Chapter 86 - The First Task

"Can it tell whether two people are fated for each other? Whether they can stay together for a lifetime?" A Gryffindor girl raised her hand.

Professor Vector laughed. "Lavender Brown, is it? Miss Brown, Arithmancy can certainly divine the connection between two people. But there are some who, even when their attributes are incompatible, still reach for each other's hands. Because when the Fates spin their thread, they leave one strand in our own keeping."

After finishing his explanation of love divination, Professor Vector gave the remaining time to the students and let everyone practice on their own.

He settled himself quite cheerfully on an empty desk in the front row and chatted with the students nearby about the Triwizard Tournament.

Praeris was halfway through her calculations when she heard Lavender — the one who had just raised her hand, propose, "Why don't we calculate how the boys we like feel about love?!"

Several Gryffindor girls lit up at once. One of them declared, "I'm going to calculate Cedric and Krum!"

"That's a bit greedy, isn't it? Two at once?"

"What's wrong with two? Don't tell me you're not curious —"

"Oh, stop it!"

The corner of Praeris's mouth twitched. She shook her head.

Pansy nudged her. "Aren't you going to calculate you and Bletchley?"

"There's no need," Praeris said slowly. "I only believe in the thread I hold in my own hand."

By the afternoon, the Triwizard Tournament arrived as scheduled.

"There are so many more people here than at a regular Quidditch match."

Millicent couldn't help marveling. She and Daphne Greengrass had saved seats early, holding them for Pansy and Praeris, who still had class before lunch.

Pansy and Praeris squeezed their way through the crowd and nearly got pressed into paste. Especially Pansy, she wasn't as tall as Praeris, and by the time they'd pushed through the worst of it, her feet had practically left the ground.

"I couldn't even see where you were!" Pansy complained, her face scrunched. "Good thing I held onto Plai's sleeve for dear life."

Praeris raised her left hand. "You're paying for this," she said, all innocence.

Her cuff had been yanked completely out of shape.

Millicent and Daphne Greengrass couldn't hold their laughter back.

The moment the dragon handlers hauled the first dragon into the arena, the stands became a beehive. A hundred conversations, loud and quiet, blurred together into a single buzzing roar.

No one had quite been able to picture it before now. The champions were going to face a dragon.

"I mean — that is a dragon," Millicent said, sounding faintly disbelieving. "It takes five grown adults just to control one of them."

She meant the handlers.

A whistle blew. Dumbledore signaled for quiet. The first champion was about to enter.

Everyone, students and teachers alike, craned their necks toward the entrance.

The first contender stepped out to face the Swedish Short-Snout. It was Hogwarts's own Diggory.

Diggory was not an impulsive person. He held to the edge of the arena and observed the dragon and its surroundings from a distance. The crowd held its breath, as if even the sound of breathing might disturb his thinking.

Then he moved. Diggory raised his wand and transfigured a rock on the ground into a Newfoundland dog.

"His Transfiguration marks must be excellent," Praeris said, and she meant it.

She was right. The Newfoundland dog was remarkably convincing, and the Swedish Short-Snout took the bait almost immediately. It hesitated, left its nest, and lumbered toward the dog. Diggory seized the opening and sprinted for the golden egg.

A Hufflepuff student punched the air. "That's it!"

Diggory reached the egg. He touched it.

Millicent let out a hushed "wow." "Is he going to win?"

Praeris shook her head. "Depends on luck."

Diggory had used a single Transfiguration spell. He hadn't restrained the dragon or done anything to conceal himself.

If his luck held, he'd pass just like that, clean and simple. If it didn't...

The dragon's head swung around. It saw Diggory mid-sprint. It saw the golden egg tucked in his arms.

"Ah —"

The entire stands erupted. The noise was like a whole greenhouse of Mandrakes being yanked from the soil all at once. Praeris clapped both hands over her ears, but she still felt the impact rattle through her eardrums.

Diggory dodged with quick, agile movements, but he couldn't escape entirely. A tongue of flame caught him.

Injured as he was, he forced himself forward on sheer will and crossed into the entrance with the egg still in his arms.

