Chapter 51 - Quarrel — Words Unspoken

"I won." Draco lifted his chin. "I knew this would happen. Halloween eve — something big always happens."

Daphne was fixing her hair in the mirror. "Please, Draco. We all knew that."

Percy Weasley fought to cut the conversation short. "Nobody say another word! You should be asleep! Lights out in ten minutes!"

Draco sneered. "Maybe Head Boy is the greatest honor of his life. That's why he has to treasure every chance to throw his weight around."

Praeris ignored him. She was unpinning her updo, combing her hair out. As she combed, she glanced around the room. Millicent had been right here a moment ago and had vanished again.

As if on cue, Millicent ducked low, threaded her way through the crowd, and jogged over to the spot beside Praeris.

The moment she sat down: "I went to Miss Farley's. The former Hufflepuff prefect told her it was Sirius Black who tried to force his way into Gryffindor. Scared the Fat Lady half to death."

"Why would Sirius Black force his way into Gryffindor?" Praeris asked. "Does he want to kill Harry Potter? Tie up the last loose end?"

Draco scoffed. "Potter's a coward. He doesn't dare avenge his parents. Now the enemy's come straight to him, and all he can do is hide."

"If he went after Sirius Black for revenge, I'd look down on him." Praeris shook her head. "That would just prove he has no self-awareness at all."

"So right now you think highly of him?" Draco said sharply.

Praeris actually considered it. "He's barely competent, I suppose. Pity he's a Gryffindor."

"Hah."

Draco gave a cold snort, picked up his sleeping bag, and headed toward Nott and Zabini. Crabbe and Goyle had already lain down; they scrambled up at once and followed.

"What's got into him?" Daphne held up her mirror, frowning.

Pansy rested her chin on Daphne's shoulder and peered at her own face in the mirror, eyes half-closed. "Praeris said something nice about Potter. It annoyed him. He hates Gryffindor."

"I didn't say anything nice about Gryffindor," Praeris said.

"Fine, he hates Potter." Pansy's eyes stayed half-shut, and she let the correction stand without argument.

Praeris shook her head, exasperated. "Would he be happier if I lied?"

"People like well-meaning lies. Not because they enjoy being deceived — because they enjoy a companion's partiality. Time to sleep, girls."

Professor Aurora Sinistra. Miss Stewart's partner in crime.

Of course it was her keeping order in Slytherin tonight. That was no surprise at all.

Those two: every match they bet on, every holiday they drank through, every commotion they gathered around, every scrap of gossip they picked apart together.

Professor Snape had warned her more than once to stay away from his students, especially Stewart. It was seriously undermining Slytherin's house discipline and decorum, though Slytherin had never had any such thing to begin with.

The moment Professor Sinistra left, Percy Weasley bellowed, "Lights out now! Everyone! No more talking! Get into your sleeping bags this instant!"

Praeris fell asleep quickly. Her sleep quality was always excellent, nothing like the restless excitement buzzing through the students around her.

For the next several days, the whole school talked about Sirius Black.

Millicent believed he could turn invisible. Daphne reminded her of what Dumbledore had said at the start of term: invisibility doesn't work on Dementors.

Pansy believed there was a secret passage in Hogwarts, just like the Chamber of Secrets. Sirius Black might step out of one and appear right in Gryffindor Tower.

"What nonsense. Are you saying the castle was bored through? That there's a hole running straight from the dungeons up to the tower?"

Daphne's face was full of contempt. "But we really should be careful. This man has spent his whole life betraying people. At school he betrayed his own family; when he grew up he betrayed his own brothers. Who's to say he won't betray the Dark Lord next and come after Slytherin?"

"What do you mean?" Millicent was curious. "Mother never told me any of this."

Daphne smiled faintly. "Don't bring this up with Draco — he doesn't like the subject. Parents swallow the past and keep it buried, but there are still moments they can't help looking back and sighing."

"Sirius Black is a son of the Black family. Draco's mother, Lady Narcissa, comes from that family."

"Almost everyone in that family went into Slytherin. Except Sirius. He spent his whole time at school fighting with his mother, and ended up in Gryffindor from the very first day."

