In the village of Badley Barberton, the church rang midnight, and a figure suddenly appeared in the street, and after looking left and right, he entered a neat little stone house nestled in the garden.

It was a narrow portico with an open door to the left.

Mo Wen opened the door of the hall, and there was a mess in front of him, an old man's clock was broken at his feet, the clock face was cracked, and the pendulum was lying a little farther away, like an abandoned sword. A piano topples over on the floor, keys scattered everywhere. Nearby, a fragment of a broken chandelier was glittering. The mats were littered and deflated, feathers were coming out of the cracks, broken glass and porcelain were sprinkling like powder, and the wallpaper was splattered with a lot of dark red goo.

Frowning, Mo Wen took out his wand, and a red light hit an armchair with bulging cushions, and the chair let out a miserable scream: "Ouch! ”

"Good evening, Mr. Horace Slughorn!" Mo Wen said calmly.

The armchair, in the blink of an eye, turned into a balding fat old man squatting there. He rubbed his little belly and narrowed a painful, tearful eye at Mo Wen, "Damn, who the hell are you little ghost!" ”

In the dark night, Mo Wen's eyesight was not affected by the relationship of the perfect bloodline, but this old man was not good, although he judged that Mo Wen was a young man from his voice and appearance, but his appearance could not be seen clearly.

"I'm sorry, I was negligent!" Mo Wen blinked, stretched out his hand, and a bright light appeared in the room.

"Except for your weapons!" The moment the light appeared, Horace struck.

The red light passed through Mo Wen's figure, and a feather flew away with a 'bang'.

The pupils in Horace's eyes shrank, and just as he was about to make a move, a wand was already on his back.

"If I were you, Mr. Horace, I'd be honest." Mo Wen's cold voice came from behind him.

"Don't, don't be impulsive, Mr. Gurris, I have no ill intentions, I just played around." Cold sweat seeped down Horace's forehead.

"Do you know who I am?" Mo Wen was a little puzzled, he shouldn't have seen Horace, and it was still so dark in the room just now.

Horace stammered a little, "Of course, your golden and silver eyes are so different, they can only be found in the form of blood mutation or magic overflowing to the extreme, and there is probably no other one among the young people except the famous Guris." ”

"I see," Mo Wen finally understood, or his eyes were exposed, although the room was dark, there was still a glimmer of light, I am afraid that his eyes would be more conspicuous in this situation, is this a wake-up call for himself? But this old guy knew who he was early on, and he would make a sneak attack, and he was not a good person.

Snatching Horace's wand, Mo Wen waved his hand, and the furniture in the room jumped back to its original position one by one, the decorations returned to their original shape in midair, the feathers burrowed back into the cushions, and the broken books were automatically repaired and neatly arranged on the shelves. The oil lamp flew to the small table by the wall and was lit again. A large mass of shattered silver frames flickered across the room and landed on a desk, shining as bright as new again. Everywhere in the room were broken, torn, and opened. The stains on the walls are also automatically wiped clean.

Sitting in a comfortable chair, Mo Wen turned to Horace and said, "Mr. Slughorn, please take a seat, I think we have a lot to talk about." ”

Although Mo Wen, who had read the original book, knew very well how many Horcruxes Voldemort had, Dumbledore didn't know, and if he wanted to tell him the truth, it was obviously not enough to just say it with his mouth, and it could be said that it was necessary to come to Slughorn here.

Horace also found a chair and sat down, and his somewhat fat body hummed comfortably as soon as he touched the cushion.

"How did I get discovered? There shouldn't be any problems with the arrangement? ”

"Because I can also be considered a member of the Death Eaters, and a group of vicious thugs were just released, and I still know if we attacked a character like you." A cold glow shot out of his golden-silver pupils.

"What!" Horace jumped up all of a sudden, and pointed at Mo Wen with trembling hands, "You're a Death Eater!" ”

Sweat continued to drip down Horace's head, and his gaze kept sweeping towards the door, only to sit back down in a daze, knowing full well that he would not be able to escape without his wand.

"He sent you?" His voice was hoarse, and he muttered, "I knew I wouldn't be able to escape this day." ”

"No, Dumbledore sent me." Mo Wen said unhurriedly, and with a wave of his wand in his hand, a cup full of hot tea appeared in his hand.

"What!" A look of surprise erupted in Horace's eyes, he knew Dumbledore, the other party wanted his memories and not kill him, if this young man was really sent by Dumbledore, his life would not be in danger.

"Which side the hell are you from?" He was a little embarrassed, it was not a pleasant thing for an old man who was about to enter the earth to be played by a young man who was not yet twenty years old.

"It's not on either side," Mo Wen took a leisurely sip of tea, "Old Barty Crouch, Shimike, Scrimgeur・・・・・・" names spat out of Mo Wen's mouth.

Horace's face was cloudy, he naturally understood the weight of every name in Mo Wen's mouth, he had been teaching at Hogwarts for decades, and he had been attracting all kinds of talents, so he naturally noticed this lurking force.

"Are you one of theirs?"

Mo Wen smiled, "To be exact, the nominal leader." ”

Horace only felt his breath stagnate, and although the young man in front of him was laughing, it made his heart beat for a while, and he could secretly dominate a force that enveloped many families, and in some ways this young man was even more terrifying than Dumbledore and Voldemort, at least the two of them would never have done this when they were young.

"What do you want?" Horace was obviously not naïve enough to think that Mo Wen revealed his identity just to chat with him, and if one was not good, the person in front of him might kill him directly.

"One is to invite you to join us, and the other is to hope that you will hand over that memory of Voldemort's Horcruxes." Mo Wen's body leaned forward slightly, his eyes looking at Horace.

Horace's eyes widened, the former was expected, but the latter-

"What do you want that thing for?" Horace was a little reluctant, he knew that Voldemort would never spare him if the matter was leaked, which was why he rejected Dumbledore.

"Because we want to deal with Dumbledore and Voldemort," Mo Wen's tone was calm, as if taking out the two strongest wizards of our time was as simple as killing chickens.

"You're crazy!" Horace jumped up at once, "It's simply impossible! ”

Mo Wen ignored him, but said to himself, "We hope that the two of them can fight to defeat both, but it's a pity that Voldemort has always had a fear of Dumbledore because of some childhood shadows, and he will never take the initiative to take action, and Dumbledore is also afraid of Voldemort's Horcruxes, he will not use all his strength until the problem of Horcruxes is solved, if it is just a tentative fight, it will have no effect on these two people at all, so we must help Dumbledore solve the problem of Horcruxes first, He was able to fight Voldemort to the death. ”

Horace's eyes widened, but he couldn't speak, he had never seen such a crazy plan, but he had to admit that it was still quite feasible.

"What about your choice?" Mo Wen looked at him with a grin, but there was no trace of a smile in his eyes.

Looking at the wand quietly held in Mo Wen's hand, Horace sighed softly, as if he had suddenly aged ten years, and asked for the wand back from Mo Wen, he took out a small empty bottle from the cloak with his other hand, put the tip of the wand against his temple, and then took it away. The tip of the staff brought out a long wisp of silver-like memory. It grew longer and longer, and finally broke, silver gleaming across the tip of the staff. Slughorn put it in the bottle, and the silver filament rolled up, then unfolded, swirling like gas. He tightened the cap of the bottle with a trembling hand and handed it to Mo Wen.

Looking at the memory in his hand, Mo Wen smiled, "Welcome to you, Mr. Slughorn!" ”