Harry Potter 06 - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables.
    ‘Harry, m’boy!’ boomed Slughorn, almost as soon as Harry and Luna had squeezed in through the door. ‘Come in, come in, so many people I’d like you to meet!’
    Slughorn was wearing a tasselled velvet hat to match his smoking jacket. Gripping Harry’s arm so tightly he might have been hoping to Disapparate with him, Slughorn led him purposefully into the party; Harry seized Luna’s hand and dragged her along with him.
    ‘Harry, I’d like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires – and, of course, his friend Sanguini.’
    Worple, who was a small, bespectacled man, grabbed Harry’s hand and shook it enthusiastically; the vampire Sanguini, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nodded. He looked rather bored. A gaggle of girls was standing close to him, looking curious and excited.
    ‘Harry Potter, I am simply delighted!’ said Worple, peering short-sightedly up into Harry’s face. ‘I was saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day, Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which we have all been waiting? ’
    ‘Er,’ said Harry, ‘were you?’
    ‘Just as modest as Horace described!’ said Worple. ‘But seriously –’ his manner changed; it became suddenly businesslike, ‘I would be delighted to write it myself – people are craving to know more about you, dear boy, craving! If you were prepared to grant me a few interviews, say in four- or five-hour sessions, why, we could have the book finished within months. And all with very little effort on your part, I assure you – ask Sanguini here if it isn’t quite – Sanguini, stay here! ’ added Worple, suddenly stern, for the vampire had been edging towards the nearby group of girls, a rather hungry look in his eye. ‘Here, have a pasty,’ said Worple, seizing one from a passing elf and stuffing it into Sanguini’s hand before turning his attention back to Harry.
    ‘My dear boy, the gold you could make, you have no idea –’
    ‘I’m definitely not interested,’ said Harry firmly, ‘and I’ve just seen a friend of mine, sorry.’
    He pulled Luna after him into the crowd; he had indeed just seen a long mane of brown hair disappear between what looked like two members of the Weird Sisters.
    ‘Hermione! Hermione! ’
    ‘Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Luna!’
    ‘What’s happened to you?’ asked Harry, for Hermione looked distinctly dishevelled, rather as though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil’s Snare.
    ‘Oh, I’ve just escaped – I mean, I’ve just left Cormac,’ she said. ‘Under the mistletoe,’ she added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her.
    ‘Serves you right for coming with him,’ he told her severely.
    ‘I thought he’d annoy Ron most,’ said Hermione dispassionately. ‘I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole –’
    ‘You considered Smith?’ said Harry, revolted.
    ‘Yes, I did, and I’m starting to wish I’d chosen him, McLaggen makes Grawp look a gentleman. Let’s go this way, we’ll be able to see him coming, he’s so tall …’
    The three of them made their way over to the other side of the room, scooping up goblets of mead on the way, realising too late that Professor Trelawney was standing there alone.
    ‘Hello,’ said Luna politely to Professor Trelawney.
    ‘Good evening, my dear,’ said Professor Trelawney, focusing upon Luna with some difficulty. Harry could smell cooking sherry again. ‘I haven’t seen you in my classes lately …’
    ‘No, I’ve got Firenze this year,’ said Luna.
    ‘Oh, of course,’ said Professor Trelawney with an angry, drunken titter. ‘Or Dobbin, as I prefer to think of him. You would have thought, would you not, that now I am returned to the school Professor Dumbledore might have got rid of the horse? But no … we share classes … it’s an insult, frankly, an insult. Do you know …’
    Professor Trelawney seemed too tipsy to have recognised Harry. Under cover of her furious criticisms of