Chapter 141

Chapter 141

The sun had begun to shine weakly upon Hogwarts.

Perhaps it was because so much time had passed since the last attack, or perhaps the holiday had reassured the young witches and wizards.

In any case, the rumours that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin had faded considerably. Only Peeves continued to creep through the corridors singing, “Potter is a nasty little rotter,” complete with a fixed set of dance steps he had invented for the song.

Seamus’s good friend Ernie Macmillan — yes, the Hufflepuff who had helped Suer fan Nearly Headless Nick all the way to the hospital wing — still believed that Harry was responsible. Ernie had personally seen Harry reveal his true colours in the corridor that day.

He therefore kept reminding everyone not to forget the poor victims still lying in the hospital wing.

The other students were no longer suspicious of every shadow. Ernie’s reminders simply went in one ear and out the other.

The principal reason was that more heartening news had emerged from Professor Sprout’s Herbology class.

The Mandrakes had begun to grow moody and withdrawn. This meant that they would soon leave childhood behind and enter maturity.

In other words, their schoolmates in the hospital wing would soon return safely.

“I have invited some delightful little fellows. On Valentine’s Day, the fourteenth of February, they will deliver a surprise to everyone on my behalf,” Lockhart said mysteriously during a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, flashing his standard eight-toothed smile with perfect confidence.

“Trust me, you will adore them. No one could dislike a little elf bringing Valentine’s greetings, could they?”

Thanks to Lockhart’s reminder, Suer realised that Valentine’s Day was later that week. Should he prepare a surprise gift for Hermione?

Hermione had left the hospital wing several days ago. Suer’s persistent visits and steady supply of snacks had finally persuaded her to show him something other than the back of her head, though she remained somewhat reluctant whenever he sat beside her.

Hermione had never stayed angry for so long before.

Then he remembered the faint budding curve he had so often brushed against.

Suer understood. Girls matured earlier, and this was puberty. It was perfectly normal.

Hermione was growing up as well…

Ever since dreaming that Merlin — if the old man truly had been Merlin — was waving snagged stockings and roaring at him, Suer had hurriedly obtained several pairs. They were Balenciaga, proper Balenciaga.

After all, he had already transmigrated and magic existed. No matter how unscientific something appeared, it somehow seemed reasonable…

Even if the Merlin in his dream had seemed… rather different from the great and righteous figure recorded in history…

Perhaps… maybe… every great person had a few private peculiarities… probably?

If his study of Occlumency had a visible progress bar, it would stand at roughly five per cent.

He intended to ask Dumbledore for permission to take the books home during the summer holiday. The trouble was that, if he encountered something he did not understand, there was no library at home in which to search for answers.

Worry upon worry. And so Valentine’s Day arrived.

In his two years at Hogwarts, Suer had never seen the Great Hall look so… gaudy.

For a moment, he genuinely thought he had entered the wrong room.

Huge pink flowers covered all four walls, their overpowering scent assaulting his nose.

“Achoo!” Suer could not help drawing his wand — not to cast Avada Kedavra, of course, but to place a Bubble-Head Charm upon himself.

Layer upon layer of pink and red roses formed the same image from every angle: two overlapping hearts pierced by a green vine shaped like an arrow.
Professor Lockhart had spared no expense!

As if that were not enough, heart-shaped multicoloured confetti drenched in perfume fell from the ceiling. Even the Bubble-Head Charm could not keep out its overpowering reek.

Hmm, a floral fragrance… and apparently a cheap brand of perfume.

Professor Lockhart seemed immensely pleased with his creation. He stood before the staff table with his eyes closed and arms spread, basking in the attention from below.

To be precise, the attention came from the few devoted admirers who remained infatuated with him.

Hermione, at least, was no longer among them. The sight of Harry’s broken arm being stripped of its bones by one of Lockhart’s spells had restored her reason.

Without exception, the boys were unimpressed and even somewhat disgusted. They hurried to eat the confetti before it could land on the bacon in front of them.

Every professor wore a grim expression. Suer could clearly see the old cat lady — no, Professor McGonagall — with a muscle standing out in her cheek. She was plainly clenching her teeth and suppressing the urge to send Lockhart flying with one sweep of her wand.

Oh! He had forgotten. A cat’s nose was always extremely sensitive… This environment must be torture for her.

Snape looked even worse, as though someone had held his head still and poured an especially foul potion down his throat.

Lockhart’s outfit reminded Suer of the gaudy clothing worn by bridegrooms centuries ago in his previous life. The two were not completely identical, but the resemblance was remarkably strong.

Professor Lockhart wore brilliant red robes, with an enormous arrangement made from countless flowers pinned to the front. On closer inspection, it was even spraying pollen into the air.

Suer walked directly towards the Hufflepuff table. He intended to finish breakfast quickly and hide in the library.

Before visiting the library, however, he thought it prudent to take a thorough bath. Otherwise, Madam Pince would certainly throw him out.

Students filed into the hall one after another. Judging from their expressions, they did not appreciate Lockhart’s handiwork either.

That applied equally to Slytherin and Gryffindor.

The two Houses forever trying to undermine each other were united on this point, at least.

Suer had just dispelled the Bubble-Head Charm with quick reflexes and stuffed a bacon sandwich into his mouth when Lockhart began speaking loudly.

“I imagine everyone knows what day it is.” He waved his wand with great excitement. “That’s right — Valentine’s Day!”

“Ladies and gentlemen, happy Valentine’s Day!”

“Bang!” More confetti burst from the tip of his wand and fluttered down.

Suer nimbly turned away with his pumpkin juice in hand, avoiding the tragedy of being covered by a great clump of paper.

The young admirers cheered and applauded. In the enormous hall, however, their response sounded scattered and thin. Far more boys booed, with the Weasley twins loudest of all.

Lockhart closed his eyes in contentment and gave a gentlemanly bow to the young witches applauding him.

“I have received cards from forty-six people so far. I must express my thanks to them. I am deeply honoured to have earned your affection.”

“At the same time, I wish everyone to enjoy this memorable holiday in the very best of spirits.”

“Forgive my presumption, but I have prepared a small surprise for you all!”