Chapter 166 - Dumbledore's Gloves — The Conversation

Finally, Praeris pulled a dozen colorful gloves from her bag and handed them to Dumbledore.

"Your young hands are still rather fragile," Praeris explained patiently. "Even though it's winter, please wear gloves and avoid direct sunlight."

Snape frowned, eyeing the pile with undisguised disgust. "What is all this?"

Snape had told Praeris to buy gloves. Not these garish, nonsensical things!

"Sir, they coordinate with Headmaster Dumbledore's wardrobe!" Praeris said, as if this were obvious. "I had Tonks buy them — look, the materials are suitable and the designs are actually quite something!"

Dumbledore let out an "Oh?" and took the gloves, turning them over to examine them. "Severus," he said brightly, "these have real taste! Look, there's even a black pair — won't you try them on?"

Snape swept one glance over them and found the sight even worse than before.

The black pair Dumbledore was holding up were full-length gloves with decorative buckles, women's style.

Tonks had probably assumed they were for Praeris. The entire dozen were women's gloves. And Dumbledore was cradling them with obvious delight.

Snape drew a slow breath, shot Praeris a glare, and said in a sardonic tone, "I see you're regressing with age."

Praeris shrank back and leaned away, smiling somewhat sheepishly. "Sir, let me help tidy up!"

Oh, please. Professor Snape was hardly criticizing her. Anyone who knew Professor Snape would understand that "regressing with age" was aimed squarely at Dumbledore.

Still, Praeris was not about to tempt Professor Snape's ire. She made herself look as busy as possible to avoid being singled out again.

Empty potion vials went back into the padded case. Tools were cleaned and stowed. The bloodied sterile cloths, gauze, and cotton balls all had to be incinerated on the spot. She threw the handkerchief she'd used to wipe sweat into the fire as well.

Professor Snape was, after all, not a professional Healer from St. Mungo's. His hands and his composure had both been remarkably steady, but objectively speaking, Dumbledore's blood loss had still been substantial.

After everything burned away, the scent of blood lingered in the air, stubborn and inescapable.

Praeris's limb-regeneration potion was a miracle. Especially for Dumbledore's life.

To resurrect Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew had cut off his own hand, and all he received in return was a silver metal hand as Voldemort's "reward."

These were things Praeris did not know.

She had simply resolved to save Dumbledore's life, and for that she was willing to try methods most people could not even conceive of.

No one else would have considered using highly toxic Basilisk venom as a life-saving ingredient. Praeris did exactly that. It was what set her apart from everyone else.

Snape and Dumbledore stood by the window, talking quietly, while Praeris worked through the cleanup with quiet diligence.

"Sir!" She finished packing and picked up her small bag. "Looks like I'm not needed here anymore. Shall I head out?"

Snape waved a hand without turning around.

Dumbledore smiled. "Severus, I truly look forward to you giving her How to Become a Respected Teacher."

"She has no interest in that sort of thing, " Snape pursed his lips. "Besides, I threw that book out long ago."

Praeris dispelled the charm on the door, pulled it open, and found herself face to face with four people waiting in the corridor. She looked at them coldly, her expression asking the question she didn't bother voicing.

Winnie raised both hands. "I'm innocent! They insisted on waiting here for you to come out!"

Praeris's gaze moved to the other three: Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Ginny met her eyes without flinching. Harry craned his neck to peer past her into the room. Ron pressed himself silently against the wall.

"Nothing worth seeing in there. Never attended a meeting before?" Praeris pulled the door shut behind her. She turned to Winnie. "Has Ms. Prim's tiramisu been made yet?"

"Oh!" Winnie smacked her forehead and immediately began herding the children down the corridor. "Move along, move along! I came to call you for dessert! If you don't get going your mother will come up looking for you!"

Praeris, carrying her bag, drifted to the back of the group. Harry deliberately slowed his pace to match and said to her in a firm, low voice, "I smelled blood."

Harry was not the kind of ordinary student who had never seen blood, his own, other people's, it didn't matter. He had seen more than enough of it.

The scent was faint, but Harry had caught it clearly. And he was not about to let it go.

