The party was pretty much over after Alfred had punched Ron. Not even Ron's siblings had anything to say, deciding that it needed to happen. Matthew knelt down to check and make sure Ron's jaw hadn't been broken before silently following his brother up the stairs. Harry gave his longtime friend a pitying look when he noticed the large, rapidly purpling bruise on Ron's face. Seeing that the redhead probably wasn't up to talking at the moment, he decided to go to bed as well.
The door to the Boy's Dormitory was partially open. Harry could hear the quiet voices of Alfred and Matthew inside.
"Did you really need to punch him?" came Matthew's voice. "You're really lucky that there was no lasting damage."
"Sometimes the only way to get through to a guy is through his face," Alfred responded, his voice sounding aged. "I learned that from Old Hickory, and it hasn't failed me yet."
"Still," Matthew said. "It's going to hurt him to talk for a day at least. He might complain to the professors, or even Dumbledore. The evidence is literally written all over his face." The Canadian paused before sighing exasperatedly and saying, "You need to think these things through more often, Alfred."
"I did think this through," Alfred said intently. "I want everyone to see it-to stare at him when he goes to class and meals-to ask him questions about it. I want him to look in the mirror every morning, and be reminded of what I did. I want him to remember why I did it. He needs to understand that it wasn't okay to be like that."
There was a telltale creaking that signified someone sitting on a bed. "I never imagined that you'd be the one to teach someone about maturity," Matthew said, a smile coloring his voice. "You know, being the most immature of us all."
Alfred made a rude noise and said, "I'm telling you though, we can totally do the giant global warming superhero thing. Tony gave me the estimations and blueprints-I think we should try it." Harry noted that Alfred's voice was once again was carefree and happy.
"I don't know what makes you trust that 'friend' of yours, but everyone else has enough common sense not to do so," Matthew said almost tiredly. "Now, I'm going to bed. This is one of those days where waking me will be your death. Again. Goodnight."
Harry walked in just in time to see Matthew pull his covers over his head and begin to snore softly. "How does he fall asleep so fast?"
Alfred shrugged. "I dunno. He just decides to sleep, and it happens. I kinda envy him for that-I don't think he's ever had a sleepless night without actually wanting one."
Harry regarded the sleeping Canadian a moment more before just shaking his head and turning towards his own bed. "I think that I'll turn in as well. It's been a very long day..."
Alfred offered a small smile and leaned back onto his pillow. "Same here. G'night, dude."
Harry's response was cut off by a loud snore. He glanced and saw that the American had fallen asleep just as fast as his brother. Harry snorted quietly and wondered if Alfred even knew that he shared this trait with his brother. One wouldn't think he did from the way he was talking about it. Harry shut off his lamp, and drifted off to sleep.
Harry had an odd dream that night.
He walked through the forest, the only sound coming from the rustle of his clothes and the crunch of autumn leaves under his boots. Harry was carrying his Firebolt, but he couldn't quite remember why. There was a rustle of leaves, and suddenly Professor Kirkland was standing before him, in vaguely military styled clothes. His expression was completely blank, his eyes betraying nothing. Harry stopped and regarded the bushy-browed teacher.
Kirkland looked down at him, and spoke with a deep rumbling voice-like a lion. "Go that way, child. You will find what you're looking for there." He pointed off to his right, and Harry followed his directions without question.
Next he saw what seemed to be older versions of Alfred and Matthew standing with their backs to Harry. Both looked over their shoulders, Alfred's face showing distracted amusement and Matthew's showing pensiveness.
"Wonder if he's figured it out yet?" Alfred wondered aloud, his own voice sounding like a violent wind ripping across a prairie.
"He'll figure it out soon enough," Matthew stated surely. "If he doesn't, then he won't need to know." The Canadian's voice had an odd quality to it as well, almost like a harsh blizzard in the tundra.
