Chapter 169 - I Look Down on You

And yet, Krum praised Hermione while always putting himself down, something Hermione found baffling.

What big star ever said they were no good?

When Krum met Hermione, he never embraced her. He just stared, intently, as if he could find a flower blooming somewhere in her.

Faced with her praise, he would hurry to murmur, "No, no, no. Stars are manufactured."

Krum believed that intelligence and life wisdom were two entirely different things. Hermione was clever, yes, but his star status and the experience of being older had dazzled her. He'd stepped into the real world early. The gap in understanding between them was enormous.

He brought up the Quidditch World Cup. The Bulgarian team couldn't have won even if he caught the Golden Snitch, and he had known that. He'd caught it anyway.

That single decision cost Bulgaria the match: 160–170 to Ireland.

Some people had cursed him for it. Said he'd made himself a star on the team's back, without caring whether they sank or swam.

But most people only remembered that Krum caught the Golden Snitch. That he was the best Seeker in the world.

Krum had no regrets. His teammates were already incapable of closing a twenty-point gap, and the Irish Seeker Lynch could have snatched the Snitch at any moment. At least he kept the final score from being a humiliation.

Think about it. If it had really ended 10–320, the Bulgarian team would have been cursed from that World Cup all the way to the next one.

Krum was a man of few words, but around Hermione, he always spoke a little more than usual.

He looked at her seriously and said, "Hermione, I caught the Golden Snitch, so I am a big star. If I hadn't caught it, I would still be me. I would still have all that training behind me. But I would not be a big star."

"My fame is all foam, just something the journalists wrote." He said it bluntly, without apology. "Besides Quidditch, what else can I do? I believe that when you reach my age, your talent will make you better than me. More famous than me."

Experience is a kind of capital. Whether a person has seen, heard, and felt the broader world, real society, not a school, shapes their worldview in ways that can't be taught in a classroom.

Krum could brutally slam opponents off their brooms on the pitch. But he couldn't take advantage of a girl who had feelings for him.

Hermione could feel that Krum liked her. Yet there was a thin barrier between them, something that stopped him from closing the last distance.

"Wil seems to think my feelings for him are some kind of young-girl infatuation, but he's only three or four years older than me!" Hermione rested her chin on her hand and complained. "I have to be grateful we're long-distance, otherwise he'd always be finding ways to make me sober up."

Hermione's ability to tell a story was remarkable. Praeris understood completely.

Praeris rested her own chin on her hand and asked, "Right now, if a third-year student confessed to you, would you,"

"No, I wouldn't!" Hermione cut her off immediately. "Merlin! Third year!"

"That's exactly what Krum thinks." Praeris's tone was gentle. "He likes you. That's true. But how can he believe that your feelings aren't just a whim? That you aren't a young person with hormones muddling your head, making an immature decision?"

Krum had lived through his own restless student years. He understood perfectly well what it felt like, that inner trembling, that hunger for love.

Which was exactly why he had to think harder. Rather than basely exploit Hermione's young feelings.

"Krum is exceptional, and you are genuinely talented." Praeris said quietly. "From everything you've said, I'd guess Krum has already thought this through. The gap between you and Krum is time. Only time."

When Hermione reached the age Krum was now, she would be an excellent, high-spirited, celebrated witch. Would that version of Hermione still feel the same way about him?

Krum stood to benefit from their age gap, whether he wanted to or not. Knowing that, how could he simply accept Hermione's fervent feelings as his due?

"But I like Wil because of who he is, not because he's a Quidditch superstar!" Hermione rushed to explain. "Harry has far more titles than Wil, and I never fell for Harry!"

"But Krum can't help thinking that way." Praeris said. "He's also afraid that he might be using the gap in age and status to entice you, without even meaning to."

A man of few words keeps everything in his heart.

Accepting Hermione's love, that was because his own heart had stirred. Working to keep her from drowning in that love, that was because he truly cared for her.

