HP: TSH — Chapter 322 - Extra: Dumbledore 1

"Going to file another application?"

In the Potions Research Centre, Kia craned her neck toward Praeris and said offhandedly, "Prae, help me drop this document off with Doctor John."

Praeris took the parchment scroll without looking up. Small things like this, the two of them had always just handled each other's errands without keeping count.

Visits to Janus Thickey Ward had no special requirements for immediate family, but anyone else had to file an application. A new rule, added after a reporter had snuck in to take photos.

"Harry Potter again?" The administrative Healer raised an eyebrow.

Praeris had lost count of how many times she'd answered that question. "That's right," she said, calm as ever.

The administrative Healer's face lit up with gossip, lips going a mile a minute. "I thought Aurors were supposed to be busy! And yet Potter still manages to come every 2 weeks. Look at Annie's boyfriend — always bragging about working at the Ministry, too exhausted for anything, and he only visits once a month. Anyone who didn't know better would think he was the Minister for Magic himself!"

"Is that so?" Praeris feigned curiosity and listened to the whole thing, then smoothly covered for Harry. "Harry just squeezes it in when he can. Every visit ends up being late at night."

"That's different, though," the other administrative Healer chimed in. "Annie's boyfriend saves up a full day off for it."

After dispensing with the gossip, Praeris dropped off Kia's document on her way back and returned to the research centre to work.

That evening, sorting through correspondence, she found a letter from Hogwarts. Slughorn had seen her latest results in Advanced Potions Research and learned she'd been selected as a Wizengamot member a few days prior. He was beside himself with delight and absolutely insisted on inviting her to a Slug Club dinner.

She needed a reason to refuse. That old fox was setting a trap. He wanted to retire again desperately, just waiting to coax Praeris back as the Potions professor, then hand the Head of House position straight back to Severus and make his perfect escape.

She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. But Draco had been clattering around at home lately with nothing to do. Let him go instead. Her boy loved exactly this sort of thing, all eyes on him, drowning in praise and admiration.

And Draco had been making headlines in the Daily Prophet lately, with plenty to boast about. He had invented the now-famous training gem, inspired by the Boggart, a magical pearl, in fact.

Place it on a table, activate it, and it would conjure an illusory Dark Arts creature or magical beast. The illusion carried average or weaker power compared to the real thing, designed for students and Aurors to train against and familiarise themselves with magical creatures. It had also proven useful for magical creature conservation.

Both the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts had purchased batches. Some had even put in custom orders for specific creatures.

Draco's response: Fine. That'll cost extra.

BANG BANG BANG.

A young wizard appeared at the door. He wore a long coat. Tall, strikingly handsome, but his jet-black hair was a mess, his jaw dusted with short stubble, and he still had on the same round-framed glasses he'd worn since his student days.

Kia privately thought that both Praeris's boyfriend Draco Malfoy and the Chosen One Harry Potter were very good-looking, though she personally preferred Harry Potter. Pity the handsome one already had a dashing athlete girlfriend.

"Harry Potter, you're here?" Praeris swept her things into a drawer, clicked it shut, and stood. "Let's go."

Every member of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army cared about Dumbledore, but not one of them came with Harry Potter's persistence. Harry Potter seemed to genuinely believe that Dumbledore would be lonely lying here alone, and so he kept coming.

"Trouble?" Praeris asked.

"It's fine." Harry Potter scratched his hair and said lightly, "Mostly dark wizards, and some escaped Death Eaters. Maybe it's because they've run a second time now. They've gotten good at it."

Mad-Eye had retired. Kingsley had become Minister. Harry Potter had become an Auror, and Stella had said he'd be promoted to Head of the Auror Office before long. That was only to be expected, Harry Potter wouldn't be out of place even as Minister for Magic, except he was too young, and he didn't want it himself.

"Sounds like quite a bit of trouble," Praeris said.

"Can't hide it from you." Harry Potter rubbed his nose, a little sheepish.

Praeris smiled and shook her head. "You should shave and comb your hair before you tell me it's fine."

Harry Potter blinked. "Ah — I've been going crazy with work. No wonder Ginny shoved me straight into the bathroom when I got home and told me to shower and rest."

He was a perceptive person. But when you hadn't slept for days, no amount of perceptiveness could hold up.

Praeris pushed open the door and stepped inside. Quietly, she said, "Harry Potter, the war is over."

