Chapter Fifty-Two
Breaking News
"Bad news," Katherine told before they made their way down to dinner. "Zubair broke things off with Agatha."
Alex choked on the heart-shaped chocolate she'd gotten on sale. "What? He dumped her on Valentine's Day?" she asked shrilly.
Katherine nodded, grim-faced. "It's because it's such an important day that he did it. It made him realise that he wasn't in it for the long run."
"Oh my god. Did he do it before or after their date?"
"After," sighed Katherine. "Last I saw her, she was crying in the fourth-floor lavatory. Said she wanted to be alone."
Alex finished the other half of her chocolate heart. "We're not going to have to pick sides, are we?"
"I don't think it'll come to that," Katherine said hesitantly. "Things will be awkward, sure, but it's not like they'll be antagonistic."
To Alex's surprise, Katherine was right. After they fetched Agatha from the bathroom and let her sob on their shoulders for a little while, they had dinner at the Great Hall like every other night. There were no petty arguments, no one sniped at each other, and best of all, she got the last slice of cake since nobody else was in the mood for sweets.
"You'll end up the size of Bulstrode if you keep eating like that," Jacob kindly informed her.
Alex took her time wiping her mouth clean before replying, "You'll end up looking like a blast-ended skrewt if you don't shut your whore mouth."
Jacob feigned confusion. "But that would be an improvement."
Despite herself, Alex laughed. Still smiling, she said, "Seriously, though. Make fun of Millie again and I'll make you regret it."
Her threat earned her naught but an eye-roll. Threats like these were worth less than a knut in their House; few people actually followed through, and even then the payback was considerably tame. In most cases, anyway.
Though she wasn't angry, Agatha was more bitter than a victim of a Ponzi scheme. She moped for an entire week straight, and then finally emerged from her cocoon of angst with her blonde hair cut short and dyed an inky black.
"You look like Snape," Alex told her honestly when she first saw her new hairdo.
Agatha promptly burst into tears. "Is that why Zubair broke up with me?" she wailed. "Because I'm as ugly as Snape?"
"You aren't ugly," Katherine assured her.
Alex nodded. "And even if you were, and even if he cared, he probably wouldn't have dated you in the first place."
"Easy for you to say," sniffed Agatha. "You two have probably never felt ugly in your entire life."
"One time I ate so much ice cream I threw up all over myself and couldn't move for a solid hour," said Alex.
Her roommates grimaced for entirely different reasons. Katherine was disgusted by the mental picture and was probably re-evaluating whatever esteem she had previously regarded Alex with. Agatha seemed annoyed that Alex wasn't going along with the pity party she was throwing for herself.
"Come on," sighed Alex, kicking her bedsheets away from her. "Let's get your hair fixed."
Thirty minutes and several haircare charms later, they were feeling much more confident in Agatha's new look. Sure, her locks were still an unnatural black, but at least the ends were less choppy. Best of all, she only resembled Snape if you squinted.
Although her new appearance gave people pause when they sat down for breakfast, soon everyone's attention was captured by a freshly delivered copy of the Quibbler. As Alex was the sole subscriber in her House, she was the first to read Skeeter's article before her friends caught wind of what was happening. Soon her copy had been replicated and shared throughout the table, much to Umbridge's chagrin.
Of course, there was but one individual she was interested in directing her ire towards. Alex could only watch as Umbridge rose from her throne and descended on an unsuspecting Harry like a pink vulture. She snatched his copy of the Quibbler from his shocked hands and, if Alex had to guess, gave him another detention.
Come lunchtime a new educational degree had been posted all over the school. They were at number twenty-seven now, and promised the swift expulsion of any student caught with a Quibbler magazine. Naturally, by the time everyone went to bed that night, there wasn't a single soul in the castle who had yet to read Harry's unembellished interview. By tomorrow Alex was sure everyone in magical Britain would've heard of the news.
Luna was thrilled to bits. The Lovegoods had sold more copies of their magazine in the one week than they had the entire time they'd been publishing. Her good mood lasted all of two weeks before they began to suffer the consequences of their actions.
Voldemort must've been just as displeased as the Ministry upon hearing of the article, for another dementor was spotted, this time in Ottery St Catchpole – more specifically, the area in which the Lovegoods resided.
Oh, everyone tried to dismiss it as an accident, of course. With the recent prison break, it was only a matter of course that there were dementors out and about searching for the escaped convicts. There was no way someone could've intentionally sicced a soul-sucking monster onto someone simply because his rubbish magazine had published a subversive article.
But Alex knew better. So did everyone who had seen the photo she had taken during the summer in Surrey.
