February 23rd.
Only one single day remained until the second task of the Triwizard Tournament.
In the evening, as the winter sun began its descent toward the western mountains, Adrian made his way to the front gates of Hogwarts following Professor McGonagall's somewhat cryptic instructions.
"Albus didn't say anything else beyond the bare essentials," She'd told him earlier that afternoon in her stern voice, though her expression had been puzzled. "Just asked you to wait at the school gates at six o'clock in the evening. He was quite specific about the time."
That's what Professor McGonagall had told him verbatim, word for word, clearly as bewildered by the request as Adrian himself felt.
Adrian found this rather strange and irregular, Dumbledore wasn't usually so mysterious with his own staff but he complied nonetheless with the unusual summons.
He trusted that Dumbledore must have had some important purpose in mind.
The winter sun slowly descended toward the horizon, bathing the ancient stone walls and towers of Hogwarts in a rich golden glow. Adrian leaned casually against one of the gate pillars, gazing absently at the sky.
"Er... hello there?"
A voice suddenly interrupted his moment of peaceful contemplation, making him straighten.
Adrian snapped back to attention and turned quickly toward the source of the voice, hand instinctively moving toward his wand before relaxing.
A portly, ruddy-faced wizard had somehow appeared before him without making any sound.
The man wore an expensive-looking brown robe with a checkered pattern that must have cost considerable galleons. The robe was further adorned with several thick gold chains hung with various gemstones. His hair was sparse and wispy, gray-white strands combed over a balding head. The beard on his rounded chin, in contrast, was remarkably thick and dense, but neatly trimmed and groomed.
Most striking were his round, bulging eyes that gleamed with a golden light.
"Professor Slughorn?" Adrian asked with genuine surprise, recognizing the figure in front of him despite the passage of many years.
Slughorn himself appeared slightly taken aback by the instant recognition. His protruding eyes widened further as he looked Adrian up and down with careful assessment, clearly trying to reconcile his past memory with present reality.
"Adrian?" He asked uncertainly, his voice ringing with that distinctive plummy tone Adrian remembered. "Adrian Westeros? Is that really you?"
Adrian nodded with a slight smile. "It's me, Professor. It's been quite some time."
Slughorn's bulging eyes lit up with unmistakable delight at this confirmation. He immediately spread his arms wide, and his voice was filled with genuine warmth and pleasure. "Oh, it really is you—my former student! My dear boy! I almost didn't recognize you at all—you've grown so much, filled out. You were such a skinny thing when I taught you!"
Without waiting for further acknowledgment or permission, he stepped forward and gave Adrian a solid, enthusiastic embrace that nearly knocked the wind from him.
The strong, distinctive scent of dragon blood ink mixed with some expensive, floral cologne washed over Adrian in an almost overwhelming wave.
Adrian could distinctly feel the heavy gold chains on Slughorn's belly pressing uncomfortably against him, the gem pendants were jingling musically with the movement.
"Dumbledore mentioned you specifically in his letter," Slughorn said warmly, finally releasing Adrian from the embrace and instead patting his shoulder affectionately with one plump hand. "He told me that you're teaching at Hogwarts now—Care of Magical Creatures, was it? And that you're quite popular with the students, highly regarded. Some nonsense about defeating a dragon, though surely that was exaggerated."
"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Professor," Adrian said with a genuine smile, pleased to see his old teacher despite the circumstances. "Did Dumbledore specifically invite you here for the Tournament?"
"That's absolutely right," Slughorn confirmed, stroking his groomed beard with evident satisfaction. "Dumbledore invited me to watch the Triwizard Tournament—what a spectacular international event it is! The prestige, the important visitors, the historic significance!"
His eyes gleamed with typical Slughorn enthusiasm for prestigious events.
"Though I must confess, I initially declined the invitation, I've been quite content in my retirement, you understand. But then he mentioned your name. Well... I came specifically to see you, my boy. Over a dozen years have passed since we last spoke properly, and I'm ashamed to say I'd almost forgotten what you looked like. Time does terrible things to memory."
Adrian didn't know precisely what Dumbledore had written in his letter that could convince the reclusive Slughorn to emerge from hiding and come specifically for him or perhaps it was merely polite rhetoric, social graces that Slughorn excelled at.
In his memory, Slughorn was an extraordinarily pragmatic person who genuinely enjoyed associating with celebrities, successful people, and influential figures.
He collected talented students and important connections like some people collected rare potions ingredients. As for Adrian himself, to be completely honest, he wasn't really a celebrity or particularly successful by most wizarding standards.
All he had to his name was a bit of specialized magical knowledge and some modest teaching skill.
Nothing that would typically attract Slughorn's famous interest.
By now, the sky had grown completely dark, the brief twilight fading to full night. Stars were beginning to appear in the clear winter sky. The temperature had dropped noticeably, and frost was forming on the grass.
Adrian and Slughorn walked side by side toward the distant castle, their boots crunching on the frozen path. Warm light spilled from the castle's many windows, promising heat and dinner.
"How wonderfully nostalgic this all is," Slughorn said with genuine emotion, looking around at the familiar grounds with a touch of sentimentality softening his usually calculating face.
"The paths, the greenhouses over there, even that dreadful Whomping Willow thrashing about. I can't wait to taste Hogwarts food again—the house-elves always knew exactly how I liked my roast beef prepared."
Adrian shrugged slightly. "Over these past dozen years since you left, the house-elves haven't changed the standard menu at all—it's remarkably consistent, almost ritualistic. Except quite recently. They've added many sumptuous new dishes, probably specifically because of the Triwizard Tournament and the need to impress our foreign guests."
