Chapter 109 - Scoring — The Conversation

"Umbridge has banned all student group activities!" Millicent stormed in, furious. "My Gobstones Club! Our Quidditch!"

"But you've never won a single game of Gobstones," Praeris said, genuinely puzzled. "You're still playing?"

Millicent and Hermione were alike in this way, neither of them hesitated to spend time on things that produced no returns.

Praeris was the exact opposite. After first year ended, she had dropped Quidditch completely, without a shred of struggle.

"I play Gobstones not because I can win," Millicent said, with the air of someone making a perfectly reasonable argument. "Just like I love Quidditch but don't have to compete in matches!"

"Then what's it for?" Daphne raised an eyebrow. "To get sprayed with the stink liquid?"

"Merlin! Listen to yourself! It's a hobby! A hobby!"

Millicent screamed in her head. These two joyless creatures!

Pansy spread her hands. "Millicent's Gobstones are just like my love life. The reason humans are human, and not tools for generating profit, is precisely because these things — the ones that produce no tangible value — have always been part of our lives."

"If we always measure people and things by their worth — whether a person has value or not —" Pansy sank into the thought, her expression shifting with it, "then what happens when the people we love lose their value? When we ourselves lose our value?"

"Then there's no need for them to exist," Daphne said coldly.

Pansy nodded. "Exactly. Which is why we have to allow useless people and useless things to exist."

Daphne let out a short scoff and shook her head.

She couldn't be bothered to debate Pansy. She changed the subject. "What about Quidditch, then? No more practice at all?"

"Gryffindor definitely can't practice," Praeris said. "But Slytherin, not necessarily. Come on. Time for class."

Is it because of worthless things that we are different from animals?

Something clicked in Praeris's mind.

Yes. Beasts seek only survival, to stay alive, to eat their fill.

But humans do meaningless things. Humans brew scented candles on the streets of London, or stand among a crowd of Muggles and watch a sunset they've already seen a thousand times.

Does any of it create profit? No.

But when Praeris did those things, she never once thought about whether they were useful.

In front of the Potions classroom.

The moment she spotted Draco, Millicent rushed straight at him. "Malfoy! Can we still train?"

"Bulstrode." Draco grinned. "That question of yours just barely hits the mark."

"See? We're keeping training." Draco pulled out a piece of parchment and announced it to the corridor. "I went to Professor Umbridge first thing this morning. She approved it on the spot."

"We Slytherins are always different." He said it like he was reporting a basic fact of nature. "For us, this sort of thing is as simple as eating or drinking. As for Gryffindor,"

Draco shot a look at the Gryffindors approaching from down the corridor. His eyes were full of something ugly. But he left the sentence right there, unfinished.

He had picked that up from Praeris.

Sometimes, a sentence left hanging infuriates people more than one spoken all the way through.

"Ah!" Millicent was too delighted to care about anything else. She looked ready to jump. "Brilliant!"

That look of Draco's had been filthy. Harry and Ron's faces went iron-gray. Both of them clenched their fists, eyes fixed on Draco, burning.

Hermione shot a panicked glance at the Slytherins, then spun back to Harry and Ron. "Don't! Whatever you do, don't! We're right outside the Potions classroom, he wants you to react!"

In her head, Hermione was praying desperately, hoping Praeris would somehow pick up on her distress signal.

Praeris... was unmoved.

She held the parchment Draco had given her and studied the magically printed lettering on it with focused attention.

Good heavens, this handwriting. It really was very... handwriting.

She had truly absorbed the essence of Miss Farley's lessons. As long as Draco wasn't the one taking the loss, why on earth should she stop him?

Prefect? What prefect?

Ah, right, right, there were 4 prefects standing here!

"I say, none of us are children anymore, are we?" Draco said pleasantly. "All prefects now. And yet some people still can't manage their emotions at the slightest provocation."

"Ah, forgive me, look at this." Draco cast a pointed glance at Potter. "My father says some people will end up at St. Mungo's sooner or later. I hear they have a special ward there, just for people whose brains have been scrambled by magic."

