Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to J K Rowling.
~ Slughorn seemed to have given them up. (HBP, p.485 UK edition) ~
Slughorn drained the goblet and plunked it on the table. Ahh. One benefit of being a Potions expert was the ability to cure hangovers with a gulp. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to suffer the full effects of a heavy night’s drinking. One thing the potion couldn’t do, however, was clear the haze of memories from those evenings.
And Odo, the hero, they bore him back home…
He couldn’t for the life of him remember how he’d got back from Hagrid’s last night. Young Harry had probably helped him. It was a pity one of his favourites had seen him in such a state. Though no doubt the boy himself had drunk more than was sensible.
… to the place that he’d known as a lad …
Thinking of his favourites, he reached for his diary to schedule the next Slug Club. Must make sure Harry Potter could attend this time. He’d been quite a hit at the Christmas party.
… they laid him to rest with his hat inside out …
Don’t want to lose touch with all these bright sparks. There were some outstanding students among the senior years. Thinking of the missed opportunities for helping talented individuals on their way, he wondered why he’d ever retired in the first place.
… I’ve never been wrong about a student yet.
His own voice from long ago echoed in his head, drowning out the drunken ditty. He shook his head to clear it. What was he doing? Oh yes, the next Slug Club …
No, you’ll go far, Tom, I’ve never been wrong about a student yet.
He felt sick all of a sudden. He checked the ingredients he’d used in his hangover potion - no, they were all fresh.
… you’ll go far, Tom … ‘the wizard who killed Lily Evans’ … I’ve never been wrong about a student yet … ‘the wizard who killed Lily Evans’…
Where was that dratted song about Odo? Why were these other voices tormenting him? They wouldn’t stop … on and on, over and over … He forcefully pulled forward his diary and dipped his quill in the ink bottle.
He held it, hovering over a date. A drop of ink fell and stained the page. Suddenly he remembered. Why he’d retired.
… ‘the wizard who killed Lily Evans’ …
He dropped the quill and his head fell into his hands.