As Alexander scanned the classroom, ignoring Mrs Weasley's short scream at the sight of a weeping Ginny, a brief sigh escaped from his lungs. Professor Dumbledore stood beaming by the mantelpiece, next to Professor McGonagall, who took great, steadying gasps, clutching her chest.

Alexander closed his eyes and his limbs fell loose, head tilting backwards. He had never met his grandfather's absence with such relief ever. Yet, a small part of him stung with disappointment, which confused him immensely.

How could he desire to confront his grandfather and not set eyes upon him simultaneously? It didn't seem possible, but neither did this whole thing.

As much as he tried to push his insistent thoughts away from the forefront of his mind, they popped up again like a continuous jack-in-the-box, taunting him and driving him insane.

Grandfather, a follower of Voldemort? It was just . . . well, absurd. Riddle had to be lying, he was that type of person. But not just a mere follower, one of Voldemort's best men. Grandfather was part of the reason why so many people died in the first wizarding war. He must have had a hand in it.

There was a heaviness behind his eyes and a small creeping of nausea in his throat. He wondered what he would have done if Grandfather had been right in front of him. Would he keep silent or shout and scream until his voice ached? Even lash out.

He glanced up and saw Ginny within her father's embrace. He had just about time to peer at Fawkes, who was perched on Professor Dumbledore's shoulder when Alexander found himself swept into Mrs Weasley's tight embrace.

'You saved her! You saved my daughter! How did you do it?'

Alexander mustered up a polite half-smile, not having the energy for anything else, as he stared into the teary eyes of Ron's mother. 'It was nothing, Mrs Weasley. I'm just happy Ginny got out alive.' The woman choked out a half-sob and brought him into her arms once again.

'I think we'd all like to know how you did it,' said Professor McGonagall weakly as Mrs Weasley released Alexander and walked back to her husband and daughter. Professor Dumbledore looked equally intrigued.

Alexander allowed Harry to explain whole events. He wasn't in a very talkative mood and could feel the dried blood of the basilisk sticking to his clothes and skin.

Tiredness was quickly consuming him; he placed a palm on a nearby table, leaning all his weight on his arm and closing his eyes. Their voices became a buzz in the background. The sudden blackness was a fresh, soothing respite against all the worried faces.

' — It was mostly just luck,' came Harry's voice, who then grasped Alexander's attention as he continued, 'and I couldn't have done it alone. I probably would have died if it weren't for them. Alexander was a huge help and well —'

Alexander met Harry's green eyes and noticed the other boy falter in his speech. He could tell that Harry was thinking about Riddle's words about his grandfather. He held his breath but, listening, became grateful that his friend didn't go on to mention it at all. Harry, thankfully, had kept his promise.

Alexander didn't want anyone else to know – his own awareness was enough for now. This was too shameful, and he couldn't bear the shock and disgust on his teachers' and friends' faces if they knew.

What would you even say, or do, when you find out that your hero growing up wasn't really a hero? That he was much more suited as a villain. It was as if an unbreakable house of cards, spent years building, suddenly collapsed.

And, most importantly, how much of Riddle's words were even true?

Shaking his ill thoughts away, as they were making his head throb painfully, he watched as Professor Dumbledore strode over to the door and opened it. 'Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up,' he said, eyes twinkling kindly at a hopeful Ginny. Alexander's stomach gave a quiet rumble. 'You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She's just giving out Mandrake juice – I daresay the basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment.'

His head snapped up and his vision sharpened on the Headmaster. 'So, that means they'll be okay?' he interrupted quickly, 'Hermione and the others I mean?'

'There has been no lasting harm done,' Dumbledore smiled at him knowingly. 'Your friends will be completely fine, Mr Laurent, please put your mind to rest.'

Alexander nodded and a smile snuck on his face. This good bit of news was all he'd been hoping for. A pool of warmth lit up his insides as he thought about how soon he'd be able to see Hermione and Nia again.

Mrs Weasley led Ginny out, and Mr Weasley followed, still looking deeply shaken.

'You know, Minerva,' Professor Dumbledore uttered thoughtfully to Professor McGonagall, 'I think all this merits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?'