Pansy burst out laughing. Draco's particular brand of venom, perfectly aimed, not a single name mentioned, had thoroughly gotten to her.

Oh, how does he do it?

How can someone curse that savagely without once naming his target?

I want to learn that, Pansy thought, itching to try.

Crabbe and Goyle clearly hadn't followed any of it. But Pansy was laughing and the Gryffindors looked miserable, so they laughed too.

Then a figure came charging forward like a battering ram, scattering Harry's fury entirely.

Longbottom stormed straight at Draco. Harry grabbed him fast. "Neville! Don't!"

When the person with the bigger temper wasn't himself, Harry actually went calm.

Draco moved fast too. With equally quick reflexes, he... ducked behind Crabbe and Goyle, and then behind Praeris.

Praeris nearly lost her composure. She put one hand up in front of Draco and reached for her wand with the other.

Her eyes stayed locked on Longbottom. Her head tilted slightly back. "Hm? Weren't you very pleased with yourself just now?"

"With all of you here, what do I have to be afraid of?" Draco said, managing to sound both cowardly and completely righteous about it.

At that moment the Potions classroom door swung open. Professor Snape stood in the entrance, face like a closed door.

His gaze swept first over Praeris and Draco, sheltering behind Praeris.

Then it moved to the Gryffindors.

Harry had been forced to physically wrestle with Neville to hold him back.

"Fighting?" Snape's voice was a cold blade. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Let go of Longbottom, Potter. Or it's detention."

Draco smiled with deep satisfaction. He nudged Praeris with his elbow and mouthed: How was that?

Praeris gave him a mild glare. "What, you want me to give you a score now? Get moving!"

Draco sauntered in wearing a grin, posture thoroughly undignified, simultaneously trying to walk alongside Praeris and twist around to show Crabbe and Goyle exactly how well he had played that.

Pansy laughed at him. "Watch where you're going!"

"As you can all see." The moment the students settled, Snape said, without expression, "We have a new guest today."

He gestured toward Umbridge. Then he started his lesson.

Praeris's mind drifted as she worked on her Strengthening Solution. Her thoughts kept pulling toward Professor Snape and Umbridge, and she couldn't stop them.

How would Umbridge score him?

What would she ask?

Did she intend to go after him?

If Praeris hadn't been able to brew the Strengthening Solution blindfolded, with that level of distraction, she would have been the first to blow up a cauldron in the room.

She sorely wanted to hit Umbridge again, but she knew she couldn't.

If Umbridge found out the truth, things would get complicated fast.

Rain on a leaking roof. The family situation was still unresolved, and now she had the professor's situation to worry about on top of it.

Professor Snape finished his lecture. Umbridge still hadn't moved, she was just sitting there, scratching away at her parchment.

Then, finally, she stood and walked toward Professor Snape. But he was over on the Gryffindor side, and Praeris couldn't make out what they were saying.

Praeris blinked. She quietly tore a sheet from her notebook, wrote something on it, and passed it to Pansy.

"There's murder in your eyes," Millicent murmured from her left.

"Don't worry," Praeris said. "I won't kill my homework."

No sooner had the words left her than Umbridge came ambling over toward them.

"How's the lesson going, girls?" Umbridge said, bright and cheerful.

Pansy read the room perfectly. "Wonderful, Professor Umbridge. Why don't you take a look at Praeris's work?"

Umbridge had probably forgotten long ago what Strengthening Solution was supposed to look like. "Done well, has she?"

"Of course." Pansy smiled. "The very best. I'm sure your own work was the same when you were a student?"

Umbridge was so flattered she covered her mouth with a little laugh. "And your professor?"

"Also the best," Pansy said, just as lightly.

"I hear he doesn't get along with certain students?"

The corner of Pansy's mouth twitched. "Professor, once you've spent a little time at Hogwarts, you'll sense it yourself, some students are naturally suited to firmer handling."

Just as she finished, Snape's voice carried across the room. "Zero again, Potter..."

Pansy shrugged. "You see!"

