Chapter 205

Chapter 205

Reality always waited around an unseen corner to slap you coldly across the face.

Suer returned to the castle in the small hours of the morning. His expedition into the Forbidden Forest had ended in failure. Spiders certainly lived near that part of the woods, but they were not Acromantulas.

It should have been obvious. Hagrid would never bring a group of young wizards to a lesson site with dangerous creatures nearby.

Even so, the night had not been entirely fruitless.

Near the meadow, Suer had discovered a centaur camp. He accidentally triggered a magical marker left by the centaurs, and the resulting alarm rang through the forest. It was his first time seeing an entire herd of centaurs mobilise to hunt an intruder.

If a little badger’s instinct for danger had not sent him scrambling up a nearby tree to play dead, he might have been greeted by dozens of arrows.

Would they really have cared that the intruder was only a badger?

The centaurs thundered past in formation beneath the tree. There was nothing unusual about that, but their condition caught Suer’s attention.

They… were all wounded. White bandages wrapped around their bodies stood out starkly in the torchlight.

What had happened?

Two centaurs returning from reconnaissance soon answered the question. It seemed unwelcome visitors had entered the Forbidden Forest, and several patrols had been injured in encounters with them.

Unwelcome visitors?

Suer was curious, but he heard no more. The centaurs switched to another language, apparently one entirely their own. The horse tongue… he could not understand a word…

Unable to confirm that it was safe, Suer dared not descend. He could only wait until the brightly lit camp sank back into darkness and the centaurs left on guard began to doze. Then he quietly slipped down the trunk and fled without once looking back.

Inside the largest dwelling at the centre of the camp, a pair of eyes opened in the darkness. They were extraordinarily bright; even the dark could not conceal them. They had watched the entire time in the direction Suer had gone.

No full figure could be seen. There came only a soft chuckle and a murmured remark whose meaning remained unclear.

…

“Suer… wake up, Suer…” The call sounded again and again through the dormitory in the morning.

Suer opened bleary eyes and checked the time. It was only half past nine…

Perhaps because he had spent the previous night running through the Forbidden Forest and gone to bed so late, he felt utterly exhausted.

Suer yawned. “What is it, Justin?”

“Someone’s looking for you.” Justin appeared sleepy as well. “Weasley from Gryffindor. He says he arranged to meet you in the Great Hall this morning so you could treat his rat.”

“Since when could you treat animals?”

Weasley from Gryffindor. Scabbers. Treatment. Those key words joined together and restored Suer’s memory.

He had nearly forgotten. For the past few days, his head had been so full of spider legs that the important matter had slipped his mind.

Now that you mention it, I’m wide awake. Suer shot out of bed. He fobbed Justin off with the excuse that he had read about an animal with symptoms like Ron’s rat and merely wanted to try something. Then he washed as quickly as possible and hurried to the Great Hall.

Scabbers, Scabbers–no, Peter Pettigrew. Anyone who had read the books or watched the films had dreamt of getting a chance to deal with you. Don’t blame me.

Suer swiftly reached the Great Hall and met Ron. Their conversation proceeded as follows.

“You’re here?”

“I’m here.”

“You really have a way?”

“I do.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. This may sound like an exaggeration, but sometimes Scabbers is my life…”

“I’ll return Scabbers to you in one piece.”

That was merely the prelude. The true performance came next.

Poor Scabbers. The rat was snoring inside Ron’s pocket, unaware that fate had already been decided.

“I’ve read about this in many books, and detailed evidence proves it works. To give you an example, many people in the East take their pets to a hospital for this procedure because they want them to live longer.”

“Eastern wizards?” Ron followed Suer out of the castle. The doors were tightly controlled at night but left unguarded during the day, allowing young wizards to come and go freely. A walk outside was a reasonable way to relax between periods of work, after all.

“Wizards and Muggles alike do it if they own pets. Scabbers is only an ordinary rat, so it will certainly work.” Suer spoke with absolute conviction.
Ron nodded with only partial understanding. “What happened to the pets after they received the treatment?”

