Chapter 162
Chapter 162
Dumbledore was a classic example of a man who valued someone while he needed them and forgot them the moment he did not.
He apparently decided that watching the entire performance must have tired Suer out and sent him back to rest in the Room of Requirement while he handled the aftermath.
Suer insisted that he was not tired and did not need to rest. Still, there were certain matters he truly did need a quiet place to consider.
Dumbledore had not summoned him merely to watch an unrehearsed performance. He had wanted to tell Suer something.
Suer stared at the ceiling all night without reaching any definite conclusion.
He asked himself whether he would stand by in order to preserve the original course of events if one of his friends were in danger.
The answer was no. If nothing else, Hermione was already his chosen future wife and one of the three central figures. He would never leave her alone and let a Weasley seize the opportunity.
He intended to become the man behind the future Minister for Magic.
He could not tell whether the old bee was warning him not to interfere with the saviour’s growth, or whether Dumbledore had merely offered him a choice concerning his own fate.
That was why Suer hated riddlers more than anyone else.
The following day, with the Chamber of Secrets crisis over, Hogwarts held a magnificent feast to celebrate the capture of the attacker. It was every bit as grand as the start-of-term feast.
Hermione burst joyfully into the Room of Requirement first thing in the morning and announced the good news that Suer could finally return to normal life.
“I actually quite liked studying by myself like this,” he muttered, glancing at the arm Hermione held tightly. “Still, this isn’t bad either.”
Everyone believed Harry had saved the castle. Students crowded around to shake his hand, as though doing so made them participants in the whole affair.
The Weasley twins dragged Ron in front of students from other houses every day and introduced him as their younger brother, boasting that he was a true Weasley man.
Just as Suer had expected, those who had made the most noise when Dumbledore left the school now did not dare utter a word. Whenever they saw someone they knew, they hurriedly took another route. Draco Malfoy was the most sullen of them all.
According to Harry, the Malfoy family had lost its seat on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, as well as Dobby, the house-elf who had served the family for generations.
Suer was not surprised. Anyone who brought stakes to the board had to be prepared to lose them. The defeated side paid a price. That was only natural.
Even better, his relationship with Hermione had somehow taken another step forwards. At the very least, Hermione was now willing to show affection in front of their friends.
That meant holding his arm or taking his hand.
In Hufflepuff, Morn was the happiest of all. He no longer had to visit other dormitories in search of opponents for wizard chess, because his dear friend Justin had finally returned.
Morn was said to have hugged Justin and cried for a long time. Suer suspected he was mourning all the snacks he had lost, whatever other meaning the embrace might have held.
The period was not entirely free of bad news — at least not for Hermione.
Professor McGonagall announced that, as a special treat, the examinations would be cancelled.
For everyone, including the Ravenclaw students, this was the best possible news. Hermione alone nearly broke down because she had spent so long preparing.
The fifth- and seventh-year students still had their wizarding qualifications to prepare for, of course, so the cancellation did not apply to them.
Gryffindor won the House Cup yet again that year. Dumbledore had awarded Harry and Ron two hundred points each.
He also presented both boys with Special Awards for Services to the School. Percy visited the trophy room every day and was consumed with envy, complaining to Ron more than once that he should have been invited along.
“Making a special contribution to the castle while still at school will greatly help him secure a position at the Ministry of Magic after graduation.”
No one noticed that another medal had appeared in a corner of the trophy room. Its recipient was Suer Bones Ellison.
It was Dumbledore’s compensation to Suer, but Suer did not care much about it. He had no intention of applying for a job anywhere after graduation.
That line on his record would make no difference to him whether it existed or not.
After all, Hermione would become Minister for Magic one day. The Minister’s man would surely receive a little consideration throughout the magical world.
Rather than empty honours, Suer preferred tangible rewards that could make him stronger.
Powerful magic, for example.
When Suer made that request, Dumbledore advised him to speak to Professor Snape.
The young badger left the headmaster’s office cursing under his breath.
Speaking of Snape, the atmosphere around him had been terrifyingly oppressive lately.
Perhaps it was because Slytherin had once again lost its chance at the House Cup, or perhaps because Harry had hacked the snakeskin to pieces with repeated sword thrusts.
When Suer visited him after the feast the next day, Snape unleashed a savage tirade. Pondweed was no longer remotely strong enough to serve as his insult of choice.
The more viciously Suer was abused, the stronger his resolve became — and the thicker his skin.
Suer was a perfect example. By now, he was completely immune to Snape’s verbal attacks.
Snape might have a vicious tongue, but Suer did not leave empty-handed. At long last, he learned the Sectumsempra he had wanted for so long.
Strictly speaking, the curse ought to be classified as Dark magic. The injuries it caused could not be treated with ordinary healing magic; only its counter-curse, Vulnera Sanentur, could dispel the magic clinging to the wounds.
Yet the existence of a counter-curse meant it could not be classed entirely as Dark magic either.
Suer also learned Levicorpus, Liberacorpus, Muffliato, Langlock, and several other spells. There was not enough time for him to master their use, but at least he had learned the wand movements and incantations. The rest was merely a matter of time.
He would have the entire summer to incorporate those spells into his fighting style.
After shameless and persistent requests from Suer, Snape very reluctantly revealed where he lived during the holidays and agreed to let Suer visit him to practise magic over the summer.
Their conversation went as follows:
“May I come and see you over the summer, Professor?”
“I am not your sparring partner! Why don’t you go and visit those delightful giant spiders?” Snape placed particular emphasis on “delightful”.
“Dumbledore said I could come to you, Professor.” Suer blinked innocently.
“Do you imagine everyone is as idle as you are?” Snape threw down his quill and replied with a sneer.
“Dumbledore said I could come to you.”
…
No matter how viciously Snape berated him, Suer had one answer and one answer alone: “Dumbledore said I could come to you.”
After several days of Suer’s pestering, Snape could bear no more. With a thunderous expression, he wrote down his address, kicked Suer out of the office, and warned him not to return before the holidays.
Amid the young wizards’ cheers, the train clattered towards their homes.
Hermione, Suer, Ron, Harry, the Weasley twins, and Ginny had a compartment to themselves. They set off Filibuster’s Fireworks, played Exploding Snap, and laughed together.
They made full use of the few remaining hours in which they could still perform magic by staging a magical duel.
Harry was the one who challenged Suer.
Suer was delighted to have the chance to use his newly learned magic on Harry.
“Click!”
A burst of flash powder permanently captured Harry’s humiliating pose as he hung upside down from the roof of the compartment. Suer had borrowed the camera from Colin Creevey.
Harry was mortified and demanded that Suer throw away the film.
Suer naturally refused. It was his trophy, and he had already found the perfect destination for it once the photograph had been developed.
His dear Professor Snape, master of the acid tongue, would surely adore the gift.