Chapter 137
Chapter 137
The conversation in the headmaster’s office continued.
The former headmasters and headmistresses talked over one another as they debated where the objects Suer had described might be.
The old man gagged and tied to a chair struggled with all his might, his face turning scarlet. Plainly, he had an urgent need to contribute to the discussion.
For the moment, however, their debate produced no answer. Everything would take time to investigate; the truth could not possibly be uncovered at once.
“When did you ‘see’ these things, Mr Bones?” Dumbledore asked softly, his brow relaxing.
Suer tore his gaze away from a rapidly spinning silver rod. “I ‘saw’ the monster when the first attack happened. I was terrified at the time and didn’t ‘see’ anything more. That changed when I obtained the black notebook.”
Dumbledore nodded, an inscrutable emotion flashing through his brilliant blue eyes.
“I have a friend who possesses a gift much like yours.”
Suer’s interest stirred. Nostalgia and other, heavier emotions that he could not decipher passed through Dumbledore’s eyes. Suer abruptly became intensely curious about this friend and hoped that Dumbledore would say more.
“It is a precious gift, Mr Bones.” In the end, Dumbledore did not elaborate. His gaze settled on Suer. “It lies hidden beneath a wizard’s blood and deep within the soul. Very few people can bring such a gift to the surface.”
“We commonly call those people seers — or prophets.”
Suer smiled awkwardly and lowered his head. No one knew him better than he did. What rubbish about being a prophet? He was merely one member of the vast army of transmigrators. He had failed to unite the magical and Muggle worlds in his first year, failed to destroy Voldemort and failed to confront Dumbledore head-on. He had disgraced transmigrators everywhere.
Wait, no. He could not say with absolute certainty that he was not a prophet. At the very least, he knew the course of the Harry Potter story. After revealing so much today, though, he had no idea what he might have changed.
What a headache. He still had to study magic diligently and become powerful, just like Dumbledore.
How did the saying go? Meet every change with constancy and suppress eternity with strength at its absolute pinnacle.
Wait, why had he suddenly become so melodramatic?
While Suer kept his head down and let his thoughts wander, Dumbledore continued speaking.
“Many forms of magic can read a wizard’s thoughts and memories directly. There are those who bear malice towards people with your gift, whether for wealth or for power. Such people will stop at nothing.”
“So…?”
Suer looked up at Dumbledore. The headmaster beckoned, and several thick books flew from a shelf at one side of the office.
Protecting Your Mind, An Introduction to Legilimency, Occlumency: A Magic to Study from Birth to Grave, Memory Must Not Be Violated… These were the titles of the books Dumbledore had just summoned. He passed the entire stack directly to Suer, and the weight planted Suer’s backside firmly into the sofa.
“The most important subject among these is Occlumency. It is magic used to resist outside mental intrusion. Closing your mind will provide genuine protection for your memories and emotions,” Dumbledore explained thoughtfully.
Suer looked at the thick stack of books, then raised his eyes towards Dumbledore. His head buzzed, and he had no idea where to begin.
Did the professor think he was a genius? How could he possibly learn such magic merely by reading these books?
Dumbledore seemed to know what Suer was thinking. He took a sip of honey water to moisten his throat, then continued.
“Take these books back and read them. First, you need a complete understanding of what Occlumency is. These are excellent introductory works.”
“Severus is an exceptionally accomplished master of Occlumency. Once you have finished reading, you may ask him for guidance. I shall speak to him about it.”
Suer nodded blankly. What else could he do? The old bee had thrust so many books upon him that, judging by their thickness, they would consume a considerable portion of his time.
“Finish them as soon as you can, Mr Bones,” Dumbledore went on in a leisurely tone. “Since you know that Tom is Voldemort, you should also be able to ‘see’ that he will eventually return…”
Dumbledore’s words made Suer freeze.
What did that mean? What did that mean?
Was Dumbledore assigning him a quest? Suer lowered his eyes to the book titles and abruptly remembered that Voldemort was a master of Legilimency…
That made the purpose of these books far less ordinary…
An inexplicable panic rose within him. Slaying the dragon was the hero’s job! All he wanted was to hold his Hermione close and live a peaceful life. He had never intended to become involved!
Not everyone enjoyed wandering between one brush with death and the next in search of excitement.
For a moment, Suer felt very close to tears…
“Certain things will happen in the castle soon…” Dumbledore gave him no time to think and spoke with deliberate implication. “I shall be away from the castle for a time… When the need arises, I will require a favour from you, Mr Bones.”
What did that mean now? Had he truly just received a quest?
Suer could almost see a gleaming golden quest marker appear over Dumbledore’s head. One little tap would accept it, and completing the task would award experience and useful items.
His mind had gone completely numb…
In the end, Suer left the headmaster’s office in a daze, carrying a thick stack of books in his arms.
Dumbledore had not explained the task in detail. He had only said that Fawkes would come for Suer when the time arrived.
Even after returning to the Hufflepuff common room, Suer continued wondering what Dumbledore’s words meant. He could not make sense of them.
Not even Morn’s greeting interrupted his thoughts.
Every witch or wizard who had ever found a Dumbledore card inside a Chocolate Frog knew that, besides being headmaster of Hogwarts, Dumbledore was Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and much more besides. The list of titles belonging to him was enormous.
He had countless affairs to handle and was often away from the castle. Otherwise, most day-to-day matters would not be decided by Professor McGonagall.
The basilisk was already dead. Under normal circumstances, nothing else should disturb the remainder of the school year.
Yet this was precisely the problem: Dumbledore had gone out of his way to mention that he would soon be absent from the castle for some time.
There had been no need to tell Suer, yet he had done so.
This meant Dumbledore’s absence had some other cause. It could not be as simple as ordinary work…
Then what was it?
Everyone knew that the old bee was an expert fisherman. No one else could know what bait he had set, or what he hoped to catch, until the very end.
Even when the night grew deep and all sounds fell silent, Suer had not solved the puzzle.
He raked his hands irritably through his hair.
Aaaaaaargh! Hear the badger roar! He hated people who spoke in riddles!
Forget it. Time for bed!