They both turned away from him again, and disappeared when Harry blinked. When he found them gone, the boy continued walking. He glimpsed something silvery in the distance, but he couldn't make out what it was. He jogged to try and get a good look at it, but it sped up and just outdistanced him. Harry broke into a run, and the thing galloped away. Its form got smaller and smaller, no matter how much he-
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
Harry was jarred violently awake. Groggy and disoriented, he fumbled with his blankets in the darkness. He could hear movements around him, and Seamus Finnigan's voice from the other side of the room saying, "What's going on?"
Matthew could be heard next. "This had better be good..."
Alfred grunted as he sat up. The first thing that came out of his mouth was, "But I didn't steal the green giraffe's beret, so I shouldn't have to eat the pencil flavored soupspoon, right?"
This was enough to cause everyone to stare at the American boy for a moment, before Ron cried out again in terror. "He was there! Right there! Standing right over me with a knife! Woke me up!"
"Who was right there?" Neville asked, as if afraid of the answer.
"Sirius Black!" Ron sobbed, still shaking.
"Are you sure that you're not just imagining things?" Matthew asked, now fully awake.
Ron shook his head violently. "I swear it-he-he slashed my curtains-see?" He jumped up and grasped the dark red and gold hangings, spreading them so that everyone could see several jagged tears in them.
"Good God!" Dean Thomas whispered fearfully.
"Yep, that was a knife alright," Alfred said nonchalantly, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and standing with a stretch. "Weeell, let's go tell Minnie 'r Stumbledrunk 'r somethin' cause I still wanna go ta bed..." He shuffled off, presumably to go tell a teacher.
No one else in the room could be so casual about the situation. Ron flung himself out of bed, quickly followed by Neville, Seamus, Dean, and Harry. They sprinted down the staircase. Doors opened behind them, and sleepy voices called after them.
"Who shouted?"
"What're you doing?"
The Common Room was barely lit by the dying fire. The place was still littered with debris from the party, and completely deserted.
"How'd he even get in here?"
"I'm more worried about when he'll come back!"
"What's all the noise?"
"Professor McGonagall told us all to go to bed!"
A few girls had come down their staircase, pulling on dressing gowns and yawning. Boys were reappearing as well.
"I thought the party was over," Fred Weasley said.
"But if we are carrying on..." George continued.
"Everyone back upstairs!" said Percy, hurrying into the Common Room and pinning his Head Boy badge onto his pajamas.
"Perce-Sirius Black!" Ron insisted faintly. "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"
The Common Room went very still at his words.
"Nonsense!" Percy said, looking rather startled. "You've had too much to eat, Ron-had a nightmare-"
"I'm telling you-"
"Silence!"
The room got quiet once again as Professor McGonagall, decked out in pink pajamas and matching slippers, was lead by the arm into the room by Alfred. The fact that Alfred was touching McGonagall, and pulling her by the arm was a sign of how unawake he really was.
Alfred let go and made a generalized sweeping gesture in their direction. McGonagall glared about the room. "Believe me, I'm happy that we won the Quidditch match as well, but this is really getting rather ridiculous!" She directed a rather pointed look at Percy. "I expected better of you!"
"I didn't authorize this!" Percy defended. "Ronald just had a nightmare and-"
"It wasn't a nightmare!" Ron fairly yelled, gaining the attention of the room. "Please Professor. Sirius Black was standing over my bed with a knife and nearly killed me! I swear it! Just look at my bed hangings!"
The stern professor seemed extremely unsettled by this. "How is that even possible? Where would Black have gotten the password?"
"You could ask the portrait himself?" Matthew suggested shyly.
McGonagall regarded the Canadian for a moment before exiting the room again. She addressed the portrait quietly, apprehension slightly tinting her voice. "Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?"
"Certainly, good lady!" Cadogan answered dutifully.
There was a stunned silence, both inside and outside the Common Room.
"You-you did?" Professor McGonagall asked, utterly horrified. "But-but the password!"
"He had them!" the painting said proudly. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"
Professor McGonagall pulled herself back through the portrait hole to face the stunned crowd. She was white as chalk.
"Which person," she said, her voice shaking, "Which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"
There was complete silence, broken by the smallest of terrified squeaks. Neville Longbottom, trembling from head to fluffy-slippered toes, raised his hand.
