Chapter 131 - Before the Exams

"Praeris, are you two not continuing the lessons?" Hermione couldn't help asking. "How long has it been since you and Harry even scheduled one?"

Nipping problems in the bud was Hermione's principle. Being able to block Legilimency just once was, in her view, nowhere near enough.

Praeris gave a helpless laugh and spread her hands wide. "Miss Granger, the question you should be asking is how long it's been since the professor and I had a day off!"

The Weasley twins' departure had knocked over some kind of catalyst. The entire school, students and staff alike, was now running completely wild.

Students used the twins' Skiving Snackboxes to fake illness and skip class. Peeves flung things everywhere, loosened chandelier screws, blew up toilets. The whole school was one giant disaster.

Every professor remembered how Umbridge had driven Dumbledore away. Not one of them was willing to lift a finger for this Headmistress, Snape included.

What, does that seem surprising?

In Praeris's view, it was the most natural thing in the world.

Dumbledore's influence on Professor Snape ran deep. He had never been stingy with his trust, and the professor had always carried out his demands with a sour face, faithfully, every time.

The professor loathed Remus Lupin, yet he still agreed to Dumbledore's request and brewed Lupin's potion every single month. He detested Potter, yet he still taught Potter Occlumency, just as Dumbledore asked, even after Dumbledore was no longer at the school.

So Snape declared, with a perfectly cold face, that he was a Potions professor and his other magical skills were nothing special. Besides, he had work to do. He was responsible for supplying the Hospital Wing with potions.

"I need an assistant," Snape said, righteous and unhurried. He didn't just refuse to help Umbridge, he casually requisitioned Praeris while he was at it.

At the time, Praeris had been quite pleased with herself.

She said, with genuine naivety, "Wonderful! Looks like I won't have to go to the trouble of refusing Umbridge's demands!"

The professors wouldn't help Umbridge, which meant the only people she could order around were the Inquisitorial Squad members. The problem was, the only Squad members still fully intact were Praeris and Draco.

If Praeris kept playing dumb and pretending she couldn't deal with the pranks, the other students would start getting suspicious. But actually helping Umbridge, the professors refused to touch that, every last one of them. Why on earth would she be any more willing?

The professor really had thought of everything.

"Miss, you guessed wrong," Snape said, and the smile he showed was slow and significant. "I genuinely do need an assistant."

Every alarm bell in Praeris's head went off at once.

Wrong. Everything about this was wrong.

This feeling, this particular, familiar feeling,

Praeris's mouth twitched. Right. It was the feeling of working overtime with Professor Snape.

I'm doing great! she thought. Absolutely fantastic!

It was nothing more than watching several cauldrons at once. Nothing more than sending out potions measured by the basketful. Nothing more than getting a preview of a Potions professor's daily life ahead of schedule.

Damn it all.

The Weasley twins were two steaming piles of garbage.

Hogwarts was a manure-processing plant.

Hogwarts had raised the Weasley twins until they reeked, then manufactured batch after batch of budget Weasley twins, and then left her and Professor Snape, the two janitors, to shovel up the mess.

Praeris felt a deep and personal appreciation for her own foresight. A Hogwarts professor's job was absolutely not one she could ever take.

The professor really had thought of everything. He'd known to find himself a companion to sink into the mire alongside him.

As for why so many potions were needed, that required a look at the Hospital Wing.

Warrington was hospitalized again, his skin covered in scaly flakes. Pansy had inexplicably sprouted antlers on her head. (Rather cute, actually, Praeris had remarked. Pansy's reply was a single withering glare.) Miles's eyes were swollen to the size of walnuts. And then there was Montague, still delirious, even now.

On top of that, students who had taken Skiving Snackboxes and faked illness were lounging around the Hospital Wing, making Madam Pomfrey's life miserable.

Madam Pomfrey was run completely off her feet. In sheer desperation, she called in the third-year student Praeris had previously recommended, Barron, as her assistant.

Yes, that Barron. Myrtle's little boyfriend. Barron of Ravenclaw.

Praeris only found out when Barron was sent to the Potions office to collect a new batch of potions.

Hogwarts had been far too chaotic lately. Medicines were pouring out of the Hospital Wing like water, but those potions didn't fall from the sky.

