HP: TSH — Chapter 316 - Extra: Praeris — Later Times 4

The closer the hearing came, the more anxious Draco Malfoy grew.

At first it was Draco Malfoy who comforted Praeris, even though Praeris seemed perfectly fine. Then it flipped. Praeris was the one doing the comforting, watching him pace back and forth across the bedroom, yanking his shirt collar open with one impatient hand and loosening his tie.

She had no choice but to get up. She caught his hand with a long-suffering look and pulled him into a gentle hug. "The hearing is for me, not you. Why are you more restless than I am? Weren't you the one comforting me just a few days ago?"

"Praeris, I think..."

"Hmm?"

"That therapist won't back down. I know his type — self-righteous, stubborn as deep-rooted grass you can't pull out no matter how hard you try." Draco lowered his voice. A cold light flickered through his eyes. "As it happens, I have access to certain special substances. Enough to scatter his mind and muddle his memory. Who would believe a man talking complete nonsense?"

Praeris was taken aback. The Draco after the war was not this person anymore. Voldemort, Dumbledore's "death," the fall of his family, the suffering that followed, it had all changed him, fundamentally and completely. So how could he be saying something like this now?

But her expression softened quickly. She patted his tightly clenched fist and said quietly, "Draco. Stop."

"Why?" His voice sharpened with agitation. "You're the one going to that hearing, not me. I'm the one who did terrible things, not you. Praeris, let me handle this. All you have to do is close your eyes, cover your ears, and it's done."

"No." Praeris looked at him steadily. "My eyes need to be looking at your face. My ears need to be listening to your words."

"Draco, we worked so hard to step out from under the shadow of the war. Not so we could drag another shadow behind us that never goes away." Her voice dropped lower, softer. "And I don't need you to do this. When it comes to methods of harm, I know far more than you do. That you would dirty your hands for me, that tells me more about your heart than ten thousand successful hearings ever could. It's enough."

She was not exaggerating. Even if Alexander were a potions-trained therapist, she could brew something he had never seen in his life and have him drink it without ever knowing.

But it was unnecessary. Dirtying your own hands was the lowest approach there was, and Praeris had no interest in stooping to it.

Still. That Draco had been ready to do it for her, she found that both funny and deeply moving. Being willing to resort to anything for someone else's sake was a Slytherin's most sincere declaration of love. Normally that kind of devotion was reserved for money, power, status, family. Now she had it too.

"There's nothing to worry about," Praeris said patiently. "After Voldemort's death, my existence matters too much to the Slytherins for them to let this go badly. And would the Gryffindors really stand by and watch Dumbledore stay in a coma until he died?"

"On the surface this looks like a threat to my reputation, they might even try to accuse me of conducting Dark Arts research and send me to Azkaban. But in reality, very few people actually want that outcome. That's exactly why I said this is an opportunity. Do you understand?"

Half the Wizengamot would not fail to cast a vote of support. How could Praeris possibly lose? At this particular moment, abandoning Dumbledore would be the gravest mistake anyone could make. It would only push the Gryffindors to the opposing side, and no one would come out ahead.

The Gryffindors might seem like people who would charge forward in the name of justice, but Praeris was the war hero who had endured humiliation and borne impossible burdens, and Dumbledore was the symbol of justice and the former leader they had believed in with their whole hearts. To deny Praeris was to let Dumbledore die slowly. That was something none of them were willing to see.

Praeris had assumed she didn't even need to say all of this. Narcissa would understand it on her own, and Praeris could handle the rest. As long as Narcissa stood behind her, Lucius wouldn't ask too many questions either.

Draco's effort to comfort her had made her careless. She had forgotten that he was actually unsettled inside, holding himself together to comfort the person directly involved, while already turning over in his mind exactly how to reduce Alexander to a mindless fool.

Draco still couldn't put his mind at ease. "Then I'm coming with you."

"Hmm?" Praeris raised an eyebrow. "All right."

On the day of the hearing, Draco was stopped at the door.

"You promised!" He was urgent, almost frantic. "Why can't I go in with you?"

"Didn't you come along with me?" Praeris smiled and soothed him. "All right, all right, don't be angry. Only the person under hearing, witnesses, the Minister, the Deputy Minister, the clerk, and Wizengamot members are allowed inside. Wait for me out here, will you?"

What else could Draco say?

