Chapter 138 - A Conversation on Black Rose Lane

The train pulled into King's Cross Station. Praeris picked up her trunk and walked toward the door.

"Hey! Praeris!" Draco called out behind her.

She turned. The wind outside caught her loose hair. "Mm?"

Draco's lips moved. Like he wanted to say something.

A long pause.

"Goodbye," he finally said, quietly.

He had so many things he wanted to tell her. How utterly distraught he felt. He hoped she would see through him the way she always had, read him, steady him, tell him what to do. And at the same time, he hoped she would see nothing at all, so he could keep what was left of his dignity and pride.

In the end, he said neither. Just the one word.

See you later.

It was the first time Draco had liked that phrase even a little. It didn't feel like goodbye. It felt like a promise, that the next time they met, Praeris and everything from before would all come back to him.

He took a deep breath and told himself to calm down.

Father was only in Azkaban temporarily, for the Dark Lord's sake. Hadn't Aunt Bella done the same once? And Mother was still waiting at the station...

He forced himself to forget everything Praeris had said about the Dark Lord's attitude toward his father. Forced himself to forget that his father had failed his mission. Forced himself to look like he was fine.

Praeris met his eyes. She blinked, and said lightly, "Two months. See you at school."

As if she hadn't noticed a thing.

She walked through the barrier at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters alone. Boarded the bus alone. Headed toward Black Rose Lane alone.

She used to think London was enormous, that the stretch from King's Cross Station to Diagon Alley was impossibly far. Now, the sky hadn't even darkened by the time she reached Black Rose Lane.

She had been capable of "going home" on her own for a long time. The two elders had just never quite stopped treating her like a child who needed to be collected.

Praeris knocked on the door next to hers. "Mrs. Willow, it's me. Plae."

The door swung open. The plump Mrs. Willow stood there beaming, delighted surprise written across every inch of her face. "Little Plae! You're on summer holiday!"

"Come in and sit down first!" Mrs. Willow said, with playful reproach. "Oh, honestly! What's there to be shy about? Come in, come in! Let me find it —"

Mrs. Willow's husband had been a naval officer. He'd died in the Falklands War over ten years ago. On his inheritance and pension, Mrs. Willow and her daughter had built a life that was affluent, free, and, she would admit, if pressed, perhaps one percent lonely. Not zero. Just nearly.

Mrs. Willow was perfectly happy for people to call her Mrs. Willow. She felt the "sponsor" who had left such a generous inheritance deserved the naming rights.

She bustled into the bedroom. After a long moment, she emerged holding a ring of keys. "These are the keys little Winnie left... Oh! Wait a moment!"

She turned and rushed off to the kitchen. She came back carrying a large plate of pastries. "Little Plae, I made pudding today. Take it home with you. Have it for supper."

"Thank you, Mrs. Willow!" Praeris smiled and accepted the plate.

Mrs. Willow giggled. "What's there to thank? I just made too much. Let you have a taste."

The portion did not look like too much. But Mrs. Willow did not accept refusals. The moment Praeris tried, things would devolve into a long back-and-forth, and she would end up accepting anyway.

Plate in hand, chewing a piece of Yorkshire pudding, Praeris fitted the key into her door. She nudged it open with her elbow.

Her eyes went straight to Dumbledore, sitting on the sofa.

Praeris chewed slowly. Swallowed. Kicked the door shut behind her. Set the plate down in front of him. "Headmaster Dumbledore. Would you like some pudding?"

Dumbledore...

Dumbledore helped himself without the slightest hesitation.

"Truly superb." He praised Mrs. Willow's cooking without reserve. "The last time I had Yorkshire pudding this good, I was only a little older than you."

"Time does fly..." Praeris murmured, echoing him absently.

Silence settled between them. Dumbledore didn't seem to notice. He went on cheerfully enjoying the food.

"Thank you, Headmaster." Praeris broke it first.

Without Dumbledore's arrangements, the Order of the Phoenix would not have rescued Ms. Plie.

"Praeris, this was a promise I made to Winnie," Dumbledore said, with complete candor. "And she, of course, fulfilled the promise she made to me."

