“Neville,”Pottersaid.“Whatpotions?”Afterahalfaminuteofsilence,Potteraskedagain,louder.
“RapioAnimam,”Longbottomfinallymanagedtosay,followedbyamuchquieter,“MetempsychimCompello.”
Draco’sheartsankashetranslatedtheLatininhishead.“Draco?”camePansy’squestioningvoice,butallhecoulddowasmeetPotter’seyesashewhispered,“Itseizesthesoul.It—thesecondoneisafusionofAncientGreekandLatin.Tocompelthetransmigrationofthesoul.”
Potter’sgreeneyesalmostpoppedoutofhishead.“No,”hisfeaturescrumbledintoagrimace.“Thereisnoway…”
“Harry,”Longbottomstartedtosay,butPotterwasstillstaringatDraco.
“Youwereright,”hefinallysaid.AndDracolookedawayattheadmission.Anothermoment,hewouldhaverelishedinPotter’sacknowledgment.ButnothingfeltrightinconfirminghissuspicionthatBertrice’ssoulhadbeenswappedwiththekneazleGuinevere’s.Whileitmeanttheyhadanswers,thedetailsprovidedbyLongbottomhadnohopeforaviablesolution.
Theroomsankintosilence.Dracowasthankfulnooneelseseemedtobeabletorecoverfromtherevelation.Hefeltasifhewassuddenlydrowninginhisownfear,ashisunderstandingofthesituationshiftedfromfundamentallydiretopotentiallycatastrophic.FindingBertricehadbeenthepriority,theonlythoughtinhismind.Butthethreadsofthiscasehadpulledhimintosomethingdark,witheverystepforwardrevealinginexplicabledevelopments.ItleftDracodesperateforsomethingpure,somethingthatmadesense.Thecurseurgedhimtopushthrough,tofollowthethreadsastheyconnectedevenifhedidn’tunderstandtheirconnections.
Buteverypartofhimstruggledagainstitnow,especiallythepartthatrecognisedthenervousstareonLongbottom’sface.Dracoreeledhimselfbacktothemomentathand,clearinghismind.Heasked,“Couldsomesortofreversepotionbeformulated?PerhapswithFullMoonFluxweed?Or—”
“Itwouldbenearimpossible,”LongbottomshookhisheadandlookedtoDraco.“Thisisadark,unnaturalmagic.Itripstheselffromthebodyandputsitsomewhereitisn’tmeanttobe.Theonlyreversalwouldbeusingtheoriginalpotionagain.”HisgazeshiftedtoPotter’sandheasked,“Areyou—isthishappening?Haveyoucomeacrossitinyourcase?”
Afterafewmoments,DracoturnedtoseewhyPotterdidn’tanswer.He’dgonepaleandstillasastone,hiseyesclosedandhisposturerigid.Withoutamoment’shesitation,DracocrossedtheroomandputahandonPotter’sshoulder.“Harry.”
Hewasn’tsureifhewassomewhereelse.Anotherplaceoranothertime,aviewofhimselfinflashesofunmovingpanicandterrorashefelldeepintothewellofhelplessness.Itwashappeningagain,hetoldhimself.
“Harry.”
Thewarmthofahandonhisshoulderstoppedhimfromspiralling.Thevoicepulledhimback.Heturnedtowardthesoundandopenedhiseyes.
Malfoyworeapainedexpression,hiseyessearchingHarry’sinanunspokenquestion.ForthebriefestofmomentsHarryfounditstrangeandsomehowcomfortingthathecouldreadMalfoysowell.Ormaybeitwastheotherman’sskillatOcclumency.HarryshruggedoutofMalfoy’sgripandturnedtoNeville.
“Wedon’thaveknowledgeoftheplantorpotion,”Harrymanagedtosay.“Butwehavereasontobelievesomeonedoes.They’ve—uh—usedit.”
Neville’seyeswentwide.
“Why,”Pansybrokehersilence,“wouldthekidnappersthinkZivantuswouldhaveaccesstoanextinctplant?”
Harryrolledhiseyesasshedivulgedtoomuchinformationbyaskingthequestion.
“Zivantus?”Nevillegulped.“BertriceZivantus?”
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