Chapter 189 - Before the Storm

The reason Harry's use of Dark Arts against Draco Malfoy could be so easily suppressed was primarily because Lucius Malfoy was still locked up in Azkaban and unable to stand up for his son.

Secondly, it was because Snape and Praeris had moved fast enough to save him. And Snape, as the victim's Head of House, swiftly handed down the punishment: detention and suspension from the Quidditch team.

The Slytherins were certainly not about to accept it. But since the decision came from their own Head of House, they had no choice but to let it go, however unwillingly, and resorted to snide remarks about Potter in private.

So when Professor McGonagall said to Harry, "Not being expelled is already generous — I fully support Snape's punishment," she meant every word.

Professor McGonagall actually had some inkling of the rumor that Praeris had beaten Harry up. But for all the reasons above, she chose to turn a blind eye and pretend nothing had ever happened.

Hospital Wing.

"Draco!" Pansy Parkinson ran laughing to Draco's bedside to share the good news with him as he sat up in bed. "We got revenge for you too!"

Praeris sliced a piece from the peeled apple and held it to Draco's mouth, then asked Pansy with great enthusiasm, "Oh? What did you do?"

Pansy hopped to one side and played Ginny Weasley, then hopped to the other side and played herself. One moment she was Millicent Bulstrode, the next she was another member of the Gryffindor team.

The girl single-handedly performed an entire exaggerated one-woman show that had everyone present doubled over with laughter, truly a Pansy who met her boyfriend at the theater!

Millicent pressed her lips together and jabbed Pansy with her elbow. "I didn't do it for Malfoy."

"Yes, yes, you did it for Prae!" Pansy said with a grin. "You two didn't see — they won the match, but the looks on their faces when they left were absolutely foul!"

"A pity I didn't get to witness your brilliant performance in person." Draco chewed his apple as he asked Pansy, eyes lowered, "Does my mother know I was injured?"

Pansy's wide grin instantly retracted. She stammered, "I told everyone not to write home about it, but Professor Snape's end..."

That was hardly something Pansy could control!

Draco seemed less than pleased with this and let out a couple of hmphs. Seeing this, Pansy couldn't help saying, "I thought you would tell your mother."

"My mother certainly wants to know everything about me." Draco's face darkened. "But personally, I think this is hardly necessary..."

Pansy and Praeris exchanged a look, each understanding what the other was thinking. Watching a bad-tempered boy who used to love tattling to his parents learn to share only the good news and not the bad, that was not something that lightened the heart.

Pansy didn't know what burden Draco was carrying. She thought the entire transformation stemmed from Lucius's imprisonment. She wanted very much to comfort her childhood friend, but this was not the sort of thing that could be comforted.

The heavy atmosphere made everyone uneasy, and Pansy and Millicent soon left. Praeris remained sitting there, slicing apple pieces. Silence flowed between the two of them.

Draco suddenly looked at Praeris. "You have nothing to ask me?"

Praeris stilled the knife in her hand. "What do you think I need to ask?"

Draco let out an ugly laugh. "It seems I just spoke a pointless sentence."

What need did Praeris have to ask? The Draco before her, though fully clothed, was more naked than if he wore nothing at all.

"No, I do have a question." Praeris's eyes were like obsidian, catching a faint halo of light in the sun. "Have you resolved to complete that task?"

Draco struggled to keep his tone even. But clearly, his mental state was not much more stable than a Mandrake's right now. "You're about to go tell the person you're loyal to, aren't you?"

The moment the words left Draco's mouth, Praeris shoved him down and threw the blanket over his head.

"Talk to me in 3 minutes." Praeris was utterly calm. "I want to hear your words — what you truly think, from the heart, not driven by emotion. Understood?"

Bringing up Narcissa had undoubtedly reminded Draco of the worry in his mother's eyes during the summer holidays and at Christmas. Praeris had no choice but to forcibly shut Draco down through physical means, to prevent him from attacking friend and foe alike, indiscriminately, like Fiendfyre.

Through the blanket, Praeris gently lay down and pressed her ear against Draco's stomach, feeling the blanket rise and fall with his breathing. And Draco's breathing, gradually, fell into sync with the vibrations of Praeris's words.

