After forcing down a few bites in the Great Hall, Snape and Abbo made their way to Slughorn's office.
The space was far grander than that of any other teacher—lined with shelves crammed full of bubbling bottles and strange oddities. Two winged armchairs sat at the center, surrounded by six or seven smaller seats forming a loose circle.
Slughorn stood near the fireplace, swirling a small goblet of wine as he chatted amiably with a red-haired wizard.
"Welcome, my boys!" he exclaimed the moment Snape and Abbo entered. His cheerful tone made it obvious, though, that it was Abbo he was most pleased to see.
Snape handed him a neatly wrapped box of crystallised pineapple, ordered through the Owl Post.
"Oh, splendid, Severus. Splendid!"
Slughorn beamed. "Let me introduce you both—this is the famed Auror Fabian Prewett. His brother Gideon had work this evening—dreadfully sorry he couldn't make it."
Fabian raised his glass in greeting. Snape noted the gold watch on his left wrist—its dial was free of hands, but stars raced across its surface in slow orbits.
"Good evening, Mr Prewett," Snape said politely, stepping forward. "You remind me of someone… Molly Weasley, perhaps? There's a resemblance."
"You know Molly?" Fabian's stern expression softened into a smile. "She's my sister."
"That explains it. My mum and I visited her over the summer—we even met little Percy. Quite the adorable one."
"That lad's destined for greatness!" Fabian said proudly. "Last time I saw him, he was staring wide-eyed at a wireless tuned to the Ministry bulletin. He was barely a month old!"
Snape coughed into his sleeve to stifle a laugh.
"Yes—Bill, Charlie, Percy… fine young lads, all of them," he said quickly.
As they chatted, more students arrived and filtered into the room.
"Come along, everyone—seats, seats!" Slughorn clapped his hands. "Lily, right here beside me."
Lily Evans sat down at his right hand. Between her and Snape was Dirk Cresswell, a Hufflepuff fifth-year known for speaking fluent Gobbledegook, Mermish, and Troll.
Lily gave Snape the briefest glance before turning her head away.
Slughorn lounged back in his chair, launching into a glowing introduction of Fabian Prewett.
"An honour to have such a heroic guest among us tonight! If anyone's curious about the work of Aurors or the inner workings of the Ministry—don't be shy, ask away!"
Fabian scratched his nose, visibly awkward at the attention.
Slughorn sipped wine while digging sticky fingers into the pineapple Snape had brought.
"Now listen closely, all of you—don't be daft when it comes to career choices. I've always said the Ministry is a noble path."
He pointed a syrup-coated finger directly at Snape.
"Severus, you've got the makings of an Auror. Don't let that opportunity slip by!"
"You'd be welcome to intern with us next year," Fabian added with a good-natured smile. "So long as you've picked the right N.E.W.T.s, leave the rest to me."
"Thank you, sir. That's very generous of you," Snape said. And truthfully, it wasn't a bad backup plan.
"And you, Dirk," Slughorn said, turning to Cresswell. "With your knack for Gobbledegook, you'd be perfect for the Goblin Liaison Office. I can introduce you to the department head."
He paused dramatically.
"Though you'll want to steer clear of the Centaur Liaison Office. Know why?"
"Isn't that also part of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?" Dirk asked, puzzled.
Slughorn chuckled and turned to Fabian with a grin. "I think our guest might answer that better."
Fabian grinned back. "Centaurs don't care much for wizard diplomacy. Try to reason with them, and you're more likely to catch a hoof to the ribs than a handshake."
He leaned in mock-seriously. "If they ever assign you there, first thing you should do is start job hunting."
Whether genuinely amused or just following the mood, the room erupted into laughter.
For the remainder of the evening, the students peppered Fabian with questions about Auror life and Ministry work. Slughorn, of course, couldn't help but chime in constantly—especially with departmental gossip that not even Fabian seemed to know.
Then—an abrupt knock on the office door. Heavy, insistent.
Moments later, Argus Filch burst in, gripping James Potter by the arm like a prized ferret.
"Professor Slughorn," Filch wheezed, puffing through his sagging jowls, his bulging eyes gleaming with glee. "Caught this one snooping outside your door. Says he was invited. Said he was delayed. Did you send him an invitation?"
James yanked his arm free, face red and furious.
"Fine! No, I wasn't invited. I was trying to crash your stupid little party. Happy now?"
"No, I'm not happy," Filch sneered, clearly very happy. "Out after curfew without permission—Headmaster said no wandering the halls at night, didn't he?"
"It's quite alright, Argus," said Slughorn, raising a placating hand. "No harm done in wanting to join a party. Let's not make a scene. Potter, you may stay this time—but don't make it a habit."
"I don't want to stay!" James snapped, loud enough for the whole room to hear. He jabbed a finger toward Snape. "Why's he invited?"
"I think I understand Mr Potter's concern," Snape said with a sigh. "Perhaps he feels it's beneath him to share a room with someone whose parents weren't both wizards. A disgrace to civility and bloodlines, is that it?"
"I do not! That's not—" James stammered, turning crimson. "You greasy little—how dare you say that?!"
Slughorn's brow furrowed deeply.
Snape flinched theatrically. "Oh, forgive me, Mr Potter. I didn't realise your disdain for half-bloods and Muggle-borns ran so deep."
Before James could fire back, Slughorn stood.
"That's enough. Argus, would you kindly escort Mr Potter back to his dormitory?"
"What? That's it?" Filch grumbled, scandalised. "No punishment?"
He gripped James's arm again with vindictive relish and led him out, muttering the whole way.
The door thudded shut behind them.
Even several minutes later, James's echoing shouts of indignation could still be heard ringing up the corridor.