HP: TSH — Chapter 314 - Extra: Later Praeris 2

St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Fifth Floor, Spell Damage Ward, Janus Thickey Ward.

"Thank you, Mr. Alexander."

Praeris greeted her colleague and led Harry and the other two into Dumbledore's ward.

It was a long-term patient ward. All patients with permanent damage were housed here, including the Longbottoms, harmed by the Cruciatus Curse, and Gilderoy Lockhart, undone by a Memory Charm.

The Longbottoms had regained some of their senses and been discharged earlier this year. That had been Praeris's first research project at St. Mungo's. It earned her immense acclaim and secured her the standing to "monopolize" Dumbledore's treatment long-term, despite holding no professional Healer credentials.

"You're welcome." Alexander offered a kindly smile.

After Alexander left, Harry sat at the foot of Dumbledore's bed, head bowed, gazing at the old man's face for a long time. "By the time I met Dumbledore, he was already old. I used to think I couldn't even imagine what he looked like when he was young." He paused. "Now he's even more aged and frail than before."

Back at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had been elderly, but lively. Humorous. Witty. Hale and full of a kind of inexhaustible energy. Not this, not the quiet, powerless figure lying motionless in a hospital bed.

"Praeris, can Dumbledore really wake up?" Harry asked.

"My research needs time." Praeris's voice was steady. "But he will remain in this state. He won't get worse."

...

But he will remain in this state. He won't get worse.

From a bizarre angle, a reporter had secretly photographed Praeris and Dumbledore, carefully cropping out Harry and the other two who had been standing right there.

The magical photograph ran on the front page of the Daily Prophet. The headline:

"Desecration or Salvation? War Hero Prince Accused of Manipulating Dumbledore's Soul!"

I believe many readers, like this writer, still rejoice today in the victory of the war, grateful for the sacrifices of heroes like Harry Potter and Praeris Prince.

But is reality truly so?

Several days ago, this writer received an anonymous tip from a professional Healer at St. Mungo's, accusing the renowned Praeris Prince of manipulating the soul of Albus Dumbledore.

Prince's honors in the Second Wizarding War are known to all. She saved Dumbledore from peril time and again. How could she do such a thing? This writer is as incredulous as the readers.

Upon deeper investigation, it was learned that St. Mungo's does have treatments targeting the soul, but they are exceedingly rare, constrained by medical ethics. This Healer happens to have knowledge in this area. And he discovered that, just as Prince stated in the photograph: Dumbledore's condition is remarkably stable.

According to what the Healer understands, the physical damage Dumbledore sustained can be maintained, but the damage to his soul cannot be erased. The only person with access to Dumbledore and the ability to do this is Prince.

This Healer believes Prince is not treating a patient. She is conducting a dangerous magical experiment. For purposes of her own, she has disregarded medical ethics and forcibly paused, or even reversed, the natural process of death.

This writer cannot help but ponder further. Such work cannot be accomplished in a short time. Did Prince begin her experiments long ago, from the moment she was forced to submit to Voldemort? Both Slytherins, and she a former subordinate of Voldemort himself. Is this experiment a continuation of Voldemort's will, or merely another face of it...

Newspapers were spread across the table. Every single one bore a similar headline. Not long ago, these same papers had been singing her praises. Now they were kicking her while she was down.

"Give up on Dumbledore, Praeris." Lucius's voice was urgent. "This is a sensitive postwar period. Those people are simply looking for any excuse to drag a Slytherin down from a high place."

"Granger is in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Potter is in the Auror Office. Weasley has wormed his way in somewhere too. Longbottom is at Hogwarts." He pressed on. "You are the Slytherin with the highest standing right now. They cannot wait to bring you down. Knock you off and they can indirectly go after Stewart. With no one of consequence below Stewart, every Slytherin takes the damage."

