Chapter 203 - Parting and Regret

"Krum is Durmstrang's champion." Praeris considered her words for a moment. "If you told him the truth, he wouldn't necessarily be afraid of the danger."

Hermione's tears fell freely. She covered her mouth and shook her head. "I know he's not afraid! But I... this is my own choice. How could I let him be persecuted because of me?"

In the fight against Voldemort, Hermione had spent six years accumulating experience, strength, and courage. She willingly risked her life for a peaceful future.

But Krum was different.

It wasn't that Hermione thought he lacked her resolve. It was simply that he never should have been involved, and never needed to be.

Grindelwald had murdered Krum's grandfather. At Durmstrang, many students' families still lived under the shadow of that war, and Krum was one of them. He loathed extremist forces like the Acolytes. He loathed brutal wars.

Krum was a star now, a Quidditch athlete, training year-round in Bulgaria and competing across the continent. After the Death Eaters grew increasingly brazen, Quidditch matches in Britain had been canceled one after another. He had no reason to come to Britain. But Hermione was here.

In the flower fields of the Cotswolds, Hermione had realized the truth: if she didn't end this, Krum would risk his life again and again, coming back to this land where the clouds of war were gathering, all for her.

Loving someone means constant fear. It makes you weak. Krum had a safe and bright path ahead of him. Knowing he had nothing to do with any of this, Hermione could not drag him into the war.

His family had already lost someone in Grindelwald's war. What kind of heart would his parents need, to face the prospect of losing their son, when they had already lost a father?

Praeris understood completely.

It was precisely because Krum might join the fight against Voldemort for Hermione's sake that Hermione couldn't let him know why. She would rather Krum believe she was a heartless, faithless woman.

"Hermione, you're a good girl." Praeris looked at her with quiet sadness. "Krum knows that too. Your lie was too clumsy, how could he ever believe it?"

Hermione tilted her head back, trying to blink the tears away. It didn't work. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, again and again, until a handkerchief appeared in front of her.

She buried her face in it and sobbed so hard she could barely form words. "Praeris, you're wrong! I am a bad girl! I did it on purpose — I did it on purpose! I told a clumsy lie on purpose! I thought — I thought — if I can survive until the war ends, we can still be together!"

Hermione had dodged Krum's questions deliberately, hoping to leave a sliver of hope in his heart. Once the war was over, once the misunderstanding she had manufactured was cleared away, there was still a chance. The embers could still be rekindled.

Beneath the great love for justice, there is also small, personal love. That kind of selfishness is nothing to be ashamed of.

Praeris felt a deep tenderness for her. She stood, walked to Hermione's side of the seat, and held her tight.

"It will get better." Praeris said. "Autumn is almost here. Can the next spring be far behind?"

After the brief conversation, the two prepared to head to the Order of the Phoenix.

Praeris had not agreed outright to help George. She needed to see the injury herself before she could say whether she could do anything, the same way she hadn't made promises about Bill beforehand.

Edmund, the doctor from her convent days, had a rule: never raise a family's expectations too high. If anything went wrong, the disappointment had a way of turning vicious.

They left the café, found a deserted alley, and Apparated to Grimmauld Place. Hermione took Praeris's hand and led her to Number Twelve.

"Praeris!"

Ms. Prewett and Winnie spotted them first. They rushed over and pulled her into a hug.

Praeris was already smiling as she dug into her trunk. "I brought Exeter beer, and clotted cream from Devon!"

Bottles and jars kept coming, one after another, from a trunk that seemed to have no bottom. Anyone who didn't know better would have sworn she'd just come back from a holiday in the southwest.

Ms. Prewett lit up. "Oh! Darling, you're wonderful! This was my favorite when I was little! My grandmother would spread an enormous amount of cream on everything — her bread, her coffee — so sweet it made me screech!"

"How did you know..." Praeris blinked, surprised.

Ms. Prewett smiled and raised one finger. "Shh. I used to sneak bites of hers!"