"They say he and Potter's father were the closest of friends. Inseparable. Always pulling pranks on people together. Then the prophecy chose the Potters. The couple trusted Sirius — so they chose him as their Secret-Keeper."

"And then — you all know the rest. The Potters were killed."

Millicent shook her head. "That's hard to believe. But Daphne, you seem to look down on him."

"Of course I do." Daphne's voice went hard. "He's a traitor to his own blood."

Praeris said, "What Millicent means is, she thought you might see his betrayal of the Potters as a kind of redemption — coming back to the right side. After all, it means he followed the Dark Lord."

Daphne sneered. "No. That makes me look down on him even more. What does it matter to me who he follows? A two-faced wretch, betrayed his blood, betrayed his family, and in the end betrayed the very friends who trusted him. He's mad."

Praeris felt something click into place. Her Slytherin classmates never stopped opening her eyes.

Pansy was a pure romantic. She seemed to support pure-blood ideals, but in truth she only supported whoever she happened to like.

Daphne looked every bit the textbook Death Eater-in-training, but her support for the Dark Lord came down to pure-blood supremacy, nothing more. She didn't care who Sirius sided with. What she cared about was that he had betrayed his family and his blood.

Honestly, when it came to those factional views, Praeris's own position was murky.

By every logic, she was a Slytherin. The teacher she respected most had once been a Death Eater. She ought to have inherited the same lines of thought.

But she was a half-blood, the child of a wizard and a Muggle. She had not had a good life in the Muggle world, and yet she didn't hate them for it. When she'd encountered Sophia, she had even felt sorry for her. She admired Hermione, the clever Muggle-born witch. She even thought Potter was something of a figure.

I don't have to do what the people around me approve of, do I?

As long as what I do is what I believe is right, even if it's different from everyone around me, that's no big deal. Is it?

Praeris pushed every rumor and whispered theory to the back of her mind and threw herself back into her classes, working through the materials the professor had given her.

Once she truly began researching the Wolfsbane Potion, Praeris realized something: students' understanding of potions never went deeper than the shallowest level. Follow the steps. Brew the potion. Even the old version of herself had only known more ingredient properties, mastered more recipes, and learned to judge timing and brew faster.

That vast store of knowledge had built her a solid foundation. It was still nowhere near enough.

Failure. Failure. Failure again.

Praeris raked both hands through her hair in the empty Potions classroom and paced, restless.

She was taking three electives, treating the other two more or less as hobbies, and still trying to carve out time between everything to crack the Wolfsbane Potion. She wished she could snatch Granger's Time-Turner right now, even though she knew perfectly well it couldn't actually create more time.

"You look like a madwoman." Draco stood leaning against the doorframe, arms folded. "What are you working on?"

She had no idea where he'd appeared from. Of all people, of all places.

Praeris exhaled. "Professor Snape's extra assignment. Aren't you at training? I thought Slytherin had Gryffindor coming up."

Draco swaggered in and dropped into the chair across from her, legs spread and both arms draped out across the tabletop, somehow managing to turn a Potions classroom chair into the Slytherin common room sofa.

He smirked. "Hah. Whether Gryffindor gets to play Slytherin depends on whether they can get past Hufflepuff first."

"Your opponents changed?"

"Well, Slytherin's Seeker got injured, didn't he?" Draco's tone was a knife wrapped in silk. "All thanks to their good friend Hagrid, who broke my arm. Their whole strategy is useless now. They're not playing me, they're playing Cedric Diggory."

"You're scared of him? Is that why you switched opponents?"

"Scared of him? Scared of Potter, the one who faints at the sight of a Dementor?" Draco laughed out loud. "But you have to admit, using strategy is part of having strength. And Gryffindor has absolutely none in that department."

Praeris shook her head. "Sure, you're very strong. Now stop standing here wasting my time. As you can see, I'm spinning like a top. Let me alone for a bit."

"I don't think you mind."

Draco didn't move. He settled in deeper, as though his backside had grown roots into the Potions classroom chair.