Harry Potter stopped at the entrance to the ward. He scratched his head. His eyes blinked rapidly. His mouth moved, but nothing came out.

A long moment passed before he finally stepped inside and said, voice a little flat, "I know."

In fifth year, Harry Potter had spent a very long time unable to learn Occlumency. Praeris had told him: Your emotions are too rich. You're too driven by feeling, your joy, your anger, your sadness are all written plainly on your face. You can't separate your emotions from yourself. You can't even tell them apart.

That's just who I am! Harry Potter had thrown up his hands, furious. Yes, fine, I know, I can't control my temper, I'm impulsive, I'm an unstoppable wild bull, a wild boar. What of it!

Praeris had watched him calmly. That steadiness only made Harry Potter more agitated, and then, somehow, the fury fizzled a little, and he even felt vaguely embarrassed.

I'm not criticising you. Praeris had said. But you have to know yourself before you can master yourself. You've been carrying too much pressure. A spring pressed to its limit will always rebound eventually.

Harry Potter and Praeris had something in common. The wounds of war had never truly left either of them, like the countless scars across his body, like the mark the Dark Arts brand had left on Praeris's hand. For her, it was the near-curse of her memory. For him, it was the sheer depth of his feeling.

It was because of those shared experiences, those shared scars, that Praeris understood Harry Potter's pain. He ran like a man with ghosts on his heels and couldn't stop. And those ghosts were nothing other than the witches and wizards who had died in the war.

Kindness was sometimes its own kind of suffering.

The nth time Harry Potter came to ask Praeris to file a visit application for him, Praeris had finally reached her limit and arranged to meet Ginny. When Harry Potter's on leave, can you two please go out and enjoy yourselves for a while? I'll keep watch over Dumbledore. He's not going to vanish the moment you look away!

But in Harry Potter's eyes, Dumbledore did vanish in the blink of an eye. A shadow of grief and heartache crossed Ginny's face. And it happened more than once.

Ginny was a Quidditch player now. She and Harry Potter spent more time apart than together as it was. Of course she wanted to spend their time off just the two of them.

But Harry Potter was like a man with thorns growing out of his seat, he couldn't hold still. He always had to be doing something. If he wasn't, he felt wrong all over, as though rest itself were a transgression.

Yet when he caught Ginny's expression, that look of wanting to say something and swallowing it back, he seemed to understand. He forced himself to sit down, guilty. But Ginny loved him. The person who loved him could not ignore the responsibility knotted up inside him.

Guilt. Praeris had put it simply and precisely. Even though none of it is his fault.

He's in his twenties now, and for a third of his life he's carried the weight of countless deaths. 21 days is enough to form a habit. Let alone seven years.

Ginny had gone quiet. She looked at Praeris carefully for a long moment, then asked directly: Praeris, do you understand Harry Potter because you're clever, or because you feel the same way?

The question stopped Praeris cold. She turned it over seriously, then gave her answer: Both. But I can set it aside. I'm good at that.

If she had never learned to separate her own pain from herself, it would have killed her long ago. That had been one of Praeris's most important means of survival for over 20 years. It was also why her Occlumency was extraordinarily good.

Ginny's expression had filled with a deep, quiet sadness. Thank you, Praeris. You shouldered half the responsibility on those missions for Harry Potter, and you carried so much condemnation for it. I'm sorry.

But you believed me. Praeris had started to feel a little lost in the face of Ginny's sorrow. You said you believed me, didn't you? You have nothing to apologise for.

Those who hadn't believed her would never apologise, they'd simply decided on their own that the matter was closed and moved on. Those who did believe her were the ones here, feeling guilty, saying sorry. The real world was sometimes more ironic than anything Shakespeare had ever written.

Harry Potter sat at the foot of Dumbledore's bed, talking to himself in a low, steady murmur. "Dumbledore, I caught 3 dark wizards this time. One faked unconsciousness and ambushed me when I got close — lucky Tonks was keeping watch the whole time. Ginny's been brilliant with the Holyhead Harpies. Last match she scored 5 goals in a row. Ron and Lavender are back together — Lavender's Divination shop is doing really well. Hermione's work at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is going smoothly. She says Stella told her she has exceptional aptitude..."