"Tsk tsk tsk!" Winnie shook her head in mock horror. "Prewett! Corrupting the children!"

Ms. Prewett immediately moved to swat her.

The Weasleys had been waiting to one side. Now, at last, they asked Praeris to come see George.

One look was enough. Praeris recognized Sectumsempra's work immediately. But clearly, no one here knew the counter-curse. She paused at that thought.

Truthfully, Winnie might be able to work it out, analyze the curse and attempt a counter on George. But Praeris had just seen the wounds on Winnie that hadn't fully healed yet. She'd been through a brutal fight of her own.

Winnie wasn't the boldest of people. Maybe in that moment, she'd still been shaken, still reeling, and simply hadn't been able to react in time.

Praeris said nothing about any of this.

She looked up at the Weasleys, faces tight with anxiety, and said slowly, "This is... a very powerful dark curse. George Weasley's situation is not the same as Bill Weasley's. He didn't receive timely treatment. I can heal the wound completely, but restoring it to how it was before..."

"If it had been shortly after the injury, there might still have been some hope." Praeris shook her head. "Now, it's too late."

Dumbledore and Bill Weasley had both been treated on the spot, fresh wounds dealt with immediately. George's case was different. His wound had gone untreated for over 12 hours. Even with Praeris here, there was no good solution.

Mrs. Weasley buried her face in Mr. Weasley's chest, weeping.

George forced himself to rally. He shrugged. "Mum, you should be glad, now you'll be able to tell me and Fred apart!"

Mr. Weasley took Molly upstairs. Praeris stayed in the sitting room and began casting the counter-curse on George's ear.

George said, "I thought you'd grow up to do something impressive."

"Like becoming a cold-blooded killer," Fred said.

George said, "Or slaughtering cows in an abattoir for ten years."

Praeris looked up, puzzled.

George said, "We've seen you argue with Malfoy."

Fred said, "Back in first year."

George said, "We suspected you had knives growing in your mouth."

A tactful way of putting it, given that Praeris was still in the middle of casting a counter-curse on George.

What George and Fred said privately was that they'd watched first-year Praeris wage a war of words against Malfoy, and never imagined that years later it would turn into a very different kind.

In truth, there was far more they hadn't imagined. Praeris and Draco were pure romance, they still hadn't even reached the tongue-war stage.

Praeris finished the incantation and took a small bottle of Dittany from her trunk, handing it to the brothers. "Cold-blooded killer still sounds better, honestly. I'm not interested in cows right now, where's Harry?"

"Why are you looking for him?"

Ginny asked from the other sofa, her voice coming out of nowhere.

Hermione answered quickly, "He should be upstairs with Sirius!"

Praeris glanced at Ginny, gave Hermione a look, and headed for the stairs.

Hermione drew Ginny aside to the other end of the room. "You care about Harry too much. But Praeris has always only liked Draco Malfoy."

"Then why is she looking for Harry?" Ginny scratched her hair in frustration. "You told me I shouldn't just orbit around Harry, that I should pay more attention to myself. I did that, and Harry saw me, and fell for me."

"But you're all planning something, and Harry says he can't tell me, and he's afraid Voldemort will hurt the people close to him." She paused. "You know I'm not afraid of that." Ginny fixed her gaze on Hermione. "So what about Praeris? Harry pulled her aside to talk privately by the Black Lake, and now she's seeking him out alone again?"

Hermione patted Ginny on the shoulder. "You should be more confident. And you should trust Harry more. Is Harry really the kind of boy who plays two sides at once?"

Ginny was quiet for a long moment. "No."

"Neither is Praeris." Hermione said softly. "She knew a long time ago that Malfoy was a Death Eater. She never told anyone, because of what's between them. It's precisely because Malfoy became a Death Eater that she hates Voldemort all the more. She'd do anything to see him dead sooner..."

Upstairs, Praeris found Harry on the second floor. He was with Sirius, rooting through a box of Sirius's childhood things.