...

The moment Umbridge left the Potions classroom, Pansy turned to Praeris. "How was that?"

"You want me to score you too?" Praeris said, surprised.

Pansy dropped her voice to a coaxing murmur. "What, you only score Draco? I'll be upset."

"Hmm," Praeris made a show of deliberating, then broke into a grin. "Our Pansy is also the best!"

Pansy patted her hand. "You're terrible."

"Oh, please," Pansy added. "Did I even need coaching? Of course I was going to speak well of Professor Snape."

A glint of sharp focus crossed Praeris's eyes. "Just speaking well of him is a bit thin on its own."

Pansy didn't follow. But she knew this wasn't something she'd be able to work out. So she turned back to her potion.

When Umbridge had questioned Slytherin's Head of House, she had also walked over to the Slytherin side. That told Praeris something: Umbridge had never intended to target Snape specifically. She was simply running through the inspection procedure.

But her questions were interesting. She had asked Professor Snape whether he had applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, and why Dumbledore had refused his application.

Draco had once told her that the Malfoys were interfering in Harry Potter's trial, and that had happened after Voldemort's resurrection. Draco had also hinted, more than once, that she should keep her distance from Winnie.

The Malfoys returning to Voldemort's side was not speculation. It was settled. Voldemort would never let go of a family that laid golden eggs for him. And the interference in the trial showed that Voldemort's reach had already extended into the Ministry.

So, did those questions come from Umbridge herself? Or did certain powerful figures want to know the answers?

Praeris had to be careful. Having Pansy name the friction between Professor Snape and Harry Potter had been the right call.

And the timing had been almost too good. Pansy had barely finished speaking before Professor Snape handed Harry a zero. Both at once. The effect had doubled.

That night, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were waiting for Sirius to arrive.

Before he did, Harry and Hermione had a small argument.

"She stood in front of Malfoy!" Harry said, frustration sharp in his voice. "Like I was going to do something to Malfoy, instead of the other way around!"

Hermione pressed her fingers to her temple. "She's a, you know what she is. Do you want her to come out and defend you, blow her cover, and get ostracized by her own housemates?"

"Fine, she can't do that! But she's a prefect, couldn't she have stopped them somehow? We lost ten points!"

What Harry really wanted to say wasn't about the ten points. It was about Neville. But he had promised Dumbledore he would keep what happened to Neville's parents to himself.

"Malfoy's a prefect too," Hermione said. "If she could help us openly, you'd have known who she was long before now."

Ron came in carrying an armful of snacks to find the two of them sitting on opposite sides of the room, neither looking at the other.

He clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Don't be miserable, blame Umbridge and Snape. The rotten luck in Gryffindor is really starting to stack up faster than Moaning Myrtle's tears."

"Miserable about what?" Sirius's face appeared in the flames. "Hello, you lot!"

"Sirius!" all three of them said at once.

He had said hello. But he didn't look particularly happy about it.

He told them that the Defense group had been followed. Mundungus had witnessed the whole thing.

Mrs. Weasley was beside herself with worry. She didn't want them doing this. She had no right to stop them, but she was begging them not to.

"So you don't want me to do it?" Harry asked.

"Of course not!" Sirius looked genuinely startled. "Do you think James and I were the kind of people who bent the knee to power?"

Harry lit up, and the two of them fell into an eager discussion about where the study group should meet.

"Wait." Hermione interrupted. "Sorry — I wanted to ask. Is Professor Brown not here today?"

Ron and Harry both looked at her.

Sirius paused. A long beat passed before he said, haltingly, "Ah, she has some tasks. Yes, Dumbledore's given her some things to take care of. Very important."

"I thought Dumbledore didn't want her going out," Hermione said.

"That was before. Things are different now."

"What's different?" Hermione asked.

In the flames, Sirius's face vanished.

A hand reached out from the fire, groping around blindly, old and ugly, thick-fingered and short, covered in jeweled rings.

Umbridge.

Harry and the other two scrambled away in alarm.

➤ Next: The Two-Way Mirror