The decision to begin learning the Patronus Charm in the next D.A. meeting was a unanimous one. After Harry's sudden boom in popularity thanks to the Quibbler, their group had also grown. As she wandered into the Room, she spotted Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas in the crowd, along with several new Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Only the amount of Slytherins remained the same.
Their progress with the spell was inhibited by the fact that absolutely no one in attendance could actually produce a corporeal patronus. By the second meeting, everyone could conjure silver smoke. By the third, only Harry and Hermione managed a solid patronus – a stag for the former, and an otter for the latter. After a month of practice, almost everyone's patronus took on the form of an animal, though some were rather lacklustre.
"Fuck you," Grant spat at Duncan, who was laughing so hard he was doubled over.
"A fish!" Duncan managed to choke out. He wiped a tear from his eye. "I didn't even know a fish patronus was possible!"
Another laugh could be heard from the other side of the room as Cho marvelled at her soaring swan. "They're so pretty!"
"Ugh," muttered Alex, tearing her eyes away from her.
Cedric surprised her with a kiss to her forehead. "Relax," he told her gently. "You're meant to focus on a happy thought, not an upsetting one."
Alex's blush faded as she internalised her boyfriend's advice. She had cycled through about a hundred different memories, but none of them did the trick. Cedric, the cornball, thought about their first date when his dove manifested in front of them. While nice, it didn't have the same effect for her.
"Do you think there's something wrong with me?" she asked him in a low voice when she finally gave up.
"Of course not," Cedric said immediately, frowning. "You're already great with so many other spells, it only makes sense for you to be bad at something for once."
Alex snorted and punched him lightly in the shoulder. "You should see me transfigure something."
He paled. "Maybe later."
"Git," she laughed.
Feeling better than she had all day, Alex raised her wand again. She concentrated on the warmth she was presently experiencing and smiled. "Expecto patronum."
A silver crow sprung out of the tip of her wand. It circled her once before disappearing, for Cedric's pleased cheer broke her concentration. Laughing, he held up his hand for a high-five. She obliged with a grin.
Done for the day, Alex put away her wand and approached Luna. She was one of the few people still unable to produce a corporeal patronus, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Although her father hadn't directly encountered the dementor, the sight of it lurking near his place of residence was troubling enough.
"What d'you think your patronus will be when it manifests?" Alex asked, bumping her shoulder against Luna's. "A crumple-horned snorkack?"
The deep bags beneath Luna's eyes became less noticeable when she smiled. "Perhaps."
"He'll be all right," Alex said, lowering her voice so no one could eavesdrop. "He's being protected."
Thanks to his work, Mr Lovegood was now an official member of the Order of the Phoenix. When he wasn't in the safe confines of Grimmauld Place, he was being guarded much like Harry had been in the beginning of the summer. According to Luna, her father was very eager in his exploration of every nook and cranny of the ancient House of Black, not because of its history, but because of the possible creatures that could be lurking within – a mildly upsetting thought when you stopped to consider it.
Mr Lovegood obviously wasn't as shaken up by the potential attack as much as his daughter was, because the front page of his next article was dedicated to that very dementor sighting. As with Harry's article, this new edition sold like hot-cakes. After some consideration and consultation with the Order, Alex shared with Mr Lovegood her own photo. The sales for that edition outsold the previous one, because it came with an interview by Sirius wherein he reinforced the dangers of relying on Dark creatures to do anyone's bidding. If they thought Fudge was pissed before, it was nothing compared to the warpath he'd was on now.
He must've been lighting a fire under Umbridge's arse, too, because she doubled down onto the school with a ferocity they had yet to see. Ten new educational decrees popped up within a week, and she was handing out detentions like free samples – unless you were in Slytherin, of course. Her bias towards her own House was even more blatant than Snape's.
A match made in heaven, Alex mused. Their spawn would wear pink and black clothing only.
It was only when Katherine gave her a look did Alex realise she had uttered that second sentence aloud.
Alex shot her a quick smile before moving her gaze back to the teacher's table. Trelawney's seat was notably empty, as she had been the first of many casualties to Umbridge's power trip. To be fair, if what she'd heard from her friends' complaints was accurate, Trelawney had it coming with her incompetence. Now if only Snape was next…
"How's the new Divination professor?" Richard asked as he slathered his toast with a generous layer of butter.
Agatha blushed at having the full front of her crush's attention on her. The sight made Alex exchange an eye-roll with Katherine as she pointedly kicked Zubair's shin. This is your fault, she said with her eyes alone. Judging by his visible discomfort, the message was received.
