Chapter 144 - Slughorn — Words Unspoken

Praeris boarded the train. It took her a while to find Draco.

He wasn't swaggering up and down the corridors flaunting his Prefect badge like last year. He was sitting in his compartment, chin propped on one hand, staring out the window at nothing.

Crabbe and Goyle spotted her first. "Prince!"

Only at the sound of their voices did Draco turn his head. "You weren't nearly that warm with me," he said lazily, "as you were with that Travers."

He'd seen it, then. Praeris and Heidi embracing on the platform.

"Girls get special privileges," Praeris said.

"But I'm not a girl." Draco drew the words out. "So what then?"

Praeris couldn't help smiling. "If it's you..."

She never finished the tease. The compartment door flew open.

Blaise Zabini shoved it hard, his heavy-lidded eyes sweeping the compartment in one slow, sullen arc. BANG.

Crabbe and Goyle both looked like they wished they were under the train. Draco shifted his gaze from Praeris to the doorway. Praeris hadn't wiped the smile off her face yet.

"Looks like I've come at a bad time?" Blaise Zabini folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

Goyle muttered under his breath, "Quite the opposite."

Praeris gave a short, cold laugh. "Zabini, I have no desire to sit beside you. Care to squeeze in with Crabbe and Goyle?"

Blaise Zabini had always held himself several rungs above everyone else. Squeezing in with anyone was simply not a thing that happened to him.

Praeris said it purely to irritate him.

"Appreciated," Zabini said flatly. "Not my habit."

"Get to the point," Draco said. "Zabini, why are you here?"

"Never said I was looking for you." Blaise Zabini dropped a roll of parchment on the table. "Prince, Professor Slughorn is inviting people to lunch."

Praeris picked it up. "Professor Slughorn? Who's that?"

A new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, maybe?

"My father has mentioned him." Draco said it slowly, turning it over as he spoke. "Slytherin's former Head of House. The Potions professor before that."

Retired and recalled?

But Hogwarts was short a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Praeris thought, not a Potions one.

Still, worth seeing what he wanted.

"I'll go have a look," she told Draco. "If Pansy comes looking for me, tell her I'll be over later."

By lunchtime the corridor was jammed. The crowd jostled Praeris and Blaise Zabini apart, which suited her fine. Beyond both being Slytherin, she and Blaise Zabini had never had much to say to each other.

She finally reached Compartment C. It was Blaise Zabini who pushed the door open, he might have preferred not to, but he was walking in front.

"Blaise! You came!" Slughorn's welcome was immediate and warm. Then he turned to Praeris. "And you must be Praeris Prince!"

"I saw your photograph at Miss Stewart's house." Slughorn beamed. "She says you're the finest Slytherin in recent years."

That photograph. The 3 of them on the Astronomy Tower, taken the week before Stella graduated.

Praeris assessed him quickly: bald head, round belly, white whiskers, velvet waistcoat and frock coat, gold buttons.

A Slytherin who liked his comforts, valued quality, and could clearly afford it. Socially, he was very busy indeed.

The compartment held a few others besides Praeris: Ginny Weasley standing off to the side looking faintly lost, Cormac McLaggen, a seventh-year Gryffindor, and Marcus Belby from Ravenclaw.

"Miss Stella always finds the best in people," Praeris said pleasantly.

Slughorn was like an octopus, one arm reaching toward each person in turn. Then, like a spider, he pulled them all toward him with practiced ease.

He was just getting to Belby's uncle, Damocles, who invented the Wolfsbane Potion, when the compartment door opened again.

Slughorn shot up as if he had springs for legs. Harry and Neville had just walked in, and he welcomed them with an enthusiasm that bordered on theatrical.

What followed was slightly absurd: Slughorn introduced Praeris and Blaise Zabini to the 2 Gryffindors.

"Blaise Zabini and Praeris Prince, same year as you — you must know each other?"

