Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

Chapter 1238: Return to the Burrow



“Horace is not a supporter of the pure-blood theory. What he said was probably just an inappropriate metaphor,” said Dumbledore. “As he said, Harry, your mother was one of his favorite students when she was in school.”

Slughorn had mentioned Lily many times, and Harry tried to imagine what his mother had been like when she was young.

“I have to say ‘one of’ because Horace had many favorite students,” Dumbledore continued. “He likes the company of the famous, the successful, and the powerful. He enjoys the feeling that he influences these people. He has never wanted to occupy the throne himself; he prefers the backseat — more room to spread out, you see. He used to handpick favorites at Hogwarts, sometimes for their ambition or their brains, sometimes for their charm or their talent, and he had an uncanny knack for choosing those who would go on to become outstanding in their various fields.”

“Like the wizards he bragged to us about,” said Evan. “Just look — he didn’t even forget to bring their signed photographs while running away, and he’s still obsessed with the gifts they gave him. He really loves that feeling, doesn’t he?”

“It may have become instinct for him, a part of his life,” said Dumbledore.

“By the way, sir, we just heard him talk about a club, and those people are members of this club.”

“Yes, Horace formed a kind of club of his favorites with himself at the center, making introductions, forging useful contacts between members, and always reaping some kind of benefit in return, whether a free box of his favorite crystallized pineapple or the chance to recommend the next junior member of the Goblin Liaison Office,” Dumbledore nodded. “He used this to exert his influence…”

“Like a spider,” Hermione whispered quickly, thinking the same thing as Evan.

Harry had a sudden and vivid mental image of a great swollen spider, spinning a web around it, twitching a tread here and there to bring its large and juicy flies a little closer.

“Well, I tell you all this,” Dumbledore went on, “not to turn you against Horace — or, as we must now call him, Professor Slughorn — but to put you on your guard. He will undoubtedly try to collect you, especially you, Harry. You would definitely be his top priority. You would be the jewel of his collection; ‘the Boy Who Lived’ … or, as they call you these days, ‘the Chosen One.’”

“He’ll try to collect me? But Evan…”

“Yes, he’ll try to collect Evan as well,” said Dumbledore. “He won’t pass up any student who shows potential for future prominence. But as you have just seen, he was very cautious around Evan. I believe he will keep his distance from him for some time.”

“Why?”

“Horace has suffered in this regard before, which made him wary of wizards with too strong magical powers,” Dumbledore thought for a moment and added, “Perhaps it is out of an instinctive fear of danger, or perhaps he does not like things getting out of his control. I think he will observe Evan for a while before deciding whether to make a move, but it is also a matter of time. And you too, Hermione; once he realizes how extraordinary you are, he won’t be able to resist trying to collect you either…”

Not sure if it was because of the freezing cold fog at night or because of Dumbledore’s compliment, but Hermione’s face was red.

She seemed a bit embarrassed and leaned a little closer to Evan.

Evan couldn’t help but think about what Dumbledore had said — that Slughorn had suffered losses in this regard before, which made him particularly cautious about power. This should be referring to Voldemort. He still remembered that Riddle got the information about the Horcruxes from Slughorn back then.

Therefore, Slughorn was one of the few wizards who knew that Voldemort had created multiple Horcruxes. This became the source of his fear. Slughorn believed that Voldemort was invincible and could not be killed, but the old wizard did not know that Voldemort was already moving in a more evil direction.

For a moment, no one spoke; they were all lost in their own thoughts.  

Harry looked at the darkening night and felt a chill run through his body.

He recalled the words he had heard a few weeks ago, words that had a horrible and particular meaning to him: Neither can live while the other survives

That prophecy, the one that foretold Voldemort had chosen him, haunted Harry. What would his future hold?

A few minutes later, Dumbledore stopped walking, level with the church they had passed earlier.

“We have to hurry. It’s too late. I wrote a letter to inform Molly that I would take you there. She must be waiting for us now,” said Dumbledore. “Come on, grasp my arm.”

In the blink of an eye, they appeared in a country lane.

In front of them was the crooked yet familiar silhouette of a building: the Burrow.

“Why are we at the Burrow? I thought we were going to the Order of the Phoenix…” said Hermione in surprise.

“That was the plan originally, but there’s been a change,” Dumbledore explained. “Rufus insisted on knowing Harry’s whereabouts at all times to ensure his protection. He told me this afternoon that he doesn’t want Harry to ‘disappear’ from under his watch,” Dumbledore explained. “After knowing the prophecy, it is not surprising that he would think so. However, this would make the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix inappropriate. We cannot tell the Ministry of Magic its specific location yet.”

“So, we’ve come to the Burrow?”

“Yes, the Burrow has been given the highest security the Ministry of Magic can provide,” said Dumbledore. “And Arthur and Molly are more than happy to have you stay, though it brings them a certain amount of inconvenience — all their post, for instance, is being searched at the Ministry before being sent on, along with other checks. But they do not mind in the slightest, for their only concern is your safety.”

Although it was because of him that the Weasleys had been in trouble, Harry had to admit that he couldn’t help but feel cheerful when he saw the Burrow. Ron was there … and so was Mrs. Weasley, who could cook better than anyone he knew…

“The Burrow is great, I love it here,” said Evan.

Compared to the gloomy old Black house, this place was obviously much more relaxing.

Although the place was a bit small and it was not convenient to carry out any surprise operations at night, Mrs. Weasley’s warmth made up for it.

And then there were Fred and George — Evan hadn’t been in touch with them for several months.

Back then, their joke shop had been receiving a lot of orders. He wondered how the business was doing now.

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