"He's…interesting," Agatha replied after a thoughtful silence. "After all, how many people can say they've been instructed by a centaur before?"
Richard snorted. "Not many, thank Merlin. Who knows what's going through Dumbledore's mind, inviting vermin like that into our school."
"Go fuck yourself, Parksinson," said Alex, while Katherine palmed her face beside her. "Centaurs are more dignified than you or anyone else in your piss-poor bloodline."
Their patch of the table fell into stilted silence. "What the fuck did you just say?" growled Richard, his complexion reddening at an alarming rate.
Alex leered at him, unbothered by the mounting tension. "You deaf, too? That a byproduct of generations of inbreeding?"
Richard's hands curled into fists, crushing his buttered toast. He appeared as if he was about to punch her; Alex relished the opportunity for a fight. Unfortunately, Umbridge was making a beeline for them.
"You watch your back, Fortescue," Richard managed to spit out before the pink menace was upon them. "You won't last in this new world if you continue being such a mouthy bitch."
Alex raised her head defiantly. "I guess we'll see, won't we?"
Umbridge's saccharine smile was suddenly in her face. "Miss Fortescue, would you please join me later this evening for tea in my office?"
And because she couldn't exactly say no (not unless she wanted her head blown off) Alex nodded dumbly.
"Marvellous. See you at 4."
"D'you think she overhead you and Richard going at it?" wondered Jacob when their professor left.
"Then she would've hauled Richard's arse to detention as well," pointed out Zubair.
"She didn't say anything about detention. Just tea," said Alex, frowning.
Katherine patted her hand sympathetically. "It was nice knowing you."
"I appreciate your love and support."
If her parents asked her what she had learned on that specific day, Alex would have nothing to offer in response. She had spent almost every period speculating on what Umbridge had in store for her. Her affiliation with Harry was the most obvious answer, but she'd been careful the past few weeks not to fraternise with him or any other Gryffindor in the view of wandering eyes.
At a quarter to four, Alex began making her way to Umbridge's office, Katherine's grave bid of "Good luck" echoing in her mind. She forced herself to breathe at a calm, even pace as she ascended the stairs. It was bad enough that Umbridge was using the same room as Crouch Jr; between the two, Alex couldn't say for sure who was more unbearable. All too soon she was by Umbridge's door. She knocked swiftly but lightly, her already-curled fist clenching at the high-pitched, "Come in" that followed.
Umbridge's office was as hideous as Harry had described. It resembled Madam Puddifoot's, down to the dainty little plates, which had greyscale cats on them and were stuck to the wall. Privately, Alex wondered if Umbridge was not related to Puddifoot.
"Good afternoon, Miss Fortescue." Umbridge bared her pearly whites at Alex in what she supposed was a smile, or a pale imitation of it, and gestured towards the seat facing her. "Please, sit."
It was less of a request and more of a demand. Jaw clenched, Alex obeyed. She dropped her bag by her feet and sat without inching the hardback chair closer to the large wooden desk separating them. The cloth covering it was floral and atop of it sat not one, not two, but five vases filled with dried flowers. To resemble her shrivelled heart, perhaps.
Umbridge picked up her flowery teapot. The thing looked ancient. "Darjeeling?"
I bloody hate Darjeeling. "Thank you."
Alex shifted in her seat as Umbridge took her time pouring the tea. She said yes to milk but no to sugar, and politely took a sip even though the beverage was hot enough to scald her tongue. The quicker she guzzled down the tea, the quicker she could leave.
Umbridge set down her teacup with an audible clink. "Miss Fortescue," she began, staring shrewdly at her, "is there anything you would like to tell me?"
Oh, did she. Alex had a lot on her mind in regards to the demon in front of her, but if she voiced those unflattering thoughts, Umbridge would forgo the blood quill altogether and simply Avada her. Alex flashed her a smile that felt like a grimace. "No, professor."
Umbridge tutted in mock disappointment; each click of her tongue made Alex's brow twitch. "Such a shame, Miss Fortescue. This would go a lot more smoothly if you save us both some time by dropping the pretences."
The thing was, Alex had so many 'pretences' that she didn't know which one Umbridge was referring to. "What do you mean?" she asked, genuinely confused.
She smiled, and this time it was real. "Tell me," she said, "what do you know of Mr Potter's duelling club?"
Her instinctive reaction was to deny anything and everything she knew about the D.A., but an outright response would be far too suspicious. Instead, she paused as if hesitant. "I've come across rumours implying that Harry and his gang have been practising defensive magic in their spare time, but as we've grown apart over the years, that's all I know." She shrugged haplessly.
