Chapter 295: I Am Harry Bo Te

At this hour, the residences on Muggle Street have all gone dark to rest, with only a few scattered windows still letting out a faint glow.

Everything around is very quiet.

Dumbledore, with John and Harry, walks down the street with practiced ease.

"So how should we persuade Mr. Slughorn to reveal the truth to us?"

Harry, his head throbbing, asks as they walk.

From his point of view, even Dumbledore can't get a word out; what makes the two of them think they can?

"Although I just told you a lot of bad things about Horace, fundamentally he's a somewhat stubborn old man who cares too much about reputation and face."

"He still has conscience and a sense of justice; even if he keeps evading the truth from back then, there's always a scale in his heart."

"One side presses his lifelong fame, the other presses his conscience and righteousness."

"What you need to do is find a way to let his conscience outweigh his obsession with his fame."

Dumbledore leads the way ahead, speaking slowly.

"Put simply, it's just moral blackmail pressure on him."

John, standing nearby, retorts.

Dumbledore: "......"

"No, I'd rather call it awakening his conscience."

John shrugs at that, offering no answer.

Soon they arrive at a Muggle House; moss covers the courtyard's brick gaps, and the iron door hinges glint from the cold.

"Take out your wand and be ready to respond to any sudden situation."

Dumbledore looks at the violently forced-open door, squints, and says.

Although he has checked that there are no Dark Marks nearby, the scene before him still demands vigilance.

Harry and John exchange a glance and also draw their wands.

As the three step through the crooked oak door, the interior's mess comes into view.

Furniture is toppled, the walls bear snarling claw marks, the ceiling is broken, and blood drips in pools.

"Horace?"

Dumbledore calls out tentatively into the house, but receives no response.

"Headmaster, are you sure Mr. Slughorn is here?"

"Or are we too late?"

John looks at the scene before him and asks in confusion.

"Hmm, let me take a look..."

Dumbledore doesn't answer directly; instead, he lifts his wand and steps into the room beside the entrance door.

He scans the area; this room is also a mess.

On the floor lies last month's The Daily Prophet, its front-page photo featuring John and Harry.

Dumbledore's gaze slowly falls on the corner of the room, on the only intact armchair sofa.

The sofa itself is nothing special.

Yet amid the wreckage, its undamaged state stands out starkly.

"John."

Dumbledore calls softly, and John nods, understanding the Headmaster's meaning.

Then John flings a handful of stones, which transform midair into various joint components.

They then snap together, forming a delicate Stone Knight.

The move is done for nothing but showmanship.

In an instant, a collective diverse transformation, followed by precise reassembly, yields a movable Stone Knight.

No student at Hogwarts could pull off this feat.

After the Stone Knight forms, he lifts his hand toward the sofa to grab it.

But just a second before it reaches the sofa,

"Mei Lin's beard!"

"What a superb Transfiguration!"

A head suddenly pops out from the sofa's backrest, shouting with great delight.

Seeing this, even though they were prepared, John and Harry are startled.

It scared them to death, like a ghost.

Then the sofa, after a shake, stands up like a Transformer.

Finally it becomes a rotund elderly wizard in a nightgown, none other than Slughorn himself.

"Horace, your Transfiguration is equally superb; I almost didn't notice you."

Dumbledore smiles at Slughorn and says.

"Of course, but how did you finally discover me?"

Slughorn first nods appreciatively, then immediately asks back.

"Don't you think this house's mess doesn't match your sofa?" Dumbledore says slowly.

"Oh, I see..."

Slughorn nods, but is immediately drawn to the delicate Stone Knight beside him.

"Mei Lin's beard, what superb Transfiguration, unlike those self-contained stone statues."

"More agile, more powerful, more refined, but also more draining of energy."

"You are John Merick, aren't you?"

Slughorn carefully examined the Stone Knight, muttered to himself for a while, and then spoke to John.

John: "No, I am Harry Bo Te."

Harry: "......"

At John's cheeky reply, Slughorn laughed heartily.

"Hahaha, I may be old, but I'm not senile yet."

"Harry Bo Te's name—who in the Wizarding World doesn't know it!"

Saying that, he also turned to Harry beside him, staring into his eyes.

"Especially, you have a pair of eyes exactly like Lily's..."

Hearing that, Harry's Adam's apple moved, and he asked.

"Sir, do you know my mother?"

"Haha, of course, of course—Lily is my favorite student."

Slughorn looked into Harry's eyes and said very seriously, his gaze tinged with a hint of reminiscence.

But before he could begin reminiscing, Dumbledore softly interrupted.

"Horace, how did this room become like this?"

"Are you waiting for other guests? Like the Death Eaters?"

Hearing Dumbledore's words, Horace looked back at Dumbledore.

"Oh, you know, the Death Eaters have been courting me, but I can't keep refusing them forever."

"I can only pretend this place is empty."

Horace shrugged, speaking with both helplessness and annoyance.

Dumbledore nodded, said nothing more, and addressed John again.

"John."

"Again me?"

John muttered a dissatisfied remark while obediently waving his wand.

It restored to its original state.

As his magical energy surged, the broken shards, crooked furniture, and damaged walls of the whole house all began to reposition themselves automatically.

Like a video played in reverse, it returned to its initial appearance.

A beautifully warm living room appeared before everyone's eyes.

And after seeing John's maneuver, Slughorn's eyes lit up again.