No one in Gryffindor Tower slept that night-well, none except for Alfred. The castle was being searched again, and the whole House waited in the Common Room to hear if Black had been caught or not. Professor McGonagall came back at dawn to grimly inform them that he'd escaped once again.
Throughout the day, everywhere they went saw signs of tighter security; Professor Flitwick could be seen teaching the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black. Professor Kirkland had taught the suits of armor throughout the castle to attack Black if he was spotted, while Filch was suddenly bustling up and down the corridors, boarding up everything from tiny cracks to mouse holes.
Sir Cadogan had been fired and returned to the seventh floor. The Fat Lady had returned, expertly restored. But she only agreed to return to her job on the condition that she was given extra protection. A bunch of surly security trolls had been hired to guard her. They paced the corridor in one menacing group, talking in grunts and comparing the size of their clubs.
Harry couldn't help but notice the statue of the one-eyed witch remained unguarded, which made it obvious that Fred and George had been right in saying that veryfew people probably knew about it.
"Should we tell someone?" Harry asked Matthew.
"I don't think that's necessary," the Canadian answered dismissively. "We would've heard if Honeydukes was broken into and…" He trailed off uncertainly.
"And?" Harry pressed.
Matthew turned and studied the statue contemplatively. "Call me ridiculous, but I'd personally prefer to have some way out of school…if push came to shove."
Harry couldn't argue on that point. "What made you so paranoid?" he asked curiously.
Matthew eyed him solemnly. "The same thing that causes Dementors and myself to not mix so well."
Harry made a noncommittal noise. He was glad that Matthew felt that way, but for other reasons. He more just wanted to be able to go to Hogsmeade.
Meanwhile, Ron had become something of a celebrity around the school thanks to his ordeal, and was clearly enjoying it. He was still shaken by his experience, but would gladly tell anyone who asked with a wealth of detail.
Later, Harry and Alfred found him entertaining a trio of second year girls with his chilling tale. "…and I heard this ripping noise, and I thought it was in my dream, you know? But then there was this draft…I woke up and found my hangings completely shredded!...I rolled over…and there he was , standing over me…like a skeleton, with loads of filthy fair…holding this great long knife, must've been twelve inches…I yelled and he scampered."
"But how did you get that bruise on your face?" a Hufflepuff girl asked. "Did he strike you?"
Ron suddenly got rather quiet and sullen, his expression dimming. "Er…no…that was…Alfred…he, ah…punched me."
"Alfred punched you?" a Ravenclaw girl snickered. "I kind of want to hear that story!"
Ron looked at his shoes ashamedly. "I'd…rather not-it wasn't that important…just a small fight."
"Riiiiight," said Alfred, coming up behind beside him. He clapped Ron's back hard enough to make him lurch forward and release a quiet gasp. "Just a small fight. No big deal at all."
The Ravenclaw girl sniffed skeptically and said, "Whatever you say. If I'm terribly desperate to know then I'll just ask my friend in Gryffindor. Come on Meghan. Lucy."
The girls left, laughing. Ron hung his head slightly before looking at Alfred tiredly. "Did you really have to do that?" he grumbled.
"Yes," Alfred responded brightly without batting an eye. Harry wondered if he was the only one who found this a bit creepy. "I know you haven't apologized yet, so how about in Transfigurations today? Not that I'm giving you an option, of course."
Ron shivered slightly at the threatening undertones of that statement.
The class itself was overall uneventful (more notes than anything), but the end of class is where things got interesting. Hermione gathered her things and began to beat a hasty retreat, but Alfred grabbed her by the wrist before she could leave. "Wait!"
Hermione turned back to look at him, utter exhaustion written all over her face. "Alfred?... No, whatever it is, I can't deal with it right now. I have a class to get to!" She tried to wrest her arm free, but the American's grip was too strong as he drew her back into the room as gently as he could.
He bodily turned her around to face Ron, who was standing by as unobtrusively as he possibly could. "Ron here has something to say," Alfred said. He released her and quietly stepped back.
