Chapter 161 - Christmas Gift — Face to Face

During the Christmas holidays, the castle corridors were so empty you could hear your own echo.

Above ground, snow buntings called at intervals. Underground, there was only the fierce crackling of torches on the walls.

Three years ago, at the Christmas lunch, Trelawney made her death prophecy about thirteen diners.

Three years later, at nearly the same moment, Praeris developed the limb-regeneration potion.

The eerie thing about fate is that people look at destiny the way you shout into an empty valley. Years later, you pass through again, and you faintly hear the echo of your own voice drifting back from the past.

Praeris picked up the small basket she used for gathering ingredients and pushed open the door to the Potions office.

What must be, must be.

What is meant to come will come.

She pushed open the wooden door and said cheerfully, "Sir, Merry Christmas!"

She raised the basket. "Your Christmas gift."

Professor Snape's office was perhaps the least Christmas-flavored place in all of Hogwarts.

He was like a bat hiding in a dark cave, refusing daylight, spreading his pitch-black wings only at night.

Praeris set the basket on Professor Snape's desk, then ambled over to the cabinet and found her own designated chair.

"Miss Prince, the best gift you could give me would be to stop treating my storeroom like a market stall."

In the early stages of the experiment, Snape hadn't yet raised his guard and let her wander through the storeroom as she pleased. By the later stages, his patience was nearing its absolute limit.

Just think about what Praeris had been taking.

Dragon's blood. Powdered Graphorn horn. Lobalug venom sacs. Those were Snape's private collection.

As he said this, he waved his wand with studied carelessness. The cloth covering the basket lifted, revealing potion vials that gleamed with a sinister black-green light.

Praeris blinked her large eyes and said in a lowered voice, "Sir, as you wish."

Snape's eyes narrowed. He rose abruptly, strode to the storeroom, and swiftly located a suitable live test subject. He cleaned his equipment, amputated the subject's limb, and administered the potion.

He didn't say a single word throughout. Every bit of his attention was on the potion.

It was a magnificent miracle, the kind only potions could produce.

After the potion was administered, the severed limb grew back at astonishing speed, like bamboo shoots after rain bursting from the soil, shooting upward section by section. The newly grown limb was still tender, smooth to the touch as an infant's skin, the bones soft and new.

Praeris explained to Professor Snape: "For a toad, it only needs a few hours to recover some strength. But for a human body, the recovery time increases exponentially."

How long is a toad's leg, after all?

How long is a human arm?

Expecting a human arm to regenerate as fast as a Horned Toad's, Praeris would recommend trying that in a dream. In dreams, anything was possible.

Snape's expression shifted. Then he nodded once, heavily. "Good. Very good."

Snape was stingy with his praise. But Praeris's result was different. This would be recorded in history without question.

The limb-regeneration potion's standing in Potions research was self-evident. The implications were staggering. And she had done it in 3 months.

Dumbledore had many misgivings about this plan. Was he truly so eager to die? Perhaps about halfway.

But the more practical reason was that developing a limb-regeneration potion was simply too difficult. Dumbledore found it hard to believe that such a young student could succeed in so short a time. And if this had truly been so easy, the potion would have been developed long ago, later generations could simply follow the established path. What else would there be to worry about?

"What materials did you use?" Snape asked curtly.

Praeris blinked and carefully averted her gaze. Her answer came out barely above a murmur. "Snake venom."

Snape frowned. "What? Have the Hogwarts house-elves gone on strike today?"

The kitchen was the house-elves' domain. What he meant was: Haven't you eaten? Speak up.

"Sir," Praeris said. "Basilisk venom."

No wonder no one had developed a limb-regeneration potion before this. Apart from Herpo the Foul and the descendants of Slytherin, who else could possess a Basilisk?

Perhaps other materials could substitute for Basilisk venom's effect. But that research would have to wait until Praeris had the time. Right now, the curse Dumbledore had suffered was the top priority.