"Is this about the Department of Mysteries?" Praeris's voice sharpened. "Headmaster, that kind of trade is far too cruel."

One life for another.

She knew she was being greedy. She still couldn't approve of any arrangement that had Winnie betting her life.

"No, Praeris." Dumbledore's voice was gentle. "It was something else."

He explained patiently. "Bellatrix despised Winnie, but she couldn't kill her. So she turned her sights on the imprisoned Prim Purnell instead."

Misfortune should not extend to one's family.

What Bellatrix did enraged Winnie completely.

Winnie had no chance against Voldemort. But Bella was another matter.

For Purnell's sake, and for Praeris's, Winnie resolved to kill her.

They met before the Veil in the Department of Mysteries. Winnie and Bella tore each other apart. Winnie ended up in St. Mungo's. Bella, by all accounts, wasn't doing much better.

"Do you always explain things in such detail?" Praeris asked, perceptive as ever.

Dumbledore laughed, and when he spoke again there was something reflective in his tone. "No. But I have learned my lesson."

The Department of Mysteries had been a lesson for Harry. It had been one for Dumbledore as well. Even the most meticulous person has moments of failure. Dumbledore had been too far removed from his own youth to fully understand how a young person's mind worked.

Praeris accepted the explanation. "So," she said softly, "what is it you've come to see me about?"

Dumbledore had only just been reinstated as Headmaster. Fudge had only just acknowledged Voldemort's return. By any logic, Dumbledore should have had no time to spare, and yet here he was, sharing Yorkshire pudding with her.

"I need your help, Praeris."

She raised an eyebrow. "Help? With what?"

Dumbledore left. But he left things behind.

One of them was a small vial. Inside, black hair, tightly curled.

It had been taken from beneath Winnie's fingernails. Bellatrix Lestrange's hair.

So. It was finally her turn to brew Polyjuice Potion.

She had assumed Dumbledore would handle the Horcruxes himself. She hadn't expected the Polyjuice Potion was for her.

Dumbledore required her to transform into Bellatrix Lestrange, then accompany him, under a Transfiguration of his own, to Gringotts. The target: the third Horcrux. Helga Hufflepuff's Cup.

Dumbledore had to have a reason for bringing her specifically, something that made her irreplaceable. She couldn't work out what it was yet.

Following Dumbledore's lead was, in most cases, not wrong.

Praeris dusted off her hands and stretched.

Tomorrow at first light, she needed to go to Diagon Alley to buy herbs. The Polyjuice ingredients would be mixed in among them, so it would look like nothing more than a routine apothecary run.

Polyjuice Potion needed a minimum of 21 days to brew. That was why Dumbledore had come the moment the holiday started.

Before he left, he had also told her that Ms. Plie would come to see her in a few days. Under the protection of an Order of the Phoenix member.

"That's not necessary. It's too dangerous." Praeris didn't hesitate. "I can take care of myself here on my own."

Dumbledore looked down at her, seated on the sofa, and said with quiet warmth: "Praeris. It is necessary."

"At the very least — for Ms. Purnell, it is very necessary."

Praeris went quiet. She covered her face with her hands.

She stayed like that for a long moment.

When she finally looked up, her eyes were red. But she was smiling. "Thank you. Thank you."

Ms. Plie arrived while Praeris was in the middle of stewing lacewing flies.

She and the two Order members came through by Floo Powder, landing in the living room with a thump.

Praeris stepped out of Winnie's storage room-turned-workshop immediately, eyes fixed straight on Ms. Plie, taking stock of her.

"Plae —" / "Ms. Plie, you've lost weight!"

They both spoke at the exact same moment.

Kingsley and Lupin pressed their fists to their mouths. Barely held it together.

Hearing what the other had said, the two women couldn't help it either.

Ms. Plie had indeed lost a great deal of weight. Her round oval face had slimmed to a heart shape, her chin had come to a point, and her cheeks were slightly hollowed.

Ms. Plie stepped forward and wrapped Praeris in her arms. "My dear. I'm sorry. I made everyone worry."

"No." Praeris's hands found Ms. Plie's waist, which had shrunk by a full size. Her voice was soft, and it ached. "You have nothing to be sorry for. The only ones who owe anyone an apology are those deranged — bad people."

