Chapter 74
Chapter 74
Knock, knock.
“Come in.”
“Miss Granger?”
In the Headmaster’s office on the eighth floor, a weary Dumbledore sat behind his large desk. His gaze remained gentle as he regarded Hermione.
“Headmaster.” Her lips trembled. “I…”
After another long pause, she bit her lip and summoned her courage.
“Harry told me that you destroyed the Philosopher’s Stone. Is that true?”
Dumbledore raised one eyebrow. “Before we discuss whether I destroyed it, may I ask what you intended to do with the Stone, Miss Granger?”
In any conversation, the hardest step was always the first: speaking.
“If it still exists, I want to use it to save Suer,” Hermione said. “I heard the Philosopher’s Stone has the power to make people immortal. Could it wake Suer as well?”
“If I hadn’t fallen in the Forbidden Forest that day, we would never have been caught. If we had escaped safely, Suer wouldn’t have…” Grief and exhaustion lay naked upon Hermione’s face. “If you haven’t destroyed the Stone, could we try it? Please, Headmaster Dumbledore.”
“It was not your fault. None of this was your fault, child.” Dumbledore’s voice was extraordinarily gentle. “No one could have known what would happen.”
“But I am sorry. I truly did destroy the Philosopher’s Stone. It was an agreement between Nicolas Flamel and me.”
“Mr Bones remains in no immediate danger. He is unconscious, nothing more. Trust us, child. We will find a way to wake him.”
“We simply need more time.”
“Now, your friends must be waiting. Gryffindor has waited many years to win the House Cup. Such a victory was not easily earned.”
But I don’t care about celebrating.
Hermione nodded miserably and left the office.
Dumbledore watched the young witch disappear, sighed softly and rubbed his brow. From a small drawer in the desk, he removed a cloth-wrapped bundle.
At a thought, the layers unfolded, revealing a dim red jewel of irregular shape.
The Philosopher’s Stone.
It had not been destroyed after all.
“Would it truly help?” he murmured. “If it could, so many would not have died beneath the Unforgivable Curses.”
“Yet why did this child…”
Dumbledore could not understand it. Afterwards, he and several other professors had studied the spell that left Suer unconscious.
It had unquestionably been the Killing Curse.
For some reason, the magic had been weakened, but no first-year should have survived it.
In the hospital wing on the second floor, Hermione had to plead with Madam Pomfrey for some time before she was allowed into the ward.
The whole room stood empty except for one bed surrounded by warm golden light. The cabinet beside it was crowded with sweets and flowers, mostly left by visitors.
Hermione dragged herself to the bedside and sat. She stared unblinkingly at Suer’s sleeping face until mist blurred her sight.
“When will you wake?” she whispered as tears began to fall.
“Do you know?”
“We were wrong about Professor Snape all along. He was protecting the Philosopher’s Stone. Professor Quirrell was the one trying to steal it…”
Hermione murmured on, telling Suer every recent event. Tears fell one by one upon the back of his hand.
“If Angel saw you crying like this, she’d accuse me of bullying her Big Sister Hermione.”
A laughing voice sounded.
“She wouldn’t!” Hermione answered instinctively.
Then she froze.
Why did that voice sound so much like–
“Dry your tears. Your face is turning into a tabby cat. You can cry when I’m truly dead.”
Hermione’s eyes widened as a hand brushed her cheek.
“S-S-S-Suer?”
“What is it?” Suer smiled gently, his bright eyes resting upon the tear-streaked girl.
“I’m not dreaming, am I?” Hermione murmured blankly.
“Ow!” A moment later, pain shot from her cheek to her brain.
Suer withdrew his hand. “Still think it’s a dream?”
“It hurts. Not a dream.” Hermione shook her head in a daze.
Then–
“Waaah!” She flung herself onto the bed, sobbing.
“Hey! Don’t wipe your nose on my blankets!”
Footsteps pounded outside.
“What is happening? Patients require quiet!” Madam Pomfrey appeared in the doorway with a dark expression.
“You’re awake? Good heavens…”
When Hermione left, a small bubble still clung to the tip of her nose.
Madam Pomfrey had expelled her so that Suer could receive a thorough examination.
A patient waking without warning after more than ten days of unconsciousness was a miracle of magical medicine.
“Extraordinary. Truly extraordinary. Merlin be praised–nothing is wrong at all.”
“No food or water for all that time, yet your body remains full of vitality.”
“Mr Bones, do you feel anything unusual?”
“No, Madam. I feel well.” Suer shook his head and glanced at Dumbledore, who had appeared beside the bed.
“That will do, Poppy.” Dumbledore stepped forward. “May I speak with Mr Bones?”
Madam Pomfrey glared irritably at him, asked Suer one final question in a much gentler voice, then left the ward muttering.
“The patient needs rest. You have fifteen minutes, Dumbledore.”
Silence returned.
Suer looked quietly at Dumbledore, thinking of the story Ariana had told him in that strange realm.
He could not be certain that the Albus Dumbledore before him was Ariana’s brother.
Forgive him. He remembered little beyond the broad outline of the story. His previous life lay more than a decade in the past. Perhaps the relevant details emerged only when he encountered an event directly.
“How do you feel, Mr Bones?” Dumbledore smiled and sat in the chair beside the bed.
“Er… not bad, Professor.” Suer nodded.
“Do you know”–Dumbledore familiarly opened a packet of sweets, unwrapped one and placed it happily in his mouth–“very few people survive that particular dark spell.”
“You are a fortunate child. I should like to know exactly what happened that night.”
“I don’t know either, Professor.” Suer shook his head. “I only had time to raise my wand.”
“Hm.” Dumbledore blinked his bright blue eyes. “I confess myself surprised. The centaurs told me what happened. Very few people dare raise a wand against that man.”
“He isn’t frightening, is he?” Suer blinked back.
“You appear to know a great many things, Mr Bones.” Dumbledore smiled. “I am glad that even knowing the atrocities that man committed, you do not fear him.”
“No. He is not frightening.”
Suer blinked but said nothing.
“This is for you, Mr Bones.” Dumbledore drew a small cloth bundle from his pocket. “Tell no one.”
“What is it?” Suer accepted the bundle without opening it.
“Something many people desire. I promised a friend that I would destroy it at a certain time, but it seems I may have to break my word.” Dumbledore chuckled.
“Now, I hear Poppy approaching. It is growing late.”
“After leaving the hospital wing, remember to sit your missed final examinations. Otherwise, you will have to spend another year in first year.”
“Some rules cannot be broken, even by the Headmaster.”
“Have a pleasant summer, Mr Bones.”