Hogwarts was running Praeris and her mentor like an assembly line. Sprout's herbs arrived, and she and Professor Snape handled the output. From the moment the herbs were pulled from the soil to the moment they were drunk, the whole process often took less than a single day.

The Potions office had become an assembly line running at exploitation levels. Harry's remedial lessons were not happening.

Harry had never been willing to attend those lessons in the first place. During Snape's sessions, he had shown multiple times that he wanted to be anywhere else. During Praeris's sessions, he had sworn yet another oath about it.

Now that Praeris had suspended the lessons herself, he acted as if nothing had happened, cheerfully, as though the whole arrangement had never existed.

It was only when Hermione brought it up that he stammered out a confession.

"Potter is not suited for Occlumency," Praeris told Hermione. "I've already adjusted my approach to account for him, but unsuitable is unsuitable. At most, he can manage a brief, partial shield."

"By now, he can actually use Occlumency, even if he's only succeeded once. My task is done. The rest is up to him."

The master leads you through the door; what you do inside is your own business. What she had to do was teach Harry Potter to use Occlumency. That goal was accomplished. She couldn't demand more than that.

Hermione said worriedly, "But Ron says Harry still talks in his sleep..."

"That's not a problem," Praeris said, unbothered. "As long as he seals his mind the moment he realizes he's being invaded, that's enough."

Harry's mind was like the Hogwarts castle from a few years back, being invaded was just a fact of life. When he sensed someone causing trouble inside, he just had to throw them out, the way Dumbledore used to.

Hermione looked troubled. She seemed to have noticed something worth worrying about. But she didn't say what it was.

Praeris was too busy to ask. She had Professor Snape's workload to share. She had Umbridge to manage. She had to check in regularly on Astoria and Millicent, two potential allies who might still be turned. And she had to spare at least a sliver of attention for Draco, who had been in a sulk.

This wasn't like the early years anymore. She had no time to quietly observe the Gryffindor trio, to pick apart their thoughts and figure out the right approach piece by piece. She could only trust that Hermione would know her limits.

She was starting to understand how Dumbledore felt.

If every single thing required her oversight, if she had to investigate every person's mind before making a move, she might as well just do everything herself.

But some things genuinely weren't hers to do. She couldn't replace Potter in standing against Voldemort's invasions.

It wasn't until the O.W.L. exams drew close that the students finally quieted down. Professor Snape shooed her off to prepare.

Praeris didn't understand. "You know I have no real need to review."

"Miss, your arrogance had better be worth your O.W.L. results." Snape's voice was cold. "My class does not accept any student who scores below Outstanding. In anything."

"Oh, of course." Praeris backed toward the office door, her smile slightly stiff. "As you say."

At the threshold, she turned and swore: "Rest assured, sir. I will not permit any other letter to appear."

Then she turned and walked away quickly.

She hadn't even left the corridor when she let out a long sigh.

She was going to have to cram for Care of Magical Creatures, which she had attended exactly once, and Muggle Studies.

The N.E.W.T.s required you to have actually taken a course before you could sit the exam. The O.W.L.s had no such rule. So Praeris had registered for every subject, confident she could earn all the certificates. It wasn't complicated, an Acceptable was enough to pass.

But the problem was now enormous. Professor Snape's class required an Outstanding in every single subject she had registered for.

All three girls drew a sharp breath when they heard. Millicent stared. "Then you have to score Outstanding in all 12 subjects?"

They were taking 9 between them, and the anxiety was already bad enough to kill their appetite. Praeris had 12, and every one had to be an O.

"Yes." Praeris nodded, heavily. "If I don't meet that standard —"

Professor Snape's warning rang in her ears. The alarms wouldn't stop.

It felt like being thrown back to the days when she'd fought tooth and nail over her Flying grade. Except this time her companion wasn't just Marcus. It was every fifth-year at Hogwarts.

Praeris borrowed every Muggle Studies textbook she could find and blazed through them, scanning the pages and filing everything away by category. Then she built herself a question bank from the O.W.L. syllabus, every textbook organized for quick retrieval during the exam.

Muggle Studies: handled.

Care of Magical Creatures was next.