"Hm." Umbridge narrowed her beady eyes at her. "Are you certain?"
Alex nodded. "If I could help you, Professor, I would. I've seen what happens when people cross you." A little arse-kissy, but Umbridge struck her as the type to enjoy the occasional stroke to her ego.
As expected, Umbridge fairly pounced at the treat Alex tossed her way. "I'm glad to hear that. In fact, I have the perfect job for you."
But I'm already a full-time student. And a part-time ice-cream vendor.
Alex remained silent as Umbridge unveiled a shiny new badge. It was pretty, she had to admit: it was silver with a purple ribbon on top. She...kind of wanted it. For the aesthetics, of course.
"It's nice," she said. "What is it?"
"A badge for members of my new Inquisitorial Squad. Over the past few months it's become quite clear to me that this school is in dire need of discipline and leadership. While I can supply the latter, the former may be designated to respectful and diligent students, and I think you might be one of them, Miss Fortescue."
Oh, so now it was Umbridge's turn to dish out the flattery. Alex wondered how much of what she said was genuine and how much was dragon dung.
"What are the duties and responsibilities of this...squad?" she asked, eyeing the badge.
A large smile stretched out across Umbridge's face. She appeared uncannily like the cat who had gotten the canary, the toad who had caught the fly. "You will ensure order among the populace, be able to dock points from anyone regardless of their House, and monitor any unsavoury messages that come in via the mail."
In other words, Alex got to throw her weight around by bullying others and invading their privacy. Brilliant.
"Does this squad have a leader as of yet?" she asked casually. "A head girl or boy like with the prefects?"
Umbridge glanced at the prefect badge pinned to her front. My initial choice was Draco Malfoy."
Alex nodded as if considering her selection. "Draco might seem like a respectable student, but the truth is that no one takes him seriously; he's a bit of a joke to those in and out of our House. I'm afraid if you choose him, professor, people will end up dismissing the Inquisitorial Squad."
"His father is on the Board of Education," Umbridge pointed out, frowning at the incongruency.
"And yet he has none of the esteem of Malfoy Senior despite the cards being stacked in his favour." What a waste.
"I suppose you are older and thus a more sensible option…" Umbridge frowned, an expression far more suitable than her usual fake smiles. "Very well, Miss Fortescue. You may lead the Inquisitorial Squad and report back to me every week at this time for an update."
Alex accepted the badge with well-masked trepidation. "Understood, professor."
"Oh, and Miss Fortescue?" added Umbridge, her making an unfortunate reappearance. "Failure to live up to your new role will result in serious punishment."
Typically when such a threat was made by a professor, they simply meant they'd give a student a week's detention or write a letter to their parents. With Umbridge, the stakes were much direr. Alex wouldn't be surprised if she was to be expelled if she so much as toed the line drawn starkly on the ground.
Alex nodded. "I won't let you down."
Since there was still time before dinner, Alex decided to eat pre-emptively in the kitchens. The added bonus of being on her lonesome didn't hurt either. Unfortunately, by the time she got there, it was already occupied.
"What," said Grant once he laid eyes on her, "is that?"
Alex froze in the kitchen doorway. "Why are you guys here?" she asked Duncan.
"We're on a date!" he said cheerfully. His expression became uncertain as he took notice of Alex's latest accessory. "You win a medal or something?"
"You're on a date in the kitchens?" she asked sceptically.
Duncan shook his head. "Forget that. What's that pinned to your chest?"
"My prefect badge."
Grant scowled. "Alex. C'mon."
Sighing, Alex bridged the gap between them and sat beside Duncan, across his irritated boyfriend. "Umbridge is setting up her private police force. I managed to convince her I was the perfect candidate as both a member and its leader."
Grant made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a scoff. "Always knew you were a silver-tongued skink."
She frowned. "Don't slut-shame."
"That's not—"
"So, you're like her lap-dog?" Duncan asked, wincing.
"More like her snitch. Uh, the non-quidditch kind," she added to no avail.
"Oh, you plan on double-crossing her," said Grant as a proverbial light-bulb appeared over his head. "Smart."
Alex preened. "Thank you. But now I can't attend any D.A. meetings."
"I take it back," sighed Grant as he turned back to his steak and mash. "You're a dithering idiot."
"Whatever," she said, neither denying nor refuting his comment. "Being the inside man is much more valuable than spending hours going over the same spells." She had to admit, though, she'd miss their monthly mock-duels. At least she was leaving her winning streak in-tact; Harry was getting frightfully close at kicking her arse.
