Azkaban students at Hogwarts

On the last day of Christmas, Barnabas Guffey, editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet, finally got around to visiting his teacher, Horace Slughorn.

He holds a manuscript that will be published early tomorrow morning, preparing to listen to the teacher's comments.

When this latest manuscript is sent out, he will be able to get away from some annoying trivial matters and temporarily say goodbye to a public case that has been struggling for more than half a year.

The door was opened by a short, fat, bald man.He has bulging eyes and a thick silver beard as thick as a walrus.

"Barnabas, rare visitor."

Slughorn stepped aside with a smile and allowed his proud disciple to enter.

Barnabas is well versed.

The cabinets and shelves in the living room are full of weird gadgets and precious magic materials.

The sofa in the middle was chaotically filled with bulging velvet cushions.Surrounded by soft chairs and footstools, there were wine and books, as well as large boxes of chocolates and pineapple preserves.

The table near the window is covered with glittering picture frames, and there are some people moving in each picture frame.

Barnabas blinked at his photo and naturally placed a box of pineapple preserves on the coffee table. As a teacher, he didn’t have many hobbies. Apart from professional hobbies, he probably only had pineapple preserves and collecting them. A proud pupil.

"Barnabas, you are too kind."

Slughorn did not show a happy expression, but frowned.

"The pineapple preserves you recently sent have already filled my storage room."

This made the editor stunned for a moment. He was so busy recently that he had no time to send candied fruits to his teacher.

"Not you?" Slughorn stood up and motioned for Barnabas to follow him.

He showed his students a room full of pineapple preserves, and then said:

"Ever since you said hello a week ago and said you were coming to visit me, piles of candied pineapples have been showing up at the door every day."

"Could it be Ambrosio?" Barnabas immediately thought of the owner of Honeydukes Candy Shop, who was also a former student of Slughorn.

"He usually sends a big box of pineapple preserves on my birthday." Slughorn shook his head, led Barnabas back to the living room, and sunk his fat body into the sofa.

"Okay, Barnabas, the manuscript in your hand is almost full of water."

Slughorn motioned for the student to hand him the manuscript.

Barnabas came to him on rare occasions to discuss unpublished news, and it gave him the pleasure of being taken seriously.

Slughorn has potential as a politician; but he prefers to stay behind the scenes and enjoy the privilege of meeting famous and successful people, so to some extent, he is very suitable for the job of a teacher.

But only to a certain extent.

Barnabas handed over the manuscript and watched as Slughorn took out his wand and pointed at the piano in the corner of the living room.

It opened the cover, the black and white keys and the silencer pedal rose and fell on their own, and began to play a soothing music.

"Excuse me, I want some music." Slughorn held the press release between his stubby fingers. "It's still the same thing, right?"

"Yes, but this time the Ministry of Magic is determined." Barnabas nodded. "They decided to set the court date on the first day of Hogwarts this year."

"A trial?" Slughorn was stunned for a moment, "Have they found Roman?"

This is obviously not the first time Slughorn has talked about Roman with Barnabas. Barnabas continued smoothly:

"No, Dumbledore still refuses to reveal Roman's whereabouts. He insists that Roman has not returned to Hogwarts for a long time because of an accident."

"Accident? In that guy's dictionary, there are only two words: cautious and life-threatening. There are never any accidents." Slughorn said angrily.

"Teacher, I have to remind you that prudent people generally don't risk their lives."

"Yes, but madmen can." Slughorn frowned and marked a long paragraph on the manuscript, then handed it back to his student, "If you ask me, this is nonsense."

Barnabas looked at that paragraph, which probably meant that after careful consideration, the ministry decided to use veritaserum on the werewolves.

He raised his head and looked at Slughorn, as if he was asking the teacher for advice on this Potions issue.

"The first time I saw the picture of the werewolf, I concluded that his memory had been altered. In this case, neither Veritaserum nor Legilimency would be useful." Slughorn said firmly. .

"Modify memory?" Barnabas frowned, "But modifying memory will cause..."

"No, no, no, Barnabas." Slughorn shook his head, "I admit that you are a good student, but obviously you have never worked hard on Potions since you graduated from Hogwarts. .”

Barnabas listened to these teasing words with a normal expression; Slughorn didn't choose his best disciple based on his Potions class results.

"If Belby were here, he would tell you that Veritaserum has its limits."

Slughorn couldn't help but feel a little regretful when he thought of his proud student. He was indeed talented, but unfortunately he was not proficient in the ways of the world.

At this moment, if you stand up and speak for Roman, you will be crushed into powder by public opinion.

