Budleigh Babberton looked big at first glance, but in fact it was not small at all; the three of them walked for more than ten minutes before Dumbledore finally stopped in front of a tumbledown house.
"Oh! My, my!" he exclaid.
Kael and Harry followed his gaze.
The first thing they saw was a carefully maintained little path, with neatly trimd gardens on both sides, but completely out of place with all this was the house that looked as if it had been hit by The Blasting Curse.
The front door had been blasted into a pile of splinters; only a piece about the size of a tabletop was left, hanging crookedly from the doorfra.
Dumbledore glanced around and said quietly, "Kael, Harry, draw your Wands and co with ."
He walked up the garden path very carefully, with Kael and Harry close behind.
Then Dumbledore pushed open the front door, Wand raised in his hand.
"Lumos."
The situation inside the house was even worse than outside; chaos t their eyes, as if everything had been pulled out of place. A grand piano lay overturned on the floor, its keys scattered everywhere.
There were smashed vases, shards of glass, and all sorts of cushions and the like strewn all over the ground.
On top of that, a large stain of blood on the wall glared red and shocking.
"Sothing truly terrible must have happened here," Dumbledore said softly.
But the tension in his voice had completely vanished, replaced by sothing a bit... well, theatrical.
"Yeah." Kael nodded and said, "Harry, can you help move the piano onto that armchair? I have a feeling there’s sothing under it."
"Huh? Oh, okay."
Harry didn’t understand why they had to put the piano on the sofa, but since Kael said so, he must have his reasons.
So Harry obediently pointed his Wand at the piano.
The piano slowly floated up and then, under Harry’s guidance, descended onto the upside‑down armchair.
The next second, the armchair let out a howl of pain. "Ow, get it off !"
Harry jumped in fright; his hand jerked, the Charm broke off, and the piano crashed down heavily.
The scream grew even louder, sounding just like a freshly uprooted Mandrake.
Dumbledore waved his hand in ti, shifting the piano aside.
"Good evening, Horace," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Are you all right?"
Harry gaped, staring wide‑eyed as the armchair from monts before turned, in the blink of an eye, into a bald, fat old man crouching there.
He was clutching his back, one eye screwed up, looking at Dumbledore with tears in his eyes.
"That was a piano, you know. Why didn’t you stop them...?" he grunted as he struggled to his feet. "Do you have any idea how much that hurt?"
"Sorry, Horace," said Dumbledore. "But you can’t bla ; your Transfiguration Technique was absolutely flawless—I didn’t notice a thing."
"Even if you say that..." The fat old man glared at Dumbledore angrily, though he sohow didn’t look as furious as he sounded.
"All right, there was nothing to be done. I should have taken a bit of Felix Felici in advance."
He heaved a deep sigh, his moustache tips puffed up and sticking out.
"Want us to help you tidy up?" Dumbledore asked.
"Please do, I really do need to sit down for a bit."
Dumbledore nodded with a smile. "Well then, Kael, Harry, how about I leave it to you? Oh, I forgot to introduce you—this is my old colleague, Horace Slughorn."
"No problem, Professor," Kael said, giving his Wand a wave.
The furniture hopped back piece by piece into its original positions, the broken vases and glass nded themselves in midair, the scattered keys on the floor flew back onto the piano...
anwhile, the mont Slughorn heard Dumbledore’s words, he suddenly stopped rubbing his back; his round eyes swung toward the two boys.
His gaze went straight to Harry’s forehead and that lightning‑bolt‑shaped scar.
"Oh, he can’t be..."
"Yes, Harry Potter," Dumbledore said with a laugh. "And there’s another one you should have heard of as well: Kael Chopper, the youngest recipient of the rlin Order dal. He used to be Second Class—"
"Hold on, what’s that supposed to an? I haven’t heard a word about any new First Class dal in the Magic Realm recently."
"Oh, that’s inside information. Cornelius seems inclined to give the Magic Realm a bit of a morale boost," Dumbledore said calmly. "The youngest First Class dal recipient makes for a decent talking point."
While they were talking, the entire room had already been restored to its forr state; even the bloodstains on the wall had all flowed into a small glass bottle.
Kael examined the bottle.
Mm, Fire Dragon Blood, a bit dusty now, no longer suitable for brewing Magic Potions... what a pity.
Kael casually slipped the bottle into his pocket.
"Oh, that was my last one," Slughorn said, a flash of pain in his eyes, though he had no ti to dwell on that now.
"Don’t think you can talk round with this, Albus. I’ve already told you many tis before—the answer is no."
Yet as he said this, his eyes kept darting now and then toward Kael and Harry.
"Will he really get a First Class dal?"
"It’s only that Cornelius has the idea," Dumbledore said. "All right, enough of that. Won’t you offer a drink? Let’s call it a little toast to old tis."
"Just one glass, then," said Slughorn. He stood up, took a few glasses from a shelf, and poured a little Honey Wine into each.
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