Chapter 23

Chapter 23

On Thursday morning, the Great Hall at Hogwarts was alive with noise, the air filled with a constant buzz of conversation.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin tables were the loudest. Malfoy was holding forth at the top of his voice, complaining that first-years were not allowed to try out for Quidditch. Otherwise, he declared, he would certainly catch the Golden Snitch for Slytherin, eliminate the other three Houses one after another, and lift the Hercules Cup–no, wait, the Quidditch Cup.

Things were a little more restrained at the Hufflepuff table, mainly because their flying lesson was not scheduled until the afternoon.

Justin had apparently struck some sort of secret bargain with Morn, though. Morn was now enthusiastically insisting that Justin’s stories were one hundred percent true, as if he had witnessed every one of them himself.

Hermione had turned up at the Hufflepuff table again today, with Neville trailing behind her like a little tail.

Suer sat smiling while Hermione recited flying techniques she had read in books without drawing breath. His ear itched terribly, but he did not dare scratch it. Neville, on the other hand, listened with complete concentration, hoping to put all this knowledge to use in a little while.

“Gran never lets me go near a broomstick,” Neville said miserably. “I’m definitely going to make a fool of myself.”

The arrival of the morning post interrupted the Hall’s lively chatter. Owls came flapping through the openings high above.

“Ah, that’s my gran’s owl.”

Neville spotted an elderly owl circling over the Gryffindor table and hurried back to his own seat. A cloth bundle dangled from the owl’s claws; apparently Neville’s grandmother had sent him something.

Suer watched Neville take a gleaming, milky-white sphere from the bundle. A moment later, it turned red.

“That’s a Remembrall,” Hermione said. “I read about them in Modern Alchemical Products. When it turns red, it means the person holding it has forgotten something.”

“I think I know what Neville forgot.” Suer looked at the squat, vacant-faced toad sitting on the bench where Neville had just been.

Malfoy happened to pass the Gryffindor table with a small parcel in one hand. The instant Neville looked away, Malfoy snatched the Remembrall from him.

Then Professor McGonagall appeared.

The familiar scene stirred Suer’s memories.

“Make sure Neville is careful when he gets on a broom later,” Suer told Hermione, his expression grave.

“What?” Hermione tilted her head, thoroughly confused.

…

At noon, Suer returned from Herbology and found no sign of Neville in the Great Hall. Hermione and the protagonist, Harry, were missing too. In the places where they usually sat was a solitary red-haired figure, shovelling food into his mouth.

“Where’s Neville?” Suer asked, patting Ron on the shoulder.

Ron jumped. He turned around blankly, still chewing his steak by reflex.

“What did you say?”

“I asked where Neville and Hermione are,” Suer repeated.

“Oh. Right…” Ron hastily swallowed the meat in his mouth. “Neville broke his arm. Hermione and Madam Hooch took him to the hospital wing, and they haven’t come back yet.”

In a few short sentences, Ron told him everything that had happened that morning.

Suer’s brows drew together. Ron pointed toward the entrance.

“Look, they’re back.”

Hermione and Harry were coming through the doors side by side.

“Are you all right?” Suer asked Hermione with concern.

“Don’t even ask. It was absolutely awful.” Hermione looked pale. The morning’s events had clearly frightened her badly.

Harry, meanwhile, was frowning hard, and Ron crowded around him with equal concern.

“Neville broke his arm,” Hermione said. “Madam Pomfrey says he has to stay in the hospital wing all afternoon and overnight. He won’t be back until tomorrow. But why did you tell me to warn Neville to be careful this morning?”

Suer laughed vaguely and brushed the question aside, feeling rather helpless inside.

He could hardly tell her that he had foreseen Neville breaking his arm during flying lessons.

Wait. Foreseen?

Prophecy really did exist in the world of Harry Potter, didn’t it? If he remembered correctly, there was even a profession called Seer. The first Dark Lord, Grindelwald, had been one!

That would make a rather useful excuse. Suer was not close to Harry or Ron, but he did care about Hermione.

Because of the morning’s string of mishaps, the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw flying lesson did not begin until four in the afternoon. Madam Hooch watched them with her sharp, hawklike eyes throughout the entire class.

