Chapter 214 - Registration — Words Unspoken

"I really regret ever meeting you!" Stella said through gritted teeth. "If I'm done for, remember to tell Aurora to collect my corpse!"

Stella held Praeris's hand, smiling and nodding to the witches and wizards around them.

"You won't be," Praeris said with a smile. "We're all going to survive."

This was a long story. The Ministry of Magic had a new policy now. Before this, young witches and wizards in Britain could be home-schooled or enroll at a foreign magical school.

But now, all of them had to enroll at Hogwarts, and they had to prove before the start of term that they weren't Muggle-born, or else they'd be "invited for a chat" by the Muggle-born Registration Commission.

Stella had never once doubted Praeris's blood status. But now, this person had the nerve to tell her, completely matter-of-fact: "I'm an orphan."

Prim Purnell's existence had only resolved Praeris's Muggle household registration problem, fishing her out of the convent without the Muggle police being able to investigate further.

But in the wizarding world, there had never been a strict household registration system. The Ministry's wizards didn't know Praeris was Sylvia's daughter. They didn't know that Praeris's Muggle-registered relatives included anyone named Purnell.

"How can you be an orphan!" Stella's eyes went wide. "Then who can prove you're not Muggle-born — Merlin, the young Draco Malfoy is actually dating someone of unknown origin?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Praeris shrugged. "Does dating require eighteen generations of background checks?"

"Isn't that exactly how we purebloods operate!" Stella paced in agitation. "We're done for. You either drop out and go into hiding, or you find someone to verify your identity!"

"Me! Let me!" Marcus thumped his chest. "Be my little sister! Praeris Flint — doesn't that sound great!"

Praeris was utterly unbothered. "As long as you're happy with it, I don't even mind being your daughter."

"But I couldn't possibly have produced one this old!" Marcus said hurriedly, having missed that it was a joke entirely.

Stella didn't blame Praeris for a single thing. Instead she gave Marcus a sharp knock on the head. "Sounds great, my foot! Do you think everyone in Slytherin has amnesia? You say she's a Flint and she's suddenly a Flint just like that?"

The Flint family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, an old pureblood line.

Marcus was a pureblood supremacist too, of course. But people were hypocrites.

If he had only just met Praeris now, he definitely wouldn't get close to an orphan witch of unknown origins.

But Marcus had known Praeris for so long. She had tutored him, helped him graduate, helped him win the championship. When Farley was tearing into him, Praeris would step in and pull her back a little. When Marcus interviewed for the Jamaican team, one of the reasons he got in was that he had led Slytherin to win the House Cup against a lineup that included Harry Potter. That victory had Praeris's help behind it.

He subconsciously refused to think about whether Praeris was Muggle-born, half-blood, or pureblood. He just single-mindedly wanted his good friend not to get arrested.

"Then a cousin?" Marcus asked without thinking. "A distant cousin!"

"Close relative! It has to be a close relative!" Stella said, exasperated. "Has your brain been knocked silly by Quaffles and Bludgers?"

"I was never smart to begin with!" Marcus said, scratching his head. "You two are the clever ones. You figure it out!"

Praeris didn't hesitate for even a second. She immediately turned with Marcus to look at Stella. When it came to exploiting legal loopholes, Stella had done legislative work. She was the expert.

Stella's gaze drifted into the middle distance, eyes blinking steadily. The tangled web of family connections was clearly about to burn her brain dry.

"Big guy," Stella said slowly. "Didn't you have an old aunt, called Ivy, or Ella, or Elise? I've never heard what became of her..."

"Ella Rosier." Marcus scratched his head. "Aunt Ella doesn't like going out and doesn't like seeing people. She has a house in the Irish countryside with a basement she built underneath it. She reads down there every day. My mother and uncle can't stand her. They think she's reclusive."

"Seven or eight years ago, she got obsessed with an adventure novel and insisted on doing what the wizard in the book did — picking forest mushrooms to eat." Marcus's expression curdled. "Successfully poisoned herself to death. The house-elf had to tell my mother. That's the only reason we found out."

