Chapter 79 - The Clever and the "Clever"

"That's right," Miles said with perfect confidence. "We're friends."

And with that, he actually settled in and started listening to the conch shell in earnest.

Draco froze. He looked at Praeris in disbelief, then at Miles.

Praeris didn't deny it. She just lowered her head and went back to eating her bread.

Draco leaned in close, his voice dropping low. "I never knew you and Bletchley were friends. Is this some new hobby of yours, then?"

Praeris did strange things sometimes, things she never told anyone about. Even Millicent and the others had gotten used to her vanishing for stretches and then reappearing without explanation.

But Draco couldn't let this one go. A bug was crawling back and forth inside his chest.

Praeris wasn't the type to collect friends. She and Miles weren't even in the same year. She had no real interest in Quidditch. And she didn't exactly keep a circle of male friends.

Most importantly, Miles and Marcus had a lot in common.

Draco couldn't shake the memory of all that speculation about Praeris and Marcus. Plenty of people had privately shipped the two of them.

If Praeris hadn't personally shot that down,

"What an interesting thing to say." Praeris swept a sidelong glance at him. "Do I need to file a daily report on my affairs? I have somewhere to be."

She fled the Great Hall like she was escaping.

That atmosphere had been impossible to digest. Nothing had even happened, and yet it had made her restless, unsettled.

Too strange.

A chill ran through her.

She pulled up her cloak's hood and climbed the stairs, circling up and up until she reached the top of the Astronomy Tower.

The Astronomy Tower was a good place. No classes up here during the day, and even after evening sessions, few people lingered.

Praeris pulled out the key Professor Sinistra had given her, unlocked the Astronomy classroom door, and retrieved Stella's "legacy" from a drawer tucked in the corner, edamame and peanuts. She started crunching away.

This was their fault. Those two. She hadn't eaten nearly enough.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK,

Praeris opened the door and waved the visitor in.

"Hey, Hermione. Morning." Praeris greeted her warmly. "Snacks? Fair warning — there's snacks, but no actual drinks to go with them."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I've eaten. How did you get a key to the Astronomy classroom?"

The tower itself was easy enough to access. But the classroom was locked. Professor Sinistra kept all sorts of treasures in there, complete with custom anti-theft charms.

"Professor Sinistra's actually quite reasonable." Praeris paused. "Alright, that gorgeous model behind you? I bought it."

Hermione let out a short laugh, then sighed. "Do you believe—"

"I believe you," Praeris said.

Hermione's face lit up. "I knew you would! Someone is definitely trying to harm Harry. We just don't know who, or what they're after."

"That's the problem. We're short on information." Praeris leaned forward. "Let's brainstorm. Right now, the suspicious ones are Bagman, Crouch, and Moody."

Hermione stared. "Why Moody? Because you dueled him? I haven't even told you yet, that was incredible!"

"Thank you." Praeris's voice was calm. "But why aren't you protesting for Bagman and Crouch? And tell me, do you think I'm the sort of person who holds a grudge just because someone crossed me?"

"I — that's not what I meant." Hermione looked embarrassed.

"I know." A faint smile crossed Praeris's face.

"Someone already inside the school would have countless ways to get at Potter. No need for a method this convoluted and uncertain, even if their goal goes beyond Potter himself. This has to be an outsider who arrived this year. That narrows it to the two headmasters, Bagman, Crouch, and Moody."

Hermione caught on fast. "Madame Maxime and Karkaroff don't know Hogwarts well enough. They're out. And you read the papers, you know Bagman and Crouch were both at the Death Eater rally during the World Cup. They stay on the list. And then there's Winky."

She explained about the house-elf. Harry's missing wand. The Dark Mark blazing in the sky. And Winky, found in the woods, clutching that very wand.

The Crouch family's house-elf.

Praeris nodded. "Hermione, I genuinely admire how fast your mind works."

"But Crouch and Moody hate Death Eaters more than anyone," Hermione said, baffled. "They're the ones who put half of them in Azkaban!"

"People also think Sirius Black sold out the Potters and licked You-Know-Who's boots." Praeris's laugh was sharp with contempt. "If we're that eager to swallow other people's conclusions, we might as well just read Skeeter and call it a day."

Hermione drew a deep breath. "You're right."

"Bagman's certainly not clean either." Praeris shifted gears. "I found out he was once accused of aiding the Death Eater Rookwood. That said, his magic's nothing impressive. For bypassing Dumbledore's Age Line, Crouch and Moody are far more plausible."

"Mr. Crouch, he looks like the perfect hero, but his son's a Death Eater. He lost his family fighting Voldemort. We can't rule out a complete break, a change of allegiance. Don't be angry. This is just brainstorming."

Hermione's voice rose. "So heroes have to have flawless morals now? And their families too?"

"You're right." Praeris smiled. "I wish it weren't so. But that's what the world demands. And right now, we're trying to catch whoever framed Potter. That means no emotional bias. If the suspect were Professor Snape, I'd put him on the list too, until I found evidence clearing him."

"Sorry." Hermione clenched her fist. "I wasn't being calm. What about Moody?"

"Moody has the skill." Praeris's tone was measured. "The papers say he came to Hogwarts because he attacked a rubbish bin, violated the Statute of Secrecy, got sacked by the Ministry. But his current mental state doesn't match that story. He's cruel, sensitive, paranoid, but nowhere near deranged."

She didn't share all her suspicions. She couldn't be sure Moody wouldn't use Legilimency on Hermione.

"That's not evidence," Hermione pointed out.

Praeris shrugged. "Which is why I said suspicion. Every year's Defense professor has been a special case. I'll keep watching him. What does Potter say?"

