Their lungs were compressed and bodies squished through a tunnel as they Apparated away from Privet Drive. Diana, of course, was used to such a feeling, but Harry wasn't, so they had to take a few moments to allow Harry to regain his composure.

"I'm fine," said Harry finally. "But I think I might prefer brooms..."

Dumbledore and Diana smiled, and the two teenagers followed Dumbledore down the lane in a brisk walk. Diana watched the second hand travel on a clock on a nearby church. It was nearly midnight.

"So tell me, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Your scar...has it been hurting at all?"

Diana watched Harry unconsciously rub his forehead out of habit. "No," he said, "and I've been wondering about that. I thought it would be burning all the time now Voldemort's getting so powerful again." Harry glanced at Diana after saying Voldemort's name, quite conscious of their relation. She nodded at him with as smile, as if reassuring him that she wasn't offended. He smiled lightly back.

"I, on the other hand, thought otherwise," Dumbledore commented. "Lord Voldemort has finally realized the dangerous access to his thoughts and feelings you have been enjoying. It appears that he is employing Occlumency against you."

"Well, I'm not complaining," said Harry, and Diana laughed.

They kept walking, passing a telephone box and a bus shelter. "Professor?"

"Harry?"

"Where exactly are we?" he asked, peering around at the unfamiliar surroundings.

"This, Harry, is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton."

"And what are we doing here?"

"We are here to seduce a professor," Diana piped up, repeating Dumbledore's words from earlier. "We are one staff member short, now, remember? This is an old colleague of Dumbledore's who we are apparently trying to convince to come back and teach."

"How can I help with that?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I think we'll find a use for you," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Both of you. Left here," he added, and they turned.

They made their way up a steep, narrow street lined with quaint little houses. The windows were dark and there was an odd chill here, like there seemed to be in the rest of the country. It was the same in Hogsmeade, where Diana was staying, and in Diagon Alley, where she had made a few visits. She even noticed it earlier in Privet Drive. Voldemort seemed to be affecting even the muggle areas.

"Professor, why couldn't we just Apparate directly into your old colleague's house?"

"Because it would be quite as rude as kicking down the front door," Dumbledore replied. "Courtesy dictates that we offer fellow wizards the opportunity of denying us entry. In any case, most Wizarding dwellings are magically protected from unwanted Apparators. At Hogwarts, for instance--"

"--you can't Apparate anywhere inside the buildings or grounds," Harry said quickly. "Hermione Granger told me."

"And she is quite right. We turn left again."

The church clocked chimed midnight behind them. Diana jumped, startled. Harry looked at her oddly, but she avoided his eyes.

"Sir, I saw in the Daily Prophet that Fudge had been sacked..."

"Finally," Diana commented. "It was about time."

"He has been replaced, I'm sure you also saw, by Rufus Scrimgeour, who used to be the Head of the Auror office," Dumbledore added.

"Is he...Do you think he's good?"

"An interesting question," said Dumbledore. "He is able, certainly. A more decisive and forceful personality than Cornelius."

"Yes, but I mean--"

"I know what you mean. Rufus is a man of action and, having fought Dark wizards for most of his working life, does not underestimate Lord Voldemort."

There was a brief silence in which Harry seemed to be picking his words carefully. "And...sir...I saw about Madam Bones."

Diana remembered the Daily Prophet article she had read.

"Yes," Dumbledore said quietly. "A terrible loss. She was a great witch. Just up here--ouch."

He had pointed with his injured hand.

"Careful, Albus!" hissed Diana like a worried mother. Dumbledore merely smiled at her, but Harry looked anxious.

"Professor, what happened to your--?"

"I have no time to explain now," he said. "It is a thrilling tale, I wish to do it justice." Dumbledore then turned back and smiled at Harry reassuringly.

"I promise you'll know soon enough," whispered Diana. "We'll explain soon."

He smiled weakly and nodded, and returned his attention to Dumbledore. "Sir--I got a Ministry of Magic leaflet by owl, about security measures we should all take against Death Eaters..."

"So did I," Diana scoffed quietly. "They sent one to me! Me! Of all people! It's a load of crap, if you ask me. If Voldemort wants to kill you, no mundane precautions will keep him out."

Dumbledore laughed quietly. "I got one as well," he said. "You have not asked us, for instance, what is our favorite flavor of jam, to check that I am indeed Professor Dumbledore and that Diana is indeed Diana Riddle and not impostors."

"I didn't..." Harry trailed off unsurely, but Diana laughed.

