Chapter 697: Horace Slughorn
The village of Budleigh Babberton appeared expansive at first glance, but in reality, it wasn't particularly large. After walking for over ten minutes, Dumbledore finally stopped in front of a dilapidated house.
"Oh, my goodness!" he exclaimed.
Kyle and Harry followed his gaze.
The scene was incongruous: a well-maintained path bordered by neatly trimmed gardens leading to a house that looked as though it had been struck by a Blasting Curse. The front door was reduced to splintered wood, with only a small fragment—about the size of a tabletop—hanging precariously from its frame.
Dumbledore surveyed the surroundings before whispering, "Kyle, Harry, draw your wands and follow me."
Carefully, he made his way down the garden path, his wand at the ready, with Kyle and Harry close behind. Upon reaching the shattered doorway, he pushed it open and raised his wand.
"Lumos."
The interior was in even worse condition than the outside. It was a chaotic mess, as though the room had been ransacked. An overturned piano lay on the floor, its keys scattered like broken teeth. Shattered vases, glass fragments, and scattered cushions of various shapes and colors littered the space.
On the wall, a large, ominous red stain caught their attention.
"Something terrible must have happened here," Dumbledore said softly. Yet there was an odd note of detachment—almost artificial—in his voice.
"Yeah," Kyle murmured, scanning the room. "Harry, can you help me move the piano onto that armchair? I think there's something underneath."