"Mm." Praeris said calmly. "Want me to give you a gold star? Curious little thing, Savior of the Wizarding World?"

Harry cringed at "Savior of the Wizarding World."

It had started out as just "the Boy Who Lived." Malfoy occasionally called him Saint Potter with that insufferable smirk. Then the newspapers started running their nonsense, printing "Savior of the Wizarding World" as if it were a title, and somehow the students at school all started believing it.

And now Praeris had gone and stuck "Curious little thing" right in front of it.

"What exactly are you doing in there, " Harry couldn't take it anymore. "What are you doing to Dumbledore!"

Praeris looked genuinely baffled. "Out of the three of us, what kind of reasoning leads you to conclude that Dumbledore is the one who needs protecting?"

Was it just simple math? Praeris plus Snape is greater than Dumbledore?

Was that logic taught by a giant?

She genuinely wanted to grab him by the head and shake it. Tell me, out of the three people in that room, who is the strongest white wizard alive, the one who defeated the most powerful dark wizard in history?

Harry kept his voice low. "So the blood is Mr. Snape's, then?"

He found it hard to deny the flicker of excitement in that thought. If Snape was injured, he probably wouldn't be able to help Malfoy get up to whatever he was plotting.

Not that Harry thought it was Praeris's blood, he had eyes, she was walking just fine.

And at least Harry still remembered to call him "Mr. Snape."

"You actually guessed right on that part." Praeris nodded. "It is Dumbledore's. But surely you don't think the 2 of us could do anything to harm Dumbledore here, at Order of the Phoenix headquarters?"

Harry stopped dead, expression blank, like a magical television set that had just lost signal.

Praeris let out a derisive snort. "Did You-Know-Who rattle your brain loose? Savior of the Wizarding World."

Harry felt the heat rise in his face. "Can't you just tell me things straight?" he said, voice dropping low with frustration. "Why does it always have to be guessing games? Don't you think I deserve to know?"

Praeris felt a small, genuine flicker of sympathy for him. She patted his shoulder. "I can't go over Dumbledore's head and tell you things about him. That would be disrespectful to Dumbledore. You understand that."

"What you need to know," she continued, lifting her chin, "is that we accomplished something important today. If You-Know-Who ever found out, he would hate the two of us for it."

Harry pressed his fist against his side. "Then that's good enough. I just hope you won't betray the trust I've placed in you."

Praeris gave a quiet scoff. "If you've actually placed any trust in me at all."

Harry didn't like the sting in that.

Between him and Praeris, Hermione had always served as a kind of buffer. That meant the question he'd been asking himself was never really "Is Praeris trustworthy?" but rather "Is Hermione's read on Praeris accurate?" Hermione was the one doing the evaluating. Most of the time, Harry only needed to trust Hermione's judgment.

But ever since the Occlumency lessons began, Harry had been forced to deal with Praeris directly, and it had stirred up doubts he hadn't expected.

It was contradictory. He didn't usually feel that Praeris herself was someone to be suspicious of. But Praeris was never just Praeris. She was also Snape's favored apprentice. She also had whatever it was she had going on with Malfoy.

Trusting the Praeris shaped by those 2 influences was, for Harry, about as hard as trusting those 2 themselves. And Praeris never hid either thing, not her respect for Snape, not her feelings for Malfoy.

Harry had no doubt that if Snape ever decided to do something terrible, his apprentice would be right there behind him, quietly making sure no evidence survived.

And Harry believed Praeris knew that was what he thought. Which was why she didn't expect him to trust her as an ally.

But he really was trying to push past his own instincts, whether she believed it or not.

If Snape was Praeris's mentor, then Dumbledore was Harry's.

The moment he smelled blood, if there hadn't been even a small thread of trust still there, Harry would have pushed past her and gone straight in. Instead, he had stood back and let this tall, lean Slytherin girl block the meeting room door and pull it shut.

They were nearly at the kitchen when Harry spoke.

"I'm sorry." He'd been chewing on it for a while. He finally said it quietly. "You've done a lot for us. And I keep doubting you anyway. I'm sorry for that."

Praeris said calmly, "You know I can tell whether you mean it."

Harry's head snapped up. "I do mean it!"