He fixed his gaze on Praeris's lowered eyes. "You think Potter is better than me, don't you. You don't have to say it, I already know. You all think that. Like Peeves covered your eyes and you're stumbling around blind."

"You all?" Praeris set down her quill and started rolling up her parchment. "I suppose I'm destined to never have one peaceful hour. What exactly do you want to say? What 'you all'?"

Draco seemed to hear what he'd just said and tried to slide past it. "Are you saying you don't think that? Come off it! He's just some boy raised in a Muggle household. Fate lifted him up high, and eventually it'll slam him back down. Then bang. Smashed to pieces."

Praeris sighed. "There's something I've never asked you. Why do you care so much about Potter? The Dark Lord's prophecy spoke of two children, and Potter is the opponent he chose. But what about you? No one ever put those two choices in front of you. So why do you always keep your eyes on Potter? Why do you care so much?"

Draco's face went stark white. He said nothing.

"You care a great deal about your father, don't you?" Praeris said quietly. "I heard that in first year, at the bookshop, you went up to Potter yourself and tried to make friends. He turned you down. That's unusual, you, taking the initiative. Was it your father's idea?"

"Enough!" Draco shot to his feet, his expression ugly.

Praeris sighed. "Do you like running from things? Do you think that solves anything? Like with this Quidditch match."

"I said enough! Praeris Prince, do you think I'll just keep tolerating you forever? Always so arrogant, always acting like you can do anything, wandering through other people's heads like they're your own private garden to stroll around in! Fine, yes, I envy him. Are you satisfied? Isn't that exactly what you wanted to hear?"

"My father never said a word, but I know that in his eyes Potter is far more than I am. He also thinks my grades don't measure up to yours and Granger's. Fine! Potter gets more attention! You're both smarter! So what? Are your lives any better than mine? Your family isn't exactly warm, is it? At least my father and mother both love me. And Granger, she's a Mudblood!"

Praeris watched him quietly. Watched him come apart in front of her, composure gone, words pouring out before he could stop them. He had even forgotten how to properly get at Praeris. He just kept shouting, one thing after another.

The one who thought Potter was better than him wasn't her. It was him and his father. The one who cared about Potter wasn't her. It was Draco himself.

His father and mother both loved him deeply. Doted on him. And precisely because of that, they had kept very little from him, their attitudes, their grudges, their judgments had seeped into Draco and shaped him from the inside out.

That doting had bred a quiet weakness in him. Had taught him to run. When he saw that Potter was getting more attention, his first instinct wasn't to become stronger, to earn recognition through real ability, it was to go after Potter, again and again.

"About done?" Praeris said softly. "Said everything you needed to say?"

Draco leaned both hands on the table, head down, and said nothing.

"Stop comparing yourself to him. I don't think you're less than Potter. You're about the same in my eyes. The only one with a brain actually worth something is Granger."

Draco still didn't speak. He slammed his fist against the table.

Praeris said quietly, "But your Potions work is genuinely good, isn't it? Among the boys in our house, only Theodore Nott can match you. You've done real research into Alchemy, when you talked to me about it, there was plenty I'd never heard before. Do you think Potter could do any of that? Your spellwork is excellent too. Serpensortia, you cast it after hearing the professor say two sentences."

The fist still pressed against the table curled slowly into a tighter knot.

"I used to feel resentful toward you," Praeris said. "At the start, the professor only ever praised your Potions work. I wanted to know exactly who was more deserving of recognition than me. Later, I stopped caring about that."

Draco turned his lowered head slightly toward his left, and the hair falling across his face hid his expression.

"It wasn't because you got worse. It was because I realized I shouldn't be measuring myself against you. I should be measuring myself against myself, learning more, doing what I need to do, making myself stronger."

"Draco." Her voice stayed quiet. "Is Potter really worth all that time you spend grinding over him? Worth burning the time you could be using to grow, just to keep going after him? Do you remember how you lost last time? When your eyes had nothing in them but Potter, even when the Golden Snitch was right beside you, you couldn't see it."

➤ Next: The Patronus Charm