'Right,' nodded Professor McGonagall crisply, also moving to the door. 'I'll leave you to deal with Potter, Laurent, and Weasley, shall I?'

'Certainly.'

Alexander pursed his lips as he gazed nervously at the Headmaster. This part he was not looking forward to. He had no energy to negotiate with anyone.

Right now, he couldn't care less for the punishment he'd receive but just wanted the Professor to hurry up so he could clean himself then sleep. There was no way he was meeting Hermione like this: filthy, exhausted, and numb.

'I seem to remember telling you that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules,' mused Dumbledore. Ron opened his mouth in horror. 'Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words.' Alexander's eyebrows raised while Dumbledore smiled. 'You will each receive Special Awards for Services to the School and – let me see – yes, I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor.'

Ron went as brightly pink as Lockhart's valentine flowers. Alexander straightened his posture and grinned slightly. This, he hadn't foreseen, and it was a welcome change from all the doom and gloom of the past months. He couldn't wait to tell Eliot and—

Alexander's grin faded and his lips settled into a tight line. For a glorious moment, he'd forgotten.

'But one of us seems to be keeping mightily quiet about his part in this dangerous adventure,' Dumbledore added. 'Why so modest, Gilderoy?'

Alexander turned saw that Lockhart was standing in a corner of the room, still wearing his vague smile. Oh, right, he was still here. Alexander covered up a secret smirk behind his palm as Lockhart looked over his shoulder when Dumbledore addressed him. It was funny in a tragically ironic sense.

'Professor Dumbledore,' spoke Ron swiftly, 'there was an accident down in the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lockhart —'

'Am I a professor?' interjected Lockhart in mild surprise. 'Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?'

This time, Alexander could stop a snort of laughter from escaping him, and quickly muffled it as Harry nudged him in his side. One thing was clear from all that had happened: Lockhart deserved everything he got.

'He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired,' Ron explained quietly.

'Dear me,' sighed Dumbledore, shaking his head, his long silver moustache quivering. 'Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!'

Just then, like an unwelcome gust of wind, the door swung open, grabbing all of their attention. Alexander's heart plummeted then rose again until it lay in his throat. He heard Harry suck in a sharp inhale beside him.

A stern face, a sharp-fitting suit, and a confident stance adorned the figure that walked into the room. Grandfather scanned the room, and as his gaze settled on Alexander, his face muscles relaxed somewhat. He was unusually agitated from the fairly desperate look in his eyes.

'Antoine, what a surprise,' acknowledged Dumbledore calmly, not in the least bit astonished, 'please come in. I see you also received young Mr Laurent's letter.'

Grandfather gave a short nod, his expression becoming unreadable. Ron threw an uncertain but surprised glance at him. Alexander bit the inside of his tongue and cursed inwardly. In retrospect, sending the letters had been so long ago that it slipped his mind.

Why did his grandfather show up now? He never had before, not even when Alexander pleaded with him. His work at the Ministry was too important.

'Alexander, thank heavens you are all right,' said Grandfather, making a beeline for him, who tensed up in response. Grandfather rose an eyebrow, a flash of exasperation in his gaze. 'I thought I already spoke with you about your recklessness last year? Or, were you just not listening?'

He was coming closer, but Alexander instinctively took a step back, arms crossed behind his back and his stare levelled at the floor. Grandfather stopped, a cloud of confusion washed over his face before he turned towards Professor Dumbledore and demanded his attention. Though he was a picture of calmness, Alexander knew he was furious from the tight clench of his jaw.

'What is all this business I'm hearing at the Ministry, Dumbledore' asked Grandfather coolly, 'A girl has been taken down into the chamber. You are aware that this is completely unacceptable; Fudge wants an answer, and so do I for the fact of the matter. I warned you before, remember our little conversation?'

'I remember perfectly well,' stated Dumbledore, his voice slow. 'Now have you come on behalf of Fudge or your grandson?'

Grandfather narrowed his eyes. 'I am here for both.'

Dumbledore regarded him thoughtfully. 'Ah . . .'

Grandfather huffed an annoyed breath through his nose. 'Well then, what is the situation now? Speak.' It took men less brave than Dumbledore to look away from Grandfather's piercing stare, but along with his calm demeanour, the Headmaster's eyes simply twinkled, albeit faintly in his moment.

