Chapter 22
Chapter 22
News that Suer had earned Hufflepuff points in Snape’s Potions lesson spread through the entire House.
Even if it had only been one pitiful point.
“You’re a hero.”
The Weasley twins came to join the celebration, grinning as they draped an arm over each of Suer’s shoulders.
“Snape has never awarded points to anyone outside Slytherin.”
“You’re the first!”
Their alternating declaration earned agreement from every Hufflepuff in second year and above.
“Perhaps we have a chance at the House Cup this year.”
Cedric looked thoughtfully at the hourglasses. Hufflepuff had risen to second place, behind Slytherin.
Hufflepuffs might act indifferent to the Cup, but that did not mean they lacked any desire to possess the honor.
“Um, excuse me. How long has it been since Hufflepuff won?” Hannah asked curiously.
“The last time was 1913,” Cedric answered after an embarrassed pause.
That truly was a long time ago.
They probably had no chance this year either.
Unless…
Suer looked toward the turbaned figure at the staff table and thought of the thing attached to the back of his head. A shudder ran through him.
He shook away the terrifying idea.
Face Voldemort with his tiny body? That would be like carrying a lantern into a latrine–actively looking for death.
The night passed without incident.
Well, not entirely. Unlucky Justin encountered an elderly professor while visiting the kitchens.
“Professor Kettleburn,” Morn explained, tossing a jam biscuit into his mouth. “He teaches Care of Magical Creatures. A good-natured old man.”
The limping, shabby professor could hardly be anyone else. The subject would become an elective in third year.
In only a few days, Morn had learned the identities of every teacher in the castle and gathered a great deal of gossip.
He had officially become Hufflepuff’s resident information broker.
“Have you heard? We begin flying lessons next week,” Morn whispered after looking around. “Anyone who performs well might even receive an exception and be recruited directly to the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.”
“What is Quidditch?” Justin asked.
“You don’t know Quidditch?!” Morn exclaimed. “Oh. Right. You’re from a Muggle family.”
He launched into an explanation.
“I discovered my extraordinary flying talent as a child. Do you know what a glider is? The first time I rode a broom, I came face-to-face with a man piloting one. Hee-hee. He was terrified.”
Listening from the side, Suer learned the basics.
A Quidditch team had seven players: three Chasers, two Beaters, one Seeker, and one Keeper.
Fourteen players from two teams competed on a large pitch, scoring by sending the Quaffle through the opposing hoops. Beaters protected teammates from roaming Bludgers. The Seeker did not participate in regular attacks; the Seeker’s sole task was to catch the extremely fast Golden Snitch. The moment either Seeker caught it, the match ended.
Morn’s excitement infected Justin, who began imagining the view from a broom.
Suer quietly read nearby.
Snape might despise Arsenius Jigger’s *Magical Drafts and Potions*, but its methods remained important for a beginner’s foundations. Reading was better than knowing nothing. At minimum, it allowed Suer to identify how their professor had altered a formula.
He had a small goal he wanted to achieve.
On Saturday, Suer and Hermione wrote letters to their families together in the library, then delivered them to Gray in the owlery.
They spent the rest of the day among the books.
Suer wanted to explore the castle with Hermione and perhaps stumble into a small adventure. He knew the Room of Requirement existed on the eighth floor.
Unfortunately, Hermione was far too devoted to studying.
“You really should have been Sorted into Ravenclaw,” Suer complained.
Without looking up from *Techniques for Precise Spellcasting*, Hermione replied, “I wanted Ravenclaw. The Sorting Hat decided Gryffindor suited me better. What was I supposed to do?”
“Why don’t we walk outside? The weather is wonderful.”
Suer tried to persuade her to put down the book. She refused.
Helplessly, he found a Potions text and began reading too.
On Sunday evening, news spread throughout the castle: flying lessons would begin on Thursday, with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw together.
Quidditch tryouts would soon follow.
From Monday through Wednesday, every gathering of young wizards buzzed with Quidditch talk.
Justin, who had barely understood the game days earlier, began recounting his own childhood flying adventure at the Hufflepuff table.
He had stolen Morn’s story, changed a few details, and made it his own.
Malfoy and his two followers swaggered into Suer’s path as he approached the Great Hall.
“Well, if it isn’t Suer Bones.”
Malfoy had not forgotten his humiliation on the train.
Suer narrowed his eyes at the boy’s arrogant posture.
Why did this child make himself so eminently punchable?
“Do you need something?” he asked calmly.
When their eyes met, a chill spread through Malfoy’s body.
He had intended to mock Suer for never having flown or even touched a broom. Then he remembered the icy cold of that summer encounter on the train.
Malfoy lost his nerve.
“N-no. Nothing. I was only greeting you.”
“Oh. A pleasure to see you. Goodbye, Mr. Malfoy.”
Malfoy and his two followers stood frozen, staring stupidly after Suer. His face changed vividly between green and red.
“Harry, look.” Ron pointed toward Malfoy, who was blocking the entrance without realising it. “He looks miserable.”
“I think so too,” Harry agreed.
“That Hufflepuff was called Suer, wasn’t he? If he were in Gryffindor, Malfoy would never dare bother us.”
Ron remembered the way Suer had glared at him on the train and shook his head.
“Actually, never mind. He doesn’t look easy to deal with either.”
“Neville seems to know him,” Harry mused. “We could invite him to tea at Hagrid’s hut with Neville. Malfoy is unbearable.”
Their conversation soon shifted to the next day’s flying lesson.