He really did! That was completely genuine!

"Then I accept." The corner of Praeris's mouth curved up for about 1 second.

Harry immediately thought: this cannot be his fault. Praeris looked nothing like Snape, but sometimes, at certain moments and from certain angles, there was just enough of Snape in her expression to make his skin crawl.

She's winding me up, isn't she.

She's definitely winding me up.

1 second he was being completely sincere. The next, he had to admit she'd gotten under his skin again.

Praeris couldn't care less what Harry was thinking.

She greeted Mrs. Weasley, then slipped over to Ms. Prim. "Ms. Prim! Dumbledore wants a large slice, double the sweetness!"

"Sweetheart, that won't do—" Ms. Prim said without missing a beat. "His teeth will rot!"

"Just this once," Praeris said sincerely.

Ms. Prim turned to look at her. Praeris held her gaze, equally steady. The 2 of them stayed like that for a long moment, and then Ms. Prim nodded. "I'll make a separate portion."

Molly found this rather remarkable. It was the first time she had watched Prim with one of her family's children, and it was unlike anything she'd seen Prim do with any other family.

If Winnie made a demand like that, Prim would refuse without question, no amount of wheedling would change it. But Praeris had only needed to hold her gaze a little longer, to let the resolve show in her eyes, and Prim had simply agreed.

Molly asked about it.

Ms. Prim answered simply. "Praeris always has her reasons."

This family's way with each other was genuinely strange. The parent didn't act like a parent. The child didn't act like a child. They were more like 2 equals who happened to know each other very well.

Molly caught herself wondering: if James and Lily had lived, perhaps their relationship with Harry would have looked something like this.

Dumbledore, of course, got his double-sweetness large tiramisu, and praised it without reservation.

Professor Snape had left after Dumbledore came downstairs. Before the holidays ended, he would return to headquarters to collect Praeris and take her back to Hogwarts.

That afternoon, Tonks came back, and brought another dozen gloves with her.

"Thank you, Tonks. There's been some kind of misunderstanding, though." Praeris said earnestly. "I don't collect gloves, and I don't have that many hands."

She turned 1 over and examined the increasingly ornate selection. "Actually, I asked you to buy these as a Christmas gift for Dumbledore. Can you believe it?"

"Dumbledore!" Tonks stared. "Dumbledore likes gloves?"

Praeris shrugged. "He didn't before."

Now he simply had to.

"But I bought women's styles!" Tonks immediately looked mortified.

Praeris laughed. "It's fine. He seemed quite pleased with them, honestly."

Tonks was leaving soon. Molly tried to keep her for Christmas, but Tonks declined. Not long after she left, Professor Lupin returned.

"Staggered return times to the safe house?" Praeris asked Winnie, tone laden with implication.

Winnie shook her head. "Stay out of it."

Praeris stayed at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place until a few days into the new year. The closer it got to the return to Hogwarts, the more anxious Ms. Prim became.

Every day, Ms. Prim simmered an enormous pot of mutton soup and made Praeris drink a full bowl, resolved to put some weight on that pointed chin before term started. There were large pork pies, pastries stuffed with meat, serving after serving of it, until Praeris's tolerance for meat collapsed entirely and the mere mention of it made her go slightly pale.

"I've never eaten this well," Ron muttered. "Not that my mum's cooking isn't — you know — but Harry. There are 3 kinds of meat on this table. 3. And there's this much of each one."

Praeris raised her hand immediately. "Ms. Prim! Ron says he'd like another bowl!"

Ron went pale. He watched in silent horror as his just-emptied bowl was filled straight back to the brim.

"I'm going to replace the Fat Lady," Ron said, swallowing. "And become the Fat Sir."

The truly alarming part, Harry and Ron agreed, was that Praeris and her mother had clearly lost their minds together, and had now extended their campaign of persecution to Dumbledore himself.

They watched as Praeris waved over Dumbledore the moment he came through the door, pushed a bowl toward him with complete certainty, and said, "Sir, this is yours. Drink it all."

And Dumbledore drank every drop, then told Ms. Prim her mutton soup was excellent.

➤ Next: Christmas Pudding