Chapter 190 - Waiting — What Was Lost

Praeris looked down at him, her voice carrying as if from the far side of an endless plain. "I'll trade with you. A real one."

The ring engraved with "P.P" went around her own neck. The ring engraved with "D.M" she slipped back around Draco's.

Her gaze was tender and sorrowful. Her fingers brushed the calluses on Draco's hand, and she pressed the small bottle hidden in her palm into his.

"This is real Felix Felicis?" Surprise flickered across Draco's eyes.

Praeris and Narcissa had something in common. Both carried a scale in their hearts, weighing what Draco should and shouldn't have. Draco didn't much like it. He always felt the two of them treated him like a child.

"Correct." Praeris kept her eyes lowered. "But Felix Felicis doesn't necessarily bring good luck. It only helps you do the right thing at the right time. In other words, you're still you — just a version of you in excellent condition."

Draco seized her hand before she could pull it back. "Why? I don't believe you'd just casually hand me Felix Felicis. I don't believe it."

Emotion surges from the heart through the whole body, and finally spills from the eyes. Their gazes met, eyes looking into eyes. Emotion flows from one heart to another, touching the other's burning heat.

Praeris touched her necklace and spoke, almost like an order. "The Felix Felicis is yours. Come back alive, and then exchange rings with me. Can you do that?"

Something seemed to dawn on Draco. His breathing grew ragged. "And what about you?"

In Draco's mind, the last time he'd asked Praeris for Felix Felicis was over half a year ago.

Back then, Praeris knew he was doing something dangerous, but she hadn't agreed to his request.

Now, the Felix Felicis she gave him was only half a bottle. How could Draco believe Praeris still had any for herself?

And how could Draco believe that, on the coming night, Dumbledore wouldn't entrust Praeris, this powerful witch, with an important task?

"Worried about me?" Praeris laughed lightly. "I won't die before you. What if you cry me back to life?"

In the end, Draco refused to give the empty bottle back to her. "You gave it to me. It's mine."

Praeris couldn't understand this habit of Draco's, collecting bottles. She gave him two choices, no room for argument: either hand over the old bottle, or pour the potion into the old bottle.

Draco chose the latter.

When the plan would begin, even Praeris didn't know.

"Can't we just destroy the Vanishing Cabinet?" Praeris had asked Snape. "I can find where it is. Destroy it, and no one can enter Hogwarts."

Snape said calmly, "Miss, are you counting on Draco surviving the Dark Lord by killing Dumbledore?"

Praeris shook her head, bewildered.

Snape's voice stayed level. "Without this plan, the Dark Lord would have another plan. At the very least, this plan is already almost entirely understood by us."

"Trust Dumbledore. That's the only thing we can do." Snape placed both hands on her shoulders. "Do you remember what you're supposed to do?"

"I don't remember, sir." Praeris spoke slowly. "If you take this half-bottle of Felix Felicis, I'll remember."

Snape gave a cold laugh. "Believing in such things? It seems you're heading down the wrong path as well!"

"I don't believe in it, sir." Praeris's voice was pleading. "But you can't be so cruel as to make me face the possibility of having no blood relatives left by my side."

Snape swept his cloak around and turned toward the window.

May. The dry season was approaching. The Black Lake's water was gradually receding, revealing three-quarters of the view outside.

Praeris placed the Felix Felicis bottle on the desk and retreated backward toward the office door.

As she walked, she said, "Sir, summer is coming. We'll have another summer together, won't we?"

Snape suddenly spoke. "At first, I didn't intend to write to you."

"You've seen that kind of person. They pity you, as if you were some cat or dog no one wants by the roadside, and you should be groveling with gratitude for whatever scraps they toss you." Snape sneered. "Your mother and your grandfather were exactly that kind of people."

"They disgusted me, so I ignored your mother's letter entirely." Snape's tone was careless. "It was Dumbledore who wanted me to keep you. Do you understand now?"

"I don't understand, sir."