"Good!" Stella slapped the table and stood up. "Where is that house-elf!"

"My uncle didn't want her, so he gave her to my mother." Marcus, as always, couldn't get to the point. "My mother didn't want her either. She thought Cookie was too embarrassing to show off."

"Later, when I got recruited by the Jamaican team, she was afraid I wouldn't take care of myself competing abroad alone, so she gave Cookie to me."

Stella grabbed the wine off the table and downed it in one go, then pointed at Marcus. "You, lend Cookie to Prae."

She pointed at Praeris. "You, are now the illegitimate daughter of Marcus's Aunt Ella."

Marcus looked at Praeris in confusion. Praeris looked at Stella in astonishment. Was she going to have a few too many mothers?

She already had one biological mother, Sylvia, and one adoptive mother under Muggle law, Ms. Prim. Now she was about to acquire a third, Ella Rosier, for wizarding Muggle-law registration purposes.

"Isn't that still a cousin?" Marcus finally caught up and clapped his hands happily. "See, after going around in circles, you still have to listen to me — ah!"

Stella pinched him. "You big idiot, you just never shut up!"

Marcus couldn't handle dealing with officials. At school, whenever something like this came up, he'd push it onto Farley. On the Quidditch team, the captain handled all talking. The few times he was forced to open his mouth, he successfully demonstrated both his IQ and his EQ, and the captain banned him from speaking after that.

So the job fell to Stella. She would take Praeris and Cookie to register.

Cookie was exactly as shy of strangers as Marcus's reclusive aunt had apparently been, clinging to Praeris's trouser leg the entire time. Praeris's left hand was hooked by Stella's arm, her right leg gripped by Cookie. The three of them moved in a single conjoined unit.

"Movement's a bit inconvenient," Praeris murmured. "I think I can walk on my own."

Stella smiled and nodded to yet another Ministry employee, saying with perfect warmth, "We need these people to see we're close. Otherwise they'll make trouble for you later."

The two of them and Cookie flushed themselves into the Ministry through a grimy toilet. Stella was still dry-heaving when she came out. "Merlin's stinky socks, the Ministry's taste gets worse every year."

"I agree completely!" A wizard passing nearby fanned the air with his hand. "Director Stewart, good morning. And this is —"

"A Slytherin student!" Stella immediately shifted into socializing mode, patting Praeris on the shoulder. "Flint's little cousin — I remember you used to be quite fond of the Jamaican team?"

"Troll Flint?" The wizard's eyes lit up. "Honestly, the Jamaican team would be nothing without our Flint. They'd have packed up and gone home ages ago!"

Stella stayed perfectly unhurried, even promising to get this wizard called Albert a set of Marcus's signed merchandise.

After saying goodbye to Albert, Stella led Praeris through a winding route, up the elevator and past door after door of offices. Praeris worked to keep her expression neutral and didn't let her attention stray to her surroundings.

Finally, they arrived before a brand-new mahogany door. Two plaques hung on it: "Dolores Umbridge — Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic" and "Head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission."

Stella patted Praeris's hand and said quietly, "Stick to the plan."

Then she knocked. Her tone changed in an instant, turning impossibly gentle. "Minister Umbridge — it's me, Stella!"

"Oh my, my!" Umbridge's saccharine voice came through, and the door swung open. "Stella — my dear friend, and this is..."

"Praeris Prince!" Stella smiled and nudged Praeris forward. "Do you still remember her? Our Slytherin prefect. Top student."

"Professor Umbridge!" Praeris's eyes lit up. "It's been so long!"

"What are you saying!" Stella gave Praeris a light, measured tap on the arm. "It's Minister Umbridge!"

In a workplace where the head isn't present, the proper thing to do is drop the "Deputy" when addressing the deputy. Praeris knew this perfectly well. She'd said it wrong on purpose, staying consistent with the persona she maintained in front of Umbridge, and making herself seem, just barely, a little like Marcus in at least one respect.

Praeris's gaze swept over the locket at Umbridge's throat. She let her expression crumple into mortification. "I'm so terribly sorry — Minister Umbridge!"