"It's okay, Alex," said Duncan, clapping a hand to her shoulder. "Grant's just pissed because he'll miss you. Fortunately Harry's a decent teacher. We'll be sure to help him if he needs it, though."
Alex smiled for the first time all day. "Thanks. You're the best."
Duncan nodded sagely. "I am, aren't I?"
Grant stabbed his fork through his roughly cut steak. "For your sake, I hope everyone else reacts as kindly to your betrayal as we did."
"The only ones who'll react poorly are the Gryffindors, let's be real," said Alex with an eye-roll. "And I won't have to live with the consequences of my actions because I won't be the one breaking the news to them. You two will."
"Uh, come again?"
Alex tapped on her new badge emphatically. "I wouldn't put it past Umbridge to add a Tracking Charm to this thing. I may be double-crossing her, but the shadiness goes both ways here."
"You're actually the worst," Grant said flatly.
"Love you too."
Because the universe seemed to hate her, Alex ran into Harry, Hermione and Ron before Duncan and Grant could do control damage and break the news to them first.
Alex was patrolling the halls—as a prefect—when she spotted Draco snickering to himself as peered around a stone pillar.
"You look like a pervert," she informed him.
Draco flinched so violently he almost knocked into her. "Fortescue!" he hissed, pride damaged. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"
Alex arched an eyebrow at him. "Not my fault you're depressingly unobservant. Who you peeping on, anyhow?"
"I wasn't doing anything so boorish," he sniffed.
Familiar laughter reached her ears.
"Ah," said Alex, flicking her eyes to the figures ascending the stone steps and unknowingly heading straight their way. "You were watching Harry. Of course."
Draco bristled like an indignant peacock – which the Malfoys actually owned, if the rumours were to be believed. "I'm merely doing my duty as a proud member of the Inquisitorial Squad," he claimed.
Alex made a sceptical sound in the back of her throat, smothering her smirk as Draco's offense increased. It was funny how easy it was to rile him up; he was an open book.
"Apparently she had a right little tantrum when she heard Firenze was hired as the new Divination professor," snorted Ron as he and his friends drew near.
"Oh, I expect she wanted nothing more than to plant another Ministry stooge in this castle," Hermione said scornfully. "She's constantly lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid, puffed-up, power-crazy old—"
Draco leapt from his hiding place, unable to resist the bait being dangled right before him. "Now, do you really want to finish that sentence, Granger?" he jeered. "Afraid I'm going to have to dock a few points from Gryffindor for that," he drawled in that snobby, affected tone of voice he knew pissed people off.
"It's only teachers that can dock points from Houses, Malfoy," retorted Harry, just as eager to engage in a fight despite being barred from his favourite extracurricular for that very reason not long ago.
"I know prefects can't dock points, Potty." Oh, real mature. "The Inquisitorial Squad, on the other hand—"
"The what?" said Ron, baffled.
"The Inquisitorial Squad, Weasel King. A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad do have the power to dock points. So, Granger, I'll have five from you for being rude about our new headmistress… Five because I don't like you, Potter… Weasley, your robe's inside-out, so I'll have another five for that…"
Before she realised what was happening, Alex actually let out a laugh. She sobered up immediately when a dead silence blanketed the group. The jig was up. Heaving a sigh, Alex stepped out of the shadows and leaned against the pillar as though indifferent to the events unfolding before her.
Draco's look of surprise fell to the back of her mind in the fact of the shock and outrage projected onto her friends' faces when they noticed her new badge.
"You?" Ron asked, eyes wide with incredulity.
"Me," she confirmed wearily. "I'm the nominal leader of this squad, which makes me the boss of Draco."
Draco's heated denial fell on deaf ears as Alex and the trio tried to communicate with their eyes alone.
"You three better watch out. Especially you," she added, staring at Harry. "Umbridge knows what you're doing behind her back, and it's only a matter of time before she catches you."
Be careful, guys.
Hermione was the only one to nod. "We hear you, loud and clear."
"Good." Alex dipped her head. "Now sod off or I'll report you for loitering."
"Snake," Ron muttered as he walked past, and Alex wondered if he was also playing the part. Either way, the insult stung, just a little.
It took less than a day for the news to spread throughout the entire castle. True to form, the Gryffindors didn't take her defection lightly – and neither did anyone outside of her own House, really. The Golden Trio's anger was mollified by Duncan and Grant's timely explanation of her actions. Those five were the only ones explicitly told about the situation; Alex's other friends could guess based on conjecture alone. No one else seemed to, so Alex became a bit of a pariah, which wasn't anything she couldn't deal with.