"Harry, I need to ask you something." Praeris said.

Harry looked at Sirius, who waved him off. Praeris grabbed Harry and pulled him into an empty room, then immediately began setting up anti-eavesdropping wards. Harry watched with a slightly stunned expression.

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

Praeris fixed him with a sharp look. "Have you destroyed the Horcrux?"

"What?" Harry said, startled. "How do you..."

How did Praeris know he had a Horcrux?

"That's not important." Praeris asked again. "Have you destroyed it?"

Harry lowered his head. "Dumbledore and I found Slytherin's locket in the cave, but it wasn't the real locket. Someone had taken it beforehand."

Praeris wondered whether Dumbledore had known this all along, whether that was why he'd asked her to make a special trip to find out the situation. But more likely, he'd simply been adding an extra layer of insurance.

"So that wasn't a Horcrux at all." Praeris said. "And you still haven't found the real one."

It made them sound useless, but Harry couldn't deny it. "We've been looking for the R.A.B. who took it, but we haven't found them yet."

R.A.B.?

Praeris began to pace. She closed her eyes, one arm folded across her chest, the fingers of her other hand tapping steadily at her temple. "The Black family, the Bulstrode family, the Burns family, Bagshot, Mr. Borgin, Brown, Belby, Boot, Bloch..."

Harry stared. She was listing every person she could recall from the wizarding world whose surname began with "B," every last one, not even sparing Muggle-born classmates.

He had the wild thought: when you have no leads, you just brute-force enumerate? But then again, this was Praeris. Nothing she did seemed strange for long.

Praeris opened her eyes and shook her head. "This is very difficult to trace."

Harry nodded. He tried a guess. "Do you think it could be the shopkeeper at Borgin and Burkes? Voldemort once worked there, and they deal in so many Dark artifacts."

"No." Praeris shook her head. "Mr. Borgin's first name starts with a 'K.' He's called Caractacus Burke."

Harry had always known Praeris was exceptionally intelligent. Even so, he couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that she had the name of some shopkeeper deep in Knockturn Alley stored perfectly in her memory.

"What about someone from the Bulstrode family?" Harry said, thinking it through. "You're very close with Millicent Bulstrode."

Praeris didn't hesitate. "Millicent's mother is called Dolly Bulstrode. Her aunt is called Rebecca Bulstrode. Her father is called Aldrich Bulstrode..."

She stopped.

Millicent's Aunt Becky.

Praeris and Harry looked at each other.

Praeris shook her head quickly. "Mr. Bulstrode took the fall for his Death Eater wife. Aunt Becky despises Death Eaters. She even thinks the Dark Lord might be a half-blood, how would she have ever had access to..."

"Why couldn't she!" Harry said, excited. "It's precisely because Mr. Bulstrode died for a Death Eater that she hates Voldemort and wants to avenge him!"

The more Harry thought about it, the more it held together. Everything fit.

Praeris looked at him steadily. "Do you remember what the note said?"

Harry had studied that note for a long time. He could recite it in his sleep.

"'To the Dark Lord,

By the time you read this letter... you will still be a mortal being of flesh and blood.

R.A.B.'"

Praeris raised an eyebrow. "Dark Lord?"

She didn't believe for a second this was something just anyone could know. No matter how deeply someone hated Voldemort, if they didn't know about Horcruxes, they didn't know. Knowledge of their existence wasn't something that came from hatred alone. Whoever knew about the Horcruxes, whoever had been trusted enough to safeguard one, had to be someone Voldemort had placed real faith in.

Harry went still. "Dark Lord, that's what Voldemort's own followers call him..."

Which meant R.A.B. might be a Death Eater.

That was nothing like what Harry had imagined.

"We need Winnie's help." Praeris said it with finality. "Let's go."

Harry grabbed her arm. "Dumbledore said we can't let this matter..."

Praeris looked at him flatly. "It was Winnie who told Dumbledore the location of Hufflepuff's cup."

➤ Next: R.A.B — Tears Unshed