Chapter 1304 Cats

In the gloom, Dumbledore opened the front door and walked quickly and quietly up the garden path. Reading at midnight

Ivan, Harry, and Hermione hurriedly followed, followed closely behind.

Ahead, Dumbledore slowly pushed open the front door, wand raised, ready to strike.

"Lumos!" The tip of her wand lit up, revealing a narrow hallway with an open door to the left.

Dumbledore, holding his shiny wand aloft, walked into the living room first.

There is a mess in front of him, it seems that he has just experienced a tragic battle not long ago.

A grandfather clock shattered at their feet, its face cracked, its pendulum lying a little farther off like an abandoned sword, and at the far end of the living room a piano was overturned, its keys scattered about, and nearby And the shards of a broken chandelier gleamed, cushions were strewn here and there, deflated, feathers protruding from their rips, and shards of glass and china were scattered like powder.

Dumbledore raised his wand higher, illuminating the wall.

It can be seen that there are many dark red sticky things splashed on the wallpaper, which are blood stains.

Ivan looked around, with his wand raised high, looking for the figure of Slughorn among the ruins.

Hermione stood behind him, her body trembling slightly from tension.

Harry gasped softly, as if frightened by the scene in front of him, Dumbledore heard it and looked around.

"It's not pretty, is it?" he said gravely. "There's been a terrible thing happening here."

Dumbledore walked cautiously into the middle of the room, examining the shattered fragments at his feet.

"Is it a Death Eater?"

"It must have been them, Hermione, there might have been a fight and then, later they dragged him away, didn't they, Professor?" Harry guessed, trying not to imagine how badly a man was injured, That's why the blood was splattered so high on the wall.

"I don't think so." Dumbledore said calmly, looking behind the overturned bulging armchair, "Evan, what do you think?"

"There is no Dark Mark outside the house, which is abnormal, not like the behavior of Death Eaters." Ivan said, smelling it vigorously, "Also there seems to be alcohol in the air, but I didn't see anyone knocked down. A wine glass or a bottle, the assailant did not take it away, maybe the person we are looking for is still here."

"Ivan, you mean he..."

"Yeah, still here, that's for sure."

"How is it possible, where is he?"

"Not sure yet!" Ivan said, and the light of the wand became stronger again.

He had to admit, Slughorn was well hidden.

Aiwen didn't find anything unusual. He could be sure that the other party was here, but he couldn't remember how Slughorn hid his figure, and he couldn't find the other party. Of course, if Ivan is allowed to use spells to damage the living room a second time, he is sure to force Slughorn out within a second.

"Still here, yes, I think so too."

Before it was too late, Dumbledore shot suddenly and plunged the tip of his wand into the cushion of the bulging armchair, and the chair let out a scream: "Ouch!"

"Good evening, Horace." Dumbledore said and stood up straight again. "Long time no see."

Harry turned his head hastily and opened his mouth wide in surprise, and Ivan and Hermione also looked there in surprise.

It was just an armchair, but in the blink of an eye it turned into a bald, fat old man squatting there.

He rubbed his belly and looked at Dumbledore through one painful, tearful eye.

"You don't need to stab so hard." He said angrily, struggling to get up, "It hurts me to death."

The wand's light illuminated his shining bald head, his bulging eyes, his silver-white beard like a walrus, and the shiny buttons on the maroon velvet dress over his lavender pajamas. He was not tall, The top of his head only reached Dumbledore's chin.

"So, it was the damn Dark Mark that exposed me?" He said gruffly, standing up staggeringly, still rubbing his stomach, and looking at Ivan rudely, his face It seemed surprisingly thick, considering that he had just been spotted pretending to be an armchair.

"My dear Horace!" Dumbledore seemed to find it ridiculous. "Ivan is right. If the Death Eaters really came, they would definitely leave the Dark Mark on the house."

"I just think there's something missing..." He muttered, seemingly a little unconvinced, "Ah, yes, but it's too late, I just adjusted the seat cover when you entered the room, I don't have time. "

"There is still a faint smell of alcohol." Ivan added, "but I didn't see the bottle, which is abnormal."

"Are you a cat, boy, can you smell this?" Slughorn looked at Ivan for a long time, sighed heavily, and blew the tips of both beards up, "Yes Ah, that's right, I happened to be drinking a glass of oak-aged wine just now, and I only have the last bottle left, and I'm not willing to throw it away..."

"Okay, Horace, do you want me to clean it up for you?" Dumbledore asked politely.

"Please," he said curtly.

The next second, they stood back to back.

One was tall and thin, the other short and stout, but they both waved their wands in unexpected steps.

The furniture jumped back to its original position one by one, the decorations returned to their original shape in mid-air, the feathers were drilled back into the cushions, the damaged books were automatically repaired and arranged neatly on the bookshelves, and the oil lamps flew to the wall by the wall. On the small table, it was lit up again, and a large pile of broken silver photo frames flickered across the room, landed on a writing desk, and became bright as new again. The places where it was opened have all been restored.

The stains on the wall were also automatically wiped clean, as if they hadn't been stained with blood.

"By the way, what kind of blood is that?" asked Dumbledore, his voice drowning out the pendulum of the freshly repaired grandfather clock.

"You mean on the wall? It's fire dragon blood." The other party answered loudly.

At this moment, the chandelier automatically jumped back to the ceiling with a deafening creaking and tinkling sound.

With the final jingle of the piano, the room finally became quiet.

"Yeah, Albus, dragon's blood!" said the wizard chatteringly, and finally shook his wand, "You reminded me, this is the last bottle I treasure, and the current price on the market is astonishingly expensive. However, Maybe it's still usable, don't waste it."

He walked to the sideboard with heavy steps, picked up a small crystal bottle on the top of the cabinet, and looked carefully at the viscous liquid inside against the light.

"Well, kinda dirty." He put the vial back on the sideboard and sighed.

At this moment, his eyes turned back to Ivan, Harry and Hermione.

"Albus, it's late at night, you brought these young people to me, is it because you want to have a party?!"

"Well, I think we'll at least have a drink," said Dumbledore, "for the good old days." 8)