Mounting a broom and hovering presented no difficulty for Suer. The Hogwarts school brooms, however, were murder on his backside. Comfort had evidently never entered into their design.

Reality mercilessly punctured all the boasts Justin had made over the last few days. One look at him perched on his broom, pale and trembling, was enough to prove that he was no airborne prodigy who could soar alongside gliders.

By the time their lesson ended, the Black Lake was carpeted in crimson evening light. The sun struggled to release its last faint glow.

The young witches and wizards raced one another back to the castle.

Dinner had begun. There were only so many servings of good beef, meat sauce, and fried eggs to go around. The kitchens served unlimited quantities only during feasts; ordinary meals were not nearly so lavish.

Arrive late and one would be left gnawing dry bread with pumpkin juice. True, there might be jam to spread on the bread, but who would choose vegetables when meat was available?

Heaven and earth could wait. Dinner came first!

Back in the Great Hall, Suer loaded his plate with two steaks, two potatoes, some meat sauce, and several sausages. From the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy striding aggressively toward the Gryffindor table with his two followers, once again determined to make his presence felt.

Honestly, making a friend wasn’t that complicated. Why couldn’t this child understand?

Over the past few days, Suer had watched Malfoy find every possible excuse to pester Harry. How was any of it different from a primary-school boy pulling a girl’s braids or poking her with a pencil because he wanted her attention?

Was this what people meant by teasing the person you loved?

Ugh.

Suer shuddered. No wonder so many people shipped Drarry.

With a sigh, he put a plump, juicy piece of beef into his mouth and narrowed his eyes in bliss. Britain might be famous as a culinary wasteland, but the skill of the Hogwarts kitchens was truly miraculous.

Dessert that evening consisted of jam biscuits and fruit.

And naturally, no meal would ever be without sweet pumpkin juice.

The Hogwarts kitchens had gone to extraordinary lengths to provide the young witches and wizards with complete nutrition. In a mere fortnight, Suer had already begun to put on a little weight.

He was happily crunching into a spotless apple when Hermione sat down beside him, worry written all over her face.

“What’s wrong?” Suer asked, concerned by her expression.

“Harry and Ron are going out after curfew. Malfoy just arranged a duel with them–midnight tonight, in the trophy room on the fourth floor. I overheard them by accident.” Hermione’s voice was tight. “I tried to talk them out of it, but they wouldn’t listen.”

“What’s wrong with going out at night? I’ve gone to the kitchens for a late snack several times,” Suer said casually.

“You have?” Hermione’s eyes widened. “The school rules state very clearly that wandering at night is forbidden. If you’re caught, you lose fifty points!”

“Then all you have to do is not get caught.” Suer raised one finger. “There is a fundamental law governing every breach of school rules: if no one discovers it, it doesn’t count as a violation.”

“Besides, the Hufflepuff common room and the kitchens are on the same corridor. There is absolutely no possibility of anyone catching me.”

“They’re going to duel on the fourth floor at midnight! Have you forgotten what Professor Dumbledore said at the start-of-term feast? The corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor is out of bounds!” Hermione looked wretched. “That means they’re breaking more than one rule. If they’re caught, Gryffindor will have no hope of winning the House Cup this year!”

“Slytherin has already won it several years in a row.” Hermione glanced toward Gryffindor’s hourglass at the front of the Hall.

“No. I have to find some way to stop them!”

With that, she sprang to her feet and hurried out of the Great Hall.

Suer had known Hermione since their days at school in the Muggle neighbourhood. He did not need to guess what she meant to do. Whenever she discovered someone breaking the rules back then, Hermione had always been the first to tell a teacher. That was also why she had never managed to make any friends.

She wasn’t really going to find Professor McGonagall, was she?

Please don’t do that, little Hermione.

Suer only vaguely remembered this part of the story. Professor McGonagall had not appeared in the end, as far as he recalled. Malfoy’s challenge was nothing more than a trick intended to get Harry caught and severely punished.

Hermione would be dragged into it too, though, and Suer could not allow that.

Midnight?

It appeared he would have to take a stroll outside tonight as well. Suer sighed. He was bound to doze off in class tomorrow–and the first lesson was Snape’s Potions.