Harry Potter: The Slytherin Heiress

It took Praeris several days to finish those three books, and she didn't just read them. She had to fully absorb every piece of knowledge inside, to arm herself against whatever malice was lurking in the shadows.

Not until danger actually loomed over her head did she realize how unwilling she was to face death.

She had so many things she hadn't done yet. She had never met Sylvia Prince. She still didn't know why Sylvia had abandoned her, or why she had killed her husband.

She hadn't graduated. Hadn't seen the world beyond England. So many books unread, so much knowledge she hadn't mastered. And there were her friends, Millicent, Pansy, Miss Winnie at Diagon Alley, Madam Prim and Tom, Professor Sprout and Professor Snape, who cared about her, even if he himself might not think so.

Malfoy had a collection of miscellaneous books, some of them on alchemy. He didn't actually study the subject, but he liked collecting anything related to it.

So many wizards and alchemists, names history still remembered, had spent their lives frantically craving the power of the Philosopher's Stone. Yearning for immortality.

Praeris had once scoffed at that. "Wizards live past a hundred. Isn't that enough?"

Now she understood. She was still too young. A hundred years was too distant to feel real, so she had never been afraid of dying.

But the truth was, not every wizard made it to a hundred. Before that milestone, there were countless ways to die.

Praeris turned to the last page of the final Dark Arts book. Tucked inside was a slip of paper bearing Professor Snape's signature.

She raised an eyebrow.

Returning books didn't require a signed slip, did it?

"Praeris!" Daphne Greengrass came bouncing in. "How are you still reading?"

"What's got you so happy?" Praeris didn't answer. She countered instead.

"The Gryffindors asked Professor Binns about the Chamber of Secrets! Turns out there's something terrible hidden inside, and only the Heir can control it. When the time comes, the Heir will release it to purge everyone unworthy of being here!" Daphne said, practically vibrating.

Praeris sighed inwardly.

She should have known. The only thing that could excite a pure-blood-supremacist girl was the thought of filth like them being kicked out of Hogwarts.

Daphne turned to look at her. "Don't you find this absolutely thrilling?"

The hand beneath Praeris's sleeve tightened into a fist. Her face didn't change. "Oh, that's the Heir's business, isn't it? The Heir just needs to get rid of the filth. I have a great deal more to think about."

She let her voice go flat. "Like the professor wanting me to read three books this thick and then write a paper. Until I finish, I won't be happy ever again."

If she stayed at Hogwarts any longer, her acting skills were going to improve tremendously.

Daphne sucked in a sharp breath. Those three books were far thicker than any of their textbooks.

"Merlin, that's genuinely awful. I won't disturb your paper-writing. I — I'll go find Pansy!"

She said it while already backing toward the door, and kept backing all the way out of the dormitory.

Only after she was gone did Praeris lower the book from her face.

Ah. She didn't actually have to write a paper. Who studied Dark Arts and still had to write papers?

But she'd covered the book jacket, so Daphne couldn't tell what she was reading, only how thick it was.

Still, Daphne had broken her concentration, and she couldn't settle back into it now.

She'd go find Moaning Myrtle. Praeris had decided before that she would visit her regularly.

She brought the three books along. She planned to return them on the way.

She'd finished reading them, hadn't she?

The library slip, that, she would keep.

"Ron!"

Percy Weasley's startled voice rang out nearby. Praeris flattened herself against the wall.

"That is the girls' lavatory!" Percy Weasley looked ready to be driven mad by his own brother. "How could you, "

Ron Weasley was completely unbothered. His tone made it sound as though he'd merely strolled into the library. "Just having a look around, searching for clues, you know..."

Percy Weasley erupted, ordering them to leave immediately.

Ron Weasley got angry right back. He seemed to feel deeply wronged, insisting he had never so much as touched a single hair on Mrs. Norris.

Percy Weasley didn't actually think his brother was behind it. But his next words made Praeris's ears prick up.

"She — Ginny — still thinks you're going to be expelled. I've never seen her so upset. She was crying her eyes out. You ought to think about her..."

