Chapter 218 - Lia's Transformation — What Was Lost

Castelobruxo is the South American wizarding school, known for its teaching of Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures.

Millicent had taken Care of Magical Creatures as an elective. She would likely spend a happy time there.

Though the Ministry of Magic required every underage witch and wizard in Britain to be educated at Hogwarts, not all those who studied abroad came back.

The ones who did return were generally those whose parents were still in the country. For someone like Millicent, father deceased, mother a source of constant conflict, fled abroad with her aunt, there was no way she would come back to suffer.

Aunt Becky's political instincts were something to admire. The two of them had gotten out clean.

With Millicent leaving Hogwarts, were the three Slytherin girls sad?

They were.

But the moment they thought of Millicent safely pursuing her dreams in South America, the sadness eased.

Monday morning, Praeris checked her schedule and found she had only one Potions class.

After breakfast, she walked through the entrance hall with her bag on her shoulder and noticed the new school rules posted on the wall. Beside them hung portraits of Headmaster Snape and the Carrow siblings. What a foul sight. What gave that pair the right to hang alongside the professors?

"It's her! The Slytherin Prefect!"

A rough male voice came from behind her.

Praeris turned. A broad-chested, short boy, Jimmy Peakes, third year, Gryffindor Beater.

That was accurate enough. The year Peakes started school was the same year Praeris became Slytherin Prefect.

Seeing her turn, Jimmy and the two Gryffindors beside him immediately puffed out their chests, putting on a fearless front.

Peakes shouted across at her: "What are you looking at? Are you going to kill us too!"

From that word "too," Praeris read the rest of it. Are you going to kill us too? Like your Head of House killed Dumbledore?

She had long expected something like this. Her gaze still sharpened in an instant.

Regrettably, before she could do anything, Ginny Weasley came running out of the Great Hall. "Peakes, Briggs, Gallagher — what are you three doing here!"

The new Gryffindor Prefect Ginny stood with her back to Praeris, planting herself in front of the younger students, and roared at them with real force: "Class is about to start. Why are you still standing here? Get moving!"

"Three points from Gryffindor!"

Ginny's effort didn't quite succeed. Astoria had appeared at Praeris's side at some unknown moment, and she declared in a pointed, carrying tone: "For Mr. Peakes's insolent remarks about Headmaster Snape!"

"When did I—" Peakes immediately opened his mouth.

Astoria raised her chin. "I heard it. Didn't you, Praeris?"

"Indeed." Praeris laughed softly.

It was the first time she had seen Astoria exercise the authority of a Prefect. There was something subtly familiar about it, like watching a child from her own house finally grow up.

Ginny shot Praeris a disgruntled look but said nothing. She turned back to the three. "Are you going to class or not?"

A Prefect couldn't dock points from another Prefect, and Praeris hadn't said a single word, so Ginny had no grounds to touch her anyway.

Peakes and the other two left under the Prefect's orders, visibly seething. Ginny turned and walked away just as crisply.

"That doesn't seem like the Weasley's character." Astoria crossed her arms, tone puzzled. "She didn't start anything — is she holding back for some reason?"

Praeris extended her hand and rolled her wrist slowly. "Ginny Weasley handled that rather well."

"Hm?" Astoria looked at her, confused.

"If she had been a little slower..." Praeris smiled, eyes on her own hand, "she'd be visiting these three Gryffindors in the Hospital Wing."

If she was being honest, Praeris had quite wanted to teach those three a lesson. The last time she had hit anyone was Death Eaters, half a month ago. Unexpectedly, her knuckles were already itching.

Ginny had seen Praeris give Harry a lesson before. In her eyes, three younger Gryffindors yelling at Praeris was simply asking for trouble.

She couldn't be sure she alone could shield three younger students. So she had decided quickly: get them out, cut Praeris off before anything started.

Ginny didn't like Praeris. She also knew this particular Slytherin was the type to repay every grudge in full, not someone who went looking for trouble. If they had managed to provoke Praeris, it was because Peakes and the others had instigated it.

So afterward, Ginny had no intention of seeking redress on their behalf.

All of this, of course, rested on Ginny not knowing Peakes had been mocking Snape. If she had known, she would have supported them, because of Dumbledore's death.

"Walk and talk." Praeris laid her left hand on Astoria's left shoulder, steering her gently along. "What did you come to find me for?"

In that instant, the scene felt faintly familiar. A few years ago, Stella had put her arm around her just like this, walking through the corridors of Hogwarts castle.

The Sorting Hat had been right.

"Or perhaps in Slytherin, you'll make your real friends."

On the lawn in front of the castle, Praeris and Astoria sat side by side.

Scotland in September. A rare fine day, sky clear, the distant mountains brown-green.

Astoria hugged her knees and told Praeris she had not received a letter from Grace in a month.

"To be honest, I don't care at all what happens to other Muggle-born wizards — what does that have to do with me?" Astoria lowered her head. Her pale hair fell forward, veiling the side of her face. "But I should have realized. If something happened to other Muggle-born wizards, how could Qiqi possibly escape it?"

The Greengrass parents wouldn't let either daughter leave the house that summer, so Astoria could only reach Grace by letter.

When morning sunlight came through the glass and stretched the shadow of the plaster statue long across the sill, Astoria would open her window and wait.

Grace's owl was a little owl, fond of large insects and rodents. Every day, Astoria set out a heap of beetles in an empty box on the windowsill, feeding Grace's owl until it was as round as a stone.

Grace's parents ran a handicraft shop. Astoria's windowsill was covered with Grace's work, including a pair of plaster figures, two girls holding hands.

Astoria would sit at her desk, chin propped on one hand, doing her Potions summer homework, occasionally dragging the feather end of her quill across those little stone figures. Every so often she'd look out the window, listening for the sound of wings.

