Chapter 163

Chapter 163

Suer might have behaved perfectly normally, but Mr Ellison was a shrewd man who had fought his way through the ruthless business world and built a considerable fortune with his own hands.

After observing him for several days, Mr Ellison became even more certain that something was troubling his son — and that it had happened in the magical world he himself had never encountered.

It certainly was not a romantic problem. Hermione had spent nearly every day with his son, and the two children were as close as ever. Suli had said that she had caught the pair secretly holding hands several times.

That night, Mrs Ellison finally took Angel back to her bedroom after the girl had spent the evening clinging to her brother. Suer at last had time to open Bathilda Bagshot’s History of Magic.

Professor Binns had assigned them an essay entitled “A Brief Discussion of Fourteenth-Century Muggle Gatherings at Cathedrals to Burn Witches”.

Beneath the warm glow of his desk lamp, Suer spread out a sheet of parchment, held a pen full of ink, and fixed his eyes on a passage that appeared somewhat useful:

In the Middle Ages, non-magical people, generally known as Muggles, were particularly afraid of magic. They believed that this power, which lay beyond their understanding, was a gift from the Devil, even when a wizard used magic to relieve their suffering.

On occasion, they captured a genuine wizard or witch, but burning proved completely useless.

All the captive had to do was cast the most basic Flame-Freezing Charm. The witch or wizard could pretend to scream in agony while thoroughly enjoying the pleasant tickling sensation produced by the fire.

Wendelin the Weird was especially fond of the sensation. According to careful records, she allowed herself to be caught by Muggles on at least forty-seven occasions simply to enjoy being burned…

Upon reading this, Suer could only marvel at how inventive the witches and wizards of history had been. In that light, old Mr Merlin’s fondness for stockings was hardly surprising. People in old Europe were said to have been particularly fond of them.

In Muggle history, stockings appeared to have been invented for men in the first place.

At least, that was how the history books Suer had read described it.

Many years ago, fashionable men had been madly obsessed with brightly coloured stockings.

Loose shorts paired with vivid thigh-high stockings were the standard outfit for a fashionable man of the age.

Naturally, that privilege belonged only to the nobility.

History of Magic homework always sent the mind wandering, and even the most devoted student could not escape it. Suer was no exception.

A knock came at the door. It was Mr Ellison, taking over his wife’s usual task of bringing Suer a glass of milk that evening.

“Thank you, Dad.” Suer smiled as he accepted the milk from Mr Ellison.

“Wizards have homework as well?” Mr Ellison glanced at the open History of Magic book, sounding surprised. “I thought your homework would consist of waving your wands and practising magic.”

“We aren’t allowed to cast magic outside school. It’s against the laws of the Ministry of Magic.” Suer took a long drink of milk. Mmm… there was no sugar in it.

While Mr Ellison leaned over curiously to read the page about burning witches, Suer slipped over to the bookcase, expertly found a sweet that Angel had hidden, and dropped it into his milk.

The little girl loved sweets but had been strictly forbidden from eating them by Mrs Ellison while her teeth were changing. Thus had begun her long and arduous struggle.

She hid them. Mrs Ellison searched for them.

The bookcase in Suer’s room was one of the worst affected places. During the first few days of the summer holiday, Angel had often crept into his bedroom to eat sweets in secret, looking just like a little hamster.

A little mouse simply could not live without sugar.

“How extraordinary. So fire can’t kill a witch at all.” Mr Ellison clicked his tongue in wonder.

“That isn’t true in every case. People with poor training — and frauds — could meet a very unpleasant end.” The sweet dissolved completely into the milk, adding a trace of fruity sweetness to the bland drink.

Suer happily took another large mouthful after answering. Mmm… that was more like it.

“How is life at school?” Mr Ellison asked casually, like any parent asking about his child’s studies. “Is learning magic difficult?”

“It’s all right.” Suer nodded. “The teachers are all very good…”

He picked out a few amusing things that had happened at the castle to tell Mr Ellison: Quidditch, the magical world’s immensely popular sport; Morn’s obsession with wizard chess; and how his dormmate challenged everyone he could find and lost all his snacks in the process…

Mr Ellison found it eye-opening and was particularly interested in wizard chess pieces that could talk. Suer said that when they visited Diagon Alley to buy his new textbooks, he could purchase a set for the house. Mr Ellison could play against Mr Granger whenever they had time.

