Chapter 318

"Actually, you could just skip it entirely." A voice spoke; Harry and Ron turned to see Hermione, with Elina clinging to her arm—the two looked intimately close.

"I mean, the OWL certificate proves you passed the exam; as long as you took it, you're guaranteed to get it." Hermione's tone was firm, "The Ministry can only delay issuing it—they can't revoke it."

"What's the difference?" Ron muttered.

"As long as your certificate still exists, you can wait to claim it and simply join three clubs in sixth year." Hermione spoke with confidence, "If you're busy with exams this year, you could even skip joining any club at all."

"No, you don't understand." Harry shook his head. "Arnold is… he's from the Ministry. If he wants me in his club, he has plenty of ways to make it happen. It's better to agree now than to invite trouble."

Harry didn't mention the intelligence he'd received from Zhang Qiu—that Arnold was the head of the civil service. A vague feeling told him a thick barrier had already formed between them and Hermione.

"Yes, that's true for Harry Potter—but Ron, you don't need to rush." Hermione said.

"How can I not rush?" Ron's defiance flared up. "I can't stand idly by while Harry's swamped!"

"Fine," Hermione shrugged. "See you later."

Throughout, Elina had said nothing. She kept her arm linked with Hermione's, only waving with her free hand as they parted.

"Forget all that—let's go see Professor Slughorn," Harry tugged at Ron. "Let's see what he's up to now."

When they reached the classroom, they discovered Slughorn hadn't invited just the two of them. But from the warmth of his welcome, Harry was clearly the one he'd most hoped to see.

"Harry!" Slughorn nearly leapt from his seat. "You came! That's wonderful, wonderful! Oh, and you too, Ron—I knew you two were inseparable."

Harry nodded, and Ron smiled—he was pleased others praised his bond with Harry.

The empty classroom had been rearranged to resemble the headquarters of Torchwood. But here, there were more seats, and along the central table sat several bottles of drinks.

"Alright, everyone knows each other, right?" Slughorn called out. "The famed Savior, the rising star of the age, the first true luminary of the post-Dumbledore era—"

He quoted phrases straight from the Daily Prophet, yet Harry still felt goosebumps crawl over his skin.

"Harry Potter!" the students shouted his name, then all laughed—Harry himself laughing the most forced of all.

"I imagine you both know everyone here," Slughorn said, beginning to introduce the students seated around them.

"This is Blaise Zabini," Slughorn introduced a Slytherin boy; they exchanged stiff greetings.

"Cormac McLaggen—perhaps you've met before?" The burly boy with coarse hair raised a hand and gave a slight nod.

"This is Marcus Belby—do you happen to know—" Belby was thin and tense, offering an awkward smile.

"—Oh, this charming young lady seems to say she knows you!" Slughorn stepped to the last person—no surprise, it was Hermione, who waved warmly at Harry.

"Perfect, delightful," Slughorn said contentedly. "A chance to get to know each other better. After dinner, feel free to snack, or try some fruit wine… nearly alcohol-free, perfectly fine for students."

Harry noticed many held half-filled glasses of pale red liquid, so he and Ron took some too, holding them in their hands.

"I was just saying we're living in the best of times, Mr. Weasley—do you agree?" Slughorn smiled.

"I, uh… I guess so," Ron was caught off guard.

"You sound reluctant. Or do you prefer the days when Scrimgeour was in charge and your father was just an office clerk?" Slughorn chuckled to himself. "Clearly not—Hawk made many wise decisions, one of which was promoting your father to Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, wasn't it?"

"Yes, I guess." Ron was clearly trapped in awkwardness, utterly unsure how to respond.

"I think Ron means it makes his father sound like a sausage," Harry said, sensing he was rescuing Ron.

Slughorn burst into laughter; Cormac laughed until tears came. Only Hermione looked confused, exchanging bewildered glances with equally dazed Ron.

"How amusing, Harry," Slughorn chuckled. "Alright, let's set aside Mr. Weasley—what about you, Belby? How's your uncle doing?"