"Foolish! How else am I supposed to say it?" Snape growled, his back still to her. "Your mother and grandfather saw me that way, and I see you the same way, I raised you like some stray cat or dog, and yet you're still concerned about whether I live or die?"

"Yes, sir." Praeris said it bluntly. "There's no helping it. I am exactly that foolish kind of person. If you died, I would definitely grieve for you."

"Do you know? Some Muggle loners die, their houses auctioned off by the government, and their cats and dogs still come back often to the house they once shared." Her voice was hoarse. "But I've never even been to your house. What will I do? If you die, I won't be able to find the way."

Snape let out a long breath. "Get out."

"The Felix Felicis—"

"Get out right now!" Snape roared.

Praeris reached behind her to unlock the door and silently withdrew, thinking: Professor Snape really is so unpredictable...

The night was silent and still.

Time had crept to the last moment before curfew, yet Praeris was still sitting on the sofa.

That evening, Dumbledore had told her in advance that Draco was highly likely to act that night. But he hadn't told her why. He had probably used some method to make Draco believe this was the best possible moment.

Sure enough, by curfew, Draco still hadn't returned to the dormitory. Praeris lit up her two-way mirror, but the other holder wasn't Hermione.

She had asked for the mirror back and given it to Professor Snape.

And then got a scolding.

"Professor Sprout bought it for me." Praeris said stubbornly. "She didn't think there was anything wrong with it."

The two-way mirror didn't show the other person's face, but it flickered, Snape signaling he was aware. Praeris guessed there were other people on the other side; perhaps other professors had matters to discuss with him.

After that, she closed her eyes and waited for dawn.

Yes. That was the only thing Praeris was supposed to do this night, wait.

Half of what she was meant to do had been completed by the previous moment. The other half was far from the time she was supposed to act.

"This is my task?" Praeris shook her head in disbelief. "Though I don't want to admit it, I'm part of the DA too. If you let me go out, how many casualties could the Order of the Phoenix avoid? The number of people I can kill is far more than you imagine!"

Dumbledore shook his head calmly. "Praeris, you will play a role, but not quite the one you imagine."

"You're afraid I'll reveal my identity?" She was puzzled. "Polyjuice Potion, I have enough to last several days."

"No." Dumbledore smiled. "It's not that. You must stay alive, safely, until after I 'die.'"

"Is that Professor Snape's request?" Praeris asked abruptly.

Dumbledore's blue eyes sparkled. He laughed heartily. "About half of it is that, I'd say! The other half... let's discuss it in detail!"

At the very end, he even winked playfully.

After hearing Dumbledore's entire arrangement, Praeris froze. She murmured to herself, "Your expectations of me truly astonish me."

"That's what your genius talent has told me. And you are the only one who can accomplish these things." Dumbledore paused. "I imagine you'll tell me there's no problem?"

Praeris clawed at her own hair and let out a deadpan wail. After a long moment, she raised her head and said through gritted teeth, "One week. At least one week."

"Sufficient." Dumbledore was deeply satisfied.

The hardest thing in the world isn't doing something. It's doing nothing at all.

At first, Praeris was very tense. The grandfather clock in the common room, its pendulum swinging left and right, was like the suspended heart inside her chest. She wanted to light up the two-way mirror and ask Professor Snape about the situation outside, but reason wouldn't let her.

Before long, distant, faint noises began drifting down from upstairs. Not close, at least on the higher floors.

The battle had begun.

Praeris's suspended heart dropped back into her chest, but anxiety rushed in fast behind it. Two of the most important people in her life were fighting for their lives up there, and she could do nothing.

She found herself remembering what Myrtle had said not long ago.

"Don't yell at me, can I say it? Actually, I was quite happy that day."

"Whether it's you, Harry, or Draco."

"If any of you died, I'd gladly share my toilet with you... but not Professor Snape."

"Why?" Praeris had asked.

Myrtle had said, "I want good-looking ones!"

"Apart from you lot, I've only ever extended that kind of invitation to Cedric!"

"Don't be sad. It wouldn't matter if Draco never woke up."

