Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Life seemed to return to normal.

The moment November arrived, the Scottish Highlands threw up their arms and proclaimed the beginning of winter.

Mist shrouded the mountains around the school from morning until night.

“It worked!”

Hermione’s cheer rang across the lawn. After Mr. Filch’s vigorous protests–and with classrooms becoming harder to clean in winter–Suer and Hermione had been forced to practise outdoors in the bitter wind.

At first, their open display of magic attracted many curious students. The spectators were soon driven away by the bone-cutting wind and the incomprehensible techniques.

Practising magic in weather close to freezing was an act of self-punishment. Wasn’t the fireplace warm? Wasn’t hot cocoa delicious?

A lifelike horse stood on the grass with a single horn on its head. Its golden mane stirred gently in the wind.

Hermione believed they had succeeded. It was certainly good enough to fulfil Suer’s promise.

Suer was not satisfied.

“No, Hermione. We’re celebrating too soon.”

“I think Angel will be delighted.” Hermione wore a hat and scarf. She rubbed her hands together, breathing little clouds of white vapour.

“Remember the one Professor Dumbledore made?” Suer frowned. “It could carry Angel around the entire house.”

“And this horse lasts no more than an hour before reverting to its original form. Professor McGonagall warned us that we cannot cast magic at home, or the Ministry of Magic will send Aurors to invite us for tea.”

“I know how much you want to create a moving ‘unicorn,’ but there is more than a month left until the Christmas holiday. We can take our time. Perhaps you could ask Professor Dumbledore for help.” Hermione stamped her feet and blew warm air into her palms.

“I think we should return to the castle now. We’ve been outside for more than two hours.”

“All right.”

Suer glanced at her. The girl was already shivering. Further practice would accomplish nothing.

He cancelled the transformation, then cast the Levitation Charm so the restored wooden chair could follow them.

Public property should be returned to its proper place.

“Let’s go back.”

They followed the path toward the castle. Near the entrance, they encountered Harry carrying a broom. He appeared thoroughly frozen: his cheeks were bright red, and bits of grass and white frost clung to his hair.

“Hi, Suer.”

Harry greeted them and hurried away.

“Why is he acting so mysteriously?” Hermione tilted her head.

Suer chuckled and returned the chair to the room where they had waited before the Sorting.

“It’s easy enough to guess. Harry must have joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”

“But first-years aren’t allowed to play Quidditch,” Hermione said doubtfully.

“Who knows?” Suer smiled. “Where are we going next?”

“The library, of course!” Hermione decided at once. “I still have my Potions and Charms essays to write.”

“Oh… I forgot.” Suer slapped his forehead, then gave Hermione his sweetest smile. “In that case, Miss Granger, might I ‘consult’ your homework?”

“What do you think?” Hermione’s eyes curved as she smiled just as sweetly back. “I don’t believe you merely intend to consult it.”

“Professor Filius Flitwick has already warned me, very tactfully, that several recent assignments were remarkably similar–or even identical. Every student involved had one thing in common…”

“Hm?” Suer blinked with perfect innocence. “Listen to my excuse–I mean, my explanation.”

“I promise I only want to consult it.”

“Truly.”

“You have to believe me!”

Hermione rolled her eyes so hard that only the whites seemed to remain, then turned and walked away.

…

The temperature dropped day by day. Ice covered the Black Lake, hard as tempered steel.

Apart from lessons, the students spent nearly all their time gathered around the blazing fireplaces in their common rooms. In weather this cold, crossing open-sided corridors that admitted wind from three directions was a form of torture.

As it had before the first flying lesson, the impending Quidditch match occupied the top spot in Hogwarts’ unofficial trending topics.

The second was the newly invented Warming Flask. The moment it appeared, it swept through the entire school.

The start of the Quidditch season could wait. The story of the Warming Flask began with a session of frantically completing homework in the library.

That day, after finishing her essays, Hermione found a book about fire spells buried among the library’s volumes. Its binding was loose and its author unknown. Several pages containing spells had vanished, apparently destroyed on purpose, but one spell surviving among the remainder was particularly interesting.

The entire page was written in runes, which immediately seized Hermione’s attention.

“It might be an extraordinarily powerful spell,” she said. “And don’t you think these patterns are fascinating?”

“Suer! Stop taking my homework!”

Suer withdrew the hand that had been creeping toward her parchment. Without a trace of embarrassment, he leaned closer to examine the book.

An illustration showed a blue flame swaying inside a transparent bottle.

“First, we can rule out Dark magic or anything extremely destructive.” Suer pursed his lips and jerked his chin toward Madam Pince, who stood guard in one direction with a feather duster. “Those books are over there.”

“Still…” He rubbed his chin. “We could translate it. Perhaps someone overlooked it.”

Anything was better than miserably digging through sources and writing an essay.

Why do homework when there was a perfectly good assignment available for “reference”?

“This looks like runic script. I’ll write my essays first, then help you translate it. How does that sound?”

“I’ll find a runic dictionary. I remember seeing one in the library.” Hermione nodded and rose from her seat.

Oh?

Had opportunity not just presented itself?

Suer brightened.

“Do not touch my homework.” Hermione had taken only a few steps when she turned and warned him sternly.

“What sort of person do you think I am?” Suer looked entirely sincere. “Even if I starved to death here or threw myself from the window, I would never touch your homework!”

Only then did Hermione relax and walk away in satisfaction.

“As if,” Suer muttered.

The moment her figure disappeared among the shelves, he snatched the neatly stacked parchment toward him and drew his wand.

“Geminio.”

Suer nodded with satisfaction at the duplicate stack.

“Times like this reveal the true wonder of magic. Heh, heh.”

He transformed the copied parchment into the shape of a book, carefully restored Hermione’s original essays to their exact position, then checked from every angle.

Perfect!

He casually took out a blank sheet of parchment and pretended to write furiously.

Two minutes later, Hermione returned carrying a thick book. First, she checked whether her parchment had been disturbed. Then she regarded Suer, whose quill was racing across the page, with suspicion.

She completely overlooked the extra “book” beside him.

He had behaved himself after all.

Hermione gave a satisfied little hum.

So easy to fool.

Suer noted the change in her expression from the corner of his eye. His face remained perfectly composed, but a black, horned miniature Suer holding a pitchfork threw back its head and laughed inside him.