narration: "You've kept it all this time."
“Oh, people always get more reluctant to throw things away when they get old.” He put the fish tank back in its place, tilted his head and looked at Harry, who had barely said a word. “You really don’t know why Dumbledore brought you here, do you?”
"Professor Dumbledore says we are short of a professor, but I don't know how to persuade you—given that you have already clearly refused?"
"Of course, of course. Dumbledore won't let me go back to Hogwarts; that would be tantamount to publicly declaring that I'm on the side of the Order of the Phoenix."
"Uh, but I don't think you're on the Death Eaters' side either?"
"Of course not, I change places every week to avoid them."
“In fact, most of the professors weren’t members of the Order of the Phoenix, and none of them died, except for Quirrell, who deserved it.” Harry tried to leverage the role Dumbledore had brought him to play. “I think you know Voldemort—well, I won’t say—you know what kind of person he is. Not joining the Death Eaters is tantamount to going against them, isn’t it?”
“Oh, well, that makes some sense…” Slughorn muttered, lost in thought.
Dumbledore finally came out of the bathroom, and Harry immediately stood up and called out to him.
"Alright, Harry, I think it's time for us to take our leave."
Slughorn jumped up. "You're leaving already?"
"Yes, it's late. Harry is still a student and should go to bed early. Well then, goodbye."
"Professor Dumbledore, you knew all along that he would agree?"
"I'm about 90% sure, and I owe it all to you."
"But I don't feel like I did anything?"
They had barely left Slughorn's place when he chased after them, saying he was willing to return to Hogwarts to work there, but he demanded a raise.
Dumbledore stretched out his arm, and they returned to the church in Godric's Hollow. Harry saw the statues of the Potters again. Was it because of his mother? No, Slughorn's affection for Lily wasn't enough to justify his choice of Dumbledore; otherwise, he wouldn't have waited more than a decade to now.
“Horace chose you, Harry,” Dumbledore explained. “You’ve probably seen the photos of his students—talent, fame, ability. You have everything Horace values. He likes to gather students like that together, like collecting beautiful jewels.”
"..." Harry shuddered as he recalled a girl Queenie had once mentioned who tried to collect boyfriends from all twelve zodiac signs. "At least his magical abilities seem pretty good; he must be much better than Umbridge at Defense Against the Dark Arts." He rarely showed any anticipation for Defense Against the Dark Arts in the new school year.
“Oh no, Harry,” Dumbledore said in surprise, “didn’t I tell you? Horace is going to be the Potions Professor.”
"Huh?" Harry was surprised too. "What about Snape—Professor Snape?" Did he resign to complete his mission for the Order of the Phoenix? Fantastic!
“Severus has a more important position.” Dumbledore blinked. “He will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”
"……"No--!
Queenie comforted the dejected Harry for a while, and his expression was so endearing, as if he would never be happy again.
"That magic fish tank your mom made—" Queenie continued to ask about the parts that interested her, "It's so romantic. Can you make one? I want one too."
"..." Harry immediately began rummaging through the few theoretical knowledge he had left in his mind. He was certain that his mother had used Transfiguration... and then?! Think quickly!
Queenie continued to make demands, "But I don't want lilies, I want orchids, I like those."
Oh, because the first magic he showed Queenie was an orchid blooming.
Harry's heart leaped with joy. "No problem, I'll make one for you."
Queenie cupped his head and kissed him several times, and Harry returned the kiss without hesitation.
He thought he had to ask the all-powerful Bigfoot for help; they could even create a Marauder's Map, so there was no reason why a Magic Fish Tank couldn't.
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