Praeris stood to the side, arms folded, waiting for Harry Potter to finish his report. Every single time it was like this. He was terrified Dumbledore would be left behind by the world. The Harry Potter outside this room was resolute and fearless, an Auror who made Death Eaters and dark wizards go cold at the name, but in here, he was still just a student.

"Praeris." Harry Potter's voice dropped. "Will Dumbledore ever wake up?"

At first, Harry Potter had asked when Dumbledore would wake up. Now he asked whether Dumbledore would wake up at all. Harry Potter had always known one thing: if even Praeris had no answer, no one would.

Praeris wasn't sure how to answer him.

"Harry Potter, you're not a patient's family member who needs comforting." Praeris said it plainly, without hiding anything. "All I can tell you is that right now, it's up to Dumbledore. I've already created every condition that would allow him to wake up."

Praeris's existence was a double-edged sword. She had made Voldemort's death certain, a guarantee that held even if Harry Potter couldn't manage it alone. But she had also given Dumbledore the peace of mind to lie back and feel nothing urgent about waking.

Now Dumbledore lacked a catalyst. A reason. Like Sleeping Beauty waiting for a kiss that hadn't come, and don't look at either of the two "princes" for that, given they were both from the neighbouring kingdom of Slytherin.

"Dumbledore..." Harry Potter's voice strained. "He doesn't want to live?"

Was that what he'd been doing all this time, coming here, week after week, going against Dumbledore's own wishes?

Praeris shook her head. "Perhaps he simply prefers to let things take their course. Life and death don't hold much difference for him anymore. He may just lack a reason to come back."

Dumbledore's thinking had shifted over time. In the beginning, he had genuinely wanted to die. Gradually, that hardened will had softened into something quieter, a willingness to let nature decide.

Just as his reasons for standing up to face death had changed. First, it was the promise he had made to Praeris. Later, it became about protecting more people.

Once he lost consciousness and fell, his task was finished. Everything had been arranged. Everyone had found their place. There was no need to force himself awake.

But that truth was cruel for Harry Potter. Among all the people and things that existed in the world right now, there was nothing Dumbledore was attached to. Including Harry Potter himself.

Harry Potter went silent, nearly dissolving into the quiet of the St Mungo's night.

"Praeris..."

"Hm?"

A long pause. Then something settled behind his eyes, a decision made. He looked at Praeris steadily and said, "If this is Dumbledore's will, then let him go."

"Do you know what you're saying!" Praeris's breath caught.

"I know." Harry Potter's gaze was clear and unblinking. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life."

Praeris's first instinct was alarm. But the alarm passed quickly, and she went still.

"Harry Potter, saving Dumbledore was how I repaid the promise I made to him. At the time, I had no way of knowing what he would want now." She spoke carefully. "I understand what you feel. But you have to understand — if this decision had been made before I faced accusations, it would have been a different matter entirely."

"But now we have no choice. We can't explain to the public that a hero 'wants to die.' They won't understand it, and they won't accept it. They'll decide I simply couldn't save him — or that you didn't want him to wake up."

That particular conspiracy theory was already circulating. The longer Dumbledore's coma stretched on, the more people had begun to suggest that Harry Potter's visits were really just a way of confirming that Dumbledore wouldn't recover, so he could step into Dumbledore's political legacy.

"I know." Through the pain and the struggle, something in Harry Potter surfaced, a quality most people never find. Sorrowful, but completely steady. "Then let them blame me. Call me cold-hearted. Call me ungrateful. Say whatever they want."

"I can't go against Dumbledore's will anymore. Not for any reason. Not even to make it easier on myself. He has sacrificed enough for the peace of this world."

"Praeris, this has nothing to do with you. I'll announce publicly that this was a will he left inside the Golden Snitch he gave me. Every bit of the responsibility, every word of condemnation, I'll carry it alone."

Praeris let out a short, cold laugh. "You think I'm afraid of accusations? Have I never been cursed at before? Are you some lone figure with no family, no friends? You think they won't be dragged into this? You think they won't worry themselves sick over you?"

"Thank you." Harry Potter didn't move an inch. His eyes hadn't left Dumbledore. "I've made up my mind. I'll clear everyone's name, one by one. This is my decision alone."

Praeris was angered into laughter.

She had said all of that to stop him. Harry Potter had taken it as a step-by-step guide on how to proceed.

➤ Next: Extra: Dumbledore 2