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

Damocles,’ Slughorn told Harry and Neville, now passing around a basket of rolls. ‘Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?’
    Unfortunately, Belby had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant; in his haste to answer Slughorn he swallowed too fast, turned purple and began to choke.
    ‘Anapneo,’ said Slughorn calmly, pointing his wand at Belby, whose airway seemed to clear at once.
    ‘Not … not much of him, no,’ gasped Belby, his eyes streaming.
    ‘Well, of course, I daresay he’s busy,’ said Slughorn, looking questioningly at Belby. ‘I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard work!’
    ‘I suppose …’ said Belby, who seemed afraid to take another bite of pheasant until he was sure that Slughorn had finished with him. ‘Er … he and my dad don’t get on very well, you see, so I don’t really know much about …’
    His voice tailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to McLaggen instead.
    ‘Now, you , Cormac,’ said Slughorn, ‘I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting Nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?’
    ‘Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was,’ said McLaggen. ‘We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour – this was before he became Minister, obviously –’
    ‘Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus, too?’ beamed Slughorn, now offering around a small tray of pies; somehow, Belby was missed out. ‘Now tell me …’
    It was as Harry had suspected. Everyone here seemed to have been invited because they were connected to somebody well-known or influential – everyone except Ginny. Zabini, who was interrogated after McLaggen, turned out to have a famously beautiful witch for a mother (from what Harry could make out, she had been married seven times, each of her husbands dying mysteriously and leaving her mounds of gold). It was Neville’s turn next: this was a very uncomfortable ten minutes, for Neville’s parents, well-known Aurors, had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange and a couple of Death Eater cronies. At the end of Neville’s interview, Harry had the impression that Slughorn was reserving judgement on Neville, yet to see whether he had any of his parents’ flair.
    ‘And now,’ said Slughorn, shifting massively in his seat with the air of a compère introducing his star act. ‘Harry Potter! Where to begin? I feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer!’
    He contemplated Harry for a moment as though he were a particularly large and succulent piece of pheasant, then said, ‘The “Chosen One”, they’re calling you now!’
    Harry said nothing. Belby, McLaggen and Zabini were all staring at him.
    ‘Of course,’ said Slughorn, watching Harry closely, ‘there have been rumours for years … I remember when – well – after that terrible night – Lily – James – and you survived – and the word was that you must have powers beyond the ordinary –’
    Zabini gave a tiny little cough that was clearly supposed to indicate amused scepticism. An angry voice burst out from behind Slughorn.
    ‘Yeah, Zabini, because you’re so talented … at posing …’
    ‘Oh dear!’ chuckled Slughorn comfortably, looking round at Ginny who was glaring at Zabini around Slughorn’s great belly. ‘You want to be careful, Blaise! I saw this young lady perform the most marvellous Bat-Bogey Hex as I was passing her carriage! I wouldn’t cross her!’
    Zabini merely looked contemptuous.
    ‘Anyway,’ said Slughorn, turning back to Harry. ‘ Such rumours this summer. Of course, one doesn’t know what to believe, the Prophet has been known to print inaccuracies, make mistakes – but there seems little doubt, given the number of witnesses, that there was quite a disturbance at the Ministry and that you were there in the thick of it all!’
    Harry, who could not see any way out of this without flatly lying, nodded but still said nothing. Slughorn beamed at him.
    ‘So modest, so modest, no wonder Dumbledore is so fond – you were there, then? But the rest of the stories – so sensational, of course, one doesn’t know quite what to believe – this fabled prophecy, for instance –’
    ‘We never heard a prophecy,’ said Neville, turning geranium-pink as he said it.
    ‘That’s right,’ said Ginny staunchly. ‘Neville and I were both there too, and all this