He had no choice but to pace back and forth outside the entrance, like a nervous husband wearing grooves into the floor outside a delivery room.

The formal accusation-and-trial had been changed to a hearing, but the location hadn't changed. It was still the courtroom deep inside the Ministry of Magic, dark and gloomy, as though the Ministry was too poor after the war to afford a few extra lamps.

The entire front row was filled with familiar faces. Sitting in the center was Kingsley Shacklebolt. He had become the new Minister for Magic. He caught Praeris's eye and gave her a quick, covert smile, then swiftly arranged his face back into a suitably solemn expression.

To Kingsley Shacklebolt's left sat Stella Stewart. She was the new Deputy Minister. From the very first moment she wore a stern expression and said nothing, projecting an air of having absolutely no connection to Praeris whatsoever.

To Kingsley Shacklebolt's right sat the current Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, an upright Hufflepuff. Stella had mentioned that during Voldemort's rule, this man's daily job had been to sit at home writing letters to the Daily Prophet, denouncing the Ministry's policies as unlawful. Then Umbridge would amend the laws one by one, turning the unlawful into the lawful.

At the far left end of the front row sat Hermione Granger, parchment and quill in hand. Stella had mentioned that Hermione had voluntarily applied to serve as clerk.

"Stewart." Kingsley Shacklebolt cleared his throat. "We may begin."

Stella Stewart turned to Hermione Granger. "Granger, are you ready?"

"Yes, Miss Stewart," Hermione Granger answered composedly.

"Hearing of the 23rd of September," Stella Stewart read aloud, "the proposal regarding the Ethical and Classification Framework for Potions Research, and the case examining the alleged Dark Arts research conducted by Praeris Prince, researcher at the St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries Potions Research Centre."

"Presiding officer: Stella Stewart. Hearing officers: Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt; Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Albert Ebb. Hearing recorder: Hermione Granger. Hearing presenters: Praeris Prince, Alexander Shafiq."

Stella Stewart paused deliberately, giving Hermione Granger time to record everything.

This is actually outside the rules. Stella Stewart had told Praeris this once. Shafiq's accusation against you and the hearing on the proposal are two separate formats, they're not normally resolved together. But we fought for it. I told Ebb this was one and the same matter, and that he really ought to start improving his efficiency.

Stella Stewart continued. "First, the accusation. The charges against the defendant are as follows: the defendant was hired in July 1998, and beginning in April of the following year commenced treatment of Albus Dumbledore. During this period, the defendant repeatedly and deliberately administered to Albus Dumbledore a potion not listed in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries Standard Potions Catalogue. Said potion is suspected to possess soul-manipulation capabilities and falls within the category of Dark Arts potions. This conduct is in violation of the Restriction on Use of Dark Artefacts Act of 1870 and the Healer Regulation Code as amended in 1887."

"Are you Alexander Shafiq, Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries?" Stella Stewart's tone was severe.

"I am." Alexander Shafiq wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Do you have evidence proving the defendant performed soul manipulation on Albus Dumbledore?"

"Yes — yes, I do." He produced a roll of parchment. "This is my evidence."

Stella Stewart's tone eased slightly. She called to her left, "Granger, if you please."

Hermione Granger stood, received the report from Alexander Shafiq, and presented it to Stella Stewart. Stella Stewart unrolled the parchment and held it between herself and Kingsley Shacklebolt. The two exchanged a few quiet words, then passed it on to Albert Ebb.

The report made its way around the Wizengamot members. Some looked confused. Some stroked their chins in thought. Some raised their eyebrows. And some passed it directly to the next person without a single glance, that was a Slytherin, who had no intention of reading it at all.

The report finally came back to Hermione Granger's hands. At Stella Stewart's signal, she passed it to Praeris. Praeris skimmed through it in seconds and handed it back.

"Very well." Stella Stewart spoke again. "You are the defendant, Praeris Prince, researcher at the St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries Potions Research Centre?"

"That is correct."

"St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries maintains a strict Standard Potions Catalogue, placing strict limitations on the potions used by Healers during treatment. Defendant Prince, did you administer to Albus Dumbledore a potion not listed in the hospital's potions catalogue?"

"Yes."

Several people in the room looked genuinely surprised. Everyone knew Stella Stewart was a Slytherin. When she had put herself forward as presiding officer, the prevailing assumption was that she had come to tip the scales. No one had expected her to be this direct from the very outset, direct enough that people began to wonder whether she had come to condemn her own kin in the name of justice.