Not to mention his credit for inventing Wolfsbane potion, now even his Order of Merlin is in jeopardy.

"But modifying memory will always leave traces, right?"

Not everyone is proficient in the Oblivion Charm.

Barnabas is an expert when it comes to hot news, but he knows nothing about memory modification.

Slughorn had no choice but to explain:

"No, as long as you completely destroy his original memory before implanting the new memory."

He shuddered, as if this was a terrible thing, "but few people are willing to treat themselves like that, which will cause indelible damage to the brain."

Barnabas's eyes lit up and he wanted to write something down, but then he shook his head, "I can no longer report anything about this matter now."

"Don't think about it, don't think about it." Slughorn shook his head, "The purpose of telling you this is to stop you from interfering."

"One Belby is enough."

"For a long time, we have seen various forces in many countries speaking out for this matter; but now public opinion has begun to shift to one side."

Barnabas suddenly felt frightened when he heard Belby's name.

Belby has been working on wolfsbane potion for decades, and has launched several potions with different effects. In the wizarding world, it can be regarded as a great achievement for his hard work.

But now he just stood up and said a few words, saying that under the nickname of the smuggler White Wolf, the boy named Roman Heller did not seem to be a bad person, and he almost never got over.

Even his own Order of Merlin medal is being considered for withdrawal.

You can't wade through this muddy water by yourself.

Thinking of this, he sighed.

He came to Slughorn today. He had no official business, it was all selfish.

During this period of time, Barnabas has been overwhelmed by pressure from all parties and news from various channels; but as a top player in the industry, he really does not want to just be a puppet like this. Others provide good lines.

Whether that guy named Roman Heller was good or bad, he wanted to write something real.

But he couldn't afford the consequences of the real thing.

"If the defendant fails to appear on time, the Wizengamot will result in a default judgment."

Slughorn seemed not to notice his expression, and laughed as he read the last paragraph.

"If the defendant fails to show up on time, what can the Wizengamot sentence be? Should the chair on the trial bench be sent to Azkaban?"

"A lot of things can be put on his head. The Ministry of Magic can eliminate a lot of unsolved cases and many shady things. Scrimgeour prepared three manuscripts about the results of suppressing dark wizards and smugglers. But they were all withdrawn by the ministry.”

Barnabas spoke casually, knowing that the teacher would trade the same information.

He doesn't care about telling his teacher these things that cannot be known to outsiders, because he knows that his teacher is best at keeping secrets.

Slughorn would only brag to outsiders that the editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet was his protégé and care about his opinions and comments, but he would never disclose the content of the conversation to outsiders.

They are smart people who love themselves more than anything else and can benefit most from sharing information.

And everything that might cause disaster was carefully guarded by them.

"You have to be careful, especially with news or people from the United States and France; Roman is young but has a lot of experience." Slughorn responded to him as expected.

"Although the direction of public opinion has shifted to one side, you must also know that you must retreat before the wave comes."

"You told me last time that a book could be written about his experience."

Barnabas showed a reminiscence look. He was accustomed to using this look to show his carelessness, but in fact it was just to hide his desire to dig up information.

"It's still a big one." Slughorn nodded.

"So you are in this book..." Barnabas closed his mouth because he noticed that Slughorn's face did not look good.

The master and the apprentice changed the topic in unison and began to exchange casual greetings. They chatted for several hours until the night fell.

Slughorn asked Barnabas to stay for dinner, but was refused, so he had to enjoy a simple meal by himself, then put on his pajamas, held a glass of red wine, and began to enjoy his night before going to bed.

Boom - boom - boom.

With a slight and rhythmic knock on the door, the defense alarm on the door was triggered.

But the person outside the door made no follow-up action, as if waiting for him to open the door.

This is not the behavior of a bad visitor, more like it is too late to report something urgent.

Slughorn thought that his disciple had got some news, so he left and returned, and hurriedly came to open the door wearing a maroon velvet jacket.

The door opened.

A young man with silver hair stood outside.

He was dressed in a plain wizard robe, and he was carrying a large box of pineapple preserves in his hand.

It's packaged like the one that filled the Slughorn family's storage room.

"Roman Heller!"

Slughorn threw off his jacket, letting the shiny buttons on it dangle on the ground. Wearing only a pair of lilac silk pajamas, he ran back to the house, and then stumbled onto the lounge chair.

"Mr. Slughorn, my mentor, advisor, and old friend."

Roman shouted exaggeratedly and ripped off the anti-theft chain on the door.

"Cunning villain!"

Slughorn jumped up from the overstuffed chaise longue, clutching a bottle of dragon's blood on the shelf tightly behind him.