Under normal circumstances, Gryffindor and Slytherin managing not to hex each other was already a success. Praeris and Blaise Zabini both focused on their food with complete absorption, as though neither Harry nor Neville existed.

Slughorn returned to Belby's uncle and pressed further, asking about Damocles's process for developing the Wolfsbane Potion.

But Belby's father and his uncle were barely on speaking terms, and Belby had precious little to offer on the subject.

Slughorn's smile cooled on the instant. His interest in Belby evaporated. He turned to Praeris.

"And you, Praeris?" Slughorn said. "Was Miss Stewart as outstanding during her student days as she is now?"

"Oh, yes." Praeris said. "Stella was Slytherin's only female Quidditch player."

"So you're both very keen on Quidditch, then?" Slughorn probed.

"I'm not very interested in Quidditch, actually," Praeris said. "By the time I knew her, she'd already stopped playing."

A flicker of skepticism crossed Slughorn's face. "Come to think of it, you were only in your third year when she graduated. What sort of things did you two usually talk about?"

That was a question Praeris had genuinely never considered. When friends talked, did they actually plan their topics?

She and Stella met up whenever they felt like it, usually in a state of complete mental vacancy. They'd sit down and start talking nonsense, covering everything and nothing, each going off on their own tangent, none of it matching up.

"Nothing much," Praeris said. "Just casual get-togethers. Sometimes we brought Professor Sinistra along and talked about work and studies. Sometimes when Marcus was back in the country, we'd all catch up on what was happening abroad."

"Marcus Flint?" Slughorn's interest sharpened at once. "You know him? Well, of course, Flint was a Slytherin student. Tell me about Flint — I hear he's been promoted to starting Chaser in Jamaica."

Marcus was not cut out for academics, and his playing style during school had been thoroughly brutal. But life on the bench after graduation had worn down every rough edge and fit of temper. He'd built on his aggressive offensive instincts, refined his flying until it was something worth watching, and finally broken through to the starting lineup as a Chaser.

Praeris had no intention of letting Slughorn pry into Marcus's private affairs.

She'd already said she wasn't interested in Quidditch, so she used that quite reasonably: she said she didn't follow the Jamaican league, and then she kept Slughorn occupied with stories about Marcus using away fixtures as an excuse for publicly-funded sightseeing.

After Praeris, Slughorn moved on to McLaggen. His uncle happened to know the new Minister for Magic. Slughorn found this enormously interesting.

Then Neville. Then Harry.

"For example," Slughorn said, his voice carrying a probing note, "that legendary prophecy orb —"

Prophecy orb?

Neither Dumbledore nor Hermione had ever said a word to her about this.

Praeris narrowed her eyes at Harry. The corner of his eye caught her gaze and he dropped his head immediately, avoiding her stare.

Ha. Interesting.

If he was that worried about being Legilimized, why wasn't he putting any effort into Occlumency?

As the sky outside finally darkened, Slughorn had no choice but to let everyone go.

Blaise Zabini walked ahead of her, irritation coming off him in waves. "Ridiculous. 'Savior Star.' Is Harry Potter not content with just being called the Savior anymore?"

Praeris let out a short laugh. "Arguing with a reasonable person? Fair enough. Arguing with a fool? That makes you a fool too. If it bothers you, it means you actually believe it. Ha — taking a title that vague to heart."

"Are you calling me a fool?" Blaise Zabini shot her a glare.

Praeris shrugged. "If that's what you want to take from it."

Blaise Zabini yanked the compartment door open in a huff. Praeris stopped in front of it and didn't go in.

"What now?" Zabini said, irritated. "Do I have to formally invite you?"

Draco peered out curiously.

Praeris glanced down at the floor just outside the doorway. "Thanks," she said.

Then she strolled in at her leisure.

"Praeris, Zabini — well?" Draco looked between them. "What did Slughorn want with you?"

Blaise Zabini was still burning. "Nothing more than cultivating people with connections to wealth and power. Pity his ambitions weren't quite satisfied."