Ron Weasley shot back that his brother wasn't really thinking about him or their sister at all. If anything, Percy Weasley seemed more worried about his own future.

The four Gryffindors finally left. Praeris nearly laughed out loud.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Nothing could be funnier. Two Weasleys, Gryffindors to the bone for eight generations, having a row, and one of them docking five points from Gryffindor in the process.

If Gryffindor kept producing students like that, did Slytherin even need to try for the House Cup?

Praeris pushed open the lavatory door. "Myrtle, it's me. Prae."

Whatever the Gryffindors had done, Myrtle was wailing inside a toilet bowl. The floor was already threatening to flood.

"I don't know! I didn't notice anything! Why does everyone keep asking me these questions!" Myrtle was utterly falling apart.

Praeris blinked. So they had come to question Myrtle about that day too.

"Myrtle, I'm not here to ask you anything. I'm here to see you. You agreed to be my friend, didn't you? Aren't you happy to see me?"

And then Praeris covered her face and began to cry.

She was only ever this silver-tongued when it came to handling Myrtle.

As long as she cried louder than Myrtle, Myrtle would come and comfort her. It worked every time.

"No, I didn't mean that." Myrtle was flustered. "I just didn't think you'd actually come!"

"You don't believe me!" Praeris wailed. "You don't believe in my friendship! Do you think my heart is made of lead? Do you think I wouldn't keep the promises I make to you?"

"Oh." Myrtle stopped crying. Her voice went soft. "Prae, I absolutely didn't think that. I was just so upset."

I'm sorry, Praeris thought. My heart really is made of lead.

She made a show of wiping her face. "That's good. I thought you didn't consider me a friend anymore."

After that, Praeris picked through the small details of her recent days, classes, reading, the rumors about the Chamber of Secrets Daphne had mentioned, and so on.

"You won't find me tiresome, will you? My life is terribly dull," Praeris said.

Myrtle pressed both hands to her chest. "Of course not. No student has ever shared what's been happening with them lately. You're the first."

"You'll keep my secrets, won't you? These things — I've only told you."

None of it actually mattered. But it made Myrtle feel trusted.

"Of course, of course!" Myrtle, in rare good spirits, whooshed straight up to the ceiling.

Praeris's feelings were complicated when she left.

If an affection was built entirely on deception, could it still be called affection?

She had deceived Myrtle. She had deceived the professors. Because she needed these people. She had never shown her real past to Millicent, to Winnie, to Madam Prim, to Professor Sprout.

If any of them saw the complete, true version of her, they would have run long ago.

But the feelings she gave were real. She genuinely sympathized with Myrtle and genuinely hoped she could be happy. She had grown up without a family, so she looked for maternal warmth in Madam Prim and Professor Sprout, and looked for strict guidance in Professor Snape.

Did a well-intentioned lie count as a lie? Of course it did. But Praeris had no choice. This happiness she had now, she had to protect it.

She was aware of her own wretchedness at every moment.

But for someone who had crawled out of the mire, talking about lofty and noble things was a bit too much to ask.

Praeris carried the three books to Madam Pince.

Madam Pince knew her well. Praeris spent a great deal of time in the library, read a great many books, and took good care of them.

"Oh yes, Professor Snape did borrow these three. He had you return them?" Madam Pince's tone held a faint note of suspicion.

Praeris smiled, easy and unbothered. "Yes, the professor is terribly busy, you know how he always is. And with everything that's been happening lately..."

Madam Pince flipped through the books casually and nodded. "He has a great deal on his plate. Very good, these are in excellent condition. I much prefer entrusting books to students and teachers like you. Those mischievous children never take proper care of them."

Praeris returned the books and left with the borrowing slip still in her pocket. She thought it might prove useful someday.

Walking down the corridor, she turned Percy Weasley's words over in her mind.

His little sister Ginny was always crying. Always worrying over things that hadn't happened yet.

Why, though? Ginny Weasley.

If she were truly that frightened, she shouldn't have been anywhere near the lavatory. She should have gone to find her brother, confirmed he was all right, or hidden herself away with one of her older brothers and sobbed until she felt better.

