Chapter 63 - End of Term

"Look at you — disturbing someone's sleep over this?" Selwyn's grin stretched almost to the point of splitting. "Miss Prince, if you're having nightmares, just brew yourself some Sleeping Draught and knock it back. All right?"

"Miss Selwyn, I never joke about such things!" The low voice couldn't hide the steel underneath. "Professor Trelawney said that the mystical favors me."

"I believe this dream is a warning. Professor Snape is in real danger. We only need to check his office to find out whether it's true. I stake my reputation on it — if we're punished, I'll shoulder all the blame myself."

Praeris's earliest memories began at the convent, and the Church's influence on her went without saying. Saint Francis once dreamed of a palace, the Muggle so-called "Lord" guiding his destiny.

Praeris had never believed in any of that. It looked less like divine guidance and more like a gimmick for chasing fame.

But in the wizarding world, one of the OWL Divination reference texts was The Dream Oracle. Dreams bridged the future and the past, bound up with a wizard's brain, memory, and soul. At Uagadou School of Magic in Africa, they even announced a young witch or wizard's admission through dreams.

She was only a student. Dreaming that a respected teacher was in danger sounded like the product of an overactive imagination. But Praeris had long suspected it, some connection she couldn't openly name had to exist between her and Professor Snape.

Professor Snape had taught her how to split her concentration across multiple lines of research. He had secured her the privilege of staying away from the convent over the summer holidays. He had assigned extra homework tailored specifically to her talents, and cleaned up the mess after her use of permission slips. He had given her a full two months to consider her elective choices, and had personally asked her about the details of the Boggart incident.

He would not have spared that kind of thought for anyone else. His attitude toward Draco was more like the hollow praise an adult gives a distant relative's child, purely mechanical, no feeling behind it. Toward the Potter trio he disliked, it was nothing but blunt, crushing punishment.

All of it was buried under caustic words. And yet his tolerance for Praeris had almost reached the point that could be called leniency.

That was precisely why she couldn't dismiss this dream. If Professor Snape's kindness toward her came from some existing bond between them, did that mean they also shared a mystical connection?

Perhaps blood. Perhaps the teacher-student tie his goodwill had created.

If the dream was real, and Praeris shrugged it off as just a nightmare, she would never forgive herself.

Selwyn gave her a long, measuring look and grabbed the cloak beside her bed. "If you're going to take all the blame yourself, then what exactly is a prefect for?"

"Miss Prince, I could choose not to believe you at all. Professor Snape's safety is hardly our concern, after all."

"But Flint and Farley both call you a genius worth respecting. I don't know whether you've actually discovered something and are using a dream as a convenient excuse. What I do know is this: once I choose to believe you, it becomes my responsibility."

She raised her voice toward her roommates. "Miss Prince is feeling a bit off. I'm taking her to see Professor Snape. Leave the door unlocked for us!"

What followed, Selwyn had no way to explain. Everything unfolded exactly as Praeris had said, point by point.

They knocked on Professor Snape's office door. He wasn't there. Praeris then asked Selwyn to go with her to Lupin's office.

"Why Lupin — er, Professor Lupin?" Selwyn asked.

Slytherin students weren't as bad about it as Hagrid, but they still had their share of prejudice against Remus Lupin. Praeris's choice baffled her.

Praeris offered no explanation. Operating on the principle that one more problem hardly mattered at this point, Selwyn went and knocked on Professor Lupin's door anyway.

Professor Lupin wasn't in his office either.

Selwyn's composure started to slip. Was there a single teacher on duty anywhere in this school? She turned to Praeris in a fluster. "Prince, what do we do now?"

She had the unsettling feeling that Praeris was Gemma Farley, and she herself was some lost underclassman. She was a prefect, and she was asking a student for direction.

Praeris pulled her shawl tighter. "Go find Professor McGonagall."

