"Blackcake." Slughorn sniffed derisively as he drummed his fingers on the mug he still clutched in his pudgy hands. "Potion-maker's dream, that stuff. One or two tastes and you have a customer for as long as you're willing to make it. Or as long as they last. Seen many a promising witch fall out that way, though -- the money isn't worth it."

A century and change of life meant for many memories, and for a moment the old witch's eyes lost their focus as a few drifted past. He shook himself out of it. "Now Canway, that's a bit more of a delight, isn't it? Mellowing, if you need it. That's far more to my taste."