If Rose Forster were to ask for the memory from Horace Slughorn

We know that Slughorn did not want to give the Horcrux memory to Dumbledore so the headmaster set Harry to do the job for him. Harry had used Felix Felicis, a cheap trick. What would Rose Forster do in these situations?

Rose Forster's perspective:

Professor Dumbledore has given me this impossible task. He asked Professor Slughorn for this memory which he refused to give. I think Professor Dumbledore might have badgered him too much so his only option was to give him a tampered memory. Why does Professor Dumbledore think that I would be able to do what he has not been able to? Isn't my headmaster the greatest wizard? Then, I think Dumbledore has hinted that there is something far greater than magic, a power that I can wield. But, what power is that?

...Love...

Professor Dumbledore keeps saying this word so often. So, if he with all his magic could not accomplish this task then I have only one way left, love. But, love for whom? Love for everyone, I think, because this war will affect everyone. 

(One by one, images of all my family and friends come before my eyes and at the end of it all is an elderly chatty man, Professor Slughorn, my Potions professor).

Love for Slughorn? He isn't my type, right? But, he seems to like me, he seems to like me more than the 'Chosen One'. With every passing day, he seems to know the girl that is real, the real me. And, I like it, especially because the Slytherins are not so nice people. He looks different, although I have known him for a short while, his eyes tell me that he can love too, although he is a Slytherin. 

That means being a Slytherin has nothing to do with being evil. 'Determined, clever, proud', ambitious, these words echo around my head. These are the Slytherin traits, not 'death-eater', not 'dark-magic', not 'evil'. Then why should I doubt the former head of Slytherin House's integrity? T

The Slug Club, yes, is annoying but who in this world is perfect? 'Are you perfect Rose?' is a question that resounds in my head. 'No', swift reply from the inner voice breaks my reverie. Jo's sisterly voice, 'Rose, are you alright?' I smile back, doesn't my honorary sister ever annoy me? Are we all sunshine and rainbows? Yet, she has such a precious place in my heart. Then, why can't I find it in my heart to try and befriend the Potions master?

'Because he is a Slytherin', comes an inner voice and my mind clears. I sit up straight. 'Lets go, dinner time', I say with enthusiasm. In the deep recesses of my heart, I see myself clearly, my young mind has been unclouded. 

As we go to sit and eat in the Great Hall, I have a new perspective when I look at the house tables. The Gryffindors dine together, the Ravenclaws have a separate table, so do the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. Yet, we do not dine in our Gryffindor tower, right? 

Eating together has a meaning, it means making oneself equal with others we are dining with. No, we and Slytherins are not equal. Then, my gaze turns to the staff table, the Professors are having a great time eating together just like us. Professor Dumbledore, my hero, makes no distinction while talking to them. The Heads of Houses are not dining with their students, right? Professor McGonagall's house is Gryffindor but what about Professor Sinistra or Professor Trelawney or Professor Burbage? Why should Professor Slughorn be any different? 'Because you know he is a Slytherin'. My eyes fall to my plate in shame.

What are we fighting for then? If we cannot treat each other with respect and equality, what are we doing around here? The houses have been made mainly for comfort and administration purposes, I would not mind having a conversation with Professor Flitwick then why should I detest Professor Slughorn so much?

'Because he is not my type', comes my inner voice. And, Hagrid is not my type either, I don't fancy running around with giant spiders, do I? I make up my mind, I look at the old man, the potioneer who refused to teach in Hogwarts again but could not resist adding the 'Chosen One' to his collection. Very shrewd, Professor Dumbledore, sir, very shrewd. 

'Shrewd', yes, 'shrewd' is the word. I need to be shrewd, what would Professor Slughorn like? A look at his eyes and I notice an empty sadness, a kind of loneliness because he does not know a lot of younger professors. Would he like to have some company sometimes? Maybe during the lonely evenings after classes or something? Yes!

He wouldn't mind me asking a question or two, right, in his class? Potions has never been my favorite subject thanks to the Big Meany greasy bat. But, Professor Slughorn's attention is not that bad. Hatred objectifies, Professor Slughorn is not objectifying me, exactly, no, his voice is that of interest and curiosity. He genuinely wants to meet the girl within. 