"Dumbledore's favorite jam is raspberry, for future reference. Mine is a trick: I don't like any kind of jam...although, if I were a Death Eater, I would have definitely researched that..."

"Well, on that leaflet, it said something about Inferi. What exactly are they? The leaflet wasn't very clear."

"They are corpses," said Dumbledore calmly. "Dead bodies that have been bewitched to do the Dark Lord's bidding. Inferi have not been seen for a long time, however, not since Voldemort was last powerful."

"It's very Dark magic," Diana added heavily. "He had to kill a whole army of people to create them."

"This is the place," Dumbledore said once they had reached a small, neat stone house. The approached the gate, but Dumbledore stopped abruptly.

"Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear."

Diana moved her gaze up that path. The front door was hanging off of its hinges. She pulled her wand out immediately and tightened her grip around it, ready to strike.

"Wands out and follow me," Dumbledore whispered. Dumbledore and Diana moved shoulder to shoulder up the path, creating a shield between whatever lay in front of them and Harry. They quieted their footsteps when they entered the threshold.

"Lumos," Dumbledore said. His wand tip ignited, and the narrow hallway lit up at once.

A scene of total devastation met their eyes. A piano was splintered on its side on the floor, and a broken chandelier lay limply in a corner. Cushions were deflated, slashed with feathers oozing out of them and onto the floor; fragments of glass and china littered the floors, and books and photos were scattered everywhere, obviously taken from the empty and cracked bookcases. A grandfather clock lay on its side, the clock face cracked. Diana stared at it.

"Not pretty, is it?" said Dumbledore. "Yes, something horrible has happened here."

Diana moved around the living room, checking for blood or a body, but she found none. It wasn't until she moved into the dining room that a dark, thick, red liquid splattered the ripped wallpaper. She took a deep breath and moved forward.

She heard Dumbledore say something to Harry, and then a loud, "Ouch!"

"Good evening, Horace," she heard Dumbledore say from the living room, and she immediately made her way back.

Where she had once seen a puffy blue chair, a man now crouched. He was fat, bald, and old, and massaged his lower belly where he had just been poked.

"There was no need to stick the wand in that hard," the man said gruffly, clambering heavily to his feet. "It hurt."

He had an enormous, silver mustache and sharp, enormous eyes. He wore a polished maroon velvet jacket over lilac silk pajamas. He was incredibly short.

"What gave it away?" he grunted, still rubbing his belly.

"My dear Horace," said Dumbledore amusedly, "if the Death Eaters really had come to call, the Dark Mark would have been set over the house."

The man named Horace clapped a pudgy hand over his forehead.

"The Dark Mark," he muttered. "Knew there was something...ah well. Wouldn't have had time anyway, I'd only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when you entered the room."

"Would you like my assistance clearing up?" Dumbledore asked politely.

"Please."

Both old wizards, one short and fat, the other tall and thin, stood back and waved their wands simultaneously. All of the furniture, all of the books and photos, all of the broken china repaired themselves and zoomed back to their original spots. The wallpaper repaired itself and the blood disappeared from the wall in the dining room. Everything was perfectly clean and dusted and repaired in no time, including the grandfather clock, which Diana glanced at every few moments.

"What kind of blood was that, incidentally?" Dumbledore asked.

"On the walls? Dragon," replied the man. "Yes, dragon. My last bottle, and prices are sky-high at the moment. Still, it might be reusable."

The man sidled over to the coffee table, and it was then that his eyes fell on Harry and Diana. His eyes peered at Harry's scar, the moved to Diana's small globe necklace that she always wore. His eyes widened at the both of them.

"Oho!" he said loudly, gazing back and forth between the two rapidly. "Oho!"

"This," said Dumbledore, moving forward to make the introduction, "is Harry Potter and Diana Beauregard. This is an old friend and colleague of mine, Horace Slughorn."

It felt weird being referred to by her mother's maiden name, but she liked it much better than 'Riddle.'

Slughorn turned to Dumbledore shrewdly, though his eyes gleamed. "So that's how you thought you'd persuade me, is it? Well the answer is no."

He pushed away from them, his face determinedly one of a man trying to resist temptation. He eyed Diana with an odd expression, but his stance was thin, yet unwavering.

"I suppose we can have a drink, at least?" asked Dumbledore. "For old time's sake?"

Slughorn hesitated. "All right then, one drink."

Dumbledore smiled at the two of them and ushered them to the couch where the gratefully sat. Slughorn filled the glasses gruffly and handed them out. He sat in a chair, and his legs didn't reach the floor.