Umbridge let out a coy little laugh. "Stella, don't be so hard on her. Miss Prince, isn't it? You were never very sharp when I was at Hogwarts. That's not your fault!"

Praeris hugged Stella's arm and bowed her head as if embarrassed. Behind the gesture, she rolled her eyes.

"Stella... Director." Umbridge's probing gaze traveled between them. "So what have you brought this girl here for?"

Stella stamped her foot in frustration. "It's quite a long story! Marcus Flint, you still remember him, don't you?"

"Of course." Umbridge covered her mouth and laughed. "If you ask me, young Flint ought to be playing for our English Quidditch team, bringing glory to Britain's pureblood wizards."

"If only he'd heard your wise words earlier!" Stella's face was a picture of helplessness. "But Marcus is still so young. He was always thinking that playing for a foreign team meant more chances to travel. And now look! He wants to come back, and it's not so easy anymore."

"Young people are always like that." Umbridge touched the locket at her throat, her smile syrupy. "They don't know what truly matters."

Stella's face conveyed complete agreement. "That's exactly what I told him! Next time there's an opportunity I'll have him sit down with someone from the Department of Magical Games and Sports, today, I'm afraid, isn't possible. Something urgent has come up!"

She pushed Praeris forward. "You can't tell, can you? Praeris is Flint's cousin!"

Umbridge looked genuinely surprised. "Flint's... cousin?"

The size difference was rather extreme. Marcus standing anywhere was a wall. Praeris here was an inch shorter than even Stella.

"I was surprised too!" Stella lied without flinching. "If I hadn't met Marcus's Aunt Ella when I was small, I wouldn't have believed it myself, you're pureblood, you must know Ella, surely?"

Umbridge was a little slow to react, but she nodded on instinct. "Ella, who doesn't know her?"

She didn't know. But she couldn't say that. Merlin's entire extended family, who on earth was Ella?

"I told Marcus you'd definitely know her, there was nothing to worry about!" Stella glanced back carefully, confirmed the door was shut, and lowered her voice. "Ella Rosier. Who would have thought, someone who hated leaving the house that much, and she had a daughter!"

Umbridge didn't know Ella Rosier personally, but the surname told her everything she needed. The Rosiers despised Muggles and Muggle-born wizards and had a deep fondness for the Dark Arts.

Stella sighed. "Aunt Ella passed away eight years ago, leaving only this house-elf — Cookie!"

Cookie didn't make a sound. Her entire body was tucked behind Praeris.

"Cookie!" Praeris called quickly.

Cookie finally peeked out, timid as a mouse, and murmured, "Cookie is Miss Ella's and Miss Praeris's elf!"

This was the line they had gotten Marcus to teach her beforehand. Cookie only knew this one line, and no matter what Umbridge asked, this was what she would say, whether she was genuinely that anxious around strangers or had also eaten mushrooms and gone soft in the head was anyone's guess.

Praeris immediately lowered her head and began to sob quietly.

"You see!" Stella shook her head with pity. "Praeris became a motherless child just like that. Now, with the new regulations, she has to follow the law and register."

"But Marcus's mother never got on with Ella, so it's difficult for him to bring his cousin to the Ministry himself. You know how relentless those reporters are."

Umbridge finally pieced it together. These purebloods, messing around and producing an illegitimate daughter, then getting themselves killed. Now the illegitimate daughter couldn't prove who she was.

Umbridge curved her index finger and touched her cheek lightly, arranging her face into something sympathetic. "Poor child! But this matter... it isn't easy to handle."

"Stella! Your aunt has been such a help to me over the years. How could I not help you in return? But you know as well as I do, standing in this position isn't a simple thing." Umbridge pursed her lips. "Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic is not an easy post."

Stella drew a long, slim box from her sleeve, took Umbridge's hand, and pressed it into her palm slowly. "Minister, we're all purebloods. There's no question of helping or not helping between us. We all knew Miss Rosier. What could possibly be complicated about this? It's just a matter of a small convenience."

