They walked along a narrow path leading toward the heart of the village.
Moonlight filtered through breaks in the clouds, scattering silver-white patches of light across the gravel road.
Most of the houses on either side were built from old stone, their walls covered in vines. A few windows still glowed with dim yellow light, and vague sounds of conversation and laughter drifted out from within.
Dumbledore led the way at a measured pace, his silver-white beard fluttering gently in the night breeze.
"We have come this time," Dumbledore said from ahead, "to persuade an old retired colleague to return to work at Hogwarts."
Lynn's eyebrows twitched.
An old colleague?
Retired?
Returning to Hogwarts?
His mind raced through the possibilities before settling on a single person.
Hogwarts had once had a Potions professor named Horace Slughorn.
He had retired more than a decade ago, supposedly because he was getting on in years and no longer wished to teach. Lynn had seen the name in the Hogwarts Directory of Professors, but aside from that, he knew nothing about the man.
"But how can I help?" Harry asked from beside him, his voice filled with obvious confusion.
"I believe you will come in handy," Dumbledore said, his tone carrying certainty.
He paused before adding, "And Lynn, you as well. With the two of you here, we are sure to achieve great success tonight."
Lynn glanced at Dumbledore.
Great success?
He did not even know who they were going to meet. How were they supposed to succeed?
By standing in the moonlight as background scenery?
Dumbledore seemed to sense his gaze. He turned around and gave Lynn a smile.
"Turn left," Dumbledore said.
The three of them turned into an even narrower alley.
The houses on either side were older and more dilapidated than the previous ones. Their plaster was peeling, their windows were shattered, and some had large holes in their roofs.
The air was thick with a damp, musty odor, mixed with the scent of moss and rotting leaves.
The village of Budleigh Babberton seemed large.
And in truth, it was not small at all.
About twenty minutes later, Dumbledore finally stopped in front of a house that looked utterly wrecked.
It stood at the very end of the alley, flanked by tall stone walls that blocked out both sunlight and moonlight.
Its exterior walls were made of gray stone, but most of the plaster had peeled away, revealing the mottled surface beneath.
Several roof tiles were missing, exposing a pitch-black attic.
The windows were closed, but one pane bore a long crack that stretched from the upper-left corner all the way to the lower-right.
Lynn's first reaction was simple.
This house has been bombed.
The pitted marks on the walls did not look like the result of natural weathering. They looked as though something had struck them from outside.
The charred marks around the window frames did not look like they had been caused by sun or rain either.
They looked more like they had been licked by flames.
Yet to Lynn's surprise, a carefully maintained path lay in front of this dilapidated house.
The path stretched from the entrance of the alley to the front door, roughly a dozen meters long.
It was paved with pebbles, each one neatly arranged, without a single weed growing between them.
On either side stood neatly trimmed gardens.
The well-kept path and gardens formed a sharp contrast with the house, which looked as though it had been plowed over by an Explosion Charm.
Lynn looked at the path, then at the house.
The owner of this place must be a very contradictory person.
Dumbledore stood at the entrance to the path, looked around to ensure no one was watching from the shadows, then whispered to the two of them.
"Follow me closely."
He cautiously drew his wand.
Its tip glowed faintly, illuminating the pebble path beneath their feet.
His steps were light and slow, each one steady, as though he were testing whether the ground might suddenly collapse.
Lynn followed behind him.
Harry followed behind Lynn.
When they reached the front door, Dumbledore stopped.
He raised his hand and knocked three times.
Knock.
Knock-knock.
The sound echoed through the quiet alley and carried quite a distance.
No one answered.
Dumbledore knocked three more times.
Knock.
Knock-knock.
Still, no one answered.
Dumbledore did not give up.
He reached out, grasped the doorknob, and gave it a gentle twist.
The door was unlocked.
He pushed it open and walked inside.
Lynn and Harry followed behind him.
The scene inside was even worse than the outside.
Standing at the doorway, Lynn swept his gaze across the entire room.