Love is possession. But it is also letting go.

Praeris looked at Hermione's downcast face, that lost, not-sure-what-to-do expression, and sighed.

"Hermione, as long as you like him, keep on liking him." She said it sincerely. "Time will give you both the answer. Stay rational, stay alert, Krum's thinking isn't wrong."

The current Krum could restrain himself. But the future? Who knew if his morals might slip?

Across the distance, Praeris and Krum had reached a kind of silent, unspoken agreement. Neither of them wanted Hermione to get hurt in this.

Praeris's gaze sharpened. Her tone went steel-edged. "My two-way mirror is always open for you. If Krum ever goes against what he believes now, I am willing to offer you some means of retaliation."

Hermione suddenly laughed and covered her mouth.

"No, Praeris." She was caught somewhere between exasperation and warmth. "You're so kind, but I don't need that. I can protect myself. Just like you said, I'm a talented person too, aren't I?"

Then, before she could close the mirror, Hermione brought up Draco.

"I really hate to say this." She hesitated. "But I think... perhaps Malfoy really is involved in something dangerous."

"I know." Praeris said calmly. "I know all of it. Just give me a little time."

Praeris couldn't find it in her to blame Draco.

She had once, for Winnie and Professor Snape, chosen to stand directly against Voldemort. She had helped Dumbledore search for Horcruxes.

How was Draco any different from her?

He was doing it for his parents. Forced to pick up a blade, forced to stand against Dumbledore. That was all.

If anything, Praeris was far luckier than Draco. Dumbledore wasn't asking her to go kill Voldemort.

Destroying Horcruxes didn't count as premeditated murder.

"Oh, right!" Hermione had almost closed the mirror. She stopped suddenly. "If — and I'm only saying if — someone has something you want, but for some reason they refuse to give it to you... do you have any good methods to break through their psychological defenses?"

Praeris gave her a long, measured look. "Hermione, a class Harry doesn't want to take shouldn't be delegated to you to learn on his behalf."

Hermione choked. She lowered her head in embarrassment.

Praeris scoffed. She didn't know exactly what Harry was after right now, but the only person who could prompt a question like that was Harry, who had taken her Occlumency lessons.

"Physical or non-physical?" Praeris shifted immediately into a professional register.

"Non-physical," Hermione said.

"Some kind of information, then. Memory or knowledge." Praeris shook her head. "Not that it matters, knowledge can be extracted from memory either way. Have him come to me for supplementary Legilimency training."

"No, Legilimency won't work." Hermione dismissed it.

Praeris turned sharply to the two-way mirror. Her voice went cold. "The person you're targeting... it wouldn't be Professor Snape, would it?"

"No, no, no!" Hermione shook her head rapidly.

She nearly bit her own tongue. She had actually forgotten, the people Legilimency wouldn't work on: besides Professor Slughorn, who had tampered with his own memory, there was only the Occlumency master Professor Snape.

Praeris's expression eased a fraction. "Veritaserum."

"That won't work either. We've already considered it." Hermione said. "And don't look at me like that, it really isn't Professor Snape!"

"It's Professor Slughorn, isn't it," Praeris said flatly.

Hermione suddenly understood why Harry was so reluctant to attend Occlumency lessons.

"People generally can't get something for nothing... unless someone else pays the price for them." Praeris propped her chin on one hand. "If Harry can afford to pay a sufficient price, no matter how rare the thing, Professor Slughorn will be moved."

"The price..." Hermione drifted into thought.

"Exactly. So Harry would do well to find out what Professor Slughorn actually wants." Praeris continued. "Of course, if Harry doesn't want to pay that price, he could turn his own need into Professor Slughorn's need. Or find a way to link the two together."

"You could also consider the deeper reasons. Why is he refusing in the first place? Is there any danger for him in agreeing?" Praeris said, almost offhand. "And if you're not particularly concerned with sustainability, you could always strike when Professor Slughorn's defenses are at their lowest — a dying man speaks from the heart, hehehe —"

She said it so breezily that Hermione flinched.

