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

Firenze, Harry drew closer to Hermione and said, ‘Let’s get something straight. Are you planning to tell Ron that you interfered at Keeper tryouts?’
    Hermione raised her eyebrows.
    ‘Do you really think I’d stoop that low?’
    Harry looked at her shrewdly.
    ‘Hermione, if you can ask out McLaggen –’
    ‘There’s a difference,’ said Hermione with dignity. ‘I’ve got no plans to tell Ron anything about what might, or might not, have happened at Keeper tryouts.’
    ‘Good,’ said Harry fervently. ‘Because he’ll just fall apart again and we’ll lose the next match –’
    ‘Quidditch!’ said Hermione angrily. ‘Is that all boys care about? Cormac hasn’t asked me one single question about myself, no, I’ve just been treated to A Hundred Great Saves Made by Cormac McLaggen non-stop, ever since – oh no, here he comes!’
    She moved so fast it was as though she had Disapparated; one moment she was there, the next she had squeezed between two guffawing witches and vanished.
    ‘Seen Hermione?’ asked McLaggen, forcing his way through the throng a minute later.
    ‘No, sorry,’ said Harry, and he turned quickly to join in Luna’s conversation, forgetting for a split second to whom she was talking.
    ‘Harry Potter!’ said Professor Trelawney in deep, vibrant tones, noticing him for the first time.
    ‘Oh, hello,’ said Harry unenthusiastically.
    ‘My dear boy!’ she said in a very carrying whisper. ‘The rumours! The stories! The Chosen One! Of course, I have known for a very long time … the omens were never good, Harry … but why have you not returned to Divination? For you, of all people, the subject is of the utmost importance!’
    ‘Ah, Sybill, we all think our subject’s most important!’ said a loud voice, and Slughorn appeared at Professor Trelawney’s other side, his face very red, his velvet hat a little askew, a glass of mead in one hand and an enormous mince pie in the other. ‘But I don’t think I’ve ever known such a natural at Potions!’ said Slughorn, regarding Harry with a fond, if bloodshot, eye. ‘Instinctive, you know – like his mother! I’ve only ever taught a few with this kind of ability, I can tell you that, Sybill – why, even Severus –’
    And to Harry’s horror, Slughorn threw out an arm and seemed to scoop Snape out of thin air towards them.
    ‘Stop skulking and come and join us, Severus!’ hiccoughed Slughorn happily. ‘I was just talking about Harry’s exceptional potion-making! Some credit must go to you, of course, you taught him for five years!’
    Trapped, with Slughorn’s arm around his shoulders, Snape looked down his hooked nose at Harry, his black eyes narrowed.
    ‘Funny, I never had the impression that I managed to teach Potter anything at all.’
    ‘Well, then, it’s natural ability!’ shouted Slughorn. ‘You should have seen what he gave me, first lesson, the Draught of Living Death – never had a student produce finer on a first attempt, I don’t think even you, Severus –’
    ‘Really?’ said Snape quietly, his eyes still boring into Harry, who felt a certain disquiet. The last thing he wanted was for Snape to start investigating the source of his new-found brilliance at Potions.
    ‘Remind me what other subjects you’re taking, Harry?’ asked Slughorn.
    ‘Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology …’
    ‘All the subjects required, in short, for an Auror,’ said Snape, with the faintest sneer.
    ‘Yeah, well, that’s what I’d like to be,’ said Harry defiantly.
    ‘And a great one you’ll make, too!’ boomed Slughorn.
    ‘I don’t think you should be an Auror, Harry,’ said Luna unexpectedly. Everybody looked at her. ‘The Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought everyone knew that. They’re working from within to bring down the Ministry of Magic using a combination of Dark magic and gum disease.’
    Harry inhaled half his mead up his nose as he started to laugh. Really, it had been worth bringing Luna just for this. Emerging from his goblet, coughing, sopping wet but still grinning, he saw something calculated to raise his spirits even higher: Draco Malfoy being dragged by the ear towards them by Argus Filch.
    ‘Professor Slughorn,’ wheezed Filch, his jowls aquiver and the maniacal light of mischief-detection in his bulging eyes, ‘I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been