Chapter 234
Chapter 234
There could be little doubt now: Peter Pettigrew was the notorious traitor known as Wormtail.
In the Hufflepuff common room, older pupils had already used Transfiguration to turn the sofas into long tables piled with food taken from the kitchens.
The young witches and wizards were celebrating Hufflepuff’s victory. Every house probably held a feast after winning a Quidditch match, but none could obtain food as varied or abundant as Hufflepuff.
Most importantly, there was no limit.
That was the truly wonderful part.
Suer’s roommates were already stuffing themselves nearby. Even so, they had not allowed the feast to interrupt their chess match. A board stood between them, right in the middle of the table.
Suer watched with a croissant in hand and occasionally suggested a particularly vicious move, provoking furious abuse from the pieces.
Croissants were a traditional French food. Before baking them, the house-elves had filled each one with chocolate and brushed the outside with a thick layer of honey. The sweetness blended perfectly with the rich chocolate and drove away the lingering chill of the Dementors.
After devouring several croissants in succession, Suer brushed off his hands, drew his wand and silenced the foul-mouthed chessmen.
Ah. Peace at last.
Ignoring the helpless looks from his roommates, Suer raised his eyebrows smugly and returned to the dormitory.
He pulled the door nearly shut and retrieved the Marauder’s Map from beneath his pillow.
“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
At the touch of his wand, the map unfolded, covering itself in a dense web of black lines.
The name Peter Pettigrew remained motionless within Gryffindor. He was probably resting. In fact, he had done little else since Suer operated on him. According to Ron, once Scabbers’s period of frantic activity ended, the rat had given up on all exertion. He did nothing but eat and sleep, and Scabbers — Peter Pettigrew — had gained a great deal of weight in a very short time.
Harry’s name appeared in the hospital wing, surrounded by several others. Hermione, Ginny and Ron were all with him.
Dumbledore remained perfectly still in his office.
Time to find Dumbledore.
Suer believed the moment had come. He had enough evidence. It was time to send the traitor to prison.
Just as he prepared to leave, however, Suer noticed a name flicker at the edge of the Marauder’s Map, not far from the Whomping Willow.
Sirius Black.
The map’s range did not extend as far as Hogsmeade, but secret passages connected the village to the castle.
If Suer remembered correctly, the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow led to the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade.
“Black…”
Just as Wormtail was properly named Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black also appeared under his real name.
The Black who had appeared now could only be Harry’s escaped godfather, Sirius Black.
His name had already vanished from the map. He was probably resting in the Shrieking Shack. It was the only place in all Hogsmeade that nobody would visit, making it ideal for concealment.
Professor Lupin only went there in the days before his transformation.
Suer traced the black line marking the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow and recalled the Dementors’ sudden invasion of the Quidditch pitch.
However greedy and vicious they might be, the Dementors still valued their own existence. Dumbledore was hardly an ornament. One had only to remember the creature his Patronus had reduced to a wisp of grey smoke.
It had been terrifying.
So what would make the Dementors risk entering the Quidditch stadium?
There was only one answer: a wanted criminal had been present.
Black had known the Dementors surrounded the castle, yet still slipped inside merely to see his godson?
Had he simply ignored the hundreds of pupils at the match?
If Professor McGonagall had not been there, if Dumbledore had not been there, if Suer had not been fortunate enough to master the Patronus Charm…
It was easy to imagine what might have happened. A hundred Dementors descending together for a feast would have created absolute hell.
Worse still, Hermione had been standing directly behind Suer. What would have happened to her if he had failed to stop the Dementors rising towards them?
The more Suer thought about it, the more violently his anger flared. His body began to tremble.
One thought burned ever brighter in his mind.
“I’m going to beat him senseless, and not even Merlin can stop me!”
The moment the idea formed, Suer acted. He shoved the parchment beneath his pillow, seized his wand and stormed out.
“Hello, Suer. What are you…” Cedric stared at the fury in Suer’s eyes, then stepped aside from the common-room entrance.
“Congratulations on catching the Golden Snitch, Cedric.” Suer smiled at Cedric Diggory without slowing. “I’m just going out to take care of something.”
“Oh. Right. Thank you.” Cedric scratched his head and watched in confusion as Suer’s murderous figure passed him and disappeared into the barrel passage.
What had happened? Who had angered him?
“Let us welcome our great hero! He caught the Golden Snitch and brought us a glorious victory! The Quidditch Cup will belong to Hufflepuff this year!”
Before Cedric could think further, applause and cheers surrounded him. Someone pulled him into the crowd, and he soon forgot the matter entirely.
Hufflepuff was not only close to the kitchens; its common room was nearer the castle exit than those of the other three houses. Suer soon strode through the oak doors.
After he passed the three greenhouses, the Whomping Willow came into view.
“Mr Bones?”
At the sound of the voice, Suer turned. Professor Filius Flitwick stood on the path not far from the Whomping Willow, holding a small cloth bundle and smiling at him.
“Good afternoon, Professor.” Suer stopped and greeted him politely.
“Why aren’t you in the common room celebrating?” Professor Flitwick asked curiously.
“I was going to practise some magic beside the Black Lake, Professor.”
“Excellent, excellent.” Satisfaction and a touch of regret entered Professor Flitwick’s eyes. He nodded approvingly. “I seldom meet a pupil as diligent as you, but one must reward oneself occasionally. Don’t push yourself too hard.”
“Minerva told me that you successfully cast the Patronus Charm while under the pressure of more than a hundred Dementors.”
“That is no easy achievement.”
“You’re too kind, Professor,” Suer said modestly.
“No need for modesty.” Professor Flitwick smiled warmly. “My club meets next week. It is open to fifth-, sixth- and seventh-years, and the session will cover casting the Patronus Charm and techniques for using it. Would you be willing to share your experience with everyone?”
“Well…”
Suer hesitated beneath Professor Flitwick’s hopeful gaze, but finally nodded.
“It would be an honour, Professor.”
“Splendid.” Professor Flitwick nodded in satisfaction, then raised a hand to wipe suddenly damp eyes. “Your mother was also one of the pupils in whom I placed the greatest hopes. She would be very happy to know that you inherited her talent.”
“I know. Professor Lupin told me about my parents,” Suer said softly.
“Oh, forgive me.” Professor Flitwick realised the difficulty in his words. “I’ll have Miss Clearwater tell you when the session will begin. I must visit the hospital wing now and return the pieces of Mr Potter’s broom.”
He shook the cloth bundle in his hand.
“Of course. Goodbye, Professor.”