So, he is a great potioneer, the new potions master, why don't I carry homework to his office and engage him in conversation about potions? After all, potions are great ways to heal people and our syllabus has only so much. Surely, he wouldn't mind divulging some more knowledge. The conversation would surely turn to his Slug Club and I would steer it further from there. 

The potions class was the first thing this morning. The Professor looked in his happily forlorn mood during breakfast. 

We all entered into our classroom as usual but my focus today was getting the Professor's attention. The Professor entered into the class and looked at me as usual and smiled. It felt my face relax and smile back tentatively. I was feeling unusually calm and composed but tense at the same time. For the first time I had considered this question, would the Professor really like me? 

The lesson began. 

The Professor waved his wand and the topic appeared on the board. Today's topic was Amoemosiasis or the cleansing potion. 'Wow'! I thought, the topic was finally getting to healing and I loved it, though, the cleansing potion was a household detergent too. 

"When there is a stain that won't clear no matter how many times you rub and try to clean it, then it means it has permeated deep and rubbing will help only so much. The best detergent potions are only effective on the surface so they can only dull the stain. The cleansing potion seeps deep and cleans layer by layer. That is why many believe that the potion is too slow. You do have to apply it time and again day after day without break to see any visible effects. But when it does show the effect then the material gets as good as new.", said the wizened wizard. 

"It is the reason why very few groceries stock these potions, people don't use it that much unless they really want to clean something important, like a heirloom, for example. But, apothecaries stock them all the time because when all other potions and healing spells fail, a constant application of Amoemosiasis alongside a calming drought or a dreamless sleep potion is the way to get permanent healing results.", he continued. 

My hand shot up inadvertently. "Yes, my girl?", he asked.

"Professor, what happens when even the cleansing potion fails?", I found my voice asking. He smiled and said, "Excellent question, my girl", he rubbed his chin and continued, "Then the ailment or disfigurement is permanent, there is no way to heal it. The healers give droughts and potions to such a person to somehow carry through their normal activities.", he finished. 

The shrewd Professory eyes could still read the question linger on my lips so he smiled a wry smile and continued, "If even that fails then the person is rendered invalid, my girl. They can't return back to their normal lives, ever." 

There must have been a look of horror on my face so experienced in not giving myself away. So, he continued, "Yes, my girl, healing is not an easy task but the healers are so important for this reason", he sighed. A serious look must have crossed my features. I looked down at the cauldron on my desk as if its empitness were inviting me to heal the world. 

"...a bit of shredded aloe vera and stir well.", the Professor had finished giving the instructions and waved his wand. The instructions appeared on the board. For the first time, potions had looked important to me as a subject, or was it a way to build my moral character? Anyway, I wanted and desperately wanted to brew the potion with all perfection. Before I knew it, I had started and was hard at work. 

The golden Primrose juice looked like a vial of the harbinger of eternal spring to me, the aloe vera and its greenery. Maybe, growing up in nature like a rustic has this kind of effect on people. Before I knew it, I was not even looking at the board for instructions anymore and the silvery potion with a pinkish tinge was ready. I checked at what was written in the board, that is how it was supposed to be! The Professor was checking the Ravenclaw's work and guiding them when I could not stop grinning like an idiot at my cauldron. How had I brewed this potion like an expert potioneer when it was my first time, I have no idea, but, it was cool!

The Professor caught me off guard. "Is there a probl...Oh, wow!", he exclaimed. He came closer and took a ladleful and sniffed it. "Perfect m'girl... but it is not even ten minutes! Excellent!... Rose Forster, a great potioneer in the making!". Jo was watching me with amazement and a tinge of jealousy, Ryan grinned triumphant, and Cedric looked amazed. 

"Now that you have finished it, my girl, please tell me what else would you like to do for the rest of the class?", he asked appreciatively. It was my chance but I felt so awkward so all I could manage was to mutter, "Whatever you tell me to, Professor."