Draco went through the guest list one by one, wanting the details on each. Praeris sat without purpose, idly turning her fingers over and over.

"Pansy came by," Draco said suddenly. "Aren't you going to find her?"

"In a bit." Praeris didn't look up.

Blaise Zabini watched the two of them murmuring to each other with cold eyes, and then opened his mouth with deliberate malice. "Slughorn asked about Flint, by the way. Prince, I never would have guessed the two of you were so close. He's been gone for years, and you're still in contact."

Draco looked at Praeris immediately. "You and Marcus still meet up?"

"Why wouldn't we?" Praeris said, perfectly calm. "He graduated. He didn't cut ties with me."

"But you, but he," Draco fumbled, wanting to say something and not finding it.

"What's the problem?" Praeris blinked and looked at him. "Stella was the one who brought him along. Was I supposed to ask him to leave?"

Draco went still. There had been a third person there?

He turned toward Blaise Zabini and changed the subject with visible effort. "My father was a great favorite of his once. I imagine Slughorn doesn't know I'm on the train, otherwise he surely would have..."

"I'd say he probably wouldn't have invited you." Blaise Zabini delivered it without a shred of mercy. "He asked me about Nott. The moment he found out Nott's father had been arrested, Nott stopped being of interest. He wants nothing to do with Death Eaters."

Draco looked angry and embarrassed in equal measure. He rallied with something forced. "Who cares what he's interested in? He's just a foolish old man. I might not even be at Hogwarts next year anyway. What does it matter whether he likes me?"

Praeris stopped moving. She turned to look at him.

"What did you just say?" Her voice was flat. Cold.

Draco's lips moved. He swallowed. When he spoke, there was something almost like excitement underneath his words. "Nothing! I'm saying, who knows, I might do something else entirely. Something more meaningful. More important."

Praeris looked him over slowly, top to bottom. "What exactly do you plan to do. Say it clearly. I'm not easy to fool."

"Praeris, what are you so worried about?" Draco said, urgent now. "I've told you, there are things I can't tell you. But this could make my family great again."

He kept going. "Only students care about twelve O's. The Dark Lord cares about loyalty. About what you can accomplish for him."

Blaise Zabini seemed to find this genuinely funny. He let out a contemptuous snort. "Draco. What exactly do you think you're going to accomplish? You're not even of age yet."

Draco opened his mouth to argue. Praeris stood up.

"We're almost at the school," she said. "I'm going to find Pansy."

"You've angered her," Blaise Zabini told Draco, cheerfully.

Praeris pulled the door open. Then stopped.

She looked back at Blaise Zabini. "Stop stirring the pot. And if you're feeling sorry you never got a taste of Miss Weasley's Bat-Bogey Hex, I can manage a reasonable imitation, if you'd like a sample."

She shut the compartment door. Hard.

Praeris walked forward, her face utterly calm.

Her lips didn't move.

"That's not very polite, Potter."

Under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry nearly jumped out of his skin.

When did she notice me?

"Did you hear what he said?" Harry kept his voice barely above a whisper. "He's definitely a Death Eater,"

"Shut up." Praeris's voice was low and sharp. "The corridor is this narrow and you thought it was a good idea to come in there? If Draco had found you, what exactly was I supposed to do, help him beat you senseless?"

"How did you know I was there?" Harry said.

"Not your concern." Her voice stayed cold. "Get back to the Gryffindor compartments. And don't do that again."

Harry moved off. Two steps later, he fell back into stride behind her. "Thank you. Last term was my fault. Thank you, you and Winnie, for saving Sirius."

Praeris walked on without turning around.

"Please. Don't give us a reason to thank you again. If you really want to show gratitude, then remember what happened. Learn from it."

Harry finally went.

Praeris reached the compartment where Pansy and the others were waiting.

"Prae!" Pansy thrust a set of robes into her hands the instant she stepped inside. "Quick, change! The train's nearly there!"

➤ Next: Sixth-Year Course Selection