Chapter 211 - Hogsmeade — Heartbreak

Praeris blinked, watching Aberforth with keen interest, turning his words over in her mind.

It seemed Dumbledore's "busyness" had left Aberforth deeply resentful, a grudge the man still nursed to this day.

Even though he had volunteered to help with Dumbledore's plan, he was still quietly furious at his brother.

Praeris considered this, then decided to tread lightly where Dumbledore was concerned. "It's nothing, Mr. Aberforth," she said, her tone mild. "I imagine Dumbledore simply felt I wouldn't run into any real danger in your bar."

Not at all. When it came to running into Praeris, who was the danger was still very much an open question.

Aberforth paused, then said stiffly, "Just call me Aberforth. No one calls me Mister."

"Of course," Praeris said politely. "Aberforth."

Aberforth found it genuinely strange. Praeris had addressed him by his first name, yet somehow he still felt as though she'd tacked "Mister" on at the end.

That polished, courteous manner really did carry a faint echo of Albus's sanctimonious air.

If Praeris had known what he was thinking, she would have protested immediately. Her politeness had nothing to do with Dumbledore.

"You don't look like a lower-year student," Aberforth said, frowning. "But you've never been to Hogsmeade before, have you? I've never seen you here."

"You have an excellent memory," Praeris said, perfectly composed. "No. This is my first time in Hogsmeade."

"My guardian couldn't sign the permission form for weekend visits," she said lightly. "So before today, I'd never been here — apart from the train station nearby."

The train station wasn't actually in Hogsmeade; strictly speaking, it was outside the village. So in truth, she had never been here at all.

Aberforth was a little surprised. A student this age, and she could bear being shut out of Hogsmeade without even complaining? And what kind of guardian refused to let their boarding-school child out for a weekend?

He thought, without quite meaning to, of Ariana, trapped at home all those years ago. A dull discomfort settled over him. He spoke before he'd fully decided to: "Let me show you around."

Hogsmeade in the summer was quiet. All the students were away, and the shops only needed to serve the local villagers, some opened late, some closed early. There wasn't much to see, honestly.

But it was Praeris's first time in Hogsmeade. She pulled her cloak around her and looked at everything with quiet curiosity.

They passed Honeydukes, and Aberforth asked if she wanted to go in.

"No," Praeris said calmly. "I've long since grown out of sweets. Just looking is fine. It only reminded me that my classmate used to bring me candy from here."

"You'll see her when term starts," Aberforth said.

Praeris looked away from the window. "I won't. She's left Britain."

"Why?" Aberforth asked. "Found a job abroad after graduation?"

"No." Praeris was quiet for a long moment. "Because of the war."

Since the holidays began, Praeris had been running from one place to the next. Millicent had most likely been sending letters to the owl post office in Diagon Alley, but Praeris had never gone to collect them. She still had no idea how Millicent was doing abroad.

The shop across from Honeydukes had a sign in the window: Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop.

Praeris remembered. That was where Draco had bought her that ornate quill set. She still used it.

She could picture it: Draco with his chin lifted just so, telling the shopkeeper he wanted the most expensive, the finest. Then tucking the box into his pocket, strolling back, glancing around to make sure no one was watching, and then, with all the awkwardness in the world, presenting the gift.

Gladrags Wizardwear. Every year, Daphne bought a dozen pairs of the newest wool socks and handed them out to the group.

But Daphne had always been thoroughly self-centered, never giving a thought to what anyone else might want. Which meant she never bought anything that matched Praeris's style, only what she herself liked.

So every winter, Praeris wore all black, with brightly colored wool socks peeking out above her ankles.

Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. Draco had once wanted her to go on a date with him there, he'd decided it was something couples simply had to do, but Praeris never left the school on weekends. The plan came to nothing.

Jacob was older than Pansy, already working, and had made the trip to Hogsmeade specifically to take her out several times.

And the Three Broomsticks, Miles had once "smuggled" her a full drink when she was still underage.