Millicent murmured, sounding a little numb, "Being a champion — isn't it a bit too dangerous?"

Most people in the crowd were like Millicent. They had never really understood the danger before today. Perhaps some had heard that past tournaments had seen casualties, but no one had taken it seriously. You could break your neck in a Quidditch match, after all.

The truth was that what cut short most witches' and wizards' lives wasn't their health. It was the danger woven into the way they lived.

The second champion was Beauxbatons's Delacour, facing a Welsh Green. She used a sleeping charm, and she almost pulled it off, until the dragon snored and set her skirt alight.

The third was Krum, against a Chinese Fireball. The spell he used was one Praeris had never seen before. Whatever it was, he hit the dragon squarely in the eye, and the dragon was too occupied with that to pay attention to him. The trouble was, a temporarily blinded dragon couldn't look after its eggs either, and it crushed several in a row.

The Ministry of Magic was probably beside themselves. Those eggs had to be worth a small fortune.

The fourth champion was, as ever, the perpetually unlucky savior Harry Potter. Out of a pen of already ferocious dragons, he had drawn the most ferocious of all, the Hungarian Horntail.

Compared to the others, Potter looked better. Less nervous.

What surprised Praeris was that he used a Summoning Charm to call his Firebolt to him and took to circling the Horntail on it.

Praeris found she appreciated Potter more now than she had in second year.

She couldn't help thinking about it. Truly unexpected. He had found his own talent and used it well. This approach suited him perfectly, it was the way of fighting he knew best.

One thing that was easy to miss: this was real combat. In real combat, there is no single best approach. There is only the most suitable one.

Praeris's own solution would have been closer to Diggory's.

Diggory was excellent, that was undeniable. But his practical experience was thin and his spell repertoire too narrow. So he couldn't adapt on the fly the way real combat demanded, and he couldn't account for every danger that might appear.

Given all that, his mistake in the arena wasn't actually surprising.

Potter was different. His Transfiguration wasn't as sharp as Diggory's. His spells, in breadth and raw power, weren't on the level of Praeris's. But he had his own strengths.

Without anyone else's help, the decision to use his broomstick showed that he understood himself clearly. Through that choice, he pulled an unfamiliar competition onto ground he knew. He turned the problem of dealing with a dragon into a Quidditch match, something he could handle in his sleep.

In the scoring, Diggory's burn was a deduction. Krum's destroyed eggs were a deduction. Delacour's burnt skirt was a deduction. Potter injuring his arm toward the end was a deduction.

But what couldn't be ignored was that Potter had finished the fastest.

"Looks like Potter will be first," Millicent said. "Still a shame about Diggory."

The results came out after a wait. Potter did take first place, but tied with Krum.

Karkaroff had marked him unfairly, doing everything he could to suppress his score for Potter. That was what had created this outcome.

Meanwhile, Hermione was methodically interrogating Harry, pressing him to go over everything that had happened before and after the task. That was the arrangement she and Praeris had made.

Praeris had put it to Hermione like this: "I can't build a roof without laying a foundation. And I can't reach a conclusion without information."

So if Hermione wanted to identify the person behind all of this alongside Praeris, she needed to gather more first.

Ron and Harry had made up, which made Hermione glad. But now that they weren't fighting, they talked complete rubbish the entire time and made it nearly impossible for Hermione to get any real work done.

Still, Ron managed a few useful remarks. He told Harry and Hermione that Karkaroff had once been a Death Eater.

Hermione stopped. "I didn't mention that? Of course he's a Death Eater!"

"You didn't mention it!" Harry and Ron said in unison.

Hermione clapped her hands. "I've been so busy I forgot! Spoon told me that Karkaroff was the one Moody caught back then. But he's definitely not the one who did this."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Right. The invisible fourth person. Looks like we've finally got two Hermiones."

Harry followed on from that. "We really do owe him — he's helped us a lot. But what's his reason?"

"Spoon and I are not the same," Hermione said. "We've discussed it. The professors patrol the corridors at night. Karkaroff didn't graduate from Hogwarts — he doesn't know this castle, and he doesn't have an Invisibility Cloak. There's no way he could have managed all of this without being caught."