“Oh, that’s a good question, Ron.” Suer gave him a thumbs-up. “Reliable studies show that those creatures lived much longer. Pets that normally survived for only eight years reached more than ten after the procedure.”

“But Scabbers has already been in our family for more than ten years.” Ron looked worried. “Will this treatment still work on a rat as old as Scabbers?”

“Of course. It works at any age. In any case, it won’t affect Scabbers, will it? We’re merely removing something that means nothing to a rat,” Suer explained. Yes, that was true for a rat. To a man, however, its significance might be rather more complicated.

Wouldn’t you agree, Peter Pettigrew?

Don’t blame me for being cruel. A traitor deserved punishment. Whatever reasons you may have had, once you committed such a deed, you made yourself contemptible.

As they spoke, the two arrived at their destination: Hagrid’s hut.

“Why have we come here?” Ron asked curiously. “Can’t we do it inside the castle?”

“No.” Suer shook his head gravely. “Someone might interrupt us at any moment in the castle, and that would be bad for the treatment.”

“Hagrid’s place is different. Hardly anyone comes here.”

Suer pushed open the door. Hagrid was not inside. Harry had Quidditch training all day, and Hagrid had gone to watch.

“All right.” Ron followed Suer inside and watched him make a series of preparations–which consisted of spreading out a white cloth; taking a bottle of strong spirits from Hagrid’s drinks cupboard; and gathering a potion stand, tweezers, a small knife, gloves, a rectangular piece of white cloth with two round loops and two tiny bottles of potion, generously sponsored by an unsuspecting Professor Snape.

“Take Scabbers out.” Suer finally drew his wand and nodded towards the white cloth. “Put the rat here.”

“We’ll begin immediately. It will be quick, and I promise Scabbers won’t feel any pain.”

Ron nodded, carefully lifted the sleeping Scabbers from his pocket and placed the rat on the white cloth.

Removed from the warm pocket and exposed to the chilly air, Scabbers shuddered. The rat’s eyes twitched and began to open.

At that moment, a spell struck.

“Paralyse!” Dark purple light flashed from the tip of Suer’s wand, and Scabbers immediately lost the ability to move.

“Sensory Block!” A second spell struck, this one with a cyan flash. Now Scabbers could neither hear nor feel anything. Darkness swallowed the rat. Wordless terror flooded from Scabbers’s heart into his mind, and the rigid body began to twitch involuntarily.

Ron anxiously watched Scabbers tremble upon the white cloth. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t worry. This is necessary. You wouldn’t want Scabbers to hate you after the treatment, would you? They’re only two minor spells, meant to block the rat’s senses. This reaction is perfectly normal. Nothing will go wrong.” As he reassured Ron, Suer handed him a potion and a latex dropper.

“The Draught of Living Death. You know what it does. Put a few drops in Scabbers’s mouth–three or four will be enough. Scabbers must remain still for what comes next, and sleep is the best way to ensure that.”

Ron obediently followed his instructions. Scabbers–or rather, Peter Pettigrew–felt overwhelming drowsiness while struggling in the darkness. Then his mind shut down altogether.

For the final step, Suer used Transfiguration to conjure ropes. He bound Scabbers’s four limbs and tail, raised the rat’s hindquarters slightly and secured the body firmly on its back.

“Just like that!” Suer nodded with satisfaction and pulled on a second pair of gloves.

He lit the flame, poured strong spirits over his instruments and thoroughly soaked the area an inch below Scabbers’s belly while he was at it. This was disinfection, and therefore indispensable.

Finally, he passed the instruments through the flame. This was consecration, and equally indispensable.

“We shall now begin.” Suer raised both hands solemnly. Ron almost imagined golden light radiating from him, as though the act he was about to perform were sacred beyond measure.

The grave atmosphere infected Ron, who nodded firmly.

“I’m counting on you, Suer.”