"Then I've come at precisely the right time," Slughorn said cheerfully, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Nothing like Hogwarts feasts, nothing in the world."
"You could always return permanently to teach at Hogwarts," Adrian suggested carefully. "The students would surely love your Potions classes—you were always popular, and the current…. well, nevermind."
Slughorn waved his hands constantly in insistent dismissal, his gem-laden chains making crisp tinkling sounds with the movement. "Oh no, no, no, my dear, I'm quite thoroughly enjoying my retirement lifestyle. The freedom, you understand. No lesson planning, no grading dreadful essays about bezoars."
He winked suggestively. "Besides, young Severus can teach Potions very well indeed—I'm absolutely certain of that. He was my best student, you know, for all his... difficult personality."
"That's a genuine shame," Adrian said, meaning it.
As they passed along the shore of the Black Lake, following the snaking path, Slughorn stopped suddenly in his tracks, his attention was caught by something unexpected.
The Black Lake glimmered darkly under the night sky, its surface reflecting the stars like scattered diamonds. But unlike his memories of peaceful, empty shores, rows upon rows of wooden seats had been neatly arranged along the far shore in a large amphitheater configuration, looking quite inappropriate and out of place against the natural landscape.
"What on earth is that construction?" Slughorn asked, pointing toward the wide seating with obvious puzzlement. "When did Hogwarts start having stadium seating by the lake?"
Adrian glanced over casually, having become accustomed to the sight over recent weeks. "Oh, I forgot to mention—the second task of the Triwizard Tournament will take place here in the lake tomorrow. Those stands were probably set up by Bagman and his crew; he's been the main organizer of the competition since... well, since Crouch's disappearance."
Just then, as though summoned by the mention of his name, hurried footsteps came from the path behind them, accompanied by a breathless, booming voice that resounded clearly across the grounds: "Aha, Professor Westeros, what a pleasant surprise to encounter you this evening!"
Both Adrian and Slughorn turned around simultaneously to see a tall, round-faced, ruddy man striding toward them. He looked somewhat disheveled, and his robes were messy.
Who else could it possibly be but Ludo Bagman, looking as harried as usual?
Ludo stopped directly before Adrian, slightly out of breath, his gaze immediately settling on Slughorn with curiosity. "And this gentleman is...?"
Slughorn extended his hand at precisely the appropriate social moment, a smooth and perfectly proper smile spreading across his face. "Horace Slughorn, very pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm a retired Hogwarts professor, Potions master. And you are?"
Ludo enthusiastically shook Slughorn's offered hand with perhaps more vigor. "Likewise, Professor Slughorn, likewise! I'm Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry, and currently the main organizer of this magnificent Triwizard Tournament. Oh... you've been invited to watch the tournament, have you? Dumbledore's guest?"
Slughorn nodded with satisfaction at being recognized as an important invitee.
"I'd wager my entire annual salary that the competition will be absolutely spectacular," Ludo said with his typical excessive enthusiasm. "You may have heard various rumors floating about regarding the first task—well, let me tell you, those rumors don't do it justice! It was absolutely thrilling, edge-of-your-seat excitement! Four champions each faced a fully grown dragon, can you imagine? And Harry Potter, that extraordinary boy even toppled a Welsh Green using nothing but his wand!"
Slughorn froze completely, looking somewhat incredulous. His mouth opened and closed. "Really? A fourth-year student defeating a dragon?"
"Ha ha!" Ludo laughed heartily, clearly delighted by the reaction. "Hard to believe, isn't it? I saw grown Aurors looking skeptical! But you'll witness Harry Potter's remarkable prowess for yourself tomorrow."
At this mention of such an extraordinary feat, Slughorn immediately became intensely curious about Harry Potter, his collector's instinct was activated.
Naturally, he'd heard widely of the Boy Who Lived before—who in the wizarding world hadn't? The child was a living legend.
But a student actually taking on a dragon single-handedly and winning...
Honestly, that didn't quite fit comfortably within his established worldview. Dragons were among the most dangerous creatures known to wizardkind.
"Mr. Bagman," Adrian suddenly spoke up, "is there really no problem at all with the competition?"
"What do you mean specifically?" Ludo asked, his expression shifting to puzzlement. "What sort of problems?"
Adrian organized his thoughts carefully. "I mean... Barty Crouch has disappeared under mysterious circumstances, hasn't he? His house was destroyed. Will this affect the content or scheduling of the competition?"
At this direct question, Ludo's face broke into a slight, somewhat forced smile.
"I certainly understand your concern, Professor Westeros," He said with pretentious frankness, spreading his hands.
"It's perfectly natural to worry given recent events. But there's absolutely no need to worry yourself. The recent troubles, unfortunate as they are, won't affect the competition's execution at all. Mr. Crouch and I finalized all the competition content, rules, and schedule before the tournament even began. All that's left now is practical preparation and implementation."
"Then who specifically decided on the exact tasks?" Adrian continued pressing, his tone casual but intent. "I assume there were others involved in the planning?"
Ludo winked mysteriously, waggling his finger playfully near his nose in an exaggerated gesture. "Well now... I can't possibly reveal those particular details, Professor Westeros. Competition confidentiality, you understand. Very important."
He lowered his voice, speaking with affected mystery. "I can only assure you on my honor that the tasks haven't been changed or tampered with at all since they were first established. Everything is proceeding exactly according to the original plan. The champions will face a fair test."
To this careful non-answer, Adrian naturally expressed apparent understanding.
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