This street, which Praeris had built up in her mind piece by piece from everyone else's stories, was finally here in front of her, real, confirmed, complete.

It was a curious feeling. She had known so much about what had happened here. But it was only now, years after the fact, that those things were becoming whole in her mind.

They didn't wander long before turning back to the Hog's Head. Praeris waved at Aberforth and went back into the room.

Snape and Dumbledore's conversation had already ended. Dumbledore stood with his hands clasped behind his back before the half-drawn window curtain, apparently lost in thought.

He turned when she came in. "Aberforth took you out?" His tone was easy, unhurried.

"Ah — yes." Praeris nodded. "It's my first time in Hogsmeade."

Dumbledore blinked. His blue eyes were very bright. "Praeris, I've occupied more than half your holiday. You ought to rest for a while and prepare for the start of term."

Praeris's expression darkened. "What are you saying? At a time like this, you want me to rest — what's happened?"

Dumbledore remained perfectly calm. "You told Harry once that I always have my arrangements, didn't you?"

"I said that to Harry." Praeris made no effort to hide her double standard. "The other side of bravery is impetuosity and recklessness. He needs to learn to actually hear other people, instead of just acting on whatever thought pops into his head."

"You plan to use me and then set me aside, is that it?" Praeris narrowed her eyes and looked Dumbledore over slowly. "Do you really think that, when everyone I care about is fighting with everything they have, I can wait for the school term to start with a clear conscience?"

Dumbledore sighed. He took off his glasses and wiped them on the hem of his robes. "Of course not. I said the same thing to Severus — but you know how he'd take it."

How would Professor Snape take it? He had always believed that fighting Voldemort was a matter for adults. Even if he himself had to risk everything, children should not be put in danger.

Even though Praeris was of age now, he still didn't truly see her as an adult. Snape couldn't even bring himself to acknowledge how strong she had become. He still felt the need to remind her to stay close to Dumbledore.

Perhaps it was because Praeris had already been more mature than most children at eleven, with only the occasional unguarded gesture giving her age away. The boundaries of her growing up had never been clearly drawn. For those who had watched her grow, it was difficult to register that she had actually come of age.

Praeris folded her arms, sat down in front of Dumbledore, and fixed him with both dark eyes.

"Either this matter is dangerous enough that he doesn't think you can protect me." Praeris's mind was already moving fast. "But that probability is very low — we've stormed Malfoy Manor and killed Nagini. Since danger isn't the problem, then,"

The corner of her mouth shifted slightly. "This concerns me directly. It could hurt me. He believes I need to be kept out of it entirely."

"You've guessed correctly," Dumbledore said gently.

Then he added, "So. Have you decided to resist Severus's attempt to protect you?"

"Isn't that exactly what you're hoping for?" Praeris gave a thin, sardonic smile. "If you genuinely wanted me uninvolved, you'd have come up with a better excuse, handed me some time-consuming, exhausting task. Not fobbed me off with talk of rest and waiting for term, as though I haven't been tired before."

Dumbledore showed not a flicker of embarrassment at being seen through. He had known all along that the moment Severus sent Praeris out of the room, there was no way to stop her from suspecting. It was simply that Severus was even less willing to let Praeris hear about Sylvia's situation on the spot.

Dumbledore had known she would find out, it was only a question of when. So he hadn't particularly bothered to conceal it. Besides, he had no desire to lose Praeris as a capable assistant.

Praeris knew Dumbledore had never truly intended to hide it. She didn't hesitate to poke straight through that thin veil.

"This concerns your mother," Dumbledore said, his voice grave. "Praeris, you have a choice. Decide now whether you want to hear the rest."

Ah. Sylvia, then.

Praeris could understand why Dumbledore hadn't mentioned Ariana. She herself didn't usually think of Sylvia either.

It wasn't that she was a cold, heartless daughter. It was simply that she didn't know how to handle the fact of Sylvia's existence. Helplessness, perhaps, was the right word.

She couldn't find the right emotion, not among any of the available ones, to bring to this woman who was her biological mother.

