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HP/LOTM: Visionary - 382
🕑 Added 2025-11-10 19:24:02 +0000 UTCChapter 382: A Funeral Invitation, Felix Felicis, and At Last the Memory
On Friday, Harry received a funeral invitation from Hagrid.
The letter gave him a fright at firstâhe thought it was Aiden writing to ask about the memoryâbut he relaxed the moment he recognized Hagridâs handwriting.
After Aragog had been burned by Rada, Hagrid had nursed him for four more years. At last, the old Acromantula had died.
Heartbroken, Hagrid wept for a week before remembering to arrange a funeral.
Unfortunately, Harry was too consumed with obtaining the memory to pay attention to anything else. He sat in the Gryffindor common room, frustrated.
âMate, stop winding yourself up. Why donât you just take some Felix?â Ron said, catching sight of Harryâs face.
"All right," Harry decided.
He pulled a tiny vial of Felix Felicis from his robe pocket and, under Hermione and Ronâs watch, took a small sip.
The liquid luck slid down his throat, and a surge of vitality and confidence lit him from within.
Then a peculiar sensation washed over him, as if a chorus of whispers told him what his next step should be.
"Oh. Looks like I ought to attend Hagridâs funeral," Harry said abruptly.
"What?" Hermione frowned. "Harry, you should go to Horace."
"Yeah, we had a plan," Ron chimed in.
"But I feel I should go to Hagridâs. Trust me!" Harry darted out in his Invisibility Cloak.
As he passed the greenhouses, he saw Slughorn talking with Professor Sprout.
"Oh, you know, Pomona, I truly need these for third-year lessons," Slughorn said.
Professor Sprout promptly handed him a large bundle. "Enough? I have more."
"Oh, quite enough, quite enough," Slughorn said with a satisfied smile. When Pomona left, Harry, guided by his liquid good fortune, shed the Cloak.
"Harry! Itâs lateâwhere do you think youâre going?" Slughorn snapped, furious that Harry, in such dangerous times, would dare wander.
"Professor, I received an invitation to Hagridâs funeral. His friend, the Acromantula Aragog, has died. I think I should be with him," Harry said honestly.
"An Acromantula!" Slughornâs eyes glimmered. "A fresh, newly dead, entirely safe Acromantula, you say?"
"Yes. Hagrid kept a whole forest of them," Harry nodded.
"Ohâwait here. I must change my tie. This one is too flamboyant for a funeral," Slughorn blurted, and hurried off.
Behind the pumpkin patch by Hagridâs hut, a large pit had been dug.
Since Aragogâs death, his offspring had refused to let Hagrid near their lair.
Harry went to Hagrid and patted the arm of the giant whose eyes had swollen red from crying. Though Ron and Hermione hadnât come, Harryâs presence alone comforted him.
"By the way, HagridâProfessor Slughorn will be coming," Harry said.
"Thatâs⌠thatâs nice. I reckon Aragog would have liked him," Hagrid sniffled.
"Perhaps. With all that meat on him, any man-eating spider would like him," a boyâs voice said behind them.
"Aiden, hush," Hagrid said, sniffling. "Thatâs not funny."
"Sorry," Aiden chuckled, approaching in a black suit.
"Oh, Aidenâwhat a coincidence," Slughorn said as he arrived as well, carrying two or three bottles of wine.
While Hagrid cried, Slughorn discreetly collected three pints of venom.
Afterward, he delivered a very elegant eulogy for Aragog.
When the funeral ended, Slughorn suggested they share a drink in Hagridâs hut.
The moment he walked in, he was stunned. Unicorn hairâten Galleons a strandâhad been made into a feather duster and hung on the wall.
Magic shimmered through the cramped space. Rare materials were stacked everywhere.
"Merlinâs beard," Slughorn breathed, and his attitude toward Hagrid became instantly respectful.
Night fell. Two grown wizards drank and sang The Ballad of Odo.
Loosened by drink, Hagrid shared animal-handling stories with Slughorn.
"Fang was just a pup when he hatched, no bigger than my finger. Look at him now," Hagrid said, tossing him a cut of meat.
"Oh, touching. I kept a goldfish once. But one afternoon while I was out, it⌠left," Slughorn said, raising his glass. Harry quietly refilled it.
"Left," Hagrid echoed. They clinked glasses, drained them, and Hagrid promptly fell asleep against the wall.
Silence returned. Slughorn and Harry faced each other again.
Aiden dimmed his presence with a whisper of power.
"A pupil gave me that goldfish. One spring afternoon, I found a tiny bowl upon my office desk. A little water⌠petals floating upon it⌠and I watched as one petal slowly sank," Slughorn said. In the firelight, his pupils shone damply.
"The petal reached the bottom and became a goldfish. Beautiful magic. Lily petals, yes. Your motherâs gift to me," Slughorn said, staring straight at Harry.
"And on the day I came downstairs, the bowl was empty⌠I know what you want, but I canât help you. It would ruin me."
Following the tug of liquid luck, Harry bared his heart.
"Do you know how I survived that night? Because of her. Because she chose not to stand by. Because her love was stronger than Voldemort," Harry said. Gold light flickered in his eyes; the heat of his gaze pushed Slughornâs eyes down.
"Donât say the name, boy."
"Iâm not afraid of her, Professor. I know Iâm the Chosen One. I will face herâbut I need what you gave her in your office that day. Be brave, Professor!"
Harryâs words, carried by his magic, reached deep into Slughornâs heart.
"Be brave like my motherâor you cheapen her. Or else her sacrifice was for nothing. Or else that little bowl will remain empty forever."
Slughornâs eyes wavered. He hesitated a long time, then raised his wand as if coming to a decision.
"When you watch this memory, donât think Iâm a bad man. I didnât know what he truly was," Slughorn said, hands trembling as he drew a silvery strand of memory and decanted it into a small vial.
