Chapter 34
Chapter 34
After getting an empty jam jar from the kitchens, Suer wandered back to the Hufflepuff common room.
Luck was with him. One sofa before the fireplace was still unoccupied.
He buried himself in its softness and sighed in pleasure.
Warmth rolled from the blazing fire. Suer gradually drifted to sleep and did not wake until Justin roused him at dusk.
The basement’s icy air stripped away the last of his drowsiness. Pulling his cloak tighter, Suer and his roommate hurried up the stairs toward the Great Hall.
The thousands of candles in the Hall provided considerable heat as well as light, keeping the room wonderfully warm.
Fred and George did not arrive until after Suer had finished dinner. Harry was with them. When Suer looked over, Harry waved and pointed to the twins. He had evidently delivered the message successfully.
Fred and George, however, looked miserable.
…
“Don’t ask. Wood went berserk when the news leaked.”
“We have to train on the pitch all evening.”
“In this weather.”
“He’s completely insane.”
“Amoxicillin–Wood’s roommate–told me Wood talks in his sleep.”
“He must have revealed the secret in a dream.”
When Suer reached the Gryffindor table, Fred and George were complaining bitterly to a stylish Black boy.
Only when the boy drew their attention did the twins notice Suer. They looked at him with curiosity, speaking in turns.
“Hey, I remember you.”
“Harry told us a Hufflepuff was looking for us.”
“Was that you?”
“What do you need?”
Suer looked from George–Fred?–to Fred–George?
He felt dizzy trying to tell them apart and quickly abandoned the attempt. When twins resembled each other this closely, even their own mother probably could not distinguish them.
Apparently that was more or less true.
Business first.
“I hear you sell interesting little products,” Suer said.
The twins exchanged a glance and nodded together.
“We do,” they said.
George, on the left, began the sales pitch.
“We carry a wide range of entertaining, inexpensive, multifunctional items. Dungbombs, for example. I guarantee that anyone struck by one will carry the smell for the entire day.”
“You understand.” Fred, on the right, grinned wickedly. “Dungbombs are our proudest product.”
“For only one silver Sickle–”
“You receive an entire box.”
“You also become an honoured member of our shop, and we’ll notify you immediately whenever we develop something new.”
Suer had not come to listen to a product catalogue.
“I’m very interested,” he said, “but I came to give you money.”
“Oh?” George raised his brows.
“You want to invest in us?” Fred’s eyes shone. “I knew someone would eventually recognise the value of our shop. How much would you like to put in?”
“I’m not here to invest either.” Suer shook his head. “I want to form a partnership, but not around your existing products. I am certain my product can rapidly earn enough money for you to develop new ones.”
“Interested?”
George and Fred looked at each other, then at Suer.
“That sounds promising.”
“May we see the product?”
“Of course.” Suer nodded. “This is not the best place, however. Meet me tonight where we first met, and I’ll demonstrate it.”
“Then it’s settled. Tonight at… eleven?”
“Wood will probably keep us training until curfew.”
“A late-night snack afterward would help us sleep. Don’t you agree, George?”
“A brilliant idea, Fred.”
The twins muttered between themselves, then looked back at Suer.
“Eleven is fine.” Suer nodded readily.
The Hogwarts kitchens were only a few steps from the Hufflepuff common room.
Despite all their complaints about Wood’s exploitation, Fred and George accelerated through dinner and rushed away.
Harry and Ron chatted briefly with Suer, then followed them.
Ron truly was a devoted Quidditch fan. He did not mind freezing in the stands–or standing in the bitter wind on the pitch to throw balls.
“Here.” Hermione handed Suer the runic book. “Madam Pince will only let me borrow it for a month.”
“That will be enough.” Suer handed the book back. “Keep it with you.”
“All right.” Hermione did not mind. She spooned a piece of pudding into her mouth and narrowed her eyes in contentment.
“Suer…” Neville’s voice came from the side. “Could you do me a favour?”
“Of course, Neville. What do you need?”
Suer turned toward him.
The boy grew awkward beneath his gaze. Nervousness reddened his round face. Both hands were beneath the table, and the twisting folds at the ends of his sleeves showed that his fingers were knotted together.
“I… I want you to deliver something for me.”
“Why me?” Suer asked in confusion.
“B-because…” Neville became even more nervous. He drew a deep breath before continuing. “Hannah is in Hufflepuff, and you are too, so…”
“But you know Hannah. Why don’t you give it to her yourself?”
Suer was even more puzzled. Only a few days ago, he had seen Neville and Hannah looking through reference books together in the library.
Neville had not been remotely this nervous then.
“Er… well…” Neville opened his mouth. His face grew redder, and steam almost seemed to rise from his head.
“All right. What is it?”
“Th-this.”
After a long period of squirming, Neville finally raised his hands from below the table.
He held a note.
It was pink.
Suer raised his brows. “Is that…”
“A love letter?”
Hermione’s eyes changed instantly, becoming distinctly–well–gossipy.
“N-no!” Neville shook his head frantically. “It’s not a love letter. It’s… it’s…”
“Give it to me.”
A pale hand extended toward him.
Neville stared blankly at Hermione and instinctively placed the crumpled note in her palm.
“I’ll deliver it for you,” Hermione said brightly. “I think I’m better suited than Suer, don’t you?”
“Er…” Neville looked at Suer.
Suer: Why are you looking at me?
“It’s the girl with the blond braid, isn’t it?” Hermione glanced toward the Hufflepuff table. “The one sitting with Susan. Susan is her roommate.”
Neville nodded blankly. Hermione rose and skipped toward the Hufflepuff table with the pink paper in hand.
“Are you sure it isn’t a love letter?” Suer grinned wickedly and nudged Neville with his elbow.
“It really isn’t!” Neville shouted in embarrassed fury.
“It isn’t,” Hermione said from behind them.
“Hannah opened it as soon as she received it. She asked me to thank you.”
“The note was written by Professor Sprout.” Hermione looked curiously at Neville. “That’s perfectly ordinary. Why didn’t you deliver it yourself?”
“I… I was afraid everyone would misunderstand,” Neville said. “And it was pink.”
Oh.
Very well.
Suer pursed his lips. He had thought he was about to witness a romance begin.