Harry's POV

My days had been passing by relatively quickly. Very often, I would be in Dumbledore's office, having meetings with him. I learnt a lot, Dumbledore showed me the past and helped me understand Voldemort more, showing me memories of Voldemort's time as Tom Riddle.

"Have you got the memory yet?" Dumbledore questioned me.

I shook my head guiltily. I had failed in trying to get Slughorn's memory.

"Not yet sir." I said quietly.

"Time's running out," Dumbledore told me, peering at me through his glasses, "off you go Harry. Goodnight."

I walked out his office door and made my way to the Common Room.

"Alright Potter?" I heard a voice said from behind me.

I turned and I noticed Y/N, he briefly walked past me and then stood by a wall, legs and arms crossed.

"What are you doing?" Y/N asked me. "Another meeting with Dumbledore?"

I nodded. "Yeah...wait how do you know?"

Y/N had a satisfied smirk. "I have meetings with Dumbledore myself, he tells me a lot more than what he tells you. Any luck with the memory yet?"

"No," I said sadly, "not yet."

Y/N stood up straight and looked at me before taking something out from his robe pocket. He threw something at me and I caught it. "Sometimes all you need is a little bit of luck."

He winked at me before walking into the shadows. I inspected what he threw at me and noticed the vial of Felix Felicis. I put my hand into the robe pocket where I kept my own vial and realised it wasn't there and Y/N had somehow taken my own vial from me before giving it back.

He was full of surprises.

I made my way back to the Gryffindor Common Room with no more interuptions and proceeded to make my way straight back to my dorm room.

The next afternoon, in the Great Hall, I had my Felix Felicis out, reading to drink it.

"Well, here goes," I said, and I raised the little bottle and took a carefully measured gulp.

"What does it feel like?" whispered Hermione.

I did not answer for a moment. Then, slowly but surely, an exhilarating sense of infinite opportunity stole through me, I felt as though I could have done anything, anything at all...and getting the memory from Slughorn seemed suddenly not only possible, but positively easy...

I got to my feet, smiling, brimming with confidence.

"Excellent," I said. "Really excellent. Right...I'm going down to Hagrid's."

"What?" said Ron and Hermione together, looking aghast.

"No, Harry...you've got to go and see Slughorn, remember?" said Hermione.

"No," I replied confidently, "I'm going to Hagrid's, I've got a good feeling about going to Hagrid's."

"You've got a good feeling about burying a giant spider?" asked Ron, looking stunned.

"Yeah," I nodded, pulling the Invisibility Cloak out of my bag, "I feel like it's the place to be tonight, you know what I mean?"

"No," said Ron and Hermione together, both looking positively alarmed now.

Ignoring Hermione and Ron's shocked expressions, I bounced out the Great Hall and made my way out the castle and down the steps to Hagrid's hut. As I passed the Greenhouses, I ran into Professor Slughorn.

"Hullo Professor!" I said cheerily.

Professor Slughorn looked taken aback. "Why hello Harry. How come you're out the castle this late?"

I told him about me going to bury Hagrid's spider and he seemed very interested. In the end, I managed to persuade him into coming with me.

"Yeh came," croaked Hagrid, when he opened the door and saw me emerging from the Invisibility Cloak.

"Yeah, Ron and Hermione couldn't, though," I said, "they're really sorry."

"Don'matter...he'd've bin touched yeh're here, though, Harry..."

Yes, the giant spider that tried to kill me and Ron in our second year would've been absolutely delighted that I attened his funeral.

Hagrid gave a great sob. He had made himself a black armband out of what looked like a rag dipped in boot polish, and his eyes were puffy, red, and swollen. I patted him consolingly on the elbow.

"Where are we burying him?" I asked. "The forest?"

"Blimey, no," said Hagrid, wiping his streaming eyes on the bottom of his shirt, "the other spiders won' let me anywhere near their webs now Aragog's gone. Turns out it was only on his orders they didn' eat me! Can yeh believe that, Harry? Never bin an area o' the forest I couldn' go before! It wasn' easy, gettin' Aragog's body out o' there, I can tell yeh, they usually eat their dead, see...but I wanted ter give 'im a nice burial...a proper send-off..."

"Are we going to bury him here, Hagrid, in your garden?" Professor Slughorn asked, suddenly appearing.

"Jus' beyond the pumpkin patch, I thought," said Hagrid in a choked voice, "I've already dug the grave. Jus' thought we'd say a few nice things over him...happy memories, yeh know-"

"Hagrid," Slughorn said, in a deep, grave voice, "so very sorry to hear of your loss."

"Tha's very nice of yeh," said Hagrid.

All three of made our way and stood by Aragog's dead body. It was an unusual sight. Hagrid was sobbing extremely loudly and me and Slughorn stood solemnly next to him.

"Of course, it's difficult for you, who knew him best," said Slughorn, "why don't I say a few words?"

Slughorn stepped forwards and spoke in a slow and serious tone. "Farewell, Aragog, king of arachnids, whose long and faithful friendship those who knew you won't forget! Though your body will decay, your spirit lingers on in the quiet, web-spun places of your forest home. May your many-eyed descendants ever flourish and your human friends find solace for the loss they have sustained."

"Tha wa...tha wa...beau'iful!" howled Hagrid, and he collapsed onto the compost heap, crying harder than ever.

"There, there," said Slughorn, waving his wand so that the huge pile of earth rose up and then fell, with a muffled sort of crash, onto the dead spider, forming a smooth mound, "lets get inside and have a drink. Get on his other side, Harry...that's it...up you come, Hagrid...well done..."

We deposited Hagrid in a chair at the table. Fang, who had been skulking in his basket during the burial, now came padding softly across to them and put his heavy head into my lap as usual. Slughorn uncorked one of the bottles of wine he had brought.

