Chapter 136 - Fierce Battle

"Bellatrix took Bulstrode's place and went to Pernelle's cell."

"She intended to kill Pernelle. Because of the bad blood between you two."

Winnie's mouth curved downward. Her cold, flat gaze cut toward Bella through the chaos of the fight like a drawn blade.

Sirius Black ducked under a red flash Bella fired, laughing with open contempt: "Give it a rest! You can do better than that!"

He shouted it loud enough for the whole room to hear, goading her.

"Ah, yes. What a touching love."

"You care for Pernelle, so your enemy is naturally delighted to watch you suffer for her sake."

"And now — are you going to care for Praeris as well?"

"Pardon my asking. Should I mourn for my student in advance?"

Bella's second red beam struck Sirius Black in the chest.

His eyes went wide, pupils shrinking to nothing. His face twisted, caught somewhere between a wild grin and sheer horror.

His whole body went limp and toppled backward, falling like a goose struck from the sky, the curtained archway only inches behind him...

The expression on Harry's face froze. Like a screaming Muggle portrait.

At some point, a Death Eater draped in a black cloak had drifted onto the steps like a ghost.

Winnie took a great stride up to the highest step and spun a roundhouse kick that sent Sirius Black flying aside. "Useless mutt. Get out of the way."

She raised her wand, spun back, and fired one beam after another at Bella.

"Make me pay a price, is that it?"

A purple jet lashed out like a whip.

"Atonement, is that it!"

A dark red beam curved like a red-hot scythe and carved scorched wounds across Bella's body.

The moment Sirius Black fell toward the curtain, Lupin's breath nearly stopped.

He stumbled forward two steps and threw himself down at the foot of the stairs, heart still hammering, and caught Sirius Black as he rolled down.

Harry came flying over as well, staring in panic between Sirius Black and Lupin.

"Tell me he's still alive. Is he?"

When enemies meet, hatred flares all the fiercer.

Both women on the steps had gone savage. Lost themselves. Thrown their lives aside.

Bella fired one Dark Arts beam after another, her face twisted like a vengeful spirit, her mouth spitting "filth" and "traitor" without pause.

Even with wounds opening across her body, she kept hurling Dark curses at Winnie.

Winnie refused to be outdone. The tip of her wand blazed with curses of every kind. Light Magic, Dark Arts, she drove them all at Bella without stopping, and when she was blasted off her feet she got back up and fought again.

Love for her dearest friend and hatred for her enemy sustained her. Even when a Dark curse hit her head-on, she seemed to feel nothing at all. Not a trace remained of the cowardice she had once shown before Voldemort.

The two witches fought with magic and fists alike. When apart, light and shadow swirled in chaos. When close, they punched and kicked.

BOOM!

A curse from Dumbledore struck Bella and jolted her briefly out of the business of pummeling Winnie. She fled in a panic.

Winnie still refused to let go. She chased after Bella like a cat after a mouse, the flames of hatred having lit her from within, scorching her enemies and burning herself all at once.

Kingsley grabbed her arm. "Winnie!"

"Let go of me! Kingsley! I'm going to kill her!" Winnie screamed. "I'm going to kill her!"

Looking at her now, Kingsley could barely find a trace of the Brown Bureau censor from over a decade ago, the woman who had slacked off on the job, cracked jokes, and been written up for complaints on a regular basis.

And yet it was precisely at this moment that the Death Eaters around her caught the scent of one of their own.

Every Death Eater present had seen her prostrated at Voldemort's feet, murmuring desperate pleas. Every one of them had mocked her for that humble, self-confessed cowardice.

The most dangerous thing is a gentle person pushed past their limit. The most fearsome thing is a coward's courage.

Kingsley's head jerked back from the force of her shout, but he did not let go.

He couldn't let go. If anything, he needed to hold Winnie tighter, to stop her from killing.

One reason: Winnie had nearly exhausted every last ounce of her strength. Another: Winnie was radiating killing intent with every breath.

Learning that his colleague Brown was a Death Eater had been a deeply shocking thing.

Winnie Brown had never seemed like someone who had the nerve to kill anyone. She was entirely the sort of person who had grown up sheltered and happy.