Only one word came to mind.
Shambles.
Everything had been overturned.
Cabinet doors hung wide open, their contents scattered across the floor.
Drawers had been pulled out and piled haphazardly in the corners.
Books had been ripped from the shelves and stacked on the floor. Some pages were torn, while others had broken spines.
A piano lay overturned on the floor, its lid smashed and its keys scattered everywhere.
Black keys.
White keys.
Some intact.
Some cracked.
Some shattered into several pieces.
Lynn stared at a black piano key on the floor for a moment.
It was perfectly intact, without a crack or chip, looking almost new.
Yet it lay in the middle of broken glass and porcelain shards, appearing exceptionally out of place.
Lynn looked back toward the piano.
The piano was overturned, and the keys had been scattered. But their distribution was strange.
Most were concentrated near the piano, with only a few reaching the corners of the room.
Yet the black key before him lay at least five or six meters away.
Lynn shifted his gaze from the key to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore stood in the center of the room, his eyes scanning the scattered clutter.
His expression was calm.
But Lynn noticed that his gaze lingered on that black piano key for a fraction of a second.
"Ahem!"
Dumbledore gave a light cough and shook his head at Lynn.
The movement was so slight that it would have been impossible to notice without paying close attention.
But Lynn saw it.
He withdrew his gaze and continued looking elsewhere.
"Something truly terrible must have happened here," Dumbledore said in the quiet room.
The tension in his voice had vanished, replaced by something very...
Theatrical.
"Yes." Lynn nodded cooperatively, his voice filled with righteous indignation. "This must be the work of Death Eaters! Simply abominable!"
He drew his wand and pointed it at the scattered piano keys.
Dumbledore's eyes widened instantly.
That was not what he meant.
He wanted Lynn to play along with the act, not take direct action.
But Lynn had already made his move.
Zzzzt—!!!
A bolt of blue-white lightning shot from the tip of Lynn's wand, accurately striking the single black piano key.
The lightning danced across the key with a piercing crackle.
Sparks flew everywhere.
The smell of ozone and burning filled the air.
"Ouch—!"
A cry of pain erupted from the pile of keys.
Harry was startled and jumped back half a step, his fluffy slippers scuffing against the floor with a squeak.
His eyes were wide.
His mouth formed an O.
His gaze darted back and forth between the smoking keys and Dumbledore.
"Good evening, Horace," Dumbledore said calmly, as though nothing had happened. "Are you quite all right?"
From the pile of keys, a figure struggled to sit up.
It was a bald old man.
He wore rumpled pajamas patterned with cartoon dragons.
"That was a piano!"
Slughorn's voice was filled with heartbroken indignation.
He pointed a trembling finger at the overturned piano.
"Why didn't you stop him? Do you have any idea how expensive that was?"
"My apologies, Horace."
Dumbledore's tone was sincere, but Lynn noticed the corners of his mouth twitching upward slightly.
"But you can hardly blame me. Your Transfiguration was so seamless that even I did not notice."
Slughorn glared at him, his lips trembling as though he wanted to say something.
But no words came out.
"Even if you say so..." His voice trailed into a helpless sigh. "Fine. There really was no way around it."
"I should have taken some Felix Felicis beforehand."
"Would you like us to help you tidy up?" Dumbledore asked.
Slughorn looked at the mess across the floor, then at the overturned piano, and sighed.
"Please do," he said. "It would take me quite a while to clean all of this up."
Dumbledore nodded, then looked toward Harry and Lynn.
"Well then, Lynn, Harry, how about leaving this to you?"
He paused, as though suddenly remembering something.
"Oh, I forgot to introduce you."
"This is my old colleague, Horace Slughorn."
"No problem," Harry agreed immediately.
He moved quickly, pulling his wand from his pajama pocket and pointing it at the overturned piano.
"Reparo."
A bolt of silver-white light flew from his wand and struck the piano.
"Reparo."
Another flash of silver-white light.
This time, it landed on the books scattered across the floor.