Harry and Ron looked at each other. That hadn't occurred to either of them.

"Harry," Hermione said, "you need to tell me everything Bagman, Crouch, and Professor Moody said to you. Every single word."

"You suspect Moody?!" Ron said. "He's an Auror!"

Harry nodded too. "He's a bit odd, but he genuinely helped me. And Dumbledore trusts him. Doesn't that count for something?"

Hermione thought of Praeris's foresight and kept to the script they'd agreed on. "When Ginny was being controlled, we never suspected Ginny either — but the outcome shocked everyone. Harry, Spoon says this has to be done."

It had to be said: under Hermione's quiet, steady influence, Harry and Ron had grown used to their invisible "friend."

"If Spoon wanted to hurt us, he wouldn't have had to save us this many times," Harry had said to Ron once.

There was no way around it. This particular friend was different from their others. Spoon was always half-hidden, and it always took time for Harry and Ron to fully accept his presence.

All in all, Hermione interrogated Harry like a detective, writing down every word those three people had said.

"And now it's done," Ron said, giving Harry a mocking look. "Harry, you have no secrets left. I'd bet Hermione and her friend are going to get a magnifying glass and pick through every sentence you've said."

Harry gave a faintly resigned shrug. "Can you stop her?"

"To be precise," Hermione corrected them both, "not every sentence Harry said. Every sentence those three said to Harry."

"Looks like I can't," Ron said to Harry.

Praeris had no idea Hermione was busy putting Potter through an interrogation. Standing in front of her was Draco.

Draco glanced around her, clearly thinking himself discreet, confirmed that no one he didn't want to see was nearby, and gave a satisfied nod.

"Professor Snape is looking for you," Draco said, drawing the words out.

Praeris sighed.

Right. What had to come would come.

As she well knew, Professor Snape was the one teacher at Hogwarts who actively cracked down on puppy love.

That was how ordinary students saw it, anyway.

From what Praeris knew of him, the professor simply couldn't stand certain boys and girls making a scene in public. He didn't actually interfere with any pair who were merely walking together.

But she was different.

No strict guardian could stand watching a child they had raised fall into love too early. Least of all Professor Snape.

His oversight of Praeris ran from the school year through the summer holidays, from Hogwarts to Diagon Alley.

As far as she knew, even this year, Old Tom was still writing to Professor Snape every week or two, faithfully reporting on whatever she had gotten up to over the summer.

Praeris walked into the office looking thoroughly cowed and received a severe dressing-down. She swore on Merlin that her relationship with Bletchley was now strictly that of classmates, and was immediately reminded that she didn't believe in Merlin.

"Fair point," Praeris said, with every appearance of sincerity. "In that case, I suppose I can only swear by you, sir."

Snape fixed her with a sharp look. "Young lady. You should know by now that a glib tongue is not a means of escape."

Praeris opened her eyes wide. "Sir. But you know I would never deceive you."

"You had better not," Snape said coldly.

As it turned out, a glib tongue still had its uses.

Snape's punishment was to assign her the same tasks she'd done back in first and second year.

It was difficult to think of this as a punishment. Praeris actually enjoyed the feeling of working in the lab alongside Professor Snape.

She had read some Muggle books once. Muggle parents, while busy with their own work, would give their children simple tasks to keep them occupied, so the children weren't following them around all day going "Mum, Mum, Mum."

Praeris had the rather shameless habit of treating the time spent working in the office as a kind of parent-and-child activity. She set to it quite happily.

It was hard for Snape not to notice her happiness.

Small children were a species he had never quite managed to understand.

The Snape of years past, looking at her, small and bony and bristling, had sometimes caught a glimpse of his younger self. The Snape of the present felt none of that anymore when he looked at her.

That left him with something caught between quiet reflection and a mild, not-particularly-serious exasperation.

---

Response (Not a main-story update)

This is a response post, addressed to the small number of readers who feel that the female lead, Praeris Prince, isn't Slytherin enough.

More specifically: some people think she isn't cold-blooded enough?