"Well, how have you been keeping, Horace?" Dumbledore asked, taking a seat.

"Not so well," Slughorn said at once. "Weak chest. Wheezy. Rheumatism, too. Can't move like I used to. Well, that's to be expected. Old age. Fatigue."

"And yet you must have moved fairly quickly to prepare such a welcome for us at such short notice. You can't have had more than three minutes' warning?"

Slughorn said, half irritably, half proudly, "Two. Didn't hear my Intruder Charm go off, I was taking a bath. Still," he added sternly, "the fact remains that I'm an old man, Albus. A tired man who's earned the right to a quiet life and a few creature comforts."

"You're not yet as old as I am," Dumbledore commented.

"Well maybe you ought to think about retirement yourself," he said. His eyes moved to Dumbledore's blackened, injured hand. "Reactions not what they were, I see."

Dumbledore smiled. Both Harry's and Slughorn's eyes lingered on the golden ring for a moment too long.

"So, all these precautions against intruders, Horace...are they for the Death Eaters' benefit, or mine?" asked Dumbledore.

"What would the Death Eaters want with a poor broken-down old buffer like me?" Slughorn demanded. His eyes glanced toward Diana.

"I imagine that they would want you to turn your considerable talents to coercion, torture, and murder," said Dumbledore. "Are you really telling me that they haven't come recruiting yet?"

Horace eyed Dumbledore for a moment then muttered, "I haven't given them the chance. I've been on the move for a year. Never stay in one place for more than a week. Move from Muggle house to Muggle house--the owners of this place are on holiday in the Canary Islands--it's been very pleasant, I'll be sorry to leave. It's quite easy once you know how, one simple Freezing Charm on these absurd burglar alarms they use instead of Sneakoscopes and make sure the neighbors don't see you bringing in the piano."

"Ingenious," commented Dumbledore. "But it sounds a rather tiring existence for a broken-down old buffer in search of a quiet life. Now, if you were to return to Hogwarts--"

"If you're going to tell me my life would be more peaceful at that pestilential school, you can save your breath, Albus! I might have been in hiding, but some funny rumors have reached me since Dolores Umbridge left! If that's how you treat teachers these days--"

"Professor Umbridge ran afoul of our centaur herd," said Dumbledore. He glanced at Harry and Diana, and she had to restrain from laughing. "I think you, Horace, would have known better that to stride into the forest and call a horde of angry centaurs 'filthy half-breeds.'"

"That's what she did, did she?" said Slughorn. "Idiotic woman. Never liked her."

Diana chuckled, and Dumbledore and Slughorn turned to her. "Sorry," she said. "It's just I never liked her either. Neither did Harry."

Dumbledore stood up rather suddenly.

"Are you leaving?" asked Slughorn at once, looking quite hopeful.

"No, I was wondering whether I might use your bathroom."

"Oh," said Slughorn, clearly disappointed. "Second on the left down the hall."

Dumbledore strode from the room, and when they heard the door click shut, there was a tense silence.

"Don't think I don't know why he's brought the both of you," he said abruptly.

They merely stared at the watery-eyed man.

"You look very like your father."

"Yeah, I've been told," said Harry.

"Except for your eyes, you've got--"

"My mother's eyes, yeah."

Slughorn turned to Diana now and eyed her with many conflicting emotions. "And you look just like your mother. Your father--it's him isn't it? You-Know-Who?"

"Unfortunately," she replied bluntly.

He nodded suspiciously. "They were both some of the best students I've ever taught. Tom and Vera. They never could resist each other, even from the beginning." Diana had the urge to spew questions, but Slughorn continued. "You shouldn't have favorites as a teacher, of course, but Vera Bauregard and Lily Potter were two of mine. Both some of the brightest I've ever taught. I told them both they should've been in my House."

"Which was your House?" Harry asked him.

"I was Head of Slytherin," said Slughorn. "Oh, now," he said once he saw the look on Harry's face, "don't go holding that against me! You'll be Gryffindor like her, I suppose? Yes, it usually goes in families. Now always, though. Ever heard of Sirius Black? You must have done--been in the papers for the last couple of years--died a few weeks ago--"

It felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs. Judging by Harry's paled face, she knew he felt the same.

"Well, anyway, he was a big pal of your father's at school. The whole black family had been in my House, but Sirius ended up in Gryffindor! Shame--he was a talented boy. I got his brother, Regulus, when he came along, but I'd liked the set."