Sunlight streamed through the windowpane onto her face, her long lashes casting a small patch of shadow. Dust drifted slowly in the air, sinking and floating. The Hospital Wing, for once, had no second patient, so quiet. From downstairs came the distant clamor of a flying lesson, as if in another world.

Praeris's voice was very, very soft. "Draco, I don't consider that loyalty. I'm loyal to no one but myself."

"When we need to obtain something, we must necessarily give something in return. That's a transaction." Praeris said, "Politicians' hearts are all filthy, their hands all black — even if that politician is Dumbledore."

Praeris said this, but in truth she held no one's morals to any standard, Dumbledore included.

Quite the opposite, although Praeris did not approve of some of Dumbledore's methods, she could understand his choices.

As a leader, Dumbledore faced a trolley problem. He was constantly forced to choose between the lives of the few and the lives of the many. And he himself could have simply chosen not to take part in this choice at all, Voldemort wished for nothing more than for Dumbledore to stay out of these matters. But Dumbledore got involved, and at one point even strapped himself to the tracks as well.

People always demand that the great be morally flawless, while the small may be as amoral as they please. That is nothing but coercion, greatness and morality are not the same thing at all.

When Praeris said Dumbledore's heart was filthy and his hands black, she was not actually hating Dumbledore. It was more like... an objective assessment.

"I want to help you break free from this." Praeris drew a deep breath and said, "We will help you, even if it requires paying some price..."

Draco's voice came from beneath the blanket, thick with tears. "No, Praeris. No one can help me. Forget all of this... I'm begging you, forget it. This has nothing to do with you."

"But you have something to do with me." Praeris said.

In the spring-summer cusp of 1996, the laburnum bloomed across Scotland, the bluebells bloomed too, the elder trees put forth clusters of small, dense flowers, and the pines remained ever green.

All beautiful things were growing vigorously, a pity that those with feeling paid them no heed, utterly without the heart to appreciate them.

Praeris pushed open the office door with a dark expression and saw at a glance Harry sighing mournfully over dusty old files.

The moment he heard someone enter, Harry straightened up like a spring-loaded mechanism. When he saw it was Praeris, he slumped crookedly back down.

"You don't even knock when entering an office?" Harry said, incredulous.

"It seems I've come to the wrong place." Praeris said slowly. "I had no idea this was your home?"

"What are you saying?" Harry shot back without hesitation. "My home is at Grimmauld Place!"

Praeris retorted with biting sarcasm. "Otherwise, what gives you the right to dictate how I open this door?"

Harry grumbled inwardly. Praeris's mental state seemed somewhat questionable right now, better not provoke her!

Praeris walked past Harry with practiced ease, took a stack of envelopes from the bookcase, pulled out a fresh one, and slipped a sheet of letter paper inside.

She then strolled behind the desk, reached into the drawer, and fished out Snape's wax seal stamp. She melted the sealing wax, poured it onto the envelope, and pressed the seal down.

"Praeris, what are you doing?"

Harry couldn't hold back his urge to speak. Sorting through years-old files was more boring than memorizing Lockhart's favorite color. Not to mention he kept having to see all the unsavory business of his parents' generation, which jabbed at his heart every so often.

Praeris raised an eyebrow and said carelessly, "Can't you tell? Sealing with wax, to prevent people of low moral character from reading someone else's letters!"

Harry felt Praeris's words were pointed, but he didn't want to think about who exactly she was sniping at, that would only make him start taking it personally.

Having applied the wax seal, Praeris still wasn't satisfied. She placed the envelope inside Snape's drawer and, for good measure, cast a sealing charm on the drawer.

"It seems Hogwarts is no longer safe." Harry reflexively shot back. "Why not hide it at Gringotts? They offer vault-guarding services."

Praeris dusted off her hands and said calmly, "Guess what? I've broken into Gringotts — and wasn't caught."

Harry...

What could Harry say?

Was he supposed to praise Praeris for exemplifying Slytherin spirit, being especially orthodox in her commitment to breaking the rules?

"Wait, I have a question!" Harry suddenly stood up. "Praeris, is the Half-Blood Prince... a girl?"