Not impossible, some thought to themselves. Slytherins climbing over their own companions to get ahead was hardly unheard of. Perhaps Stewart was building an image of iron impartiality as groundwork for a future bid at Minister.

Stella Stewart leaned slightly forward. Her gaze was sharp, unrelenting. "You were fully aware that your conduct violated St. Mungo's Hospital regulations and simultaneously violated the fundamental standards of the Healer Regulation Code?"

"It would appear so," Praeris said with perfect composure. "But that is not the case."

Stella Stewart raised her voice. "The defendant is being evasive. Please answer the question directly."

"First, a very obvious error: I am not a Healer." There was a sardonic edge to Praeris's voice. Then she added, "But this is a common mistake for those unfamiliar with the field, hardly surprising. Not all of St. Mungo's staff are Healers. There are also nurses and apothecaries, among others. Therefore, to say I violated the Healer Regulation Code is quite absurd."

"Does this not prove that you practiced treatment without credentials?" Stella Stewart switched angles instantly, pressing forward. "You were fully aware you were not a Healer, yet you proceeded to treat Albus Dumbledore?"

The Wizengamot members from the other three Houses couldn't help exchanging glances. The assembled witches and wizards found it easier to suspect Slytherin infighting than to believe a Slytherin could be genuinely selfless and impartial.

Though honestly, Stewart's reputation during the war hadn't been bad. It wasn't entirely impossible...

"That is also incorrect." Praeris countered. "According to St. Mungo's charter provisions, when facing rare, unusual, or treatment-resistant cases where existing methods have proven ineffective — upon written consent signed by three senior Healers — the use of a newly developed potion falling outside the catalogue is permitted. That is part of an apothecary's work."

Two rounds of questions and answers. In the eyes of the Wizengamot members, the rigour of this accusation was beginning to look somewhat lacking.

Stella Stewart pressed on without pause, giving Praeris no room to breathe. "In that case, did you obtain the written consent described in that provision, signed and approved by three senior Healers?"

Yes. This was the most critical question.

Beside them, Alexander Shafiq wore a calm expression, as though he already had the answer.

"No," Praeris said. Clear and firm.

The Wizengamot members sat up straighter.

"Because the condition of the patient, Albus Dumbledore, met the supplementary clause of that charter, namely, that under circumstances of extreme urgency involving significant public interest, written consent may be ratified after the fact."

"Honoured officials of the Ministry of Magic. Honoured witches and wizards of the Wizengamot. What we are discussing is not an ordinary course of treatment. We are discussing the life of a hero of multiple wizarding wars: Albus Dumbledore."

"Just as with the Longbottoms, who have been lost to themselves for over a decade, not long after Dumbledore's admission, every conventional treatment method quickly proved ineffective."

"Potions researcher — or apothecary, in simpler terms — is in itself a profession that lives at the edge of the unknown. All of our work sits at the very frontier of Potions. Every attempt is, to borrow the words Dumbledore himself spoke when facing Voldemort, the search for one thread of possibility within the impossible."

"When every method has been declared ineffective, should I stand by and do nothing, rigidly adhering to inflexible charter regulations? Or should I act like a true potions researcher and snatch someone back from the hands of death?"

"Those present must include fighters and survivors of the last wizarding war. Just as Dumbledore was willing to stand up for everyone then, I would never abandon any comrade who still had hope, just as I have saved his life countless times before."

"They say Slytherin values victory above all. That Slytherins will resort to any means to win. I admit it. On the path toward saving more lives, resorting to any means is not a fault."

The relentlessly pressing Stella Stewart had, at some point, stopped asking questions. She simply let Praeris speak.

No one in the room noticed that detail. The Slytherin members lifted their chins. The members from the other Houses had gone quiet, thoughtful expressions settling over their faces.

After 2 wizarding wars, Slytherin had endured no shortage of criticism, even those who had never stood on Voldemort's side, who had done nothing more than remain neutral.

Praeris's words showed another face of what it meant to be a Slytherin. And they made the witches and wizards in that room find themselves thinking: exceptional cases deserve exceptional handling, and if even a Slytherin could feel loyalty and compassion toward Dumbledore, then surely none of them could stand by and watch Dumbledore slip away without a fight.

➤ Next: Extra: Praeris in Later Years 5