分卷阅读19（1 / 2）

“Neville,” Potter said. “What potions?” After a half a minute of silence, Potter asked again, louder.

“Rapio Animam,” Longbottom finally managed to say, followed by a much quieter, “Metempsychim Compello.”

Draco’s heart sank as he translated the Latin in his head. “Draco?” ca Pansy’s questioning voice, but all he could do was et Potter’s eyes as he whispered, “It seizes the soul. It—the second one is a fusion of Ancient Greek and Latin. To pel the transmigration of the soul.”

Potter’s green eyes almost popped out of his head. “No,” his features crumbled into a grimace. “There is no way…”

“Harry,” Longbottom started to say, but Potter was still staring at Draco.

“You were right,” he finally said. And Draco looked away at the admission. Another mont, he would have relished in Potter’s acknowledgnt. But nothing felt right in confirming his suspicion that Bertrice’s soul had been swapped with the kneazle Guinevere’s. While it ant they had answers, the details provided by Longbottom had no hope for a viable solution.

The room sank into silence. Draco was thankful no one else seed to be able to recover from the revelation. He felt as if he was suddenly drowning in his own fear, as his understanding of the situation shifted from fundantally dire to potentially catastrophic. Finding Bertrice had been the priority, the only thought in his mind. But the threads of this case had pulled him into sothing dark, with every step forward revealing inexplicable developnts. It left Draco desperate for sothing pure, sothing that made sense. The curse urged him to push through, to follow the threads as they connected even if he didn’t understand their connections.

But every part of him struggled against it now, especially the part that recognised the nervous stare on Longbottom’s face. Draco reeled himself back to the mont at hand, clearing his mind. He asked, “Could so sort of reverse potion be formulated? Perhaps with Full Moon Fluxweed? Or—”

“It would be near impossible,” Longbottom shook his head and looked to Draco. “This is a dark, unnatural magic. It rips the self from the body and puts it sowhere it isn’t ant to be. The only reversal would be using the original potion again.” His gaze shifted to Potter’s and he asked, “Are you—is this happening? Have you e across it in your case?”

After a few monts, Draco turned to see why Potter didn’t answer. He’d gone pale and still as a stone, his eyes closed and his posture rigid. Without a mont’s hesitation, Draco crossed the room and put a hand on Potter’s shoulder. “Harry.”

He wasn’t sure if he was sowhere else. Another place or another ti, a view of himself in flashes of unmoving panic and terror as he fell deep into the well of helplessness. It was happening again, he told himself.

“Harry.”

The warmth of a hand on his shoulder stopped him from spiralling. The voice pulled him back. He turned toward the sound and opened his eyes.

Malfoy wore a pained expression, his eyes searching Harry’s in an unspoken question. For the briefest of monts Harry found it strange and sohow forting that he could read Malfoy so well. Or maybe it was the other man’s skill at Occluncy. Harry shrugged out of Malfoy’s grip and turned to Neville.

“We don’t have knowledge of the plant or potion,” Harry managed to say. “But we have reason to believe soone does. They’ve—uh—used it.”

Neville’s eyes went wide.

“Why,” Pansy broke her silence, “would the kidnappers think Zivantus would have access to an extinct plant?”

Harry rolled his eyes as she divulged too much information by asking the question.

“Zivantus?” Neville gulped. “Bertrice Zivantus?”