Umbridge's expression softened into a smile at once. She turned to her drawer, produced a sheet of paper, and said to Praeris with a sympathetic cluck, "Poor child, to have something like this happen so young. Fill it out."

---

Chapter 213: Stella's Help

Umbridge hadn't climbed to where she was on flattery and persecution alone. If anyone thought she'd let Praeris fill out the form however she liked just because of connections and a bribe, they were in for a fall, and they'd drag their allies down with them.

Praeris filled out the family background survey smoothly and without a hitch. Apart from her name, there was almost nothing real on it.

Before setting out, Marcus had provided everything he knew about the late Aunt Ella. Praeris compiled a personal file from that information, and Stella had made the final additions and corrections.

What allowed Praeris to face the survey without a single suspicious pause was her cheat-code memory. She had memorized everything Marcus's supposed "cousin" would reasonably know.

While Praeris filled out the form, Stella and Umbridge chatted about work to one side.

"...The dissatisfaction from other countries has dropped considerably..." Stella reported in a low voice. "...On the International Confederation of Wizards side..."

As long as wizards were alive, they needed to conduct daily trade. When the visible order broke down, people built an underground one to keep things moving.

Take the vendors represented by Mundungus. Most had no license to deal in magical goods, yet there they were in broad daylight in Diagon Alley, selling without a care in the world. No one knew where the merchandise came from or whether it was safe. There was no recourse if something went wrong. Substandard cauldrons exploded. Magical items that hadn't cleared safety inspections might carry Dark curses the buyer never suspected. Potions could be fakes that failed to heal and quietly killed instead.

Scarce goods were expensive, plentiful ones were cheap, and on top of that the vendors preyed on whoever looked easiest to fleece. They were mobile, too, here today, gone tomorrow. If you were cheated, there was nowhere to go.

Stella's Department of International Magical Cooperation didn't handle any of this directly, but Britain's disorder was bleeding into every country that dealt with it.

A wizard bought counterfeit goods in Britain and ate himself to death in France. A foreign wizard specifically manufactured shoddy products to sell into Britain, only for an unwitting compatriot to bring them home. And there was Dumbledore's death, leaving Britain's seat on the International Confederation of Wizards empty, and so on.

The position of Supreme Mugwump was being temporarily held by the American representative while a new election was arranged. Britain's own representative was currently Stella herself, filling in, with no new candidate decided yet.

Stella had inherited a complete mess.

Even as Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, she couldn't easily fix any of it. In a Ministry controlled by Death Eaters, none of this mattered. Who was going to bother?

Trade order should have fallen under the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but the new Head was the Death Eater Yaxley. He was entirely consumed with persecuting Muggle-born wizards and catching Harry Potter. These small matters didn't register.

In the past, illegal vendors got a warning and a shove. Now, Stella had come up with something cleverer: anyone caught operating without a license could have their entire stock confiscated.

The Improper Use of Magic Office perked up the moment they heard this.

Then she added that during actual enforcement, fines could be considered instead of confiscation, generating revenue for the Ministry in the process.

Problem solved in one stroke. Trade order improved, at least in part.

Praeris caught three or four tenths of the full picture from the conversation and understood. So the reason Mundungus had been caught by Umbridge for illegal trading traced all the way back to a policy Stella had proposed to quiet other countries' complaints.

Stella's approach had made the small vendors less brazen, which protected wizarding consumers. But for people at the bottom, it was a blow.

Then again, this was Stella. A pureblood witch, one who had grown up living comfortably. Expecting her to weigh all of that was pure fantasy.

Wizarding consumer safety, a concrete political achievement, Ministry revenue, and fewer complaints from abroad, no question about it. By any reasonable measure, it was a good policy.

"Minister Umbridge, I've finished!"

Praeris held the survey out with both hands. Umbridge took it in one, scanned it quickly, and picked out a few questions to ask.

Praeris scratched her head and put on a thinking face, recalling her answers as though working through them fresh. She also had to account for the small natural differences between answers recalled on the spot and answers written down after reflection, the details had to diverge slightly, but nothing could be wrong.

