Chapter 213

Chapter 213

Suer lay in bed, eyes open as he stared blankly at the canopy. The clouds dispersed after midnight, and moonlight crept inside to pool across the floor.

This time, he had concealed his true purpose for leaving the recording orbs in Hagrid’s lesson. Dumbledore had not asked, but had surely guessed that Suer had “seen” the future. That was why the headmaster had repeated his old warning at the end.

The choice Suer made this time would very likely change the fate of that hippogriff. Would he regret it?

“No.” The answer came immediately.

Whatever exchange of interests lay behind Buckbeak was an adult affair. What did it have to do with an ordinary Hufflepuff student like him?

Nothing.

Put another way, if a scene from the original future truly unfolded before his eyes, would he stand aside and watch its conclusion without acting?

Again, the answer was no.

Then what was there to struggle over?

People who spoke in riddles always left everyone else unable to sleep. It was torture.

During the previous two school years, neither great enemy had been someone Suer could defeat alone. This year, Professor Snape’s private training had finally given him some ability to protect himself. At the very least, Suer believed he could now exchange a few moves with an adult wizard.

If a small intervention could rewrite the outcome and he still refused to act, what meaning was there in coming to this world?

Besides, he could never stand by and watch little Hermione follow the original path and eventually marry a Weasley.

Change had begun quietly the moment he and Hermione became childhood sweethearts, had it not?

All that remained was to choose, whenever a decision came, the path that would make him happier–or perhaps more at peace.

Morn and Justin’s alternating snores formed a thoroughly unmusical lullaby. Sleep gradually washed over him.

Time soon reached the final lesson before the weekend.

That day’s Defence Against the Dark Arts class was unusual: all four Houses attended together. Using the teacher’s desk as a reference, the students sat according to the positions of the four House tables at the start-of-term feast.

Professor Lupin wore the same patched wizarding robes as ever. He sat quietly behind the desk, eyes narrowed as he dozed.

The classroom was enormous. Even after every third-year had taken a seat, many places remained empty.

As Suer passed Hermione, he secretly gave her a look. Hermione dipped her delicate chin in response.

Exactly one month had passed since the last full moon. The first step of becoming an Animagus would end that day. They also needed to choose a suitable transformation site, bury the potion and prepare for the second step.

Malfoy sat among the Slytherins, chatting to a girl and looking reasonably well. He had found a way to conceal his newly enlarged forehead: a hat bearing Slytherin’s little serpent emblem.

Before long, the last student stumbled into the room and looked left and right from the doorway. He seemed confused by the unusual number of classmates.

“Patry, over here.” A Ravenclaw stood and waved.

The voice guiding his friend–or perhaps dormmate–to a place rose above the other students’ deliberately hushed speculation about what the lesson might contain.

It also woke Professor Lupin behind the desk.

“Ah, is everyone here?” He swayed as he braced himself against the desk and stood, looking around the classroom. “My apologies. For personal reasons, I had to ask Professor Dumbledore to rearrange the timetable and gather all of you here together.”

“Are you all right, Professor?” a Gryffindor called anxiously.

“Oh, thank you for asking. It’s only a small problem, though it will take a little time to manage.”

Something stirred in Suer’s mind. Professor Lupin’s face was far paler than usual, and his voice much weaker. That day also happened to be the night of the full moon.

Suer lightly touched the bottle in his satchel. So this was the legendary Wolfsbane Potion…

No one knew which new potion Professor Snape had been so busy preparing lately. The previous night, he had thrust the Wolfsbane Potion at Suer and ordered him to deliver it to Professor Lupin.

Incidentally, nearly ten days had passed since Suer’s last private lesson–beating–with Snape. He rather missed it. Suer suddenly wondered whether he had developed a masochistic streak.

Dumbledore had asked him to deliver a letter, and now Professor Snape had asked him to deliver a potion. Had he abruptly acquired a second job as a courier?

“Now that everyone has arrived, I would like to discuss the homework you submitted last week before we begin today’s lesson.” A weak smile touched Lupin’s lips as he stepped out from behind the desk, supporting himself against its edge with one hand.

Suer froze. What homework had they received last week?

Oh, yes. The Erkling.

While Suer racked his brains to recall the assignment, Professor Lupin continued at an unhurried pace.

“I was delighted by some of the essays. They were excellent and plainly required a great deal of work.”

“But certain answers left me puzzled. I hope you can explain why dealing with a single Erkling would require…”

“The Killing Curse.”