Instead, she had come to this corridor. Stayed hidden. And the instant Praeris spotted her, she had bolted, sharp reflexes, explosive speed, fast enough that Praeris hadn't been able to catch her.

Millicent hadn't dared come near this part of the castle lately. The moment class ended, she rushed back to the dormitory to watch over Nina, terrified Nina might be the next pet victim.

Praeris exhaled and shook her head.

Compared to Ginny, most people suspected the Heir was Potter or Malfoy.

Right, Gryffindor suspected Malfoy. The other two houses suspected Potter. The Slytherins secretly hoped it was Malfoy, but everyone knew that was impossible.

Just think about it. With Malfoy's personality, if he were actually the Heir, he'd have announced it to the entire school by now and taken care of his most-despised Potter first.

Speak of Malfoy, and Malfoy appears.

Before Praeris had even reached the door, Malfoy came swaggering in with his two lackeys in tow.

Crabbe said, "Prince! You have to come support Draco on Saturday. It's his first match!"

"As if I need her support?" Malfoy raised his chin. "Come or don't. I'll win either way."

Praeris found this mildly entertaining. "Whether I want to go or not, I have to. Pansy Parkinson wants all of us there to support you, Nina included."

"I think you're going to support Marcus..."

Malfoy muttered something under his breath. Praeris didn't catch it. "What did you say?"

"Just watch! I'll beat Potter until he cries!"

Malfoy suddenly shouted, loud enough to make Praeris flinch. "Fine, fine, you'll win, you'll win."

Win all you like, but did he have to shout? Who was he trying to intimidate? Potter wasn't even here.

The investigation had made no progress, not unless the Heir struck again.

Under the circumstances, Praeris would rather the investigation never moved forward. No progress meant no next victim.

But more immediately vexing than the Heir was Gilderoy Lockhart.

She couldn't avoid Professor Snape's office forever. With the Heir situation consuming everyone's attention, Professor Snape was busier than ever and badly needed an assistant.

Lockhart was no Quirrell. He wouldn't leave simply because Professor Snape wasn't there.

Discovering Professor Snape was absent only seemed to delight him, as though the professor had vacated the space especially for his benefit. He launched into a speech of thoroughly vacuous content, aimed entirely at Praeris.

"A clever student like you needs the guidance of a truly great teacher."

Ah, yes. That teacher was surely Professor Snape.

Praeris praised him without expression. "Yes, yes, thank you, good teacher. Do be careful, the professor's potion rack is right behind you."

She thought she should have pretended no one was in the office. Why had she opened the door at all?

No wonder Professor Snape had been so furious last year.

When the parents aren't home, you do not just open the door for strangers!

"Oh, I certainly know what I'm doing. I once brewed a potion that cured a Himalayan Yeti of a terrible head cold."

"That's very impressive."

"I'm sure you'd love a signed autograph from Gilderoy Lockhart. I am terribly famous, after all."

"That's very nice."

"I'll sign it right here!"

"That's — absolutely not!"

Praeris's eyes went wide. She lunged forward and blocked him with her body. "Sign here, sign it here!"

She shoved a blank piece of parchment at him.

"Prince, you really are enthusiastic. I had no idea you liked me this much, you even came prepared with a separate piece of parchment."

Praeris wiped the sweat from her brow. Lockhart would never know what disaster he had nearly caused. Only Praeris would carry that knowledge forever.

He had almost signed his flamboyant, multicolored name on Professor Snape's experiment log.

She rallied quickly. "Heh, thank you for the autograph. Oh! I'm so terribly sorry to have taken up so much of your time, Professor. Isn't your next class the Hufflepuff Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson? Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"You've reminded me!" Lockhart flashed his brilliant smile. "I'm sure my students are already beside themselves with anticipation!"

In fact, the Hufflepuff class was still an hour away.

But Praeris could only offer the Hufflepuffs her silent apologies. For the sake of the professor's office, she'd had no choice but to sacrifice her fellow students.

➤ Next: A Clever Foray into the Restricted Section