Walking through Hogwarts at night, the empty castle put even Selwyn on edge in a way she rarely felt. Moonlight fell through the corridor windows in pale sheets, hazy as white gauze, and Selwyn had the strange sensation of standing at the seam between a dream and the waking world.

By the time they reached Professor McGonagall's door, Selwyn finally breathed again. At least there was one reliable adult left in this castle.

Professor McGonagall opened the door and looked at them both with genuine surprise. "You two — still not in bed at this hour!"

Praeris moved quickly. "Professor McGonagall, Miss Selwyn was dragged out by me. I have a small talent for observation, and certain details I noticed gave me an ominous feeling — one that's since been confirmed. It's also, by rather unfortunate coincidence, a full moon tonight. And we couldn't find either professor in their offices."

Professor McGonagall's face changed completely. "How can that be!"

The words were barely out before she turned and strode out of her office without a backward glance, as though she had not a shred of doubt about anything Praeris had said.

Selwyn grabbed Praeris's arm. "Prince, Professor McGonagall didn't even ask who the two professors were. Should we follow?"

"There's nothing to ask." Praeris's face was calm. "Follow her for what? To be a burden?"

Selwyn paced.

She had a hundred questions and didn't know where to start with any of them. Geniuses were the most insufferable people in the world, always leaving things unsaid, treating half-explained things as common knowledge everyone obviously already had.

The magical clock ticked. Selwyn felt like hours had passed. When she finally looked, not even an hour was gone.

"Aren't you worried about Professor Snape at all?" Selwyn asked. "You weren't like this when you came to wake me up!"

Praeris hugged herself, eyes closed. "If Professor McGonagall can't help Professor Snape, then us being there wouldn't change anything. And if she can solve it, then us being there would just be useless anyway."

Selwyn started to reply. Then Professor McGonagall's voice came from just outside the door. "Miss Selwyn, I think Miss Prince is entirely right."

"Professor McGonagall!" Selwyn got to her feet.

Professor McGonagall looked heartened, almost elated, but underneath that, barely visible, was something worried that hadn't fully lifted. "Children, it's over. You did well. Very well. Now go back and get some rest."

Praeris opened her eyes and rose slowly. Her clothes had dried, clinging to her skin in a clammy, uncomfortable way.

"Professor McGonagall, I have a number of questions." She paused. "Don't worry, none of them are about werewolves. That, I don't need anyone to explain. This is about me. You already know, don't you?"

Selwyn stood between them. She swore she had never been more lost in her entire life.

Professor McGonagall's expression was its usual stern self, but something softer had crept into it. "Of course."

Selwyn left. The office held only Praeris and Professor McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall took a tin of tea from the cupboard and brewed Praeris a cup of black tea.

Praeris wrapped both hands around the cup. The steam blurred her vision.

"I thought for a long time about who to ask," she said quietly. "I thought it might be Professor Snape. Or Dumbledore. But Dumbledore must be very occupied right now."

"He is," Professor McGonagall said. "But speaking for myself, I think you deserve to know what you did for us tonight."

When Professor McGonagall had run out of the castle, Lupin was mid-transformation under the moonlight, and a great black dog was fighting him.

Professor McGonagall charged in without hesitation. She stopped her former student from committing an unforgivable act and kept her current students alive.

When everything finally quieted, she found three of her students had bound, with Incarcerous, another student she had long believed dead, Peter Pettigrew.

By daybreak, the truth would come out. Sirius Black was innocent. Peter Pettigrew had framed him, and Harry and the others had uncovered it all.

As for Professor Snape, once he discovered that Professor Lupin had not taken his Wolfsbane Potion, he had gone after him. In the altercation that followed, Professor Snape was accidentally injured and knocked unconscious. He was now safe.

Professor McGonagall's voice caught slightly. "If not for you, Harry and the others might have, thank goodness there are no 'ifs' to finish."

Praeris was quiet for a moment.

