Mourning the Departed

Because of Headmaster Black's ban, Harry did not know much about Quidditch.

Naturally, he was very much looking forward to Wood's lessons.

After Wood gave him a rambling introduction to the rules of Quidditch, Harry suddenly asked, "So, has anyone ever been killed during a match? I mean, we fly so high when we play Quidditch, and we have to dodge Bludgers every now and then..."

He tried his best to make himself sound like a complete outsider.

"How could that happen?" Wood looked surprised. "At worst, Quidditch might get your jaw smashed or break your arms and legs. Even if you fall, the pitch has protective magic on it, enough to protect you properly—at least you won't fall to your death."

Harry was certain now. This was Black's conspiracy.

After Harry demonstrated a Dive Stop and various difficult maneuvers, Wood's expression went from initial doubt about Harry's flying ability, to admiration midway through, and finally settled into certainty.

"This year's Quidditch trophy will definitely bear our names." Wood said happily. "You know, I've seen your father's name on the Quidditch trophy before. James Potter, right? He was Gryffindor's Chaser."

"Hagrid told me that my father was excellent at Quidditch," Harry said.

"That explains it. Your flying ability is inherited through your bloodline," Wood said with certainty. "Then let our little Mr. Potter lead us to victory!"

Wood only taught Harry the rules of Quidditch and did not pull him into training.

In his eyes, a genius like Harry could probably fly around the whole yard on a broom before he even knew how to walk—and Wood would believe it.

Hogwarts classes were not demanding. At least, Harry always had some free time.

No class had ever bored Harry so much. He was truly sick of Professor Quirrell's stammering, unfocused lessons.

He really is the worst professor.

Sitting at Gryffindor's long table, Harry listlessly chewed his sandwich, still considering whether he should take advantage of his free period later to visit the Crypt beneath the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Just as he was lost in thought, Hermione suddenly let out a cry from across the table.

"Oh my God, Harry, Ron!"

As though she had discovered a new continent, she grabbed Harry and Ron and slapped one small hand onto that thick, massive book.

"What is it?" Ron asked in confusion.

Could there be some treasure in that book? Otherwise, why was Hermione so surprised and excited?

"I've been searching for more than half a month since hearing about it from Hagrid!" Hermione pressed her little hand against the book and whispered to the two of them, "Look, I finally found it—there's an article here recording the deeds of that Harry Potter. Let me see... Ron, who is Gareth Weasley to you?"

"My great-grandfather." Ron shrugged.

Harry, who had not been interested in Hermione's "great discovery," immediately raised his head.

Good girl, your timing couldn't be better.

"Your great-grandfather? Ronald..." Hermione's eyes widened. "You've never told me you had such an incredible great-grandfather."

"Actually, I don't know much about him either." Ron spread his hands.

Hermione gave Ron a meaningful look, then lowered her head and continued searching through the article.

Harry wanted to ask about Gareth's current situation, but he felt strangely apprehensive and did not know how to begin.

It was not that he was struggling with how to phrase the question. He was afraid of hearing bad news.

"Look here, Harry." Hermione pointed at a passage with a smile. "Now I finally know why Peeves is so afraid of you! It looks like he mistook you for that Harry! Look, he created a spell specifically for dealing with Peeves—"

"How do you know Peeves is afraid of Harry?" Ron asked curiously.

"Isn't it obvious, Ron?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, haven't you noticed that whenever we walk around with Harry, Peeves has never pranked us? And on the first day of School Opening, when Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at Peeves, that fellow ran away in terror. He must have mistaken Harry for that person!"

"Cool." Ron was interested now too. "Can you find out what that spell is? If we learn it, we really won't have to be afraid of Peeves anymore."

"I'll find it." Hermione's little face took on an expression as resolute as if she were standing in the Dragon Position.

Harry opened his mouth. He actually wanted to tell Hermione that spell.

"He really was amazing," Hermione said with a sigh. "It says here that he invented this spell in his third year—honestly, I find learning spells difficult even now."

"What else is there?" Ron crawled under the table and sat beside Hermione to read with her.

"Here, look." Hermione pointed to another passage. "I really never would have expected it, Ron. A Weasley family ancestor was actually good friends with a Malfoy family ancestor? They were even comrades who fought against The Ashwinder Party together..."

"How is that possible?" Ron's nose turned red at once. "How could my great-grandfather have anything to do with the Malfoy family? Don't make things up!"

"See for yourself!" Hermione said quietly. She shoved the book hard in front of Ron and pointed at the passage. "Look. Gareth Weasley, Poppy Sweeting, Cassandra Malfoy—these were all comrades who helped that Harry suppress The Ashwinder Party and quell the Goblin Rebellion..."

Ron leaned over to look, and the words on the page were indeed just as Hermione had said.

His face grew even redder. He muttered that the article in the book had to be fake. How could anyone from the Weasley family possibly be friends with a Malfoy?

"Could the history recorded in books be fake?" Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"I don't believe it anyway," Ron said stubbornly.

As the two stared each other down without yielding, Harry suddenly said, "Then why don't you ask someone involved? I mean, your great-grandfather, Mr. Gareth Weasley."

"My great-grandfather died before I was born," Ron said softly. "Even Bill and Charlie never met him. He didn't even leave behind a portrait."

Harry felt his heart suddenly clench.

"I'm sorry, Ron, I'm sorry..." he murmured.

Gareth was already dead? Then... would Sebastian and Ominis also be...

And Cassandra and Verathea, could they also be...

Harry's thoughts were in turmoil. Upon suddenly learning that an old friend had died, his mood inexplicably turned terrible.