Chapter 80
Chapter 80
Ever since Mrs. Ellison had caught her tussling with Suer, Hermione only dared visit when his mother was out.
Today, however, she had no choice but to arrive during breakfast.
A month into the summer holidays, Hermione had received a letter delivered by an owl that looked exceedingly old.
“Harry’s been rescued.” She hurried in through the front door, clutching a sheet of parchment. “He’s at the Weasleys’ now.”
“It was completely reckless.”
“I hope Ron and his brothers didn’t do anything illegal. Harry must have received a warning just like yours, mustn’t he?”
“Suer, are you listening to me?”
“What?” Suer pulled himself out of his book and blinked up at Hermione. “I already knew,” he muttered. “A flying car.”
“What flying car?”
“I said Harry sent me a letter the day before yesterday.” Suer picked up an envelope from the other side of the table and handed it to her.
“Ron and his brothers flew a car to Harry’s uncle’s house and rescued him.”
“He apologised for what happened at my house…”
“He didn’t explain everything in the letter. He only said we’d talk when we met.”
“Utterly reckless.” Hermione read the letter and shook her head helplessly. “Are all Gryffindors such brutes? I mean, if ordinary people saw the car flying while they rescued Harry, they’d be in serious trouble, wouldn’t they?”
“Their family could suffer for it.”
Little did she know that her words would prove prophetic at the beginning of their second year.
“I hope you remember, while saying all that, that you’re a Gryffindor too,” Suer said.
“I’m not like them!” Hermione declared righteously. “I’ll write back now. How does next Wednesday sound?”
Suer understood what she meant and nodded.
“Fine with me.”
Merlin finally changed out of his tights, and Wednesday at last arrived.
Angel clung tearfully to the hem of Suer’s shirt. She wanted to go with her brother to the marvellous magical street, but she had a lesson that day. Mrs. Ellison had enrolled her in a beginner’s piano class, and the arrangements had been made long ago.
“I’ll bring you a present.” Suer crouched down, gently tugged one of the little girl’s jaunty plaits, and made his promise.
It took quite some time to console her before he could leave and climb into Mr. Granger’s car. Mr and Mrs Granger were both off work that day and would be taking Suer and Hermione to Diagon Alley.
Diagon Alley was as busy as ever, its ancient street filled with a ceaseless hum of chatter and laughter.
Their first stop, of course, was Gringotts Wizarding Bank, where they could exchange Muggle money for wizarding currency.
“Shall we meet later at Flourish and Blotts?”
“All right.”
Suer had made his plans before coming to Diagon Alley. He wanted to visit his vault, not only to see what his birth parents had left him, but also to place the Philosopher’s Stone Dumbledore had given him somewhere safe.
The vault left by his dead parents lay deep beneath Gringotts and bore an auspicious number: Vault Seven Hundred and Seventy-Seven.
“Gringotts vaults are the safest place in the entire wizarding world,” the goblin guiding him said. “We have a dragon on guard, as well as ancient protections. Choosing to store your valuables at Gringotts is an exceedingly wise decision.”
If it were really that safe, it wouldn’t have been robbed last year, Suer thought.
Still, he had no better option. A Muggle bank or safe-deposit box would be even less secure. Any wizard could walk in, cast a Confundus Charm, and take whatever he wanted. There might as well be no protection at all.
Suer put on his most sincere smile and assured the goblin that its reasoning was impeccable. Then, at the goblin’s direction, he climbed into a rail cart left over from some unknown age. It looked rather like a trolley used to carry cement.
They hurtled through a maze of winding passages. Perhaps the speed was intended to prevent wizards from memorising the route. The cart raced along at a terrifying pace, frequently slamming to a halt before turning left, then right, then left and left again.
The cold air whipped past and stung Suer’s cheeks.
At last, they stopped.
“Your key, please, sir.” Smiling, the goblin extended a grey-green hand armed with nails long enough to stab a man to death.
Suer passed it the key. The goblin placed one hand against the stone wall. Without any visible action, its palm sank into the rock, taking the key with it.
There came a series of clicks. The stone wall slowly melted away, revealing a small opening.
“Please enter.” The goblin returned Suer’s key and bowed beside the entrance. Plainly, it was not permitted to go inside.
“Thank you.” Suer ducked through the opening.
The vault his birth parents had left him was not large. Apart from a few chests on the floor, it was empty.
As he had expected, there were plenty of gold Galleons–enough to fill three entire chests.
He opened the chest pushed furthest towards the back. A photograph frame rested on top. Its glass had cracked in several places, making the picture beneath impossible to see.
Suer held the frame for a moment, then drew his wand.
“Reparo.”
Light flashed at the tip of his wand, and the broken glass restored itself.
Now Suer could see the photograph beneath it. A handsome young man smiled at the camera, one arm draped around the shoulders of a brown-haired woman beside him. She sat in a chair, cradling a tiny baby.
Was that baby me? So that is what my mum and dad looked like.
Suer stood in the vault for a long time, holding the frame.
At last, he placed it in the small shoulder bag he had brought. Apart from what might be the only surviving photograph, the chest contained clothes–baby clothes in several sizes–a diary, and a small, remarkably lifelike badger figurine.
Suer picked up the diary and leafed through it. Many of the pages remained blank.
The elegant handwriting was filled with hopes for the future.
“The weather was unexpectedly lovely today. Over breakfast, we finally settled on a name for our child: Suer Bones. I hope little Suer will like it…”
“Amelia came to visit today. She adores little Suer and brought him so many wonderful toys. One was especially unusual: a tiny badger figurine, plainly from Hufflepuff. I wonder which house little Suer will join when he grows up.”
The further Suer read, the more his nose stung. In every line, he could feel the love of the mother he had never known.
A tear slid down his cheek and splashed onto the diary. Without realising it, Suer had begun to weep.