That day, the sun went down and the owl never came. Astoria glared at the little girl statue. "Just you wait, I'm rewriting today's letter right now!"

She tossed the original aside, scrawled out a new one in a burst of temper, and muttered under her breath: "I'm really angry now!"

The next day, the owl still didn't come.

The third day, the owl still didn't come.

Astoria sat at the long table on the ground floor, picking at her food, mind elsewhere.

Mr. Greengrass looked up. "Lia, don't let your thoughts wander at the table. Focus."

"Dad—" Astoria pouted. "Then you're not allowed to read the newspaper either!"

Mr. Greengrass sighed. "Alright, alright. Dad's been told off by our Lia."

Daphne had no patience for this kind of tender scene. She coughed twice. "Dad, what does the paper say today?"

"Still those Mudblood matters." Mr. Greengrass set the paper down, unbothered. "From those questionnaires we all filled in, they've rounded up some Mudbloods for questioning."

He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his mouth at a leisurely pace. "Now our streets are finally a bit cleaner, aren't they?"

"The Ministry of Magic finally did something decent." Daphne glanced at Astoria with a cheerful look. "Don't you think so, Lia?"

The color drained from Astoria's face.

It all came back to her. That questionnaire every person in the family had filled out, the one asking for personal information and the names of parents.

Astoria hadn't thought much of it. She filled it out in a flash, then ran happily upstairs to write Grace a letter. She had no idea, none at all, that that thin sheet of paper was changing so many wizards' fates.

"That's how it was." Astoria said, voice breaking. "I couldn't do anything. Not a thing. Praeris, you're so clever, do you have any good ideas?"

She clutched Praeris's sleeve. "It was me who brought this on Grace. I should have told her to leave with her mother earlier. I should have told her to go back to the Muggle world. It's all my fault!"

"You're so clever."

Praeris had heard this from different people, too many times to count. Every single time, it only made her more keenly aware that she still wasn't clever enough, wasn't strong enough.

Human strength has its limits. She herself had only made it back to Hogwarts smoothly because of Stella's and Marcus's efforts. What could she possibly do for Grace Jones, whose fate was unknown?

Praeris closed her eyes. A moment of silence. Then she opened them.

"Lia, to be honest, I don't have any good solutions."

Astoria's head dropped heavily into her palms.

"The only thing I can do is write a letter on your behalf, to our upperclassman Stella." Praeris gently stroked Astoria's back and lowered her voice. "I've heard that someone suspected to be Potter released a group of Muggle-born wizards from the Ministry of Magic."

Astoria lifted her head immediately, eyes glistening, full of hope.

Praeris looked at her with hesitation, then decided to be clear. "Lia, prepare for the worst. No one knows whether Jones was among them. You'd better not hold too much hope."

"Thank you, Praeris!" Astoria's tears finally slid down her cheeks. "I understand. I understand all of it. But at least I can still have a little hope, can't I?"

The wind swept through the forest, shaking the branches, making a rustling sound.

Astoria lay back on the lawn. The grief had passed through her, and now her voice held nothing but bewilderment. "Praeris, I don't know if I should say this... I think Daph and Mum and Dad are completely wrong."

Praeris looked down at her and asked gently: "How do you mean?"

"You must know, most people in Slytherin are blood purists. They look down on half-bloods and Muggle-born wizards." Astoria spoke slowly. "But there are half-bloods and Muggle-borns in Slytherin too. If Slytherin truly stood for pure-blood supremacy through and through, why are there half-bloods and Muggle-borns among us?"

"So you believe Slytherin doesn't actually represent blood purism." Praeris stroked her hair gently. "Is that it?"

"Yes. I believe that's how it is." Astoria didn't hesitate. "Daph and Mum and Dad look down on half-bloods and Muggle-born wizards. They wouldn't let me spend time with Qiqi. But Qiqi is clearly a good person, and very talented. Why should blood decide whether someone is good or bad?"

This was an excellent opening, even if it had come at the cost of Grace Jones's unknown fate.

If Praeris wanted to guide Astoria away from blood purism entirely, she could press right now. Push the ideas she wanted, and pull this girl into the ranks of those who'd broken with it.

But Astoria was a girl she had watched grow up. What lay between them was more than shared ideology.

Praeris hoped that if a change came, it would grow from Astoria's own thinking.

"Lia." Praeris said. "Because for many people, an ideology is really a business. Only those who believe in the same ideas will gather together and share in each other's interests."

She spoke evenly: "Blood purism is an ideology, so it can also be a business, a political resource. It forms an alliance of every pure-blood wizard who holds to that belief. If you don't support it, you get cast out by that alliance. You become an outsider."

"Under those conditions, good or bad, strong or weak, none of it matters. Unless you're strong enough to break through those limits entirely and become a new source of power yourself."

Astoria seemed to partly follow. She looked troubled. "I don't think I'm that strong."

"But you already have your own thinking." Praeris dampened a handkerchief with a flick of her wand and wiped Astoria's face. "Based on your own judgment of what you've seen in front of you, not on what others handed to you. Thought is also a kind of power. You're a witch with a great deal of potential."

Magic relies heavily on emotion, thought, and the mind. Joy and pain, love and hate, all of it can allow a wizard to call on extraordinary power.

"Lia, this is our first lesson of the term." Praeris took her hand and drew her to her feet. "When you were worried about Grace, I imagine you thought of every terrible possibility."

"But I also think you remembered the happy times you had together. Were those times happy for you?"

Astoria nodded without hesitation.

"Lia, I'm going to teach you the Patronus Charm." Praeris smiled. "It needs you to call up the happiest memory you have."

➤ Next: The Mercy of the Heads of House