"He's… alright, I guess." The boy's expression grew uneasy.

"Yes, I taught him myself—what an honor. He was exceptional even as a student. When I heard he invented Wolfsbane Potion, I wasn't surprised at all."

Belby offered a weak agreement. Slughorn seemed to sense something, and didn't press further, turning instead to the next person.

"And you, Cormac," Slughorn said. "How's your uncle Tibulus lately? Is he drowning in hearings?"

"He's been buried in paperwork, barely has time to stand still," Cormac answered smoothly. "Can't let the committee think the Ministry is wasteful or negligent."

"That's the downside of working for the government—always busy when you're busy, ha!" Slughorn lightly ended Cormac's topic and shifted to Zabini, whose mother was apparently a famous beautiful witch—or more vividly, a star of the magical world.

"And this one, Miss Hermione Granger—your performance in my class was brilliant. I assume you're related to Hector Dagworth Granger, founder of the Society of Exceptional Potioneers." He smiled warmly. Harry recalled Hermione's classroom conduct—it seemed ordinary to him, perhaps because he'd grown used to her excellence.

"No, sir." Hermione's smile stiffened. "I'm Muggle-born."

"Oh… I see…" Slughorn seemed to pause in thought, but soon his face lit up with an even brighter smile. "That makes you even more impressive!"

"Of all the students I've ever taught, only one ever matched your talent—Harry's mother." Slughorn beamed. "You two are every Potions professor's dream students. You'll achieve greatness—unless…"

His tone suddenly sank. Harry felt a pang of sadness—if his mother hadn't died at Voldemort's hands, perhaps she'd have invented some great potion too.

"But we must look forward," Slughorn forced a smile. "Miss Granger, I eagerly await what astonishing things you'll accomplish. And I sincerely advise you—be very careful about marriage."

Hermione's expression grew strained, but she said nothing in reply.

"I once organized a student gathering called the Slug Club," Slughorn finally got to the point. "I invited the most outstanding students from Hogwarts. I believe each of you will become exceptional wizards—and now is the perfect time to forge friendships…"

Harry doubted this claim. Slughorn wasn't truly seeking excellence—he was seeking the children of the successful, those from influential families.

But at least one thing Harry deeply appreciated: he spoke often of Lily Evans, letting Harry see his mother from a new perspective.

The gathering lasted until half past eight. Slughorn told many more anecdotes about outstanding wizards—all of whom had once been his students.

In closing, Slughorn said that if he noticed other outstanding students—or if any of those present made recommendations—he might consider adding new members to the Slug Club. The club would never dissolve.

"Thank goodness it's finally over," Ron sighed as they left the classroom.

"Let's head back," Harry glanced warily around. "Actually, joining this club isn't so bad—it won't take much time, and it'll fill one of my club slots."

They talked all the way back about Slughorn. Ron thought he radiated strong Slytherin energy, but Harry saw merit in him—he'd mentioned his mother several times as his favorite student.

"I think he's fairly open-minded," Harry said as they entered the dormitory. "He favors pure-bloods emotionally, but he doesn't believe blood purity is everything—he admits there are outstanding Muggle-borns. Look how warmly he treated Hermione."

"But you noticed—he immediately tried to find a pure-blood lineage for Hermione when he first saw her," Ron countered. "That proves he still believes blood supremacy at heart."

"Are you talking about Slughorn?" Neville asked.

"Yes."

"He and his stupid Slug Club are a complete waste of time—I didn't go at all," Neville said. "You've got the wrong idea. Slughorn doesn't care about blood. He only wants to befriend famous, successful, powerful people—or those who'll rise to prominence in their fields. He wants to build connections with them while they're still students, so he can gain some advantage later. He loves the feeling of controlling them."

"That's true," Harry agreed—he found it very reasonable.

"And if you're looking for such people, we must admit pure-blood families are more likely to produce big names—they've had access to extraordinary resources since childhood."