Praeris, who hadn't yet reached the door, slowly turned back and looked at him with deep meaning. "Don't make me beat you up again. Trust me — you don't want to know who the Half-Blood Prince is. And you'd best not keep digging into this matter."

Harry wasn't the least bit afraid of a fight, but he didn't want to fight Praeris.

Hermione's words had unearthed all the debts of gratitude toward Praeris that Harry had been ignoring, and now he couldn't fight her at all.

Before this, however, Hermione had accidentally discovered a photo of "Eileen Prince," who she believed was an aunt on Praeris's father's side.

Think about it, Lady Prae's surname was Purnell, so the surname "Prince" must have come from Praeris's father. And wouldn't you know it! Eileen Prince's age made her exactly right to be Praeris's great-aunt.

Harry didn't agree with this view. "The Half-Blood Prince, that's a prince! How could it be a girl?"

"Oh, come on. As long as Eileen is Praeris's great-aunt, that's enough." Hermione said crossly. "You just think a girl couldn't do something like that, but Praeris can, can't she?"

Seeing Praeris walk in, a thought had popped into Harry's head, why not just ask the person in question?

Now it seemed, well, he couldn't ask at all! Praeris, that one, would have no problem engaging him in a duel.

Honestly, Harry thought witches were far more ferocious than wizards. Just look, Praeris, Hermione, and Ginny Weasley, not a single one to be trifled with!

Not long after, Snape returned.

Harry deliberately didn't tell him Praeris had been there, but Snape noticed the magic on his desk drawer at a single glance. He undid the spell with ease, took out the envelope, and frowned.

Harry thought Snape would open the envelope, but Snape didn't, nor did he show any intention of setting the envelope aside to open after Harry left.

He picked up the envelope and strode out with hurried steps, as though a three-headed dog were chasing him from behind.

Slytherin girls' dormitory.

Praeris crouched by her bed and pulled her battered old trunk out from underneath. She removed the protective spells and anti-unlocking charms, opened the latch, and revealed the assortment of rare potions within.

She closed her eyes, but her eyeballs moved faintly beneath the lids, betraying her inner disquiet. Only after a long while did she finally open her eyes and take a small, delicate potion vial from the trunk.

For anyone who had attended Slughorn's Potions class, this was no stranger. For Draco, it was no stranger either.

This was Felix Felicis.

In the crisis to come, Praeris had far too many people she wanted to protect, but she only had one vial of Felix Felicis.

Ah, someone might say, why not brew more Felix Felicis? Why not boil up a great cauldron of it like seafood soup at the dinner table!

Yes, why not?

Why were its raw ingredients so expensive and so hard to obtain, while its brewing cycle was so long and its preparation method so troublesome!

It had been less than a year since Harry used up the last vial of Felix Felicis the previous summer. And on top of that, during this period she had successively produced the Spirit Elixir, the Dream Potion, and the Limb-Regeneration Potion!

Even Merlin reborn couldn't necessarily have brewed a second batch of Felix Felicis under such conditions.

Praeris reasonably deduced that however rampant the Death Eaters became, they wouldn't launch a daylight assault on Hogwarts. And at night, the student dormitories were guarded by password-protected doors.

That meant the one who truly needed the Felix Felicis was the person who would inevitably be involved in the events of that day.

In truth, Praeris most wanted to give the Felix Felicis to Professor Snape, not Draco. But that man did not believe in fate, did not believe in luck, and disdained even more the strength brought by such external forces.

Otherwise, over all these years, he would have long since brewed a great load of it for himself.

And so, Praeris came once more to the Hospital Wing and said to Draco, "I'll trade you for something."

"What do you want?" Draco said without hesitation. "I'll just give it to you!"

Praeris said, "The thing around your neck."

Draco froze. Around his neck was a chain, at the bottom of which hung a small vial of Felix Felicis, and threaded onto the vial were two rings.

"You..." Draco stammered, "What did you say you wanted?"

Praeris stretched out her hand like a pirate. "All of it."

"No!" Draco suddenly refused, forceful. "The rings you can have, both of them... but not the Felix Felicis."

Draco ought to have been overjoyed, but now he had to protect what he believed to be a token of their bond.

For a moment, he didn't even have time to feel glad.

➤ Next: Waiting — What Was Lost