Her Housemates' approval of her skyrocketed once the other snakes were inducted by Umbridge into the Inquisitorial Squad. Draco and his gang (Pansy, Vincent and Gregory) were of course part of the team, as well as Millie. Alex perked up when she saw her friend at their official inauguration, glad to see there was someone whose presence she not only bore but enjoyed. The last two members were a pair of fourth-year boys, Cassius Warrington and Graham Montague; she knew little of the former, and the latter was famous both because he was the next captain of the Slytherin quidditch team and because he'd recently gotten stuck in a toilet somewhere in the castle. Alex had no idea how that had happened, but she was fairly certain the Weasley twins were behind it.
In addition to being tasked with punishing students for the pettiest of acts, the Inquisitorial Squad's primary objective was to determine who was in Harry's duelling club as well as when and where they congregated. As the leader, Alex received reports from the others, which she would then pass onto Umbridge over tea once a week. Whenever something particularly important was discovered, Alex did her best to obfuscate the trail and hide the tracks that led straight to the D.A. She was careful not to make her modifications too obvious, as it only took one other Inquisitorial Squad member to undo her work and reveal Alex for the fraud she was. She then relayed the near-miss to Katherine or Agatha, who attended the D.A. consistently and kept her updated on the others' learning.
And I thought I was busy before. Alex fell back onto her bed with a loud groan.
"How are you feeling?" asked Agatha as she charmed her hair into a shade of blue that was somehow dark and bright at the same time.
"Like I'm being pulled in ten different directions," admitted Alex. Her sour mood improved slightly as Spitfire wandered over and proceeded to vigorously knead her stomach.
"Your marks are definitely proof of that," Katherine remarked, already tucked into bed.
"Whatever. There are more important things worth focusing on right now." Her proficiency at Occlumency and wandless magic were still progressing at a smooth rate, which was all she could ask for at the moment.
"More important?" echoed Katherine. "Like your relationship?"
Alex squeezed her eyes closed tight. "It's not like I'm the only one who's busy. Cedric is as well. Besides, he gets me."
"Just because he understands, it doesn't mean he's okay with how things are," Agatha murmured hesitantly. As she was the only one of the three of them who knew what it was like to be part of a failed relationship, Alex was inclined to digest her words rather than dismiss them as she normally would.
"You're right," Alex said quietly. "I'll make it up to him."
"Use protection," Agatha said seriously.
Alex threw a pillow at her head while Katherine shrieked in alarm.
It wasn't like she was a horrid girlfriend; she remembered all the significant days and bought the appropriate presents for them. It was just…that was all she did for Cedric, really. There was no time or space for them to be a normal couple, and while Alex was content with that, she didn't even consider that Cedric would be anything but.
To make up for her lacklustre efforts, Alex forced herself to attend the remaining quidditch matches involving the Hufflepuff team. If she could've, she would've watched their training sessions as well, but there would always be that one inevitable accusation of her spying for the enemy. The first time Cedric tried to dismiss them, someone accidentally slapped a quaffle her way, forcing Alex to dodge. She got the message loud and clear after that.
The final match of the quidditch season, Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, took place on the last weekend of May. Although the student body was super strict about drawing lines between Houses during matches, Alex decided that if she was going to watch her friends try to murder each other on the field, she was going to do it while in the company of people she could confidently say she liked.
"There's nothing to worry about," Duncan tried to reassure her before the game started. "Hufflepuff and Gryffindor are basically the softest Houses of the four. Nothing's gonna happen."
"Um, have you met Hufflepuffs?" Alex shuddered despite the feeble rays of sunshine that managed to poke through the clouds. Scottish springtime wasn't exactly renowned for its warmth. "They're way more vicious than you Ravenclaws."
"But not more competitive," Grant countered with a yawn. Merlin knew why, since it was already 10am. "It's in our nature to succeed at everything we do."
"Debatable."
Luna finally arrived just as the game started, and so her sixth-year friends had to wait for the cheers to die down before asking what the hell she was wearing.
"It's a lion hat," she said simply.
"Yeah…I can see that," Grant said slowly. "But why?"
"More importantly, can you make me one but with an eagle on top?" asked Duncan.
"Tacky," Alex murmured to Grant, careful not to let either of the children overhear.
"And they're off!" said Lee. "And Davies takes the Quaffle immediately, Hufflepuff Captain Diggory with the Quaffle, he dodges Johnson, he dodges Bell, he dodges Spinnet as well… He's going straight for goal! He's going to shoot— and— and—" Their school's favourite broadcaster swore. "And he's scored."
Alex beamed proudly. Her smile quickly faded, however.