Snape froze for a second, then caught on. He let out a cold laugh. "Ah. The famous Harry Potter, here to save the world again?"

"No, sir." Praeris shook her head. "I earned this through my own labor. You know — some of the teaching activities last year."

Snape's expression turned unreadable. "Is that so? I heard from Slughorn that Potter has some genius for Potions." He paused. "Miss Prince, do you have any thoughts on that?"

"Ah, I've already beaten him, sir." Praeris smiled. "It doesn't matter."

People always challenge those stronger than themselves. Why care about the losers?

As long as Harry remained Praeris's defeated opponent, whoever he copied from was none of her concern, unless Harry was copying from Professor Snape or herself.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't matter?" he said softly. "Then you must want to discuss something that does. For example — Draco."

Praeris truly wished she could travel back thirty seconds and shut her own mouth.

"Er..." She stumbled over her words. "I wasn't lying to you, sir. Draco and I have nothing to do with each other now, it's just — I couldn't exactly watch him get detention with Filch, could I?"

"Shouldn't he be?" Snape countered.

Snape would have been glad for Draco to be stuck in detention, actually. Otherwise, who knew what he might do next, produce another Katie Bell, or go directly after Dumbledore.

Snape didn't believe Draco was capable of murdering Dumbledore. But in the process of trying, Draco was perfectly capable of causing far too much damage.

Praeris looked down. "What do you want to know?"

"You would tell me?" Snape sneered. "I think he has completely dazzled and blinded you."

Praeris...

She didn't want to tell anyone about Draco's plan. Not even Professor Snape. And by the same token, she would not reveal Professor Snape's identity as a spy to anyone either, not even Draco.

But right now, Professor Snape and Draco were each pulling at her from opposite ends, and she felt the strain of it, the sensation of nearly being torn in two.

Praeris let out a long breath. She truly did not want this. Doing things others didn't want done under the name of doing it for their own good, how despicable. How hypocritically self-righteous.

But to watch Draco go and kill someone, to commit an unforgivable wrong, that was something she could not stomach either.

Why did fate have to be so contradictory? Why was there no perfect solution? Why did the things that once gave her happiness become the source of her pain?

She had grown up thinking she was intelligent. Possessing a clarity of mind that set her apart from everyone around her.

And yet that intelligence became utterly useless in the face of feeling. Even the cleverest person, when confronted with emotion, becomes helpless. Not knowing what to do.

"Draco is a Death Eater." No question in her voice. "During the summer holidays, he told me in a letter that he had been given a mission."

At the word mission, Snape let out a short, mocking laugh.

Praeris paid no attention to it and continued. "I knew it was a bad sign."

The moment she received that letter, she had faintly understood. And everything was confirmed the moment they broke up in the snow.

Voldemort was a cruel man. No question about that.

A competent leader knows exactly what his subordinates can and cannot do. Voldemort giving Draco the task of killing Dumbledore was like Dumbledore telling Hagrid the secret of the Philosopher's Stone and asking him to keep it confidential.

No one expected them to succeed.

Under those circumstances, Draco was bound to suffer, in body and in mind both.

"Hermione told me the necklace was originally in Borgin and Burkes," Praeris said slowly. "Katie came from inside the school. Filch ran detection at the school gate — no one could leave the school carrying Dark magic."

So Katie had been normal when she left. All the students had been normal. None of them had been placed under the Imperius Curse.

The trio had followed Katie into the Three Broomsticks. And Leanne said that Katie only came out of the lavatory carrying the package.

The location where Katie obtained the necklace was the Three Broomsticks lavatory. The women's lavatory.

"The Three Broomsticks sees dozens of people come and go every hour. There is no possibility of a male wizard entering the women's lavatory to place the Imperius Curse on a female student without being discovered."

So Draco must have had a female accomplice. Or he had already placed the Imperius Curse on a witch whose presence there would raise no questions.