She knew the subject material well enough, but some of it was practical, experience-based knowledge that the textbooks didn't cover.

Fortunately, Pansy, Daphne, and Millicent had all taken the course. Using "teaching Praeris" as an excuse, they cross-checked what they'd learned with each other, and actually turned up a few things they'd been remembering wrong.

The closer the O.W.L.s drew, the more feverish the atmosphere in Slytherin became.

Daphne was the first to crack. She'd look up from her textbook and announce, perfectly casually, "My father doesn't actually care how many O.W.L. certificates I get."

A few seconds later: "But my mother says I need to set a good example for Lya. As the elder sister."

A little while after that: "Percy Weasley got 12 certificates. Did any of his brothers manage that?"

Then, not much later: "Though I really don't want to give Lya an excuse to laugh at me."

On and on it went, a few pages, then a monologue; a few more pages, then another. Over and over.

In the Muggle world, Praeris thought, Miss Greengrass, they'd have a word for what you're doing.

Millicent's response to pressure was to eat.

She finished her own snacks and moved on to Pansy's. Finished Pansy's and moved on to Daphne's. The chocolates and biscuits Draco had given Praeris were eventually poured into Millicent's stomach as well.

After an hour of studying, it was hard to say how much knowledge she'd absorbed. The snacks, though, were definitely gone.

At this rate, Millicent might soon set her sights on the common room refreshments.

"This is how I motivate myself to study!" she declared, with complete conviction.

Pansy's situation was the hardest to describe. She'd opened a bottle of red wine. Goblet in one hand, textbook in the other, murmuring to herself.

Then, at some point, she put the book down, stood up still holding her wine glass, turned to face the Black Lake, spread her arms wide, and held the pose, like someone standing on the bow of a ship, facing the wind.

The other three stared at her in complete bafflement.

Praeris tilted her head and considered for a moment. "She's drunk. She thinks she's on a boat."

The moment the words left her mouth, Pansy spun on her heel and sprinted for the bathroom. The girls rushed after her.

Pansy was fine. She just vomited spectacularly into the toilet.

When she was done, Millicent and Praeris got on either side of her and half-carried her back to the dormitory.

In a daze, Pansy managed to get one sentence out: "I'm, seasick —"

Praeris and Millicent looked at each other. Then they completely lost it, laughing so hard they nearly dropped her.

Daphne dabbed at the corner of Pansy's mouth with a handkerchief, then rounded on the other two. "What are you laughing at! What are you laughing at! There are boats right there on the Black Lake, and the Black Lake is full of water — with boats and water right there, why couldn't she get seasick — pfft — hahaha!"

She didn't make it either. She doubled over, arms around her stomach, howling.

When Pansy sobered up, she decided she had never been more mortified in her life. She made a circuit of all three roommates, locking her arm around each of their necks in turn, and made it very clear that this story was going nowhere.

Draco, for his part, was direct about things. He walked up to Praeris in broad daylight and asked, quite openly, whether she had any Felix Felicis.

Praeris discouraged this line of thinking. "Draco, you can't use Felix Felicis during exams."

He was not the first person to ask. The Slytherins all seemed to have settled on the belief that Praeris could brew Felix Felicis.

She could, as it happened.

"Brewing Felix Felicis takes the better part of a year," Praeris said, crushing their hopes neatly. "If we started now, you'd be able to drink it around Halloween."

"Aww —"

A collective groan of disappointment from Draco and the rest of Slytherin.

On the day the exam schedule was released, Draco drifted over to her with a shifty expression and pressed something into her hand.

"Bribing me?" Praeris said. "Draco, even if you bribe me, I still can't produce Felix Felicis."

Draco gave an irritable huff. "Bribe you? Please. My father and the head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority are,"

He kept talking. Praeris tuned him out.

She opened her palm and slowly peeled back the silk wrapped around the gift.

She stopped.

Inside was a gold pendant.

Gold or not gold, that was completely beside the point. What mattered was the pendant itself. It was antique and simply made, and carved into its surface was an inscription, the letters worn but still legible. She recognized them immediately. She and he had learned that script together, in Ancient Runes class.

The inscription read: Good Luck.

➤ Next: O.W.L. Exams