Chapter 75
Chapter 75
However reluctant Madam Pomfrey was to surrender a living specimen as interesting as Suer, the constant disturbance forced her to release him from the hospital wing.
After news of his awakening spread, different students came to visit every day.
Heaven knew how a first-year Hufflepuff had acquired so many friends.
The girl who remained from morning until bedtime was understandable. Companionship benefited a patient’s body and mind. Madam Pomfrey was surprised that first-years could mature so early, but she did not object as long as they did not interfere with her examinations.
What she could not endure was someone bringing a chicken leg to visit the patient. If she remembered correctly, that was the youngest Weasley boy.
In any event, Suer was discharged.
His first task was visiting each professor’s office to sit the final examinations he had missed.
The Potions practical required him to brew the Forgetfulness Potion. Although he could feel Snape breathing down the back of his neck throughout, Suer produced a perfect result.
The Transfiguration practical was easier still. He had to turn a mouse into a snuffbox, with greater beauty earning a higher mark. That posed no difficulty to a student who had already mastered Switching Spells taught only in later years.
When his quill scratched out the answer to the final question–who had invented the self-stirring cauldron–his private examination period ended.
All that remained was waiting for the holiday to begin in two days.
Except for one final matter…
“Wh-who are you? Who are you really? My father is on the Board of Governors!”
Much later…
At the ground-floor Great Hall, Ron slapped the table and howled with laughter.
“Have you heard? I’m dying.”
“Somebody put a sack over Malfoy’s head, tied him up and stuffed him into a lavatory toilet. The whole of Slytherin has exploded. Everyone is hunting the culprit.”
“I don’t know who did it, but I have to say: brilliant!”
Harry gave Suer a peculiar look. That very afternoon, Suer had borrowed the Invisibility Cloak from him. Then this happened.
The culprit could not have been clearer.
Suer calmly picked up an apple and bit it, ignoring Harry’s stare.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” Hermione noticed Harry’s expression and whispered.
Suer did not answer, but Hermione appeared to receive one anyway.
“Brilliant,” she said.
…
The summer holiday began.
Suer sat quietly on the sitting-room sofa reading while Hermione stared at the parchment in her hands with disbelief.
An owl had just delivered his final marks.
Hermione turned the parchment over several times, then sank into despair.
“Why are your marks higher than mine?”
“Isn’t that normal?” Suer raised an eyebrow.
“It is not normal!” Hermione shrieked. “I received an O in History of Magic too. Our Charms marks are identical. Oh, I know–Potions! Snape actually gave you an O. How did you manage that?”
“It isn’t fair! Snape always targets Gryffindor!”
“Isn’t that normal as well?” Suer blinked.
“Aah! You’re unbearable!” Furious, Hermione tossed the letter onto the sofa and lunged.
“Hey, no violence!” Suer cried.
Click.
At that moment, the door opened. Mrs. Ellison stared at the scene with her mouth slightly open.
Behind Mum, little Angel covered her eyes with suspicious maturity. The gaps between her fingers were extremely wide, and her pale-blue eyes rolled curiously behind them.
…
“Hoo-hoo-mew…”
“Hoo-miaow…”
The nights at Number Four, Privet Drive, were not peaceful. From the bedroom of Mr Dursley’s nephew Harry came blood-curdling cries at all hours.
Bang, bang, bang!
Wearing pyjamas, Mr Dursley hammered upon the door. His fat face had turned crimson, which did not suggest a pleasant mood.
Nobody awakened from deep sleep by terrible noises would feel cheerful.
Creak.
The bedroom door opened a crack. A bespectacled figure appeared behind it.
“This is the third time this week!” Mr Dursley kicked the door. The chain behind it snapped taut as he roared at the figure beyond.
“If you cannot control that damned owl, I swear I’ll shoot it!”
“She’s restless,” Harry explained. “She’s used to flying outside. If I could let her out at night–”
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” Mr Dursley kicked the door again. The unfortunate wood gave an ugly groan, and dust drifted down.
“I know exactly what happens if an owl is released!”
“I promise Hedwig won’t cause any trouble,” Harry tried.
“In your dreams!” Mr Dursley growled. “I warn you again, Potter. Control that owl…”
Crash, thump!
Before he could continue, something struck the wall in the neighbouring bedroom and fell. That was the room of Mr Dursley’s precious son, Dudley.
Mr Dursley immediately lowered his voice, pressed closer to the gap and glared directly at Harry.
“Either make it quiet or get rid of it!” he warned, then waddled away.
The door closed.
Harry sighed and moved slowly to Hedwig’s cage. He opened the latch. He could not release her from the house, so he had to let her fly several circles around the tiny room.
The last time Harry let Hedwig outside, Mr Dursley had nearly shot her. Only Harry’s threat of a “spell” had stopped him.
“Hoo.” Hedwig was plainly dissatisfied with such limited freedom. She fluttered to Harry, struck him several times with her wings, then settled on one of the room’s three pieces of furniture–a table missing half of one leg–and stared with round eyes.
“I’m sorry, Hedwig. I’ll find a way to let you fly,” Harry said.
Just as he had told his friends before they parted, life with the Dursleys was miserable.
He missed Hogwarts Castle. He missed his lessons and his friends: Ron, Hermione, Suer, Neville and all the others.
Several days of summer had already passed, yet Harry felt as though his friends had forgotten him.
“Why haven’t any of you written?”