"Either a female Death Eater was helping him," Praeris concluded, "or he had Imperiused a witch beforehand — one who could be there without anyone thinking twice."

All the Death Eaters were wanted. Among the female ones, only Mrs. Bulstrode was not on the wanted list. She was a free woman.

"Millicent went to Hogsmeade that day, but she didn't see her mother," Praeris said. "Therefore, the one under the Imperius Curse was the Three Broomsticks' proprietress. Madam Rosmerta."

Praeris had asked about Madam Rosmerta. Hermione said that when she and Ron were arguing, Madam Rosmerta had gone to the back to fetch Firewhisky.

She hadn't gone to fetch Firewhisky at all. She had been sent to place the Imperius Curse on Katie.

Praeris looked at Professor Snape. "That was Draco's first plan to kill Dumbledore. Very crude. Especially the part about having Katie carry the package into the school."

Praeris's explanation had been extremely scattered, quite a test of a person's ability to follow a line of reasoning.

Fortunately, Katie had been temporarily treated by Snape, so he knew her condition. And Snape was a Death Eater himself, which meant he understood perfectly why the other female Death Eaters could be ruled out.

This was the first time Snape had heard Praeris walk through her thinking aloud. The experience was both fascinating and genuinely exhausting.

All these matters were connected, yes. But first you had to be able to extract the relevant information from different people's mouths. And then you had to be able to string it together.

Communication. Logic. Observation. Memory. And enough confidence in yourself to trust the conclusions you reached. Not one of those could be missing.

As for why she was certain it was Draco?

Praeris hadn't needed to deduce that at all. Draco had already laid the truth bare in front of her in the snow.

Though if pressed to work it out analytically, she could have arrived there too.

"What does Draco plan to do next?" Snape said. "Or rather, what was he doing on the night of the Christmas feast?"

Snape didn't believe Draco wandering the school late at night could actually harm Dumbledore. There had to be another plan. One connected to some powerful helper Draco believed he had.

In this matter, the first person Snape's mind went to was his own niece, Praeris.

Remarkably powerful, wasn't she.

An extraordinary mind. Mastery of a vast range of spells. Formidable talent in Potions. And magical strength to match.

If Praeris wanted to help Draco kill Dumbledore, it would be far too easy. She would only need to tamper with the potions she provided to Dumbledore. Every scheme and arrangement would come crashing down the moment Dumbledore's life was cut short.

But Snape knew it wouldn't happen that way. Praeris would never aid Voldemort's plans. For Snape's sake, for Winnie's sake, for Draco's sake, she had every reason to hate Voldemort.

"Ah! That!" Praeris looked as though she had only just remembered the matter. But what came out of her mouth wasn't an answer. "Sir, Dumbledore has been pressuring you. Hasn't he."

Snape's expression went cold in an instant. He said through his teeth: "Miss Prince. I don't believe I asked you to investigate me."

"Perhaps not," Praeris said helplessly. "Then let's talk about Draco. In fact, I don't yet know exactly what he's doing right now. But I do know where he was during the Christmas feast."

Praeris was lying.

She knew, but only partially.

She was certain Draco was doing something related to alchemy, because she hadn't seen his toolkit in a very long time.

Snape narrowed his eyes and waited.

"The Room of Requirement, sir," Praeris said. "Without a doubt."

The conversation about Draco finally wound to a close. Snape seemed no more comfortable discussing matters of the heart with his niece than she was, and a certain stiffness had crept into his manner throughout.

He collected himself. "We need to adjust the potion's dosage and material usage. There are some differences between application on toads and on humans."

Praeris nodded, her eyes already scanning the room for the cauldron she had left behind.

"Before that." Snape's words shifted direction abruptly. "Miss Prince, I have your Christmas gift."

Praeris turned back, puzzled.

Snape's face was its usual stiff mask. His voice came out flat and dry. "Would you like to see Brown and Purnell?"

➤ Next: Love is perceptive