Across the field, the Slytherins were belting out their latest hit.
Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our king.
At this rate, her House was going to be re-branded as one of pettiness.
The childish song achieved its intended purpose of getting under the Gryffindors' skin. Ron himself was suffering from the full effect of the taunts, letting goal after goal in; without fail, the Slytherins cheered raucously each time. While Alex was happy for Cedric's team, she knew most would be displeased by the unfair circumstances.
Borrowing Grant's omnioculars for the moment, Alex searched for Madam Hooch to see how she felt about the chanting. Her eyes were in the midst of skimming past the Gryffindor stands when she noticed something out of a place. A hunched but enormous figure that could only belong to Hagrid was shuffling through the bleachers. It appeared as though he was trying, and failing, to remain as inconspicuous as possible. His companions were faring much better than he was, at least.
As Alex zoomed in on the trio, she confirmed that, yes, Harry and Hermione were following Hagrid out of the stands. She lost sight of them as they descended the stairs and briefly debated going after them. Nah, she eventually decided as she handed the omnioculars to an impatient Duncan, if they wanted me to come along, they would've sent after me. She very determinedly tried not to feel too left out at that.
"And Hufflepuff scores again! That's 20-0 Hufflepuff. C'mon, Gryffindor…" muttered Lee.
Grant huffed in amusement. "You'd think by now they'd find a commentator who isn't so overly biased," he said wryly.
"But where's the fun in that?" wondered Luna.
"Too right," affirmed Duncan.
Alex made a noise of faint disgust. "I can barely stand quidditch as it is. Can you imagine how much more unbearable it'd be without Lee chipping in?"
"Oi," said an irate Grant. "You just broke rule one: do not besmirch quidditch during a game."
"Besides," added Duncan, smirking, "you never stand; you're sitting."
Luna frowned lightly. "Five out of ten," she informed Duncan.
"She's right," said Alex. "Not your best."
"Everyone's a critic…" he grumbled.
In the end, though, Lee's wish was granted.
All of a sudden, Ron became excellent at his job. Just when Alex thought he was going to dodge to the side and leave the hoops exposed again, he swerved back the last second and blocked what should've Tran's goal. There was a beat of silence as disbelief rippled through the crowds, and then everyone was screaming – either in delight, surprise, or indignation. After that, Gryffindor swept the game. As much as Alex dreaded Cedric's moping, she was happy for Ron.
Weasley is our king,
Weasley is our king,
He didn't let the quaffle in,
Weasley is our king
And best of all, they got to reclaim that bloody song.
Harry spent half the night tossing and turning, wondering if his week could get any worse. Not only was Umbridge getting disturbingly close to finding them out, his headaches were growing in intensity and frequency. The last bit resulted in more private classes with Snape – Dumbledore's orders. These days that was the only sort of interaction he had with the elusive headmaster.
Thinking of Dumbledore just made Harry's head hurt, so he latched onto the other memory dominating his mind: his most recent and absolute last Occlumency lesson with Snape the other day.
He and Snape had just begun when Malfoy barged in to inform the Potions master that Umbridge required his assistance. Slytherin's quidditch captain Montague somehow wound up jammed up against a toilet. Harry tried not to smirk; at least he knew where the twins had sent him when they pushed him into the vanishing cabinet.
With a dramatic flair of his robes, Snape left with Malfoy. The blonde weasel managed to get in a parting jab at Harry's need for "remedial potions"—Snape's brilliant excuse for their meet-ups—before following the overgrown bat out.
Harry was left to his own devices for approximately three seconds before he decided to peek into Snape's pensieve and take a trip down memory lane. What he found would plague his mind forever.
Fifth-year Lily storming straight into the fray, her wild red hair following her like a plume of fire.
"Leave him alone!" she cried, defending not James, but Snape. The younger version of Harry's Potions professor was slumped up against the foot of a tree, bound by invisible ropes. He glared up at the scene playing in front of him – himself and Lily against James and Sirius.
"Leave him alone," repeated Lily, imitating Snape as she glowered at James. "What's he done to you?"
At that point, Harry wanted to step in and defend his father. He wanted to tell his parents how terrible Snape was, what he would become in the future. But it was a memory, and he was merely its observer.
"Well," said James, sounding as if he was scrambling to reply suitably, "it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean…"
The crowd surrounding them laughed, all except Lily and Remus. "You think you're funny," she said coldly. "But you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone."
He should've apologised. His dad should've said sorry to both Lily and Snape, and walked away with whatever dignity he could muster. Instead, his response was far from remorseful.
