Slughorn's office looked nothing like a classroom tonight. Warm light from floating candles shimmered across brass cauldrons, making them gleam like gold. A long table was crowded with trays of sugared pineapple, goblets of pumpkin juice, and silver platters of sandwiches that refilled themselves when emptied. The air smelled faintly of honey and spice, and the low hum of conversation filled the space.
Abraxas Malfoy and Orion Black stood near the doorway, speaking politely to a group of older Slytherins. When Slughorn saw me enter, his face broke into that familiar, pleased smile of his.
"Ah, Tom! My boy! There you are! Come in, come in!" he boomed, waving me toward the center of the room. "I was just telling Horace Travers here about your Transfiguration performance! Dumbledore himself was singing your praises."
I smiled modestly. "He was being generous, sir."
Slughorn chuckled, his belly shaking. "Generous or not, talent like yours doesn't stay hidden for long. Have a seat, lad, have a seat."
I slipped easily into conversation, playing the part I'd crafted since my arrival at Hogwarts: intelligent, respectful, just ambitious enough to seem promising, but not enough to be threatening. Every question Slughorn threw my way—on potion theory, magical ethics, or the finer points of alchemy—I met with a thoughtful answer, sometimes ending with a witty comment that made the table laugh.
"Remarkable composure for your age," said a Ravenclaw girl across the table. She was two years ahead, with a Prefect badge shining on her robes. "You sound like you've been studying at Hogwarts for years."
"Maybe I just enjoy learning," I replied with an easy grin. "After all, magic rewards curiosity, not fear."
She smiled back, intrigued. Good. Every impression mattered.
While others talked, I watched and listened—measuring each student's tone, each glance. Orion was working a small group near the window with stories of his family's history. Abraxas was charming a pair of Hufflepuffs with his practiced wit. And me? I chose to make an impression that reached the one man who mattered most tonight—Horace Slughorn.
At one point, he turned to me again. "Tell me, Tom, if you weren't in Slytherin, where do you think you'd belong?"
I pretended to think for a moment, then said softly, "Probably Ravenclaw. Though, I think I'd miss the drive that Slytherin inspires. Ambition sharpens the mind, don't you think?"
Slughorn laughed heartily. "Yes! Yes, it does! Oh, you remind me of myself when I was a lad—sharp, clever, always thinking ahead!"
"High praise," I said with a small bow of my head. "I hope to live up to it."
For the next hour, I continued weaving my web—asking questions, paying compliments that sounded genuine, letting others speak about themselves while I learned more about them. It was an art, after all: to make others feel as though they were the most interesting people in the room, while secretly gathering every piece of information they gave.
By the end of the evening, Slughorn's face was flushed with satisfaction. "I knew inviting you was the right decision, my boy. I have a feeling we'll see great things from you."
"Thank you, Professor," I said smoothly. "I only hope I can live up to your expectations."
Just as I turned to leave, the familiar chime of the system echoed faintly in my mind.
[Quest Completed: Impress Slughorn at his Party][Reward: Supreme Magic Control Acquired](Your control over magic has reached perfect precision. No wasted energy. Every spell cast with flawless efficiency.)
The world seemed to pulse around me for an instant. My magic—the invisible current under my skin—settled, flowing perfectly in rhythm with my breath. It was… exhilarating. Every movement, every thought, felt sharp, exact, alive.
As I left Slughorn's office, I smiled to myself.Step by step. Power by power. Charm by charm.Even the greatest wizard of this century would one day have to acknowledge my name.