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

Squad,’ said Hermione. ‘Maybe being a prefect seems a bit tame after that.’
    ‘I don’t think so,’ said Harry, ‘I think he’s –’
    But before he could expound on his theory, the compartment door slid open again and a breathless third-year girl stepped inside.
    ‘I’m supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry P-Potter,’ she faltered, as her eyes met Harry’s and she turned scarlet. She was holding out two scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon. Perplexed, Harry and Neville took the scroll addressed to each of them and the girl stumbled back out of the compartment.
    ‘What is it?’ Ron demanded, as Harry unrolled his.
    ‘An invitation,’ said Harry.
     
    ‘Harry,
    I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.
    Sincerely, Professor H.E.F. Slughorn’
     
    ‘Who’s Professor Slughorn?’ asked Neville, looking perplexedly at his own invitation.
    ‘New teacher,’ said Harry. ‘Well, I suppose we’ll have to go, won’t we?’
    ‘But what does he want me for?’ asked Neville nervously, as though he were expecting detention.
    ‘No idea,’ said Harry, which was not entirely true, though he had no proof yet that his hunch was correct. ‘Listen,’ he added, seized by a sudden brainwave, ‘let’s go under the Invisibility Cloak, then we might get a good look at Malfoy on the way, see what he’s up to.’
    This idea, however, came to nothing: the corridors, which were packed with people on the lookout for the lunch trolley, were impossible to negotiate while wearing the Cloak. Harry stowed it regretfully back in his bag, reflecting that it would have been nice to wear it just to avoid all the staring, which seemed to have increased in intensity even since he had last walked down the train. Every now and then students would hurtle out of their compartments to get a better look at him. The exception was Cho Chang, who darted into her compartment when she saw Harry coming. As Harry passed the window he saw her deep in determined conversation with her friend Marietta, who was wearing a very thick layer of makeup that did not entirely obscure the odd formation of pimples still etched across her face. Smirking slightly, Harry pushed on.
    When they reached compartment C, they saw at once that they were not Slughorn’s only invitees, although judging by the enthusiasm of Slughorn’s welcome, Harry was the most warmly anticipated.
    ‘Harry, m’boy!’ said Slughorn, jumping up at the sight of him so that his great velvet-covered belly seemed to fill all the remaining space in the compartment. His shiny bald head and great silver moustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat. ‘Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Mr Longbottom!’
    Neville nodded, looking scared. At a gesture from Slughorn, they sat down opposite each other in the only two empty seats, which were nearest the door. Harry glanced around at their fellow guests. He recognised a Slytherin from their year, a tall black boy with high cheekbones and long, slanting eyes; there were also two seventh-year boys Harry did not know and, squashed in the corner beside Slughorn and looking as though she was not entirely sure how she had got there, Ginny.
    ‘Now, do you know everyone?’ Slughorn asked Harry and Neville. ‘Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course –’
    Zabini did not make any sign of recognition or greeting, and nor did Harry or Neville: Gryffindor and Slytherin students loathed each other on principle.
    ‘This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you’ve come across each other –? No?’
    McLaggen, a large, wire-haired youth, raised a hand and Harry and Neville nodded back at him.
    ‘– and this is Marcus Belby, I don’t know whether –?’
    Belby, who was thin and nervous-looking, gave a strained smile.
    ‘– and this charming young lady tells me she knows you!’ Slughorn finished.
    Ginny grimaced at Harry and Neville from behind Slughorn’s back.
    ‘Well now, this is most pleasant,’ said Slughorn cosily. ‘A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I’ve packed my own lunch, the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on Liquorice Wands, and a poor old man’s digestive system isn’t quite up to such things … pheasant, Belby?’
    Belby started, and accepted what looked like half a cold pheasant.
    ‘I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle