Harry Potter: The Slytherin Heiress

Just when you think the world has settled back into calm, real life slaps you across the face and reminds you what it means to be caught completely off guard.

February arrived, and with it came a stretch of days Praeris could genuinely call peaceful. Reading. Brewing potions. Tending to her plants. Working on her own spells.

After realizing her life was no longer under threat, her interest in studying the Dark Arts dropped sharply.

To be honest, the Dark Arts were powerful. No one could argue that. But they also made it far too easy to fall, to stir the hidden malice and desire lurking beneath the surface, to lose yourself in the process of gaining.

Praeris had once heard a saying: human desire is like a boulder rolling down a mountain. Once it starts moving, it never stops.

When power comes this easily, who would still choose to suffer for it? When a person realizes they can control another's life with a word, who would still let morality hold them back?

There are two roads through a forest. One is overgrown, barely a path at all. The other is worn smooth by footsteps. But in Praeris's view, the well-traveled road wasn't necessarily the easier one.

The Dark Arts were that overgrown shortcut. Every gain ran on malice, and the road led one place only: killing, the act that corrupts the soul beyond recovery. And once you started down it, stopping became nearly impossible.

Given that, she would rather take the harder path and try to create something of her own.

Miss Winnie had graduated from Ravenclaw and gone straight to the Ministry's Experimental Charms Committee, where she was responsible for interpreting the meaning and incantation of spells. The work gave her a deep foundation, she was, by any measure, a spell expert.

But she hadn't stopped at understanding and interpreting other people's work. On top of that foundation, she had researched and developed magic of her own. That was impressive. It was also precisely why the Dark Lord had noticed her, and why she'd been tempted into joining the Death Eaters.

Winnie was a good teacher. She taught Praeris how to create new spells.

Creating a new spell begins with need and inspiration. Gloriosa Flame had been born from inspiration. Winnie's household magic came mostly from necessity.

The most basic form of spell creation is improving something that already exists, the process from "Open Sesame" to "Alohomora" being one example.

Miss Winnie had written in her letter: "Beginners are not advised to attempt inventing entirely new magic without any foundation. It isn't just unsafe. It's also a fast way to shatter your own confidence."

There had been a wizard in the eighteenth century, exceptionally gifted, who found learning existing spells too dull. He resolved to create his own. With no experience, he "invented" a spell of devastating destructive power.

He assumed a spell was ready to use the moment it was invented. No systematic testing. No verification. The unstable spell caused his wand to malfunction mid-cast. It ended his young life.

That was one of the founding reasons behind the Experimental Charms Committee. Newly created spells were typically required to be submitted for review before use.

Praeris's first improved spell was a Waterspout, built on the foundation of Winnie's Aqua Lavare. Her original idea had been to increase the speed of Aqua Lavare until it achieved a tornado effect.

But she noticed something. Aqua Lavare could already contain fabric within a fixed range and spin it, much like a washing machine. That was, in its own way, a kind of tornado: objects caught in the rotational pull and swept inward.

So she shifted her approach. Rather than pure speed, she worked toward combining acceleration with that sweeping, dragging force.

"You've been appearing and disappearing like a ghost lately," Millicent complained.

Praeris, aware she had been neglecting her, pressed up against her affectionately, trying to coax her into a better mood.

Millicent sometimes thought Praeris was like a cat. You couldn't expect Nina to stay beside you forever. Little cats had their own little secrets.

Millicent lowered her voice. "Tomorrow is the fourteenth of February."

"And?"

In a conspiratorial tone, Millicent said, "Do you think Pansy will make a move?"

"Do you two think I'm deaf?!" Pansy smacked Millicent's head straight into Praeris's arms.

"Pansy!" Praeris pulled Millicent free. "How are things going with you and Draco?"

Pansy raised her head. Outside the window, fish drifted silently past the glass. "I don't know. It's like romance doesn't exist in his brain. He cares about Potter more than he cares about any Slytherin. His world has no one he likes, only people he hates."

"Sometimes I feel like I'm not myself. What was I like before I fell for him? I've almost completely forgotten. Don't laugh, but I don't actually hate Gryffindor at all. I like what Draco likes. I hate what Draco hates. I feel like I've lost myself inside this thing."

Praeris didn't follow. "Then why not try letting it go? Spend some time being yourself again."

"I've gotten used to living with my eyes fixed on him," Pansy said, melancholy in her voice. "I can't even picture what I'd be like if I stopped."

Stolen story; please report.

"I don't think love is supposed to be a habit," Praeris said.

Pansy laughed a little, half-delirious. "Of course I know that! Sometimes I find myself pitiful. But then other times I'm almost moved by that very pitifulness. As if chasing something hopeless is somehow grand and noble."

Millicent said flatly, "That sounds a bit twisted."

"It sounds like you don't actually love him." Praeris said it slowly, as it clicked into place. "You're tormenting yourself through blind devotion. Savoring the taste of being a martyr to love, over and over."

Pansy stiffened. "No. I do still like him."

"Then what is it you like about him? It's been a year. Have you figured it out yet?" Praeris brought the question back out again.

Pansy fumbled. "Um, I like that he... I like liking him because..."

"You like the process of liking him," Praeris finished. "So what kind of person he is doesn't matter. What he does doesn't matter. Whether he understands love doesn't matter. Whether he loves you back doesn't matter. You feel like you've lost yourself inside a one-sided feeling, but this is your own choice."

Pansy went completely still.

"Your family situation." Praeris's voice dropped, a reluctance crossing her face. "It's not good, is it."

This time, Millicent went still too.

Pansy, rigid as stone, turned her head slowly until her eyes met Praeris's. "Praeris. I truly hate that mind of yours."

"I'm sorry," Praeris said. She'd forgotten again to know when to stop.

Not everyone wanted to look that directly at their own heart. She, of all people, understood that. She had her own things she couldn't speak of.

"Pansy. Whatever happens, I sincerely hope you'll learn to love yourself before you love anyone else. Otherwise, love will only ever be a poison that pulls you under."

Praeris thought: Pansy's greatest stroke of luck was that Draco didn't love her back. If he had returned even the smallest shred of feeling, Pansy would have truly walked a road she couldn't come back from.

Or perhaps that was exactly how Pansy protected herself inside this madness, by choosing to love someone who would never love her in return.

The next morning, Praeris stopped dead at the entrance to the Great Hall. She stepped back twice to make sure she hadn't walked through the wrong door.

"Merlin's socks, it wasn't like this last year." Millicent's jaw nearly hit the floor.

All four walls were buried under enormous pink flowers. Heart-shaped confetti spun through the air in every direction.

Daphne picked a piece off the top of her head with naked revulsion. "Don't let me find out who did this."

"That sounds rhetorical. In which case — Lockhart. Obviously," Praeris said.

Daphne walked into the Great Hall still muttering. "If I find so much as one piece of confetti in my breakfast, I'm dumping every last bit of it on his head."

Pansy followed them in. On instinct, she scanned the room for Draco first. Only after spotting him did something seem to occur to her, she turned and looked at Praeris.

Praeris didn't notice. She was busy fishing confetti out of her orange juice. "This is completely unhygienic. I'm skipping breakfast."

Draco heard her and sneered. "With that frame of yours, you'd better not faint in class."

"Your concern is unnecessary."

Praeris ordered a glass of milk and poured it down her throat before the confetti could reach it.

Lockhart leapt to his feet and announced, loudly and with great satisfaction, that the flowers and confetti were a surprise he had arranged for everyone.

"All shock. No awe," Zabini said coolly.

He'd barely finished the sentence before Lockhart, apparently incapable of restraint, began encouraging everyone to learn Befuddlement Charms from Professor Flitwick and Amortentia from Professor Snape.

Pfft,

Cough, cough, cough.

Half the Slytherin table choked or gagged.

Praeris leaned sideways toward Pansy. "That is not something to learn casually."