Seeing her again at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place with the Order had been equally surprising. But it also confirmed that his read of people hadn't been wrong. Winnie genuinely wouldn't kill.

Regardless, as an Auror and a fellow member of the Order of the Phoenix, he could not stand by and watch Winnie burden herself with the guilt of murder and damn her soul, all for the sake of a madwoman.

Kingsley had heard from Sirius Black that Winnie had a daughter. Both her dearest friend and her daughter were waiting for Winnie to come home. He couldn't let her end up in prison for the sin of killing.

Dumbledore's blow seemed to have knocked some clarity into Bella's muddled head. She remembered her task, and lunged toward Harry and Lupin.

Watching Bella vanish from her field of vision, Winnie was as though the spine had been pulled out of her. She slumped against Kingsley, boneless, and passed out.

After that, the chase and confrontation between Bella, Voldemort, Harry, and Dumbledore. She knew none of it.

Praeris had been waiting in the Potions office, waiting until just before curfew.

The flames in the fireplace crackled and roared, as though searing her heart.

Praeris knew that Potter's decision was almost certainly wrong. She also knew that her failure to stop him was, undeniably, her own softness and her own helplessness.

But she could not, from some position of high moral ground, wholly condemn his choice, either.

Waiting is a punishment that cuts with a blunt knife.

It was so for her now. It had been so for Potter then.

Since first year, Praeris had said it: the fate of the savior was profoundly unfair to Potter.

People always treated Potter as the savior, demanding he handle everything perfectly, and yet they forgot he was still a young, hot-blooded, ordinary boy.

Precisely because he was a kind and brave ordinary person, he could not bear to sit doing nothing at Hogwarts, waiting for news of Sirius Black. That was simply who he was.

She was able to trust Dumbledore, able to wait at Hogwarts for news of Winnie and Lady Prue, because she knew enough. And because over the years she had learned to suppress herself.

Harry Potter was different. The opposite, even. As his Occlumency instructor, Praeris knew clearly that Potter faced his own mind with honesty, faced every one of his emotions with honesty.

This was not recklessness or stupidity. It was his way of fighting Voldemort, and it pointed directly toward the choice he had made.

Some people stand openly in the light. Others can only kindle a little starlight for themselves in the dark. That was the difference between her and Potter.

After Professor Snape left the second time, Praeris felt her heart grow restless. A persistent sense that something was about to happen kept her rooted here, waiting.

Reason told her she should leave, or she would draw the Slytherins' attention. Instinct told her she had to wait for an answer.

Praeris did genuinely want to wait for news from Professor Snape, wait for good news from Potter's group of five. Or word of their deaths.

But she had to leave now. For the sake of longer-range plans, regardless of whether Potter could ultimately come back alive.

She slowly stood up and made her way unsteadily through the darkness toward the Slytherin common room.

Perhaps, as Potter had said, it was because she had no stake in it. That was why she could stay rational.

Praeris walked through the dim moonlight with one foot in the light and one foot in the shadow, just like these dozen-odd years of hers, never quite good enough, never quite wicked enough.

......

Day broke.

The night before, Pansy and Draco and the rest of the action group had been sent to the hospital wing for treatment.

Now only three girls remained in the dormitory.

Daphne and Millicent knew nothing of any of it. They were chattering away about what they wanted to do over the summer.

Daphne was pulling on her boots, her voice flat. "My mum and dad said things outside seem to be getting bad. They told me and Leah to stay home and study, not to wander about, not to make ourselves conspicuous."

Some Slytherins have a particular gift for self-preservation.

A hairband was winding itself into a high half-ponytail on Millicent's head while her own hands were busy tying her tie. She glanced in the mirror and said brightly: "I might be traveling all over the place this summer. I'll bring you all back presents."

The British wizarding world was in turbulence, but the wizarding world was not Britain alone. Even if British wizards were bashing one another's brains out, it didn't stop wizards in other countries from getting on with their lives.

Praeris said quietly: "Daphne, don't be sad. I haven't anywhere good to go either. I'll be waiting for your letters complaining about Leah — will I get one within half a month?"

"That's being generous." Daphne gave a cold laugh. "You'll get one within a week of the holiday starting."

When they arrived at the Great Hall, the students still knew nothing, chattering away about exam results and summer plans.