Umbridge nodded, showed no sign of suspicion, and slid the survey into one of her folders.

Stella guided Praeris through their goodbyes and led her back down the corridor. Only now did Praeris let her attention drift to her surroundings.

Stella's brow furrowed. She tilted her eyes toward one of the rooms they were passing. "That one's for printing pamphlets. Propaganda pamphlets about rounding up Mudbloods."

"Don't use that term," Praeris said under her breath.

Stella shrugged. "To those people, it might be an insult. To me it's a position. I have to use it, or I can't keep this Director post."

Yes, Stella didn't care about blood status.

Her closest friend across the age gap, Aurora Sinistra, was an African witch with a mysterious past, and Stella had never once pried into it. Their friendship had grown out of pursuing a good time together, like drinking, really. Happiness was the only principle that held. Everything else was secondary.

But Stella was also a beneficiary of pureblood privilege. She would never be hypocritical enough to claim she didn't support blood supremacy.

She treated it more as a tool. If the day came when blood supremacy stopped working, Stella would change her public tune and wave a different banner.

"Are you being honest with me?" Stella put her arm around Praeris's shoulders. "In private, you actually can't stand any of this."

"A lot of wizards from Muggle families are genuinely formidable," Praeris said quietly. "Do you know Hermione Granger? Maybe one day I'll use these ideas myself. But I will never believe in them."

"Neither will I," Stella said, unhurried. "Anyone who devoutly believes in any one theory is a fool, unless it happens to be very useful. And this particular theory is quite useful in the Ministry right now."

Praeris was quiet for a moment.

"Thank you," she said. "Both of you."

Stella didn't have to help her. Marcus didn't either. The time Praeris had genuinely spent with them was just those few years at school. As an upper-year, Stella's time with Praeris had been shorter still. As a male wizard, Marcus and Praeris had never shared the easy closeness that existed between witches.

And yet both of them had instinctively covered for her. Concealed who she was. Helped her commit fraud.

"What are you talking about!" Stella patted her shoulder. "Did you have to lend me your books? Did you have to help strategize for Slytherin to win the House Cup because of something I said? Did you have to listen to me complain for years? Did you have to help Aurora quietly get back at that old hag? It's because of me that you have any relationship with Aurora beyond teacher and student!"

"And honestly, I've never been able to stand those Gryffindors," Stella went on, a touch wistful now. "Going on about how we just go through the motions, how everything we feel is fake, how they're the ones with real friendship. I won't deny there are moments like that. But Praeris, the sincerity of your school years is the most unguarded kind. And that makes it the most valuable."

"Living well requires a certain amount of performance," Stella said, and she meant every word of it. "But feeling at peace inside requires something real."

Everyone needed anchors. Things that gave them a reason to keep going. The Malfoys put those anchors in family and loved ones. Stella put hers in friends.

That was what sincerity looked like in Slytherin.

Not much. But genuinely there.

Praeris curled her fingers into a fist. "Are these surveys checked often?" she asked, a quiet unease in her voice. "Will they ever come up again?"

"Hm?" Stella looked puzzled. "Usually not. Pureblood surveys are buried at the bottom of the pile. Half-blood ones only get pulled if there's a reason. Muggle-born wizards are the focus, unless that person happens to be Harry Potter. Because of Marcus, you've been sorted into the pureblood batch."

Praeris exhaled. The tension in her chest loosened.

She had to return to Hogwarts to pull more Slytherins away from Voldemort. But she hadn't anticipated that her friends' solution would be to help her commit fraud. She couldn't find a reason to stop them, so she had simply carried forward with the plan, following Stella's lead in a way that wasn't like her at all.

At least it had been Umbridge handling this, not a Death Eater. Umbridge curried favor with Death Eaters, but she wasn't one.

The truth still couldn't be spoken aloud, and what was done was done. Praeris wasn't going to be hypocritical and pretend she hadn't wanted this outcome too.

She could only say: whenever Marcus and Stella needed her, she would repay them. Without hesitation.