"I will if you go out with me, Evans," said James quickly. "Go on… Go out with me, and I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again."
James was just so…slimy. Harry couldn't believe it. All his life, people had been telling him how brave and courageous and wonderful his dad was, but no one ever mentioned how pointlessly cruel he was also. No wonder Snape hated him so much – he was the spitting image of his schoolyard bully.
"Harry," groaned a sleepy Seamus. "I know we've just made up and all, but if you roll around one more time, I will hex you."
"Sorry," Harry muttered, instantly stilling himself.
Satisfied, Seamus fell right back to sleep. Harry envied him; he'd be lucky to catch even any shut-eye tonight. He could meditate, but that always made him think of Alex, which made him mad and thus unable to meditate anyway.
He sighed. It was going to be a long night.
Harry waited until it was an acceptable time to get up. For him, that meant six in the morning. The sun was still rising, colouring the sky with soft shades of pink and orange as he went through his morning routine. Once done, he withdrew his magical mirror from his bedside table and tiptoed down into the common room.
It took Sirius less than half a minute to respond. "Harry?" he said, peering at him urgently. "Is everything okay? Why are you up so early?"
"Why're you?" he asked curiously.
Predictably, Sirius's answer was nightmares. The first night Harry had stayed over at his godfather's holiday home was the first time he realised that, no matter how happy he was whenever he saw him, Sirius would never be truly free of his demons.
"I'm fine," sighed Harry. "It's just…What was my dad like?"
Sirius looked surprised for a moment before smiling fondly. "Prongs was a great bloke, Harry. He was always there for me, even when it inconvenienced him. But you already know all this. I've told you all about our escapades, remember?"
"Not all of them," he said quietly. "You didn't tell me about Snape."
Harry recounted the story, growing more and more frustrated until he finished. When he finished,
Sirius paused for a moment, as though wondering how to respond. Finally, he said hesitantly, "Keep in mind we were fifteen, Harry—"
"I'm fifteen!"
"—and James and Snape hated each other the moment they met. James was what Snape could never be; he was good at quidditch, good with people, and good at pretty much everything. Snape was just a weirdo obsessed with the Dark Arts, and James loathed the Dark Arts."
"But he attacked Snape for no good reason," protested Harry. "He was, well, bored, and did it just because he could." Like Dudley. Like Malfoy.
His father had been a bully.
"I'm not proud of it," said Sirius with a deep sigh. "We were arrogant little berks who always got in over our heads."
"Did he… Did you guys ever stop?"
"We grew out of it – mostly. James stopped hexing people for the fun of it, but since Snape never gave up an opportunity to curse him, they were still at it by the time they were graduating."
"And my mum was okay with it?" he asked dubiously.
"Well, it wasn't like she knew," hedged Sirius. "She and James started dating in seventh year when he let the air out of his head a little, and he never attacked Snape in front of her."
"Why did she even marry him?" he asked, miserable. "She hated him."
"Nah, she didn't," Sirius said dismissively. "He was always a bit of a flirt, you know, so once Lily realised he was serious—well, not Sirius, per se—she saw him in a different light."
Tired in more ways than one, Harry slipped his fingers beneath his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "It's just so weird," he said, retracting his hand. "I always thought my mum and dad fell for each other, love at first sight or whatever – not this."
Sirius shrugged. "We were young and foolish. Who knows? Maybe your future partner could be someone unexpected." He paused for a second. "Did Snape find out that you saw?"
"Yeah," he said reluctantly. "Caught me right before Dad flipped him upside down and showed everyone what knickers Snape was wearing that day."
"What'd he do? Did he hurt you?"
"No… He just, uh, quit teaching me Occlumency."
"What?" roared Sirius, sending an early-rising first-year scurrying away in fright. "I'm coming up there to have a word with him – right now!"
"You can't! If Umbridge sees you, she'll prosecute you on the spot!"
"Fine," growled Sirius. "I'll just wait until he comes by headquarters. But Harry, you must continue learning Occlumency. He won't listen to you, but if Dumbledore tells him to..."
"I'll…I'll try." The thought of seeing Dumbledore made Harry grimace. Every time he was near the old wizard, he felt the urge—Voldemort's urge—to attack him. In order to stop that from happening, he had to tickle the sleeping dragon and ask Dumbledore to force Snape into resuming his Occlumency lessons. Or...he could keep learning alongside his mates. Except Alex would rather die than be caught associating with him.
Harry buried his head in his hands with a groan. His life had never been easy, but since when had it been this complicated? He could only hope that the handful of months left until the holidays passed by quickly and peacefully.
He snorted. Yeah, right.