Lucius was not wrong. So many Death Eaters had been thrown into Azkaban. The faction had only managed to recruit a handful of young Slytherins before it collapsed, the only ones still at school at the time were Praeris, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, but the damage to Slytherin's reputation had been severe all the same.

The postwar purge of Voldemort's faction had gutted Slytherin.

The one saving grace was that Stella had been pushed into the position of Deputy Minister for Magic, a consequence of the postwar leadership vacuum, the credibility Praeris had lent by backing her, and the need to balance competing interests across factions. To make up for the cost of most Slytherins having chosen the wrong side, she had been working herself to the bone ever since.

What Lucius could envision was simple: have Praeris abandon Dumbledore, deny the so-called "soul manipulation," and claim her words had been nothing more than a Healer offering comfort to the "family." Such things happened all the time. No one could fault her for it.

The Malfoys still harbored private reservations about Praeris's bloodline. But they were satisfied with her standing, her power, and her record. Whatever disagreements they had in private, when it mattered, they closed ranks, pulling her into their circle and doing everything they could to protect her.

Seeing the heavy atmosphere settle over the long table, Draco cleared his throat. "Praeris, don't worry. The Daily Prophet knows what to say and what not to say. They'll find something else eye-catching to run. After a while, who will even remember this?"

He had paid good money for that. Write something people actually want to read.

Neither Lucius's words nor Draco's touched Praeris. She said, composed as ever, "Six hours after seeing the report, I submitted a document to the Ministry of Magic. It will be in tomorrow's papers."

Playing dead was a common enough response. But doing so would essentially be an admission, guilty, with something to hide. This would become a permanent stain on her name. No matter how high her future achievements, she would never be rid of it.

Since playing dead was off the table, the best move was obvious: understand the situation fully, then act fast.

"The one who sold me out is Alexander — the current Healer in the Janus Thickey Ward." Praeris said, a note of resignation in her voice. "He doesn't hate me. Quite the opposite. He admires my ability. He simply believes I've gone down the wrong path."

"Alexander thinks my talent will send potion research onto a runaway train. Out of some personal mission to save the field, he reported me to the Daily Prophet and the Wizengamot." She tapped the paper. "Look — there's a formal professional accusation at the bottom, which he specifically asked the reporter to attach."

Identifying the culprit was trivial for Praeris. The problem was it didn't help. Alexander was a stubborn fundamentalist. He had acted from conviction, not self-interest, and that put him on the moral high ground.

Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "The most insufferable sort is exactly this kind of brute who fancies himself virtuous," she said, her distaste undisguised. "Once you're tainted by someone like that, it clings. Like the stench from a tin of surströmming — impossible to get rid of."

Praeris neither agreed nor disagreed. From Alexander's own perspective, his reasoning was sound. But he had chosen the worst possible method.

"So." Praeris cut to the heart of it. "You all think Alexander will simply let this go? We can pressure the Daily Prophet into silence — but can we demand they say nothing objective at all? We can close one mouth. Can we gag every little rag in Britain? The harder we push to keep people quiet, the louder it gets in private, and far uglier than anything we're hearing now."

"So?" Narcissa straightened, and something like appreciation moved through her eyes. "What exactly did you write to the Ministry and the Wizengamot, Praeris?"

"When we say certain things first, there's nothing left for anyone else to say." Praeris's voice was unhurried. "The more openly we conduct ourselves, the less it looks like we're hiding anything. Before the Wizengamot had time to summon me, I moved first — I demanded a public hearing on this matter."

The trio had to slip out through the back. They were exhausted by it. The reporters had ambushed them outside, insisting on a statement about the Praeris situation.

Harry had reached his limit. Swallowing a stomach full of anger, he looked at the cameras and said: "When it comes to potion knowledge, I'm nowhere near the level of the Healers and Potioneers at St. Mungo's. I won't comment on that. But if you're asking me whether Dumbledore should be saved, I have one answer. Yes."