Hogwarts had its disasters every year, but this castle had truly protected everyone, buffering the upheavals of the outside world, at least to a degree.

It was around midday when the two-way mirror flickered again. The face that appeared on the other side was not Hermione's.

It was Harry Potter's.

"I think... you already know." Harry kept his head down, not daring to meet Praeris's eyes.

"I don't know, Potter!" Praeris said coldly. "How amusing. Am I actually entitled to know the business of your DA?"

"I'm sorry, and I'm grateful — to all of you." Harry's face was nearly turning completely away from the mirror. "Hermione still hasn't woken up, but Professor Brown's potion means she'll be awake by tonight. I know it was yours."

"What do you mean?" Praeris's expression turned dark in an instant. "Was Winnie there last night? Did you see her? Is she all right? Is she still alive — is she?"

Hearts that love are all alike in this world. Praeris had asked almost exactly the same question Harry had asked the night before.

"She's the same as Sirius Black... I mean, she's still alive." Harry's voice grew smaller and smaller.

Praeris said in an even tone: "Merely alive. That's right, isn't it."

It wasn't a question.

If Winnie were fine, Harry's answer would have been "she's fine", not simply "she's alive."

"Dumbledore said Kingsley and Lupin took her and Sirius Black to St. Mungo's." Harry said. "In the short term... they won't be able to leave the hospital."

Harry told Praeris everything that had happened the night before, including part of his conversation with Dumbledore. He did not breathe a single word about the prophecy.

Throughout it all, he couldn't bring himself to look Praeris in the eyes directly. He couldn't be certain he could block her Legilimency, even with a mirror between them.

How could he bring himself to speak of it?

How could he let anyone else know that he had to choose between becoming a murderer and dying, that there was, in fact, no choice at all?

Praeris tilted her head back and let out a quiet sigh.

Winnie had come back. She should have been glad. But she had not expected the Winnie who came back to be one who could only lie in St. Mungo's receiving treatment.

"Dumbledore —" Praeris sighed again. "No one is all-knowing and all-powerful, Harry. I know you can't hate him. I can't fault him more than I already do."

Dumbledore believed the Department of Mysteries incident was his responsibility, the injuries to so many Order members, Winnie and Sirius Black brought to the edge of death. If he and Harry had been more honest with each other, would things have turned out differently?

But there was also Dumbledore's own private selfishness at work. He had wanted to accomplish everything himself, to deal with the Horcruxes himself, rather than push that burden onto a child.

He could not bring himself to see Harry as the savior and therefore expect Harry to carry everything. It was the same way he had accepted the Diadem Praeris brought him, yet had never asked her to go on searching for more Horcruxes.

Human hearts are complex, and the thinking of the young and the old are never quite the same. Dumbledore would sooner drive himself hard than push Harry too far.

Yet Harry felt he could do nothing. That Dumbledore did not trust him.

In this whole affair, almost everyone had made mistakes. Dumbledore had kept too much hidden from Harry. There was friction between Snape and Harry. Sirius Black and Kreacher were at odds. Kreacher harbored divided loyalties. Praeris had been powerless.

When facing Dumbledore, Harry had wanted to blame almost anyone, including Praeris, who had tried to counsel him again and again.

But when he calmed down, he understood. Everyone had their blind spots. The biggest one was still himself.

The silence between them stretched on for a long time.

"Mr. Malfoy was put in charge of this?" Praeris roused herself and asked.

Harry nodded. "You should know — the Malfoys are none of them good people. They're our enemies..."

"Thank you," Praeris said, evenly. "He is your enemy. He is not mine."

Anyone else could curse Draco. Praeris could not.

Draco had given her his wholehearted, unreserved love. He hadn't said it aloud, but Praeris's mind knew it, her heart knew it, every part of her knew it.

Perhaps that love was fragile, untested by the grinding of reality, by the violence of hard blows. But it was undeniable that he loved her. And that she needed his love.

Praeris exchanged a few brief words with Harry, then put away the two-way mirror and walked toward the Slytherin common room.

She knew Draco perhaps needed her now.

Even if her comfort, in her own estimation, would seem a little hollow.

➤ Next: End of Fifth Year