Before we get into that, it helps to look at a wider range of Slytherins, not only Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

I want to be clear: this book is not about writing a typical Death Eater, a cruel Slytherin. What I want to do is fill in the side of Slytherin that doesn't usually get shown, the non-villain side of the house everyone casts as the villain.

There are already more than enough evil Slytherins in the world. We certainly don't need our little sister to be one more.

(Though she isn't purely good, either.)

Voldemort. Bellatrix. Rodolphus. Crabbe, who called up Fiendfyre and was consumed by it. Countless other Death Eaters, old Nott and the rest.

But there are other Slytherins. They are different.

Snape. Regulus. Slughorn. Andromeda.

Professor Snape chose to work as a double agent and gave his life to it. Regulus sacrificed himself to destroy the locket. Andromeda chose to marry a wizard from a Muggle-born family.

Slughorn made Muggle friends. He showed genuine kindness to Lily. He came back to Hogwarts because he was ashamed. He once said to Harry: "Don't think too badly of me after you've seen this."

And yes, he turned up for the final battle in the end.

Though right before it, he made a point of downing an entire bottle of Felix Felicis. Ha.

Ginny's storyline drew a fair amount of controversy, I know. But I didn't delete it.

I decided I wouldn't, because I believe Slytherins carry the same human light as anyone else. No one is born cruel.

Praeris Prince grew up in an unhappy orphanage and carries the blood of a Gryffindor mother. Her spiritual father is her blood-relative, the most quietly resilient and formidable Slytherin, Snape. Her spiritual mother is the kind-hearted Madam Sprout, and the gentle but steady Prim Purnell. Her spiritual aunt is the pure Ravenclaw, Winnie.

These were the people who shaped her during adolescence, the years when a person's values actually take root. This is why Dumbledore had Madam Sprout watch over her, and had Winnie stay close.

Dumbledore once said that the qualities Salazar Slytherin prized above all when choosing students were cleverness, resourcefulness, strong will, and "a certain disregard for the rules." (I spotted a reader quoting this line in the comments once. Nice.)

Crabbe and Goyle had none of those qualities. They were Slytherins anyway. Praeris has all of them, and yet some readers feel she isn't Slytherin enough.

Isn't that its own kind of stereotype?

Cunning and ambition can lead to dark places, yes. But they aren't dark words from the start. Who would say Slughorn lacks a sharp mind and ambition? The Slug Club is right there.

Gryffindor courage can serve evil just as well, and who would dare say Peter, who killed ten people and went head-to-head with Sirius, wasn't brave?

Wisdom can serve the darkness too. Ravenclaw's own distinguished graduate Quirrell is available for comment.

As for loyalty, who would dare say Bellatrix wasn't loyal to Voldemort? (Bellatrix will come for you.)

I want to be clear that I'm not taking a swing at the other houses. It's just that I find it hard to ignore the demand that our little sister be "more Slytherin."

Haven't Slytherins ever wondered this themselves?

In your eyes, what exactly are we?

Little sister once mocked the wizarding world for treating Harry's fate, something he never had a say in, as tragedy-as-spectacle.

I once let the Sorting Hat speak to her, and in that moment I told her I hoped she would, in time, come to see things differently.

That is what I want for her.

The witches and wizards who are truly powerful, truly worth respecting, always carry something of the other houses in them.

It isn't something you're born with. It's something that growth and experience carve into you, something rare and worth having.

That is the quality that makes them shine.

Harry has Slytherin traits, Dumbledore said so himself. Hermione carries plenty of Ravenclaw. Ron has the loyalty of a Hufflepuff. And Dumbledore himself is the fullest expression of all four.

What moved readers most about Professor Snape was also a quality that went against type, a sacrifice that his painful history forced from him, the kind of thing people were certain a Slytherin would never do.

Self-preservation above all, after all. Isn't that right?

People find it hard to believe that Slytherin has warmth in it, as if every single one of them goes around wearing a sign that reads "I am the villain."

That's quite enough of that.

If there were really no warmth at all, how would little dragon ever have said "I'm telling my father"?

Finally, I hope everyone reads happily. Getting to give you a good time, even for a little while, is genuinely something I'm grateful for.

And one last thing.

To Slytherin.

➤ Next: Stay Away From Me