She couldn't say she hated Sylvia. It was Deepure who had sent her to the convent, not Sylvia. And without Sylvia, there would be no Snape, that person who had become both teacher and family.

But she couldn't speak of love for Sylvia either. The older Praeris grew, the smaller the space Sylvia occupied. And even when she was small, the memories of Sylvia weren't especially good ones.

The total time Praeris had spent with Sylvia was 5 years. Remove the years before memory formed, and what remained was about 2.5. Of those 2.5 years, roughly 6 months had been spent while Sylvia was deep in prenatal depression.

In the remaining 2 years, the Statute of Secrecy had meant Sylvia couldn't openly do the work she was meant to do. She passed herself off as an amateur stargazer who occasionally wrote small articles on the subject. Under her husband's nose, she hid her use of magical items, concealing everything.

Praeris, whose magical ability had shown itself early, had learned to hide it from her father the same way.

She never thought of herself as a monster. But she had always had the sense, an instinct, quiet and persistent, that to the people around her, she was an anomaly.

She had figured this out young. The neighbors all praised Deepure as a brilliant graduate, a genius. But he didn't have an extraordinary memory. He didn't have Praeris's ability to read and analyze everything. Then Sylvia had shown her that her magical ability was another kind of abnormality.

Under those conditions, to imagine that if Sylvia simply hadn't gotten pregnant again, Praeris could have grown up happily, it was hard to picture, even in theory.

Still. During her years at the convent, she had allowed herself to imagine her parents, sometimes.

"Go ahead," Praeris said calmly. "There's nothing I can't accept."

Her life was really quite simple. Like riding a bicycle. Unfortunately, the bicycle was on fire, the ground was on fire, everything was on fire, because this place was, for f*'s sake, an absolute hell.*

Cursing her father was fine, surely?

If there was one person in the world with the right to hate Deepure, Praeris believed it was herself. But she didn't hate him. She had no feelings about him at all, same as she might have watching some rat scurry past on the side of the road.

Well. To be truthful, she didn't actually know how to ride a bicycle. So was there anything more unfortunate than that? No. There wasn't.

"Severus encountered Sylvia at Malfoy Manor."

The words landed like a stone in still water. Even Praeris went still.

"That's impossible." Her voice was flat and certain. "She cut ties with Winnie precisely because of You-Know-Who."

"Both Severus and I thought so as well," Dumbledore said, and there was a weight in his voice. "But the situation is far worse than either of us imagined."

At present, Snape and Yaxley were Voldemort's two most valued lieutenants. On the intelligence surrounding the Seven Potters, Snape had bested Yaxley. On the question of controlling the Ministry, Yaxley had since earned his own credit.

Regarding Sylvia, Snape couldn't ask questions, he'd worried it was a trap laid for him. But Yaxley, brainless as ever, had come to him and bragged about it unprompted.

And so Snape had learned the whole story of the Sylvia matter without even having to look.

Sylvia had, in the most complete sense possible, been an idiot about it. The Death Eaters and Voldemort had come to know of her through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's files, Yaxley had gained control of Department Head Thicknesse.

Through those files, they had obtained Sylvia's punishment record. They knew she had been a Gryffindor. They knew her crimes.

There was also the matter of how the magical world worked: no strict borders, no household registration system. After Ryan had severed ties with Eileen, there was nothing connecting Snape to Sylvia in any record anyone could find.

What Dumbledore truly worried about was what the Death Eaters intended to do with Sylvia's divination ability, and what state that ability was in now.

"That's the situation," Dumbledore said, and his voice turned careful. "Sylvia has always been talented at divination, but not to the level of a true Seer. However, Severus has learned that her ability has greatly strengthened. I'm afraid..."

"By Seer, do you mean the Professor Trelawney variety?" Praeris said. "Then there's no need to worry too much."

Trelawney was the "works sometimes, and doooooooesn't... work" type. No one ever knew when a genuine vision would come from her, and by the time anyone realized she'd had one, it was usually already too late.

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