After all, the rules of wizard chess were no different from those of ordinary chess.

Suer deliberately avoided mentioning the attacks at the castle that year. There was no reason to make his parents worry.
“Then your mother and I can stop worrying. I had begun to think something unpleasant might have happened at school.” Mr Ellison spoke with studied casualness. “You seem to have something on your mind.”

Suer paused with the milk halfway to his mouth. He had not expected Mr Ellison to notice when he had hidden it so well.

“So there really is something.” Mr Ellison noticed Suer’s reaction and laughed heartily. “Would you like my advice?”

“Is it about romance? I won your mother’s heart, so I can offer plenty of advice on that subject. If it is about your studies, of course, I cannot help you. As you wizards put it, I am a Muggle and cannot use magic.” Mr Ellison winked at Suer.

“That’s not it, Dad.” Suer choked on his milk and coughed several times. “And it isn’t my studies either… Mmm…”

Suer set the half-finished milk on the desk and hesitated. Mr Ellison did not hurry him, but merely settled into the posture of someone ready to listen.

“Have you ever heard of prophecy?” Suer finally decided to share the question that had troubled him for so long.

“Prophecy? Something like tarot cards and crystal balls?”

“More or less.” Suer nodded. “This is what happened. I discovered that I could see fragments of future events. I told Professor Dumbledore — the elderly gentleman who visited our home last year…”

“That’s the whole of it. I told an adult, but the future still didn’t change at all…”

Suer had deliberately omitted events such as the basilisk attacks, so Mr Ellison found parts of the account rather confusing. Even so, he grasped the essential point.

“So what worries you is that you have seen certain bad things that will happen in the future. You cannot decide whether to intervene and guide events towards a better outcome, because you fear your interference might cause something even worse…”

The phrasing was convoluted, but the meaning was close enough. Suer nodded.

Mr Ellison considered the matter, apparently choosing his words with care.

“Your headmaster is a very powerful wizard, isn’t he?” Before offering his opinion, he first asked Suer to confirm that fact.

“Yes. As far as I know, he is the most powerful wizard in the world today. That is what everyone says.”

“Let me tell you a story,” Mr Ellison said. “It happened a long time ago. I know very little about your magical world, but I think it may offer you some insight.”

“Many years ago, a seventeen-year-old boy began a new enterprise in a shabby little place. The field was brutally competitive. Every day, countless people were forced out, and countless others joined them.”

“The boy’s ventures failed, of course — more than once. But every time, he learned from the failure and returned to begin again. He was desperately poor and understood that, if he wanted a place in society, his own strength had to be the foundation.”

“He met many hardships as he built his business, and several times despair nearly made him give up. In the end, however, he succeeded. The hardships did not defeat him. Instead, they made him increasingly strong — strong enough to face calmly both the difficulties that had already arisen and those that had not…”

The story Mr Ellison told was his own. It began with the struggles of his first ventures and ended with his becoming a prominent businessman and employer.

At first glance, the story seemed entirely unrelated to Suer’s dilemma, but Suer’s eyes grew brighter as he listened.

Then he connected it to the question Mr Ellison had asked before beginning the story.

“I understand, Dad.”

Mr Ellison patted Suer’s shoulder and left in satisfaction.

Some time later, Suer finished his milk and lay down on the bed, replaying Mr Ellison’s story over and over in his mind.

From beginning to end, it was merely an ordinary tale of a poor boy who worked hard, started a business, and ultimately succeeded.

But one principle ran through the entire story: one’s own strength was the capital needed to face anything.

The boy in the story had failed many times, but he drew experience from each failure, and that experience made him stronger.

It was just like what Dumbledore had done. He saw the memories in Suer’s mind, but did not attempt to change them. Instead, he eliminated the immediate threat and continued arranging events according to the course shown in those memories, keeping every possible consequence within his grasp.

Dumbledore could do so only because he was powerful enough.

Many questions that seemed deeply tangled from one’s own perspective were no more difficult to someone else than asking what one plus one equalled.

Those involved could not see clearly; observers often could.

That was all…