"I'm joking!" Praeris waved a hand. "When the will is weak, drunk, for instance. Or feeling low in the middle of the night. Under heavy physical or mental stress. In the middle of self-criticism. Times like those, especially when someone is alone with another person, they're far more likely to let the truth slip out."

After saying goodbye to Hermione, Praeris rushed off to her next class. They'd been talking so long she had nearly forgotten she still had somewhere to be.

Hermione had clearly ended it for the same reason, because the next class was one they both had.

Potions.

With Slughorn teaching.

Slughorn spent the lesson on Golpalott's Third Law and its corresponding Scarpin's Revelaspell.

It was the same principle Winnie had once used to teach her: analyze the curse, then study the counter-curse that corresponds to it.

Simply put, you determine a potion's components and brew the antidote. But potion components interact, producing effects no single ingredient creates alone. Targeting each component individually was useless. You had to approach the potion as a whole, break it down from the top, not the bottom.

The practical Slughorn assigned was straightforward: collect a small vial of potion from him and formulate a targeted antidote.

Praeris's approach to antidotes had always trimmed unnecessary steps, keeping only what was needed to reach the desired effect. She also worked in nonverbal spells. Even the Slytherins sitting right next to her couldn't copy her work.

"What did you use?" Zabini asked, with great reluctance. His cauldron had already become a disaster.

Praeris swept a disdainful glance at him. "Zabini, basilisk drool. After all, I am a basilisk that cannot be looked upon or approached, am I not?"

Theodore laughed without mercy. He nudged Draco and "enthusiastically" invited him to enjoy the joke too.

Draco brushed Theodore's hand off and growled under his breath, "I nearly cast the wrong spell!"

Before half the time was even up, Praeris's antidote was done.

She glanced at the four people beside her, then looked back at her own work, and said without inflection, "Who told you to add Horklump juice?"

The other three looked left and right in confusion, then all turned to look at Draco.

Nobody was quite sure how it had happened, perhaps an error somewhere in the procedure, but he had been splattered head to toe in filthy, foul-smelling potion.

Wasn't this a bit much?

They'd broken up, and they were still showing off in front of everyone?

If you two are so capable, go sit together!

Slughorn happened to walk up at that moment. He looked down at her antidote and nodded with satisfaction. "Couldn't be better! A tailor-made antidote, without a single redundant element! No wonder Severus holds you in such high regard. Praeris, do you still need horned toads?"

The corner of Praeris's mouth twitched. "No need, Professor. Thank you very much for your support."

"Oh! Wonderful!" Slughorn said happily. "I look forward to seeing your latest research in The Potioneer's Journal!"

When Slughorn announced that practice time was over, Praeris glanced across the room at Harry's cauldron and her brow furrowed deeply.

Relying on outside help. He's finally backed himself into a corner, hasn't he?

Praeris thought it was about time Harry learned a lesson.

"Harry." Slughorn sounded like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. He asked, with some hope remaining, "What do you have to show me?"

Harry opened his hand, fingers spread.

A bezoar.

Praeris's brow furrowed tighter.

"This is precisely the independent spirit a true potioneer needs!"

"Yes, a bezoar certainly works. I can't say you're wrong..."

Before dismissing the class, Slughorn added cheerfully, "Gryffindor dares to take risks — ten points!"

This was Praeris, after defeating Harry on her own merit, standing in front of him again.

Her expression was still as stone. Her voice was ice. "Potter, if you thought of this yourself, I respect that. If it's the same as always, I don't."

"You're just upset that you got beaten by me," Harry said, digging in.

He couldn't admit it. Not now. He still had to soften Slughorn, still had to find a way to that Horcrux lead. Admitting it would have to wait.

➤ Next: Settling Accounts — Tears Unshed