He gazed in the opposite direction, apparently lost in thought, but continued at once. "Your mother was Muggle-born of course. Couldn't believe it when I found out. Thought she must have been pure-blood, she was so good," he said to Harry.

"One of my best friends is Muggle-born," said Harry, "and she's the best in our year."

"Funny how that happens sometimes, isn't it?"

"Not really," Diana replied coldly.

Slughorn looked at them in surprise. "You mustn't think I'm prejudiced!" he said. "No, no, no! Haven't I just said your mother was one of my all-time favorite students? And there was Dirk Cresswell in the year after her too--now Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, of course--another Muggle-born, a very gifted student, and still gives me excellent inside information on the goings-on at Gringotts!"

He bounced up and down slightly with a grin and pointed to the many glittering photo frames on the shelves, each with tiny little occupants that moved.

"All ex-students, all signed. You'll notice Barnabas Cuffe, editor of the Daily Prophet, he's always interested to hear my take on the day's news. And Ambrosius Flume, of Honeydukes--a hamper every birthday, and all because I was able to give him an introduction to Ciceron Harkiss, who gave him his first job! And at the back--you'll see her if you just crane you neck--that's Gwenog Jones, who of course captains the Holyhead Harpies...People are always astonished to hear I'm on first-name terms with the Harpies, and free tickets whenever I want them!"

"And all these people know where to find you, to send you stuff?" asked Diana, thinking of why Death Eaters hadn't found him if this was the case.

The smile slid from Slughorn's face immediately.

"Of course not," he said. "I have been out of touch with everyone for a year. Still...the prudent wizard keeps his head down in such times. All very well for Dumbledore to talk, but taking up a post at Hogwarts just now would be tantamount to declaring my public allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix! And while I'm sure they're very admirable and brave and all the rest of it, I don't personally fancy the mortality rate--"

"You don't have to join the Order to teach at Hogwarts," Diana interrupted. "Most of the teachers aren't in it, and none of them have ever been killed."

"Except Quirrell," Harry noted. "But he got what he deserved seeing as he was working with Voldemort."

Slughornn gave a shudder and short squawk, but they both ignored him.

"Yes, it is true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has never sought a fight with Dumbledore," he muttered grudgingly, glancing at Diana. He seemed to be thinking, hard, but Dumbledore reentered the room.

"Oh, there you are, Albus! Upset stomach?" said Slughorn.

"No, I was merely reading the Muggle magazines," Dumbledore said. "I do love knitting patterns. Well, Harry, Diana, we have trespassed upon Horace's hospitality quite long enough; I think it is time for us to leave."

Harry and Diana stood up quickly, and Slughorn seemed taken aback. "You're leaving?"

"Yes, indeed. I think I know a lost cause when I see one."

Slughorn seemed incredibly agitated as Dumbledore moved toward the door.

"Well, I'm sorry you don't want the job, Horace," he said, raising his uninjured hand in a farewell salute. "Hogwarts would have been glad to see you back again. Our greatly increased security notwithstanding, you will always be welcome to visit, should you wish to."

"Yes...well...very gracious...as I say..."

"Goodbye, then."

"Bye," said Harry and Diana quickly.

They had not made it two feet before they heard a shout behind them.

"All right, all right, I'll do it!"

They turned to see a breathless Slughorn in the doorway.

"You will come out of retirement?"

"Yes, yes. I must be mad, but yes."

"Wonderful!" said Dumbledore, beaming. "Then, Horace, we shall see you on the first of September."

"Yes, I daresay you will," Slughorn grunted back.

They set off down the garden path and heard Slughorn shout, "I'll want a pay rise, Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore merely chuckled, and they set off down the lane. Once they were a safe distance, Dumbledore smiled at the two.

"Well done," he said, impressed.

"I didn't do anything," said Harry in surprise.

"Oh yes you did, You showed Horace exactly how much he stands to gain by returning to Hogwarts. Do you like him?"

"Er..." Harry said, and Diana just said nothing at all.

"Horace," said Dumbledore, "likes his comfort. He also enjoys the company of the famous, the successful, and the powerful. He enjoys the feeling that he influences people. He has never wanted to occupy the throne himself; he prefers the backseat. Horace formed a kind of club of his favorite students, whether picked for brains or wit or charm, he had a knack for picking ones that would go on to do great things.

"This will do."

The stopped at where they had arrived and he held out his arm for them to take. They both latched on to him, and they were swept away from the tiny village and away from the peculiar collector.