Chapter 139 - Gringotts Adventure

Forgetting was not easy for her.

Since Christmas ten years ago, the guardian registered on her identity documents had been the shared guardian of every child in the orphanage: Father Dorin.

Even coming to Hogwarts had not changed that.

Just as there was an invisible umbilical cord connecting her and Sylvia, a cord named bloodline, there was also an invisible shackle binding her to the orphanage. That clear-cut legal and social relationship.

She was like a kite. No matter how far she flew, a thin, long string always traced her back to Maria Orphanage.

When she looked back, the Madonna's gentle smile would become that string, tightening softly around her throat.

Ms. Prim's words had been a thunderclap. They severed the string and let her grow wings.

Praeris had no intention of investigating exactly how Ms. Prim had become her guardian. She sat rigid on the sofa.

After a few seconds, she pressed her right index and middle fingers together and placed them against the upper-left side of her neck, just below the jaw.

One minute later, Praeris concluded: heart rate slightly elevated, but still within normal range.

She pulled the pocket watch Draco had given her from her pajama pocket and counted silently.

Tempo normal.

Finally, she took a book from the shelf. One of Winnie's: Virginia Woolf's The Waves.

She had never read it before.

Praeris flipped it open at random and read the words silently to herself: The sea and the sky melted together; only the surface of the sea rocked and swayed, like a cloth folding into ripple after ripple of wrinkle...

She finished. She closed the book, shut her eyes for 10 seconds, and opened them again.

Nothing on the pages had changed.

Praeris sat back down on the sofa.

She exhaled. Good. I'm not dreaming.

Confirming she wasn't dreaming had taken some time, but it had also helped her absorb the shock of the guardian change.

She tucked the pocket watch back into her pajama pocket and shuffled toward the temporary workroom in her slippers.

If she didn't return to her "post" soon and something went wrong with the lacewing flies, she would become the fastest person in history to repay kindness with betrayal.

Praeris watched the potion bubble and churn in the cauldron.

Good, she thought again.

On a mid-July evening, Dumbledore calculated his timing and came to Black Rose Lane.

Praeris raised the potion vial toward him. "Sir. Polyjuice Potion. It lasts an hour and a half, is that enough?"

Even Dumbledore looked surprised.

He narrowed his eyes, a bright light dancing in them. "Excellent. Truly excellent!"

Praeris's Polyjuice Potion lasted half an hour longer than the standard brew.

To say something rather grim: if Barty Crouch Jr. had used Polyjuice Potion of this quality, far fewer of Moody's hairs would have needed plucking.

With Dumbledore's approval confirmed, Praeris drank without hesitation. Her appearance shifted immediately, resolving into a tall witch.

She looked into the mirror. The witch staring back had wild, tangled hair, heavy eyelids, thin lips, and hollow cheeks.

Dumbledore tapped himself once with his wand and became a brown-haired, light-skinned wizard in his mid-forties.

"Now," he said, voice bright and easy, "I am a newly recruited Death Eater. Brian Wald."

Praeris frowned at him. "Headmaster — are you certain?"

Wald was a genuine English surname, yes, it meant forest.

But she couldn't help making the connection. The Headmaster's other great enemy: Gellert Grindelwald. The surname Wald sat right inside Grindelwald. And Brian was Dumbledore's own middle name, embedded in his full name.

Analyzed any further, the alias became a little too pointed.

The middle-aged version of Dumbledore gave a light laugh. "Praeris, is there a problem?"

"No, nothing," she said. "I'm just not used to how you look right now."

Praeris shook her head, flinging Heidi's Grindelwald-x-Dumbledore, enemies-are-spouses fanfiction straight out of her mind.

Dumbledore smiled in a way that held something unspoken, then reminded her: "Praeris, you're far too polite. You need to be more arrogant. Colder. Crueler. More unhinged. That's how Bellatrix Lestrange moves through the world."

It sounded like a Death Eater version of Narcissa Malfoy, though then again, they were sisters.

"Bella" snapped at the top of her lungs: "Who the hell are you to lecture me!"

Dumbledore clapped his hands together with genuine delight. "Couldn't be better!"

The two pulled up their hoods. "Wald" gripped "Bella's" hand, and they Side-Along Apparated to a point just outside Gringotts, then released each other at once.

They walked to the bronze doors together. Two goblins in red-and-gold uniforms stood guard at the entrance.

They bowed to "Bella" and addressed her as "Madam Lestrange."

Bella appearing here was no problem at all. Voldemort had grabbed her and Disapparated, she hadn't made the arrest list from the Department of Mysteries incident.

Goblins had no interest in fugitives. They cared about money, and the Lestrange family were long-standing clients.

"Bella" lifted her chin and walked straight past the two door-goblins without looking at them, passing through the second set of doors and into the marble hall beyond.

Dumbledore and she had come under cover of night. The hall was nearly empty.

"Madam Lestrange!" The goblin at the counter looked genuinely startled. "It has been, truly, it has been a very long time. How may I assist you?"

"Bella" let out a contemptuous laugh. "I want to see my vault. Yes, my vault. I want to see whether some fool has had the audacity — while I was briefly away — to lay eyes on my treasures!"

Her tone made it sound as though she'd been away for ten days, not over a decade in Azkaban.

The goblins looked uneasy, but one of them found its nerve. "Do you have your key with you?"

"My key?!" The Polyjuiced witch shrieked. "You damned goblins, how dare you —"

"Wald" intervened at exactly the right moment, raising his voice. "Lestrange! Have you forgotten why we're here?"

"What right do you have to interrupt me!" Bella rounded on him. "How long have you been serving the Master? How long have I?"