"Do you think I'm an idiot?!" Pansy said, incredulous. "I am perfectly clear-headed!"

"So, Prince — can you brew Amortentia?" A younger Slytherin leaned forward with obvious curiosity.

Praeris fixed him with a measured look. "It's not difficult, Mr. Harper. But my Hate Potion is also quite effective."

Harper sulked. "Was that really necessary?"

Lockhart's damage didn't end at breakfast. He had procured a troupe of dwarf messengers from somewhere.

They spent the entire day cutting through classrooms, driving every professor to the edge.

"Miss Praeris Prince!" one announced, in a voice of extreme theatrical importance. "There is a Valentine's Day card here to be delivered directly into Miss Prince's hands!"

The classroom went silent. Every head turned.

Praeris's ears rang. Why would anyone send her a card?

This had to be a prank.

"Ha! Our Miss Prince is quite popular. If this were not my classroom, I would certainly celebrate with you."

"Professor, I —" Praeris's face had gone white.

The dwarf cleared its throat with great ceremony. "Allow me to recite this love poem. Your raven-black hair,"

"Enough." Professor Snape's expression was glacial. "Miss Prince, your charm appears to have disrupted my class. A word of advice: after class, brew yourself a Forgetfulness Potion and drink it. So that you may forget this moment ever occurred."

Praeris had reached her limit. She stood up sharply and raised her wand.

One second.

The pink-clad dwarf became a pink toad.

"Thank you for the suggestion, Professor," she said, through her teeth. "But I think it's better to remember. So that this never happens again."

After class, the dark look on Praeris's face kept everyone at a careful distance.

They walked, and the corridor ahead slowed to a crawl. That made no sense, Gryffindor went upstairs, Slytherin went down. There was no reason for a blockage.

"It's a dwarf — er — latched onto Potter's leg?" Millicent grabbed her arm and pulled her forward to see.

"I don't want to see any more dwarves," Praeris said, irritable.

"This one is worse than yours!" Millicent said, delighted.

Praeris quickly understood what "worse" meant. The dwarf she had dealt with only recited poetry. This one was singing.

Lockhart was guilty of crimes against humanity.

She didn't want to watch. She had no interest in standing around while someone else drowned in humiliation. Potter needed a Forgetfulness Potion more than she did.

Draco, standing just ahead of her, suddenly bent down and picked something up off the floor.

Praeris stopped. Her eyes fixed on the notebook in his hand.

Draco turned it over with a satisfied look. "Want to know what Potter's been writing in here?"

Percy Weasley snapped at him to give it back. Draco didn't move. "Just let me have one look,"

"Put it down." Praeris's voice came from behind him, cold and flat. Her hand pressed down on his shoulder.

Draco turned in surprise. He hadn't expected Praeris to plant herself on Harry Potter's side.

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry had his wand out. The moment Draco turned his head, the diary flew out of his grip, landed on the floor, and Ron snatched it up.

Malfoy's temper snapped. As Ginny walked past him, he shouted after her: "See? Potter doesn't want your Valentine's gift!"

Ginny froze. Her hands flew to her face. She ran.

Ron's wand was already out.

Everything collapsed into chaos.

.

"How could you, you actually sided with Potter!"

Draco had sent Crabbe and the others ahead. He followed Praeris alone.

"Don't tell me your Valentine's card was from Potter?!"

Praeris stopped without warning. Draco nearly walked into her back.

"What are you raving about," she said, frowning. "That thing is dangerous."

Draco laughed, short and contemptuous. "Oh? A diary belonging to Potter, what exactly is it going to do to me? Kill me with his little secrets?"

Praeris had assumed Potter would hand the diary over to a professor. She'd never imagined he would stuff it in his schoolbag and carry it around like it was nothing.

Had he forgotten what Ginny Weasley went through? Or was the diary already working on him?

But if she told Draco any of this, he would only want to know why she was handing Gryffindor the credit on a silver platter.

He wasn't Praeris. He had never needed to work through the particular kind of survival that happened under a professor's watch.

➤ Next: Hermione Granger Attacked