"Oh," she said finally. "That's good. I'm glad for them." A pause. "May I ask who knocked Professor Snape unconscious?"

Praeris's reaction was both outside Professor McGonagall's expectations and exactly what she should have expected. She was not the pure-hearted innocent that Professor Sprout, with her ten-meter-thick rose-tinted glasses, always described, but her concern for Professor Snape was unmistakable, whatever form it took.

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't know either. You may have to ask Professor Snape himself. Praeris, what was it you wanted to ask me?"

"My question," Praeris said. "I think you're already in the know, so asking you is the same as asking anyone else, isn't it? Your name was on my acceptance letter. And she was a Gryffindor."

A trace of approval crossed Professor McGonagall's face. "That is indeed the case."

"Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, Professor Sprout, and you," Praeris said. "That's right, isn't it?"

"And Filius. He said you were as clever as Hill."

"Professor Snape," Praeris said. "He has a relative with the surname Prince, doesn't he?"

"That is perhaps something Professor Snape should tell you himself," Professor McGonagall said. "But I think you already have your answer. Miss Prince, don't think for a moment that what you've received is special treatment you don't deserve. Your talent has earned all of it."

"Why did she..." Praeris hesitated. Then she swallowed the rest of it. "Never mind. It doesn't matter anymore."

"Child. That's all in the past now." Professor McGonagall stood and drew her into a brief embrace.

The moment Professor McGonagall let go, Praeris caught a white shape streaking silently across the sky through the window behind her.

She blinked.

It looked like Draco was going to have a bad day tomorrow.

The next morning, Praeris slept clean through breakfast. Millicent brought food back to the dormitory for her.

"So what actually happened to you last night?" Millicent asked, worried.

Praeris and Selwyn had already agreed on a story. "I wasn't feeling well. Miss Selwyn took me to Madam Pomfrey to get something for it."

"Good. I brought you pound cake. Remember first year, when you were unwell then too, it was also pound cake!" Millicent was already talking before she finished the thought. "Oh, and there's something you'll never believe, Professor Lupin is a werewolf!"

"Hm?" Praeris looked up.

"Professor Snape announced it at breakfast this morning. Terrifying, right? I really don't know what Dumbledore is thinking. What kind of creature do you think he'll hire next year? A vampire? A Veela?"

Praeris nodded slowly. So that was Professor Snape's revenge for being knocked unconscious the night before.

"So that's the good news, Remus Lupin has to go." Millicent settled at the foot of Praeris's bed. "But there's bad news. That Hippogriff escaped. And they're saying Sirius Black wasn't the one who killed the Potters, the real killer is someone called Peter Pettigrew. He's going to Azkaban."

Praeris waited.

She waited for Professor Snape to summon her, to dress her down for overstepping that night, or to finally lay all his cards on the table. But Professor Snape acted as though she didn't exist. No summons. No towering stack of assignments dumped on her head the way he usually did at year's end.

The absence left her strangely off-balance.

Still, there were things worth being happy about. She had earned an "O" in every subject. Stella had passed her NEWTs with flying colors. And Slytherin had won the House Cup.

Draco said, with considerable smugness, "Even though it's annoying that the beast got away, at least the Great Hall is the right color this year."

And it was. Dumbledore had pulled no last-minute reversal, no sudden burst of points for Gryffindor. He had simply and generously declared Slytherin the winners.

Across the sea of ecstatic Slytherin students, Praeris's gaze found Dumbledore's. He gave her a small, mischievous wink.

Fine. Gryffindor's endless drama did have its uses sometimes.

On the morning they were set to leave for Diagon Alley, Praeris finally found a letter waiting at her bedside.

To Miss Prince:

Miss, there are certain things in this world that cannot be escaped, such as fate, and summer holiday task lists.

The Half-Blood Prince

Beneath the envelope lay a thick roll of parchment and a stack of ancient books.

➤ Next: Dangerous Woman — What Was Lost