"I have had it all tested for poison," he assured me, pouring most of the first bottle into one of Hagrid's bucket-sized mugs and handing it to Hagrid, "had a house-elf taste every bottle after what happened to your poor friend Rupert."

If only Hermione found out what Slughorn was doing...

"One for Harry..." said Slughorn, dividing a second bottle between two mugs, "... and one for me. Well, he raised his mug high, "to Aragog."

"Aragog," said me and Hagrid together.

Both Slughorn and Hagrid drank deeply. I knew I shouldn't drink because of teh Felix Felicis so I merely just pretended to take a gulp.

"I had him from an egg, yeh know," said Hagrid, "tiny little thing he was when he hatched."

"Sweet." said Slughorn.

"Used ter keep him in a cupboard up at the school until...well..."

I looked at Hagrid sadly. Tom Riddle had exposed Hagrid during his school years which resulted into his expulsion.

After an hour or so, Hagrid and Slughorn began making extravagant toasts: to Hogwarts, to Dumbledore, to elf-made wine and strangely, to myself.

"Harry Potter!" bellowed Hagrid, slopping some of his fourteenth bucket of wine down his chin as he drained it.

"Yes, indeed," cried Slughorn a little thickly, "Parry Otter, the Chosen Boy Who...well...something of that sort," he mumbled, and drained his mug too.

For a while after that, Hagrid and Slughorn were sitting side by side, arms around each other, singing a slow sad song about a dying wizard.

"Aaargh, the good die young," muttered Hagrid, slumping low onto the table, a little cross-eyed, while Slughorn continued the song, "me dad was no age ter go...nor were yer mum' an' dad, Harry..."

Great fat tears oozed out of the corners of Hagrid's crinkled eyes again; he grasped my arm and shook it.

"Bes' wiz and witchard o' their age I never knew...terrible thing...terrible thing..."

Slughorn sang plaintively.

"Terrible," Hagrid grunted.

"Sorry," said Slughorn with a hiccup, "can't carry a tune to save my life."

"Hagrid wasn't talking about your singing," I said quietly, "he was talking about my mum and dad dying."

"Oh," said Slughorn, repressing a large belch, "oh dear. Yes, that was terrible indeed. Terrible...terrible..."

He looked quite at a loss for what to say, and resorted to refilling our mugs.

"I don't-don't suppose you remember it, Harry?" he asked awkwardly.

"No...well, I was only one when they died," I said, my eyes on the flame of the candle flickering in the background, "but I've found out pretty much what happened since. My dad died first. Did you know that?"

"I didn't." said Slughorn in a hushed voice.

"Yeah...Voldemort murdered him and then stepped over his body toward my mum." said Harry.

Slughorn gave a great shudder, but he did not seem able to tear his horrified gaze away from my face.

"He told her to get out of the way," I continued remorselessly, "he told me she needn't have died. He only wanted me. She could have run."

"Oh dear," breathed Slughorn, "she could have...she needn't...that's awful..."

"It is, isn't it?" I said, in a voice barely more than a whisper. "But she didn't move. Dad was already dead, but she didn't want me to go too. She tried to plead with Voldemort...but he just laughed...."

"That's enough!" said Slughorn suddenly, raising a shaking hand. "Really, my dear boy, enough...I'm an old man...I don't need to hear...I don't want to hear..."

"I forgot," I lied, the Felix Felicis leading me on, "you liked her, didn't you?"

"Liked her?" said Slughorn, his eyes brimming with tears once more. "I don't imagine anyone who met her wouldn't have liked her...very brave...very funny...it was the most horrible thing..."

"But you won't help her son," I said coldly, "she gave me her life, but you won't give me a memory."

I looked steadily into Slughorn's tear-filled eyes. The Potions master seemed unable to look away.

"Don't say that," he whispered, "it isn't a question...if it were to help you, of course...but no purpose can be serve..."

"It can," said Harry clearly, "Dumbledore needs information. I need information."

I knew I was safe: the Felix Felicis was telling me that Slughorn would remember nothing of this in the morning. Looking Slughorn straight in the eye, I leaned forward a little.

"I am the Chosen One. I have to kill him. I need that memory."

Slughorn turned paler than ever.

"You are the Chosen One?"

"Of course I am," I replied calmly.

"But the...my dear boy...you're asking a great deal...you're asking me, in fact, to aid you in your attempt to destroy-"

"You don't want to get rid of the wizard who killed Lily Evans?"

"Harry, Harry, of course I do, but-"

"You're scared he'll find out you helped me?"

Slughorn said nothing; he looked terrified.

"Be brave like my mother, Professor..."

Slughorn raised a pudgy hand and pressed his shaking fingers to his mouth.

"I am not proud..." he whispered through his fingers, "I am ashamed of what...of what that memory shows...I think I may have done great damage that day..."

"You'd cancel out anything you did by giving me the memory," said Harry, "it would be a very brave and noble thing to do."

Me and Slughorn stared at each other. There was a long, long silence, but Felix Felicis told me not to break it, to wait.

Then, very slowly, Slughorn put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his wand. He put his other hand inside his cloak and took out a small, empty bottle. Still looking into my eyes, Slughorn touched the tip of his wand to his temple and withdrew it, so that a long, silver thread of memory came away too, clinging to the wand tip. Longer and longer the memory stretched until it broke and swung, silvery bright, from the wand. Slughorn lowered it into the bottle where it coiled, then spread, swirling like gas. He corked the bottle with a trembling hand and then passed it across the table to me.

"Thank you very much, Professor."

"You're a good boy," said Professor Slughorn, tears trickling down him, "and you've got her eyes...just don't think too badly of me once you've seen it..."