Hermione looked pained. "Oh, I don't know what to do. Sirius is nearly in Scotland, but Harry still won't tell him. If I hadn't kept insisting, "

"Sirius will find out eventually," Praeris said.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. In the newspaper."

Praeris's voice turned almost clinical. "Hermione, Potter doesn't believe adults will solve his problems. I hear his aunt and uncle didn't treat him well. That shapes a person. Adults can't be trusted, so he can only rely on himself."

"He'll trust Dumbledore's power. His wisdom. But he won't believe Dumbledore will actually solve anything for him. He believes Sirius loves him, but he won't burden Sirius. He's afraid his own actions will cost him a family member, the way he lost his parents."

Hermione looked stunned. "Maybe it's not that serious. Where did you learn all this?"

"Some amateur psychology. Criminal psychology." Praeris shrugged. "Muggle stuff. Fascinating, actually."

"Oh no, criminal psychology!" Hermione covered her face. "And Harry and Ron are fighting. I'm finally getting Harry's experience from last year, stuck right in the middle."

"Why? He doesn't believe Potter either?" Praeris raised an eyebrow.

Hermione shook her head. "No. Ron's jealous of Harry."

"Does Weasley need to pick a fight with someone every single year?"

Hermione laughed at that. "You probably won't believe this, but he's actually the best-tempered of the three of us. Harry and I are far more stubborn. I know a little psychology too. Just wait, Ron will talk himself around."

"Same as last year, then?" Praeris smiled.

Hermione's laugh was bright. "Yes. He apologized to Crookshanks."

"Unbelievable." Praeris shook her head. "So the three of you, the whole dynamic depends on Weasley. Once he comes around, harmony returns. So just comfort Potter and ride it out."

"Put like that, it really does seem that way. So — do you know how to make Harry, er — trust adults?" Hermione asked, the words coming hard.

A trace of nostalgia crept into Praeris's voice. "I used to not trust anyone either. I only trusted myself. My own mind. Now I can tell you, he needs love. Love from adults worth trusting. You should find his godfather. Sirius. It seems that before he walked himself into that trap, he never stopped to consider who was supposed to give an orphaned boy any love at all."

Hermione rushed to Sirius's defense. "Back then, he thought he'd failed Harry's parents. He thought switching the Secret-Keeper was what got them, "

"Oh, he did fail Harry's parents." Praeris's words carried a sharp, mocking edge. "Not just because his arrogant, reckless decision killed the Potters. But because he didn't take proper care of his poor godson afterward."

Hermione inhaled slowly. "Alright. We can't keep going down this road. This is Harry's family business. About what you mentioned last time, the house-elves..."

Half an hour later, Praeris said goodbye to a deeply troubled Hermione.

She regretted some of what she'd said. The words had come out hot. She'd been taking out her anger on Sirius, his impulsiveness, his irresponsibility. He reminded her of that woman in Azkaban.

If she asked herself honestly, the moment she'd learned Sirius was innocent, had some part of her hoped? Hoped that Sylvia might be innocent too?

It was impossible to say no. But what would that change?

Praeris smiled bitterly at her own foolish hope.

She was already living well enough.

Think about it. So many people loved her, stood by her, taught her. And here she was, still wallowing over scraps of the past. Ungrateful, really.

She headed down the stairs, looking for an empty classroom to keep practicing spells.

The underground classrooms were her usual spot, close to the Slytherin common room, and students from other houses never wanted to come down here.

She pushed open a door and heard a familiar voice inside.

"I hear that big oaf Bletchley spoke to you alone last night?" Draco's laugh was a scoff. He swung his right leg and hopped down from the table, arms crossing as a mocking smile settled on his face. "Don't tell me you actually think he has some quality worth a second glance."

This classroom isn't safe, Praeris thought.

She turned to leave. Draco's hand pressed down on her shoulder.

"Feeling guilty? First Flint. Then Longbottom. Now Bletchley." His voice dripped with derision. "You always have such surplus pity for fools. What's the plan, become a Hogwarts teacher after graduation?"

Praeris felt her temper catch. She smacked his hand away. "Watch your mouth. I've accepted Marcus and Bletchley as my friends, you don't get to talk about them like that in front of me. How would you like it if I cursed Crabbe and, fine. How would you like it if I cursed Nott in front of you?"

She caught herself. Draco himself sometimes said Goyle and the others weren't sharp enough.

His answer surprised her. "You'd never do that. If you cursed Theodore, he'd deserve it."

"So you've finally realized you're being unreasonable?" She raised an eyebrow.

Draco's gaze drifted slowly away.

She was angered straight into laughter.

Seeing her laugh, the corner of Draco's mouth lifted, just barely, before pulling back.

"You ought to thank me." His voice was small now, defensive. "This is heartfelt advice. Spending your energy on people like that only wastes your time."

"Then where should I spend it so it won't be wasted? On a clever person like you?" Praeris didn't know whether to laugh or scream. "Ah, yes. You're the smartest, Draco. Smart enough to get caught by Moody and need me to bail you out."

Draco lowered his head, something guilty flickering across his face. He changed the subject. "Do you want to see my research? I've made a lamp that resists the Extinguishing Charm."

Praeris asked before she could stop herself. "What material did you use? The lampshade, or the oil?"

"The lampshade. I bought scales shed by a merperson during its growth period." He paused. "There are other spells and materials involved, of course. If you want to see..."

"Then that lamp is absurdly extravagant."

"What does money matter? You should be concerned with my craftsmanship!"

➤ Next: Changes — Face to Face