She'd swapped out "Death Eaters" for "bad people."

"Yes, Ms. Purnell," Lupin said, his agreement immediate. "You don't need to apologize. You did more than enough."

He meant it. When faced with Death Eaters, yes, you fight back, but only when the odds are even. Ms. Plie had faced three of them at once, and she was no combat-hardened Auror like Kingsley. Since they hadn't intended to kill her, surrendering was the option with the highest chance of survival.

According to Tonks, there had been traces of potion corrosion on the door lock.

Lupin's read: Ms. Plie had played compliant to keep the Death Eaters off guard, hidden a corrosive potion somewhere on her person, and had been quietly working her way toward escape.

"Professor Lupin!" Praeris greeted him politely. Then, turning slightly: "And this gentleman — the Auror."

Lupin's smile went a little thin. "Praeris. I'm not a professor anymore."

Kingsley looked at her. "How did you know I'm an Auror?"

"The skin you have exposed has scarring that won't heal cleanly," Praeris answered, perfectly calm. "You carry an authority that doesn't need to announce itself. You're in a constant state of alertness, ready for a fight at a moment's notice. Your presence is very similar to Professor Moody's."

Kingsley nodded slowly, filing all of that away. He'd be more careful about these things next time he was undercover.

"Of course," Praeris added, with a small mischievous smile, "the most important thing is that I've seen you before. In the Headmaster's office. Standing next to Minister Fudge."

Kingsley was mid-nod when the words landed. He stopped. Studied her more carefully.

She had only said one notable thing during that visit to the Headmaster's office, so she hadn't left much of an impression on him. And she'd changed into Muggle fleece pajamas with a hood since then, she looked every bit the very Muggle-friendly little witch. Even with his Auror's memory, he hadn't connected this fuzzy-hooded girl to the Slytherin student he'd glimpsed across the room.

Lupin clapped Kingsley on the shoulder. "Dumbledore asked for discretion." He turned. "Praeris, this is Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt."

With introductions out of the way, Ms. Plie started fussing.

Living alone, she must stay safe. She must not go out by herself late at night. No matter how busy she got, she had to eat properly. She went on, and on, and on.

She looked exactly like every mother in the world who worried too much about her daughter.

The fussing lasted well over half an hour. Lupin and Kingsley's eyes had long since drifted. Praeris listened to every word, answering here and there, patient throughout.

When it finally wound down, Ms. Plie said softly, "Winnie has woken up. But she can't leave St. Mungo's yet. Her injuries and the physical toll are both too severe. The Healer says she'll need at least another month before she can go."

Praeris didn't ask if she could visit. The answer would only ever be no.

She looked at Lupin and Kingsley. "Please," she said quietly. "Take care of Winnie."

Kingsley shook his head. "Praeris. There's no need to ask. Winnie is one of ours."

An hour was the limit. Ms. Plie couldn't stay any longer.

Ms. Plie stood. Praeris stood too.

Ms. Plie took a step toward the fireplace. Praeris followed.

The living room wasn't large. Sofa to fireplace, a few steps, nothing more. There was almost nowhere left to walk her to.

Ms. Plie looked back at Praeris. Then she looked at Lupin and Kingsley. "I have one thing I want to say to Plae."

Lupin and Kingsley turned away.

Ms. Plie leaned close to Praeris's ear. Her voice was barely a breath. "Little Plae. My dear. You don't need to look back anymore, your guardianship is under my name."

Praeris's eyes went wide. "What."

Lupin and Kingsley both glanced over, startled, with no idea what had just been said.

Ms. Plie smiled, warm and unhurried, and patted her shoulder. "It's true. Thank Dumbledore."

Praeris froze, completely arrested by it. Joy and something close to awe, tangled together.

Without blood ties, adoption was nearly impossible to arrange. Either Ms. Plie was a distant relative of the Prince family, in which case, how far back had Dumbledore been planning this? Or Dumbledore had used his own influence to make it happen, without asking Praeris herself.

Either way, she had never been consulted. It had simply been done.

Dumbledore was, in every sense of the word, terrifying.

➤ Next: Gringotts Adventure