Harry stood in the center of the room, waving his wand again and again.
Silver-white light shot from its tip, reaching every corner of the house.
One by one, the furniture returned to its original position.
Shattered objects were restored.
The clutter across the floor was returned to its proper place.
Meanwhile, after hearing the conversation, Slughorn's eyes widened as he looked at the two of them.
Especially Harry.
The lightning-shaped scar on his forehead was exceptionally clear beneath the candlelight.
"Oh..."
Slughorn's voice carried a note of sudden realization and wonder.
"Could he be...?"
"Indeed." Dumbledore nodded, a smile on his lips. "Harry Potter."
Slughorn's eyes lit up.
He looked Harry up and down, from the top of his head to the soles of his feet, then back again.
There was irrepressible joy in his gaze, like someone who had just discovered a rare treasure.
"And the other one, you have likely heard of as well," Dumbledore said. "Lynn, the youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class—"
He paused, as though giving Slughorn time to process the information.
"The uncrowned champion of the Triwizard Tournament," he added. "Although Harry took the final Triwizard Cup, I am certain you have heard about Lynn's performance during the matches."
Slughorn's gaze shifted from Harry to Lynn.
He stared at Lynn for several seconds.
"Multiple-time recipient of the Special Award for Services to the School," Dumbledore continued. "An intern in the Auror Office of the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
"According to Scrimgeour, his performance during the internship was outstanding. He handled several thorny cases..."
Slughorn's eyebrows rose.
His gaze lingered on Lynn for a while longer before shifting back to Dumbledore.
"Don't think you can persuade me with this alone, Albus," he said.
His voice was firm, but Lynn noticed that his eyes still drifted toward them.
"I have said it many times. The answer is no."
His tone was resolute.
But his eyes betrayed his hesitation.
His gaze moved repeatedly between Harry and Lynn, as though he were evaluating something.
"Oh, right," Dumbledore said, as though a thought had just occurred to him. "Both of them have considerable talent for Potions."
The corner of Slughorn's mouth twitched.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
"Talent for Potions?" he repeated.
"Harry received an 'E' in Potions," Dumbledore said. "While Professor Snape's evaluation of him is not particularly high, the E on his report card is a fact."
Slughorn's gaze shifted toward Harry.
Harry was currently waving his wand, returning the final chair to its original position.
"As for Lynn..." Dumbledore's voice carried a faint smile. "Professor Snape has a very high opinion of his Potions ability."
"How high?"
"High enough that Professor Snape is willing to let him assist in brewing some... rather complex Potions."
Slughorn's mouth twitched once more.
He knew exactly what kind of person Snape was.
For Snape to acknowledge someone's Potions ability, that person had to be genuinely exceptional.
Slughorn's gaze lingered on Lynn once again.
Lynn stood in the corner of the room with his hands in his pockets, doing nothing.
He was simply scanning the room, his gaze occasionally pausing on a corner before moving on.
Slughorn watched him for several seconds before looking back at Dumbledore.
"Albus," he said slowly, weighing every word, "you win."
The corners of Dumbledore's mouth curled up slightly.
"When can I move back?" Slughorn asked.
"Any time," Dumbledore said. "The gates of Hogwarts will always be open for you."
Slughorn sighed, stood from the floor, and brushed the dust off his pajamas.
"You two," he said with the kindness of an elder, "if you have time in the future, feel free to visit my office."
"I have some... well, some quite nice tea."
Lynn and Harry exchanged a glance.
"Of course, Professor," Harry said.
"Mhm," Lynn added.
Slughorn nodded, turned around, and began tidying the things Harry had not yet restored.
Dumbledore stood at the doorway, watching Slughorn's busy back with a smile.
"Let's go," he said. "Let him finish. We shall head back first."
Moonlight spilled onto the path, stretching the three shadows long and thin.
Behind them, Slughorn's muttering drifted from the house.
"The piano... my piano..."
His voice was full of heartache.
But it also carried a hint of anticipation.
---
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