"These people are unbelievable!" Ron said, scowling as they walked. "Dumbledore ended up like this to save everyone else, and now they're going after the person trying to treat him!"

Hermione quickened her pace and moved in front of them. "That's not what this is about," she said. "This is a question of potion ethics."

"Of course I support Praeris. But what if Praeris changes her mind one day? Could her power be turned toward something it shouldn't? And what if someone else gets hold of the knowledge she has? That is what wizards are worried about."

She turned to Harry. "Your response was very good," she said. "Keep it exactly like that."

"What was good about it?" Ron asked.

Hermione gave him a smile so strained it barely qualified as one. "Everything," she said.

"Potter's statement was exactly right." Stella said, something thoughtful in her tone. "I almost thought Granger had coached him. But she didn't. Those were his own words, from the heart."

"This is very useful for us, Praeris." Stella continued. "Potter didn't take your side. What he did was take Dumbledore's side. But that ties your actions directly to Dumbledore's life. No matter how far this goes, you have room to recover, grounds to say your motives were good."

It had been Harry's simple, honest feeling. His most steadfast way of standing by a friend. Learning what Harry had said on her behalf, Praeris found herself smiling, quiet and warm.

"You are far too hardline." Stella shook her head. But what she said next was: "I admire your approach, Praeris. Your proposal caught those people completely off guard. This is no longer a question of your personal conduct. You've turned it into a public policy debate."

Even Stella hadn't seen that coming.

As newly appointed Deputy Minister for Magic, she had received the accusations against Praeris before anyone, before Kingsley, even. She had rushed to notify Praeris and the Malfoys, then turned around to find that Praeris had already filed a request to the Wizengamot for a public hearing, along with a full proposal. The Wizengamot had been caught flat-footed and spent the night scrambling to study what she had submitted. The last person to do something like that to them had been Dumbledore.

Stella had initially assumed Praeris would resort to clever deflection, finding justifications, carefully constructing an exit. She had known that approach would be fragile. A stubborn accuser and a pack of Slytherin political enemies looking for blood could tear it apart easily. But it would have been the strategy that cost postwar Slytherin the least. The best way to keep the damage contained. Slytherin could not afford more attrition. Not now.

Instead, Praeris had stepped entirely outside the framework Alexander had set, and the Wizengamot was still catching its breath.

"Those old fossils." Stella's smile was cold. "Far too conservative. They want me to preside over your hearing. To interrogate you. To publicly cut ties with you, put on a show of placing justice above personal loyalty. And in the same breath, they want me to come and reassure you, to manage the hearing process so nothing spirals out of control and the sentence stays light."

Praeris understood completely. This was Slytherin logic at its most practiced. They wanted everything at once. They wanted to protect Stella's position. After spending down Praeris's postwar credibility, they now wanted to distance themselves from her publicly, so that if she truly fell, the damage wouldn't reach Stella. At the same time, they wanted to hold onto Praeris as a valuable piece on the board, sending Stella to soften the blow, to convey the message: We didn't want to let you go. Circumstances left us no choice.

This was Slytherin. Praeris knew it better than most.

Stella was one of them, of course. She just had an extra layer of personal feeling in the mix. Her presence here today represented herself and the Slytherin interest group behind her in equal measure.

When Stella mocked those Slytherins, she was simply marking the distance, showing that her heart was with Praeris. But that didn't mean she would act against the collective decision. Quite the opposite. It was precisely because she had come to carry out those decisions that she was giving Praeris advance notice.

"I understand." Praeris smiled. "It isn't easy for you either."

Stella exhaled quietly.

"Whatever happens, I won't let them lock you up." Stella shrugged, her tone shifting into something lighter. "Worst case, I steer the whole thing back to Dumbledore and let those reckless Gryffindors charge into battle on your behalf." A beat. "Who could possibly deny the sincerity of what you've done to save him?"

➤ Next: Extra: Praeris, Later — Part 3