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"Don't say that, Ron!" Hermione snapped, frowning.
"We're allowed to bring guests too!" she continued.
"I was about to invite you, but since you think the party is so boring, I won't bother!"
Ron's face flushed with embarrassment.
"I don't care!" he finally shouted before storming out of the common room.
Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, momentarily at a loss for words.
After a brief pause, Harry sighed and hurried after Ron, knowing his friend's pride had taken a hit.
By the time Harry and Hermione reunited, they were already outside Slughorn's office, where a crowd of students had gathered—some members of the Slug Club, others invited guests.
Harry spotted Luna among them. She wore a silver-sequined gown that earned a few snickers, but otherwise, she looked perfectly fine.
He was relieved to see she'd left behind her turnip earrings, Butterbeer cork necklace, and Spectrespecs.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed someone else—a dark-haired girl who immediately caught his attention.
Cho Chang.
A strange feeling stirred in his chest, one he hadn't expected.
They hadn't spoken much recently, yet suddenly, he found himself unable to look away.
Cho noticed his gaze and smiled, waving at him.
Harry blinked, momentarily stunned, then hurriedly waved back—so hurriedly, in fact, that he didn't see where he was going and crashed straight into Hermione.
"Hey!" Hermione yelped, rubbing the back of her head.
"Harry, what is wrong with you?"
"Sorry! Sorry!" Harry stammered, feeling like a complete fool.
Even as he apologized, he snuck another glance at Cho.
She giggled behind her hand, clearly amused.
Her laughter was so light, so effortlessly pretty, that for a moment, Harry completely lost himself in it.
"Harry! Harry!" Hermione's sharp voice snapped him back to reality.
"What the hell is going on with you?"
"Oh—uh, sorry, Hermione," he mumbled, still dazed.
Hermione narrowed her eyes.
"Are you okay? Is your scar hurting again?" she asked, her tone shifting to concern.
"No, no!" Harry said quickly, shaking his head.
That only made Hermione more suspicious. She followed his gaze and, after a moment, spotted Cho.
"Oh," she said, smirking as she patted Harry's shoulder.
"I see."
Before she could tease him further, the door to Slughorn's office swung open, spilling laughter, music, and chatter into the hallway.
Hermione gave Harry one last knowing look before stepping inside with the rest of the group, leaving him to pull himself together before following suit.
Whether it was originally or because of magic, Slughorn's office was much larger than the average teacher's room.
The ceilings and walls were draped in emerald green, crimson and gold, and it looked like a big tent.
The room was crowded and stuffy, lit up red by a golden lantern hanging in the center of the ceiling.
From a far corner came a loud singing that sounded like a mandolin.
Some house-elves squeaked through holding heavy silver trays, looking like little roaming tables.
"Come! Come over here! Children!"
Slughorn greeted warmly, wearing a tassels velvet hat that matched his smoking shirt.
Without warning, Slughorn pulled Harry into the crowd, clutching his arm tightly as if preparing to Apparate him away.
"Harry, I must introduce you to Elder Walpole, one of my former students—author of Blood Brothers: My Life with Vampires—and, of course, his esteemed companion, Samuel!"
A small man with thick glasses stepped forward, eagerly grabbing Harry's hand.
Beside him stood Samuel, a tall, gaunt vampire with deep-set eyes and an exhausted expression. A small group of students—mostly girls—stood nearby, whispering excitedly.
"Harry Potter! What an honor!" Walpole exclaimed, squinting up at him.
"Just the other day, I was telling Professor Slughorn—where is the Harry Potter biography we've all been waiting for?"
Harry's face burned with embarrassment. He hardly felt worthy of such praise, let alone an entire book about him.
He quickly took a step back. "I'm just a student," he said hastily.
"I don't have that kind of reputation."
"As modest as ever!" Walpole chuckled.
"Just as Horace described you!"
Then his tone shifted, suddenly more businesslike.
"But really, dear boy—people are desperate to know more about you! A few interviews, just four or five hours, and we'd have a book in no time. It wouldn't cost you a thing!"
Walpole's enthusiasm was relentless.
Harry shook his head firmly. "I really don't—"
"Nonsense! You can't even begin to imagine how much money—"
Before Walpole could continue, the office door opened, drawing Slughorn's attention. His eyes lit up as he hurried forward.
"Ethan! Welcome!"
A man in a sleek black wizard's robe stepped into the room, a bottle of Sangre wine in hand. He smiled at Slughorn.
"Sorry I'm late," Ethan said politely, handing over the bottle.
"Not at all, my boy! How thoughtful!"
Slughorn beamed, accepting the gift.
Just as he had done with Harry, he eagerly pulled Ethan forward, introducing him to a few of his friends.
Samuel's tired eyes sharpened with interest as he extended a hand to Ethan.
Their handshake was brief, but Ethan immediately noted how unnaturally cold the vampire's skin felt—far colder than any human's should be.
"Ethan," Samuel murmured in his hoarse voice, "your name carries weight in Poland. I heard you dealt with quite the… difficult situation there, didn't you?"
Ethan smiled faintly.
"Just a minor issue," he replied smoothly.
Not knowing which faction Samuel belonged to, he kept his answer deliberately vague.
At that moment, a small group of young female students passed by, chatting among themselves.
Samuel's gaze snapped toward them, his expression subtly shifting.
Ethan noticed the flicker of hunger in the vampire's eyes—his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, as if forcing himself to suppress some deep, primal urge.