Harry had once thought that no one in the United Kingdom could refuse a visit from Dumbledore. Yet now he saw with his own eyes that there were indeed people who disliked visits from the greatest White Wizard in the United Kingdom.
After Dumbledore announced himself, no immediate reply came from the room inside the little courtyard.
In fact, everything inside suddenly went quiet.
The silence lasted so long that Harry was beginning to wonder whether he ought to ask Dumbledore to ring the bell again to remind the owner when the door to the room inside finally opened.
In the doorway stood a plump old man with a slightly balding head.
He wore a long dressing gown covered in holes of various sizes and some strange stains. Harry took one look and roughly guessed how those stains and holes had come about.
Barring anything wildly unexpected, they were probably the result of accidents while brewing potions.
Harry's own robes often ended up like that, though not quite so badly. Seamus Finnigan's robes, on the other hand, came a little closer to the old Wizard's.
Of course, as Gryffindor's explosive genius, Seamus had robes in an even sorrier state.
The plump old man looked at Dumbledore standing outside the little courtyard, his expression thoroughly disgruntled. "Well, this is a rare sight, Albus. You've actually come looking for me?"
His tone was full of complaint. Then he glanced at Dumbledore's and Harry's empty hands, adding a touch of disdain:
"I had no idea. Have times changed? People visit someone else's home these days without even bringing a pie?"
"I've brought something better, Horace!" Dumbledore smiled warmly, showing no displeasure whatsoever at the man's obvious disdain and unwelcoming attitude.
He patted Harry on the shoulder. "Harry, this is Professor Horace Slughorn, one