"I've tried it for you. A romance between a ghost and a human, it's not bad either."

How desperately she wanted to leave this place.

Anywhere would do. Killing or being killed, anything was better than this self-roasting wait. In waiting, time stretched longer than the horizon. Praeris placed herself on the rack, turning herself back and forth, roasted until she was scalding hot.

A person can't maintain high emotions forever. She didn't know how long had passed, but her emotions had been worn down until almost nothing remained, only silent exhaustion. The silence was a pool of stagnant water.

Underground, there was no telling dawn from dusk. Praeris pulled out her pocket watch and found the time already approaching early morning. She had no choice but to drag her weary body back to bed, determined to fall asleep, hoping that the moment she opened her eyes, she'd know the final outcome.

Yet she still couldn't sleep. She opened her pocket watch and lit up its numbers one by one.

This was her accepting Draco's ball invitation. That was her learning that Winnie and Lady Pulley were safe and sound. This was Pansy Parkinson telling her it was okay if it wasn't Draco. That was her spending Christmas at Grimmauld Place...

The emotions in the pocket watch, though real, were nearly like the illusions of the Resurrection Stone.

The feeling of happiness and the events of happiness themselves are inseparably linked. Yet people cannot ride the ark of time back to the past, so the emotions left behind change in flavor, clumsy counterfeits, tasting like falsely sweet artificial saccharine.

Praeris found she could no longer lie flat.

She curled up, rolling herself into a ball. The entire waters of the Black Lake churned inside her chest, and she let not a single drop spill out.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

"Mm?" Millicent stretched groggily. "Who is it?"

Several girls had all been woken by the knocking. Pansy Parkinson, with the worst temper, pounded her pillow irritably.

Praeris got out of bed, walked to the door, and found a younger Slytherin girl standing outside.

The girl in pajamas said, "Prince, I got up to use the bathroom—"

"Get to the point."

"McGonagall — uh, the Deputy Headmistress — is looking for you." The younger girl was so startled by her expression that she began to hiccup.

Praeris nodded stiffly, grabbed the cloak from the hat stand by the door, draped it hastily over herself, and hurried out.

The younger girl thought that this Prince, with her cloak billowing behind her, really looked like their Head of House.

When Praeris came out, Professor McGonagall was standing at the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

Professor McGonagall slowly raised her head. Her face was as pale as a ghost's, her body swaying slightly. She opened her mouth, as if wanting to question something, but swallowed it all back down.

At this moment, Praeris grew calm instead. She said evenly, "Professor McGonagall, is there something you need from me?"

"I..." Professor McGonagall was trembling. "We need you, Praeris."

Walking from the dungeons to the Hospital Wing, Professor McGonagall told Praeris that Bill Weasley had been bitten by a werewolf. The only thing to be thankful for was that tonight was not a full moon.

"Madam Pomfrey used every spell she knows." Professor McGonagall tried to keep her voice steady. "But none of them could heal Bill."

The logic was already clear. The person in the world who knew the most about werewolf potions, aside from Damocles, was Praeris, who had developed the affordable Wolfsbane Potion.

Professor McGonagall didn't mention what had happened tonight, and Praeris didn't ask. But the relationship between the two of them had already quietly shifted.

Professor McGonagall knew that Praeris had not taken part in tonight's operation, and that Snape's actions had nothing to do with Praeris.

Yet she also knew with absolute clarity the relationship between Praeris and Snape. Even someone as fair as her could not, at this moment, in this place, in front of Praeris, maintain complete impartiality and composure.

The moment Professor McGonagall led Praeris into the Hospital Wing, all voices ceased.

The gazes of the Order of the Phoenix members were complicated.

They knew Praeris was a Slytherin, Snape's close apprentice. They also knew that this girl was Lady Pulley's daughter. Among them was Sirius Black, he knew a bit more. This was, in fact, the child of a Gryffindor classmate.

Lady Pulley was the first to speak. "Praeris, come quickly and take a look at Bill!"

➤ Next: Parting — Tears Unshed