In the days that followed, Praeris returned to Southend-on-Sea, prepared the medicines Dumbledore needed, and waited for the start of term.

Around the time school was about to begin, she got word that Harry and the others had raided the Ministry.

"That day was very chaotic," Stella said, rubbing her temple. "He knocked Umbridge out and let all those Muggle-born wizards escape. I imagine he was trying to cause some kind of disruption."

By Stella's account, it hadn't gone entirely to plan.

Just as the two of them had once had to flush themselves into the Ministry through a toilet, Apparition inside the Ministry was now disabled entirely. Staff had to come and go through the toilets. Visitors were restricted to the telephone box.

So Harry and his group had been forced to make for the Atrium on level eight.

They couldn't get away cleanly. The wizard at the security desk spotted them.

The security wizard challenged them, questioning whether these Muggle-born wizards were the ones Umbridge had scheduled for interrogation. Harry, playing the role of Albert, used his bearing to imply this was Umbridge's explicit order.

Stella happened to be nearby at the time.

She had come down to collect a package.

Yes. Just that kind of hands-on, considerate leader who never troubled her subordinates unnecessarily.

With a Director on the scene, the security wizard naturally turned to her. Stella said, with careful hesitation, "If this is... if this really is Minister Umbridge's instruction..."

Harry picked up her sentence immediately. "Are you saying you intend to defy Umbridge's orders?"

Stella opened her mouth. Then she turned to the security wizard. "This falls under security, which is not within my scope of responsibility. You handle it according to protocol. I need to get to the mailroom urgently to collect a letter from the German Ministry of Magic."

With Stella taking that perfectly detached position, the security desk had all the cover it needed. They played dumb and let Harry release the prisoners.

The trouble was that Harry's group then ran a rearguard, holding position to let the Muggle-born wizards flee first. Before the last of them made it out, Yaxley noticed the anomaly and came after Harry with two assistants in tow.

"What happened after that, I couldn't say," Stella said.

"Did they hold you accountable?" Praeris asked quickly.

"I thought you'd ask about Potter's safety first?" Stella said, perfectly at ease. "I collected my package and went straight to Umbridge's office to find her. She wasn't there, of course. Someone on level one told me she was in the interrogation room on level ten, so I made another trip down to level ten..."

She had waited for the elevator on level one, but Yaxley, in a hurry to chase people, had the elevator tied up. So she had waited with complete peace of mind.

By the time Stella reached level ten, Yaxley was already in active pursuit of Harry Potter.

Stella had spent the entire time looking for Umbridge and half of that time waiting for the elevator. She had been busy every single minute, and she had not managed to help anyone at all.

"What can they blame me for?" Stella said, perfectly righteous. "Did I tell them to release anyone? I said it clearly. Follow protocol."

Her voice took on a particular quality. "I merely thought we ought to find Minister Umbridge first and confirm whether the order was actually hers before acting. That's all."

Praeris burst out laughing. "That's really something. Not a single mistake anywhere. You have to protect yourself first, that's the right call."

"Praeris, listen to yourself." Stella laughed. "Explaining self-preservation to a Slytherin? I'd say you should focus on protecting yourself."

"I will," Praeris said.

Stella left. A gentleman settled into the seat across from Praeris. Praeris said lightly, "Did you catch all of that? Genuinely good news. Would you like some chestnut cake?"

"Of course," Dumbledore said warmly. "Harry and the others did splendidly. Better than I had imagined."

Praeris finished placing her order and shook her head. "They should have run first. Saving those Muggle-born wizards was a bonus. Right now, Harry's life matters far more than that."

"No, Praeris, I won't deny Harry's choice." Dumbledore smiled. "This is precisely what makes Harry so remarkable. He does not place his own life above others'."

"Ha." Praeris's voice was flat. "How very noble. Let's just hope he doesn't end up in the Death Eaters' hands."

This was the difference between Praeris and Dumbledore. Praeris cared about outcomes, about winning and losing, about whether her people lived or died. Dumbledore still found room to cherish things that had no weight on any scale she recognized.

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