Dumbledore stood up again, walked over to Mulciber, bent slightly, and pulled up his left arm, rolling the sleeve back to the elbow.
On Mulciber's skin was a mark, a blood-red tattoo-like pattern,a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth.
It was the Dark Mark.
"So. Has Voldemort fallen so low already? To make students into Death Eaters," Dumbledore said.
His blue eyes blazed with fire, though his voice remained calm.
The name jolted Mulciber awake. He shuddered violently, shook his head, and cast a venomous glare at those around him before quickly lowering his head again.
Looking down at Mulciber, Dumbledore's expression filled with revulsion, and his eyes brimmed with disappointment.
He raised his wand once more. Ropes shot out with a sharp swish, arcing through the air before binding Mulciber tightly, securing him fast.
Dumbledore turned to Professor McGonagall.
"Minerva, please contact Frank Longbottom. Have him come at daybreak to take Mulciber away."
"No problem," Professor McGonagall answered crisply. "For tonight, I'll keep him in my office."
She drew her wand and pointed it at Mulciber.
Mulciber's body slowly floated into the air and drifted after her toward the door.
When the door closed, Slughorn twisted his thick, stubby fingers around his pale lavender night robe.
His eyes flickered, full of hesitation. After a long silence, he finally stammered out:
"Albus, I was thinking... I'm nearly eighty years old now.
"Perhaps I ought to consider having more time... to enjoy what's left of these old bones."
"You wish to retire, Horace?" Dumbledore said evenly. "At a time like this?"
Slughorn shook his head slowly.
"Ah, it's undeniable, I am an old man now, Albus. A weary old man and tonight has worn me out completely. I only wish for a quiet life."
"You're not older than me, Horace." Dumbledore said.
"Yes, perhaps you yourself should consider retiring," Slughorn replied, sighing lightly. "We are both old, not what we once were."
"You are right," Dumbledore said calmly. "But on the other hand, if we both were to retire-"
",Professor Slughorn," Snape suddenly interrupted Dumbledore, fixing his gaze directly on Slughorn, "why would you want to retire?
"At such a time, I truly cannot think of any place safer than Hogwarts.
"As you can see, tonight there was only one reckless Death Eater carrying out a vile scheme here. Voldemort himself did not dare come. Even when Professor Dumbledore was absent, he did not dare."
At the sound of the name, Voldemort, Slughorn muttered a faint protest.
But Snape ignored him, continuing firmly:
"If you leave Hogwarts, where would you go? I do not believe the Death Eaters would spare a wizard of your talents. Wherever you are, they will find you."
"What use would Death Eaters have for my decrepit old bones?" Slughorn demanded loudly.
"I think," Snape said, "they would want you to turn your intelligence to suppression, torture, and murder. Do you truly believe they do not know how brilliant you are?"
Slughorn glared furiously at Snape for a moment, clearly offended by his words.
But after a while, his eyes dimmed, and he murmured softly:
"I was never one for danger..."
"Then you should remain at the school all the more. I believe that as long as Professor Dumbledore is headmaster, the staff of Hogwarts will be safer than most. Voldemort fears him alone, does he not?" Snape said, recalling Harry's words and repeating them almost exactly.
Slughorn drifted into thought, as if carefully weighing Snape's reasoning.
"Well, yes... He-Who-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named has indeed never dared to confront Dumbledore directly," he muttered reluctantly. "I suppose, since I don't wish to join the Death Eaters, He-Who-Which-Must-Not-Be-Named cannot consider me his friend...
"In that case, I may indeed be safer staying by Albus's side..."
His voice grew quieter and quieter, as though he were giving himself reasons to remain.
Dumbledore watched them with a smile.
Then he walked behind the long desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a sheet of parchment. He tapped it with his wand.
"Horace," Dumbledore said, "as an old friend, I would prefer you remain Head of Slytherin House.
"But here, look at this." He handed the parchment to Slughorn. "If you insist, you may sign it to retire. I have already filled out the rest of the resignation form."
"Ha ha ha..." Slughorn gave a dry laugh, then changed his tone.
"Albus, I was joking. Even Kettleburn hasn't retired yet. No reason I should be in such a rush..."
"I am glad you've made that decision," Dumbledore said. "After tonight, I will reorganize the staff and strengthen Hogwarts' defenses."
"Yes, yes," Slughorn said, looking troubled, his brow furrowed slightly. "I must have been muddle-headed.
"Albus, if there's nothing else, I'll be off. An old man can't stand much strain..."
"Splendid persuasion," Dumbledore said to Snape after Slughorn had gone. "Tonight... hmm... you've worked hard..."
His expression was somewhat odd, as if he did not quite know whether to praise Snape.
"These past weeks, you have already proven your resolve to fight against Voldemort, and,your remarkable initiative.
"However, I still hope that in future, if you have ideas, you will discuss them with me first."
"Of course, Professor," Snape answered quickly, without a moment's hesitation. Which only made his words sound less convincing.
Then he asked, "Professor, what of Hogsmeade?"
"Hogsmeade suffered little damage," Dumbledore said gently. "Fortunately, the noise of the passage's collapse awakened the villagers, and most of the Inferi were trapped beneath it.
"Only Madam Rosmerta, the landlady of The Three Broomsticks, was badly hurt. Aberforth has already brought her to the Hospital Wing, and Madam Pomfrey is treating her. In a few days, she should recover.
"You should return and rest as well."
"Yes, Professor."