Chapter 304 - Perfect Pretense (2/2)
Whatever it takes.
”But well, it was nothing like Harry's parents,” said Chris suddenly getting to the point. ”He told me how they —”
Chris closed her eyes and apologised to Harry's parents silently before faking the pain on her face.
”Has he?” said Slughorn finishing her wine and again refilling. ”Then you are close to him, I guess.”
”Yes, we are,” Chris acted perfectly hesitant then said, ”Voldemort killed her father first then he tried to kill Harry but his mother got in between to save him.”
Maybe at the mention of Voldemort or Harry's mother, Slughorn stared at Chris horrified.
”He told her to get out of the way,” said Chris remorselessly. ”He told us she needn't have died. He only wanted Harry. She could have run.”
”Oh dear,” breathed Slughorn. ”She could have . . . she needn't . . . That's awful. . . .”
”Everyone asks Harry, what made him 'The Boy Who Lived', but no one knows except a few,” said Chris looking Slughorn straight in the eye. ”This — the fact that his mother gave her life for him made him 'The Boy Who Lived'. It was his mother's sacrifice.”
”You are telling the truth, Christina?” Slughorn said, his eyes unfocused and fearful. The wine was working. ”Lily? Lily's sacrifice? My dear. . . what a terrible. . .”
”Yes, sir,” Chris nodded solemnly. ”And now Harry has to save the wizarding world. He has to stop Voldemort. I am worried about him, sir. From the moment he had told me the truth. From —”
Chris wiped her fake tears.
Slughorn turned paler than ever; his shiny forehead gleamed with sweat.
”So he is the Chosen One?”
”Yes, sir, but I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but I couldn't keep it anymore,” said Chris mournfully. ”What's the point of me being a potion genius and good at everything if I can't help. I want to help him, sir, with anything I can. But so far I have failed. Dumbledore is already helping him and I can't think of something that I can help him with but Dumbledore can not. That's impossible but I want to help him so badly.”
Chris sobbed and Slughorn sat frozen in her seat.
”But you won't tell anyone, would you sir?” said Chris with a perfect fearful tone. ”I can't tell this thing to everyone. Please don't tell anyone, sir. I admire and trust you, sir. Harry really admires you. And I am sure so did his mother. Please, sir, don't —”
”Christina, my girl, dear, I won't tell, I promise,” tears filled Slughorn's eyes. ”I want to help them too but —”
”But you have nothing that can help him, just like me,” Chris murmured with a painful smile.
Slughorn didn't look away from Chris and as she stared at him, she could see the inner battle inside Slughorn. Chris was just waiting for this. Being smart didn't work but being a damsel in distress will definitely work.
”Do you have something, Professor?” She asked, lighting up her tearful face like a little kid.
”Christina, I —” Slughorn hesitated.
”Professor, do you know a way to help Harry? Can I help him?” Chris said showing her excitement. ”Do you know anything important about Voldemort?”
”No, no,” Slughorn looked away and gulped some more wine. ”I can not.”
Chris let her face fall instantly.
”You don't want to help sir?” she whispered with fear in her voice.
”Christina, of course, I do, but —”
”You're scared he'll find out you helped Harry?”
Slughorn said nothing; he looked terrified.
”I understand, Professor,” Chris nodded gravely but then as if an idea had occurred to she looked up, ”But sir, what if I don't tell Harry it was you, who gave me the information. It could work —”
”It won't work, Christina,” said Slughorn painfully.
”Then you won't help, Professor, even though you can,” said Chris mixing anger to her sad voice.
”Christina, you don't understand —”
”People died, Professor,” said Chris forcefully, but looked like she was about to cry again. ”Harry's mother, father, Andromeda, her husband Mr Tonks, Sirius' brother Regulus and so so many people. . . He is still killing. . . He killed your students, sir. Your students, who faced him and his followers with bravery and you don't care? You won't help? You just won't?”
Slughorn raised a pudgy hand and pressed his shaking fingers to his mouth; he looked for a moment like an enormously overgrown baby.
”I am not proud . . .” he whispered through his fingers. ”I am ashamed of what — of what I have done. . . I think I may have done great damage when I was teaching Him, Christina. . .”
”Then you can fix it by doing a good job sir,” said Chris slowly. Her voice was almost hypnotic. ”Please tell me what is it? What have you done?”
Slughorn stared at Chris and Chris stared back.
”I have told Him about many things that I should not have. . . He was charismatic, smart and a talented orphan boy. . . like every Professor, I pitied him and liked him. . . I never knew he will take advantage of it. . . Never that thought crossed my mind. . . He asked me a lot about dark arts. . . I thought he was curious just like everybody else . . . But then one day he asked me about something that made me uneasy. . . If only I had stopped that day. . . I will never forget. . . That sinful act. . . The thing I have refused to tell Dumbledore. . . he asked and I knew. . . it was terrible. . . I have done wrong. . .”
Slughorn was mostly talking to himself than Chris, then, very slowly, he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his wand. He put his other hand inside a drawer on the side table and took out a small, empty bottle. Still looking into Chris' eyes, Slughorn touched the tip of his wand to his temple and withdrew it, so that a long, silver thread of memory came away too, clinging to the wand-tip. Longer and longer the memory stretched until it broke and swung, silvery bright, from the wand. Slughorn lowered it into the bottle where it coiled, then spread, swirling like gas. He corked the bottle with a trembling hand and then passed it to Chris.
”Thank you very much, Professor.”
”You are very brave, my girl. Very good girl. You have a heart of gold,” said Professor Slughorn, tears trickling down his fat cheeks into his walrus moustache. ”Please don't think too badly of me once you've seen it. . . . forgive me. . .”
He put his head on his arms, gave a deep sigh, and fell asleep.
”I am not really sure about that, Professor,” said Chris sadly. ”Maybe, you judged me wrong too.”
With a sigh, Chris pointed her wand at the sleeping Slughorn.
”Obliviate.”
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To be continued. . .