The redhead looked down at his shoes. " 'm s'rry."
Alfred reached over and socked him lightly on the arm. "Louder."
Ron rubbed the abused limb as he tried again. "I'm…I'm sorry." He made cautious eye contact with the bushy-haired girl, waiting for a response.
Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "Do you really mean that? Because it seems like Alfred's just forcing you to apologize."
"No, no!" Ron said frantically as she began to turn away. "Please! It's just…I just…I really am sorry, 'Mione."
Him uttering the old nickname gave her pause. "…Really?"
Ron took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for valuing an old rat's fate over our friendship. I kind of was being a git about the whole thing." He fiddled with the hem of his robe. "I haven't said so before now because, well…I was afraid…and too bloody prideful for my own good. So really I-"
Hermione cut him off by hugging him tightly around the neck. She pulled back and gave him a small smile. "I forgive you, and I'd like to apologize as well. I should've minded Crookshanks more diligently-I…" she stopped and shook her head. "I don't even know anymore…" She scrutinized the Ron's face. "Is that a bruise on your face?"
Ron nodded ruefully and rubbed his still aching face. "Yeah…Alfred knocked some sense into me."
The Gryffindor girl sent a reproving glare at the American. "You're lucky his jaw is still intact! You hardly know your strength, Mister I-can-push-over-a-whole-school-library-bookcase-just-by-leaning-on-it!"
"Hey, the librarian, like, totally forgave me after a week or four," Alfred defended. "Besides-"
"Ahem," a new voice said.
The three Gryffindor students turned to see Professor McGonagall, still sitting at her desk, and giving them all a stern look. "This is all very nice, but shouldn't you all be getting to your next class?"
Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh, no! I'll be late-bye, see you all at dinner!" She turned and rushed off.
As Ron and Alfred turned to leave as well, McGonagall called out again. "Except for you, Alfred. I need to speak with you about something. Privately."
Alfred beckoned Ron to go on with a confident smile. "No worries, dude. I'll catch up. Snape prob'ly already wanted me for detention, anyways ."
Ron nodded and jogged off, leaving the blond alone with Professor McGonagall.
Alfred approached the desk casually, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket and offering a sunny smile. "You wanted to see me, Prof?"
"Yes…Alfred," McGonagall said. The uncharacteristic hesitation and odd expression on her face put the American on guard.
"So…" Alfred said into the following silence.
The professor looked at Alfred strangely a moment more, before finally giving a tired sigh. "I'm sorry, Alfred," she said. "There's just no putting this gently." She peered closely at him, as if gauging for a reaction. "Professor Kirkland has admitted to you, your brother, and himself not being completely human."
Alfred raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.
"Though he hasn't told me what you three are…I do know why you're really here." She leaned forward slightly on her desk. "Please…I know you're already aware, but Harry Potter is in serious danger."
Alfred nodded silently, his easy smile replaced by a neutral and weighted gaze that barely hinted at his true age.
"Though I hate to admit it, I can't know what he does at all times," McGonagall continued. "And I know his activities aren't always within school rules. So please…just be there for him and his friends if something happens. "
Alfred's smile returned. "Harry's a good kid at heart, same goes for his friends. You can count on me, Professor."
McGonagall nodded, and suddenly her oddly vulnerable expression was gone, replaced by her default sternness. "But that does not mean you get any free passes from homework or class, young man." She tapped her quill pen on the pile of essays in front of her for emphasis. "Now get to class, already!"
The blue-eyed Gryffindor gave a casual two-fingered salute. "Yes, Ma'am!" He turned on his heel and strode towards the exit. On his way out, he couldn't resist the parting shot, "You're actually the young'un here, Professor!" He closed the door behind him, leaving Professor McGonagall to speculate.
Another chapter has been completed and submitted! Yaaaaaaay!
Thanks to everyone who's shown their support so far! Leave a little review before you go? I'd like to know what you thought, because the likeliness of getting an honest opinion from my Mother on a fanfiction is extremely unlikely.
