Chapter 43
Chapter 43
Over the next few days, Suer did not enter the Room of Requirement again.
Hermione still ignored him, though her attitude had softened considerably. She visited the library more and more often, nearly exhausting every book on the history of the wizarding world.
Harry and Ron were dragged into the search as well. Faced with enormous volumes every day, they complained without end.
The top subject of conversation at Hogwarts Castle changed daily.
One morning, however, a piece of news swept through the entire school and parachuted straight into first place, pushing aside everyone’s plans for the Christmas holiday.
The reason their Defence Against the Dark Arts professor always wore a scarf had been exposed.
He was bald!
The students were not the only ones shocked. Even Professor McGonagall and the other teachers could not resist murmuring among themselves about what had caused Quirinus Quirrell to lose his hair.
Suer was astonished too.
He knew perfectly well why Quirrell had refused to remove the scarf since the beginning of term.
That bald socket-faced monster lived on the back of Quirrell’s head.
And now it had vanished without a trace?
This was beyond absurd. No one in Suer’s previous life had ever said it could detach itself from its host.
Unfounded panic spread through him. The plot was still recognisable, and the people were the same, but some unknown change had entered the story.
His advantage as a prophet was slowly disappearing.
How had Quirrell been exposed?
The answer began with a snowball fight outside the castle that morning.
Since the start of term, Hogwarts had possessed one enduring mystery: why did Professor Quirrell refuse to remove his scarf even when he slept?
Countless theories had grown from that question. No one, however, had dared stake their education at Hogwarts on pulling the scarf from his head.
Just as no one had ever dared suggest to Professor Snape’s face that he wash his greasy hair.
Then brave Gryffindors stepped forward.
Yes. Our kings–Fred and George Weasley.
While the twins fought with snowballs on the lawn outside the castle, they spotted Quirinus Quirrell passing the entrance.
The pair secretly enchanted several snowballs to chase the back of Professor Quirrell’s head. Whether the snowballs were too powerful or Quirrell had tied his scarf too loosely that day, the result was the same.
The scarf fell.
It revealed a brilliantly shining bald head.
Sunlight flashed across it.
Every young wizard present stopped breathing. Even the falling snow seemed to freeze in the air.
By the time excited discussion exploded from the crowd, Quirrell had snatched up his scarf, covered his head with one hand, and fled in panic.
Fred and George were naturally punished.
No one knew precisely what they had been ordered to do, but one look at Filch’s smile of long-awaited vengeance…
Rumour claimed the twins would spend the entire Christmas holiday in detention and punishment.
May they fare well.
Though they did not seem unhappy.
At the Gryffindor table, the Weasley twins were boasting animatedly of their heroic deed, finishing one another’s account.
It was still absurd that the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had failed to defend himself from enchanted snowballs cast by two third-years.
Unless he had allowed it deliberately.
Until the day the holiday began, students behaved in Defence Against the Dark Arts exactly as Suer expected. After class, the mood toward Professor Quirrell became remarkably… gentle.
No one investigated what had been beneath the scarf again.
Among the countless explanations for Quirrell’s baldness, the most convincing blamed the curse on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position.
Believing Professor Quirrell might not have long to live, the students expressed kindness and pity in every possible way.
One version of the rumour even explained why Professor Snape always kept his hair greasy:
He was afraid washing it would make him go bald.
No one dared ask Snape for confirmation. Even the Slytherin students he “favoured” most would not risk it.
Suer worried about Voldemort’s disappearance for only a day before letting the matter go.
As always, if the sky fell, the taller Professor Dumbledore could hold it up.
Besides, the holiday had begun!
From early morning, Hogwarts Castle was filled with noise. Students returning home for Christmas packed their luggage and piled it in the common rooms while loudly discussing their plans.
Suer found time to visit Hagrid’s hut and collect the cat intended for Hermione.
Good heavens.
During its few days with Hagrid, the cat had apparently become master of the hut. When Suer arrived, it was sitting on Fang’s head, surveying its domain.
“You’ve gained quite a bit of weight.”
Suer lifted it and weighed it in his arms.
“MRAOW!”
“Stay quietly inside. I’ll let you out as soon as we get home,” Suer instructed before placing the cat, cage and all, inside the small enchanted pouch.
“Meow.”
The cat yawned lazily to show that it understood.
Suer left the mouth of the pouch loose. Living creatures needed air.
A short while later, the students travelling home assembled on the castle lawn. Suer searched everywhere without finding Hermione.
Mr. Granger was collecting them today, and Suer would ride with the family.
“Surely she hasn’t forgotten that we’re going home…”
…
“Miss Granger.”
Suer helplessly knocked on the library’s long table, waking the girl bent over a book.
“Have you forgotten that we’re supposed to catch a train today?”
The library erupted into chaos. Madam Pince sent Hermione a murderous glare.
Under that gaze, Hermione hurried out, though before leaving she remembered to call instructions to Harry and Ron on the other side.
“Keep searching while I’m gone, all right? If you discover anything, send me an owl.”
By the time Suer and Hermione reached the lawn, the other students had begun boarding the carriages.
“Hurry, Suer. It’s nearly time to leave.” Hagrid stood on the grass and waved.
“How extraordinary. The carriages move without horses,” Hermione murmured as she bent and climbed inside.
She could not see the creatures drawing them.
Suer saw them clearly.
Thestrals.
He had read about them in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. They were tall and skeletal, entirely black, with a dragonlike head, a horse’s body, and enormous bat wings growing from their backs.
Once considered omens of misfortune, Thestrals could be seen only by people who had witnessed death.
“What are you looking at?” Hermione noticed Suer staring at the space before the carriage. “Suer?”
Suer returned to himself, looked at her, and smiled as he shook his head.
“Nothing. I was wondering how the carriage moves when nothing is pulling it.”
“But you’ve finally decided to speak to me again?”
“I have not!”
Hermione’s face reddened at his smile. She raised her chin, turned away with a proud little hmph, and shifted her bottom farther from him.