Horace Slughorn

In a small neighborhood in the town of Budleigh Babberton, Devon, an unremarkable house appeared to have been burglarized. Its door hung half-open, and upon closer inspection, several lights could be seen moving about inside the unlit house.

Luckily, this was out in the suburbs, where few people lived. Otherwise, news of Dumbledore and his two students being arrested as burglars might have appeared in tomorrow's papers.

The light from their Wands barely illuminated the interior. Seeing the mess inside, Harry felt there was a strong chance the owner of the house had met with misfortune.

When a drop of blood fell from the ceiling, Harry's hair stood on end. He hardly dared look up, afraid some horrifying sight would greet him.

But Dumbledore's boldness surprised him. Dumbledore wiped a finger through the blood on the floor, then held it to his nose and sniffed it, showing none of the tension one might expect at a murder scene.

The blood had dripped from the broken ceiling. Logically, Dumbledore should either have led them out of the house or gone upstairs to investigate.

Yet to Harry's confusion, Dumbledore was staring intently at a blue-striped armchair. Honestly, the color scheme made Harry think the chair was wearing pajamas.

Eli stood to one side, holding his Wand up for light in one hand while the other hung loosely at his side. He looked at the chair with an inexplicable smile at the corner of his lips.

Dumbledore slowly walked over to the armchair. Just as Harry wondered what he was about to do, Dumbledore suddenly poked it with his Wand.

"Merlin's thong!"

The slightly hoarse cry made Harry nearly jump out of his skin. If he had seen correctly, a human head had popped out from the top of the armchair!

Dumbledore laughed