The goblins were verifying Bella's identity. And seeing her lash out, unhesitating, incandescent, the goblin immediately summoned a younger colleague to retrieve the key they had in storage.

Just as Praeris had calculated: Bellatrix had been arrested suddenly, over a decade ago. She'd had no time to store her key anywhere. In Azkaban, personal effects were not permitted.

The real Bellatrix Lestrange would not have a Gringotts key on her person.

The goblins, who had barely been suspicious to begin with, now moved efficiently. They retrieved the key and led "Bella" and "Wald" toward the vault.

The two of them and the goblin boarded the cart without incident. "Wald" leaned forward and drew a small metal object from the goblin's pocket. "This is what the goblins use to control the dragon."

Praeris stared. "You cast the Imperius Curse on the goblin? I didn't notice at all!"

"People often compliment my magic. I usually tell them it's nothing, I am, after all, over a hundred years old." Dumbledore smiled. "But to you, Praeris, I'll say something different: in a few more years, you'll be able to do this too."

"For people like us, learning magic is not the hard part." He turned the metal piece over in his hand, his voice unhurried. "But if we want to pursue greater power, we need patience. We have to let time and the heart test us."

The dragon roared in the darkness below. Dumbledore's voice stayed even, measured, passing on what he'd learned.

Praeris understood.

He was teaching her how to walk the right path. Not to chase greater power through shortcuts, the way Winnie and Quirrell had. That particular road, the temptation to take the easy route, was exactly the one that many clever students were most likely to veer onto. Resisting it was always harder than anyone expected.

Under Dumbledore's magic, the goblin pressed its hand to the wooden door. The door dissolved, piece by piece.

Praeris and Dumbledore lit their wands together. The light swept across the vault's interior.

Beyond the door was a chamber stacked with treasure. The Lestrange family's wealth was staggering.

The Room of Requirement was also full to bursting, but those things leaned more toward rubbish. This was different.

Praeris moved carefully through the vault. "These objects —"

She could feel the magic radiating off every single one.

"They've been enchanted with multiple spells," Dumbledore said. "Including Unforgivable Curses. Do not touch them."

"The Summoning Charm won't work on a Horcrux." Praeris had searched for the diadem before; she knew. "How do we find Hufflepuff's Cup?"

She pulled the pocket watch from her pocket and glanced at it. "One hour left before the Polyjuice Potion wears off."

Half an hour had already gone since they'd drunk it.

"The cup has a badger on it," Dumbledore said.

Time moved. The wandlight only reached so far. Praeris had mild night blindness; Dumbledore was 112 years old with the joints to match. Both of them stumbled and caught themselves more than once.

The treasures had been enchanted with Geminio. Any contact, and they multiplied instantly. And with the Flagrante Curse layered on top, every duplicate came out burning hot, scorching them both in turn.

Praeris kept having to cast counter-spells and untransfiguration to put everything back, they couldn't leave evidence of their presence.

She silently thanked her private tutor, Winnie Brown, for the thorough grounding in spell deconstruction and counter-curse theory.

40 minutes remaining.

"Headmaster!" Praeris called out. "Is that it, up there?"

She stood on her toes and pointed toward a shelf that nearly touched the ceiling.

Damn it. Bellatrix Lestrange had too much creativity.

The Summoning Charm was useless. How were they supposed to get the cup down?

And the moment anyone touched it, it would multiply.

"We can't Summon it, and Apparition doesn't work inside the vault." Praeris thought aloud. "What about the Levitation Charm? Float it off the shelf and let it drop."

Dumbledore said patiently, "Counter-charm."

"Transfigure one of the other objects into a box, or a ladder? Use it to climb?"

Dumbledore considered. "Good idea. If it weren't for the Flagrante Curse."

"If only you'd brought your phoenix," Praeris said. "It could carry the cup down."

Dumbledore smiled. "I'm afraid it might burn its claws."

Praeris blinked. Phoenixes were afraid of being burned? They were reborn in fire.

She turned the problem over and over and kept hitting the same walls. She flipped open the pocket watch.

30 minutes.

Something tight moved through her chest. She bit her lip.

Then she turned to Dumbledore. "Headmaster..."

He looked at her.

All politeness fell away. "Headmaster Dumbledore. Does Transfiguration affect mental age as well? There's only 30 minutes left!"

Dumbledore smiled and winked at her.

The unfamiliar face made the expression look almost mischievous. "Transfiguration is a good idea. Why not transfigure yourself?"

Lengthen your arm. The thought hit her like a light switching on. How did I not think of that?

"But there's a Geminio Curse on the cup!" she said. "If I touch it,"

She'd end up with a fistful of cups.

Dumbledore said, perfectly calm: "You have your dragonhide gloves. The pair you use for potions."

Praeris reached into her pocket and pulled them out.

Dragonhide. Insulated.

Dumbledore raised his wand and tapped her arm. It lengthened at once.

As a former Transfiguration professor, his control was extraordinary. Praeris's arm stretched further and further, but she felt no loss of sensation, no spiraling wrongness.

She focused completely, guiding her arm between the surrounding objects with painstaking care, not touching anything.

Her fingers found the cup's handle.

Dumbledore tapped her arm again. It contracted smoothly, reeling back in, and the cup came with it.

"We've got it!"

The words had barely left her mouth when she felt it, a sharp sting across her palm.

Her arm was still pulling back. The cup was getting closer. She could finally see it clearly.

Coiled around the body of the cup, winding again and again in tight loops, were blood-red thorns. Like the iron barbs people fixed to the tops of walls to keep out thieves.

"Blood Thorns?!" Praeris's eyes went wide.

➤ Next: Hufflepuff's Cup