Chapter 82

Chapter 82

Suer bought juice for himself, Harry, and the others. Ginny thanked him shyly.

Ron fumed the entire way, still brooding over the fight in the bookshop.

Harry, meanwhile, remained as pale as a man who had narrowly escaped death.

Suer had no particular interest in what they had endured at Flourish and Blotts. He was far more concerned with Ginny–or, rather, the battered diary inside her cauldron.

He was trying to work out how to talk her into giving him the book without looking suspicious. Once it was in his hands, he could find a chance to give it a good whack and enjoy a peaceful, uneventful school year.

“Suer! Suer, I’m talking to you!” Hermione had been chattering beside him, but Suer’s mind was miles away and he had not heard a word. The young girl lost her temper and smacked him on the arm.

“What? What did you say, Hermione?”

Hermione tossed her head aside and refused to speak to him.

By the time they returned to the Leaky Cauldron, Suer still had not found a natural excuse to speak to the easily embarrassed Ginny.

There was nothing for it. He would have to look for an opportunity at school.

The Weasleys would use Floo powder to return home, while the Grangers and Suer had to reach the neighbouring Muggle street, collect their car, and drive back to Lily Street. That meant they had to part ways at the Leaky Cauldron.

Before they left, the Weasleys invited Suer to stay at their home for a few days. Suer declined, though he was genuinely curious about their wonderfully crooked house.

“I still have next year’s work to prepare, and homework to finish.”

“Good heavens, you belong in Ravenclaw, not Hufflepuff!” Fred cried theatrically. “Summer is for having fun. Homework is the sort of thing you find someone to do once you’re back at school–”

Mrs. Weasley smacked the back of his head before he could finish.

“You ought to learn from–” Mrs. Weasley paused. “You ought to learn from Suer, instead of spending every waking hour in your room fiddling with all that rubbish!”

“Sorry, Mum,” Fred said at once, looking meek and obedient even as he winked secretly at Suer.

“See you at school,” Harry told Suer and Hermione. “I’ll explain about the elf on the train. Believe me, the whole thing was a nightmare.”

“See you at school.” Suer nodded and left the Leaky Cauldron with the Grangers.

Mr. Granger still looked shaken once they were in the car.

“Are all wizards so…” He searched for a word for quite some time. “Exuberant?”

Suer laughed awkwardly. “That was an accident. We don’t usually behave like that.”

When the car was nearly home, Hermione finally lowered her book. She could no longer contain her curiosity. The small parcel Suer had placed beside him when he got into the car had been moving the whole way.

“I meant to ask earlier. What did you buy?”

“What?” Suer looked up from Wanderings with Werewolves. Lockhart might be a fraud, but he did write a lively story–if only he did not interrupt it so often to explain precisely how perfect and handsome his smile was.

Suer noticed Hermione staring at the parcel.

“Oh, this?” He lightly patted it. The package immediately went still.

“A Puffskein. It’s a present for Angel.”

“Oh.” Hermione fell silent at once and returned to her book.

At that moment, the car turned into Lily Street.

Just before they got out, Suer called to Hermione.

“Would you like to do our homework together tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid not.” Hermione gave him a wary look. “I’ll be away for at least a week.”

“Oh.” Suer nodded. Homework together had not been his chief intention anyway. “Then could you…”

“Lend me your homework?”

“What do you think?” Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Do your own work!”

The next day, Hermione left Lily Street with her parents for their farm in the countryside, though she left Crookshanks behind.

“Rotten luck!” Suer muttered bitterly. “Why would anyone take homework to the countryside?”

He had entirely forgotten his own history of being caught copying homework by the professors the previous year, then being put in detention and made to redo it.

“I should’ve agreed to visit the Burrow with Ron.” He twirled his quill, looking utterly bereft of hope.

Angel’s excited shouts drifted up from downstairs. Crookshanks was chasing the Puffskein Suer had given her.

Angel adored the little pink ball of fur.

Crookshanks adored it too. Cats, after all, were powerless against small furry things.

The happiest part of Angel’s day was watching the Puffskein run, Crookshanks chase it, and then joining the pursuit herself.

Sometimes Suer truly envied the carefree life of a child. He still had all this homework to face, even though he could already cast every charm in question.

He stared at Professor Filius Flitwick’s assignment:

HOW CAN THE ACCURACY OF A CHARM BE IMPROVED? THREE FEET, WITH SUBSTANTIVE ARGUMENTS.

Suer sighed, surrendered to his fate, and picked up his quill.

Because underage witches and wizards were strictly forbidden to use magic outside school, most of their assignments reinforced and summarised the theory they had learnt the previous year. The rest consisted of preparation for second-year material.

Their preparation would become obvious once classes began, though Suer doubted most young wizards would honestly study ahead after completing their written homework.

Hermione excepted.

She returned a week later. For the rest of the summer, she spent almost every day dragging Suer through the second-year syllabus.

At precisely eight every morning, she arrived at the Ellison house. Under Mrs. Ellison’s amused gaze, she marched upstairs, woke Suer, and hauled him out of bed to read Lockhart’s masterpieces. Every so often, she would stop to discuss the spell Lockhart claimed to have used against a band of vampires.

It went on day after day, until Suer developed something very like a nervous reaction to the name Lockhart.

But he could hardly tell Hermione outright that Lockhart was a fraud, an incompetent, and nothing more than a pretty face.

Hermione was plainly enthralled by Lockhart’s heroic image and eagerly anticipated his appointment as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

“You shouldn’t expect too much,” Suer told her. “I don’t think Lockhart will teach us well.”

“You should call him Professor Lockhart!” Hermione corrected him. “Look at this. The method he used against that troll was extremely effective, wasn’t it?”

“And look at this book. What an ingenious idea!”

“A man who is an honorary member of the Dark Force Defence League and a third-class recipient of the Order of Merlin will have no difficulty teaching us practical defensive magic.”

Suer raised both hands in surrender.

Hermione had reached the age of hero worship. It was perfectly understandable.