Although he felt Harry's gaze on him, Alexander was unable to meet it for fear of what he might see in his friend's eyes. Did Harry hate him because of his grandfather? There was a chill in his blood, coldness bringing the synapses of his brain to a standstill.

All he could focus on was Riddle's words playing over and over in his mind, like a broken record player, as he stared at his grandfather, who threw restrained, angry looks at Dumbledore.

'Antoine, it's best to put your mind at ease,' soothed Dumbledore, though it didn't lessen the intensity of Grandfather's disdainful looks. 'Everything is well now. The chamber has been found and the monster destroyed.'

Grandfather closed his mouth in quiet scrutiny. 'Oh. You are serious?'

'Completely.'

His voice became stiff. 'Right, well, then. Have you caught the culprit?'

'We have,' answered Dumbledore, with a smile. 'It was Lord Voldemort, though he was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary.' He held up the ruined book, with a large, burnt hole visible in the centre.

'Right, I see,' said Grandfather, regarding the object with close observation, and a tiny wrinkle showed Alexander that he was troubled. His eyes ran over Alexander and his friends, his tone turning incredulous and rising with each word. 'And, I suppose it took a couple of second years to deal with the issue, one of which includes my grandson!'

In offence, Ron's mouth dropped open, but Harry threw him a pointed look. Now was not the time. Alexander was strangely quiet, only wincing at the rise in Grandfather's volume.

Dumbledore sighed. 'I assure you, Antoine, I was well on my way to coming back to the school. Nobody has been harmed,' pledged Dumbledore with a serious expression.

Grandfather scoffed, rubbing a hand across his face, his voice dripping with insincerity. 'Oh, yes, I am sure of that. Answer me this, Dumbledore, where is the safety when this has now been the second time my grandson has been in serious danger. What kind of a school are you running here!'

Professor Dumbledore's expression turned grave and solemn. 'Antoine, Hogwarts is a safe place. No harm has or will come to Alexander. I promise you that.'

Antoine's eyes sharpened as he considered the other man with scorn. 'You cannot promise me that. You cannot promise anyone that.' He turned to Alexander; his sharpness was cold and apparent. 'Well, Alexander, what do you have to say for yourself?' he snapped.

When Alexander failed to answer, Harry opened his mouth and stepped in, 'Er, Sir, Mr Laurent, Sir, we —'

'Perhaps this can wait for another time,' suggested Dumbledore purposely. Alexander, in turn, flushed as he realised how filthy his appearance was in front of his grandfather. 'Antoine, as you can see, young Alexander needs to go to the Hospital Wing to check for injuries and possibly clean himself up a bit.'

Grandfather softened at this and nodded curtly before offering to accompany his grandson as well. Alexander couldn't think of a good enough excuse for him not to.

'I will talk to you later, Dumbledore – in your office.' Grandfather appeared expectant. It wasn't a suggestion.

Dumbledore smiled softly. 'Yes, I expect we will.' He then addressed Ron. 'Would you also mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the infirmary, too? I'd like a few more words with Harry.'

Harry looked as if he was going to protest, sending secret glances towards Alexander, but stayed silent. Lockhart ambled out. Ron cast a curious look back as he left. Alexander glanced at Grandfather's angry and worried eyes for a second before he walked out of the room without waiting nor peering over his shoulder.

Not a word was exchanged in the Hospital Wing. Grandfather was watchful as Madam Pomfrey gave Alexander potions to reduce his tiredness and fatigue; except for the lump in the back of his head, she deemed him well enough. Grandfather then waited as Alexander showered and dressed in clean, fresh clothes, feeling miles better.

Alexander took his time, hoping that he could lengthen the time before he was alone with his grandfather. He was dreading it. Completely. How was he supposed to face him after knowing so many secrets about him? Because everything he'd found out in the past year made sense: his Pureblood views, his writings, and now with Riddle.

Seeing Grandfather again, sat in one of the hospital chairs, caused a violent kick in his chest and his throat closed up.

'You look better,' commented Grandfather, looking up when he saw him. He was silent, weighing his words, before continuing. 'I think it is time we spoke, Alexander.'

Alexander, resigned, agreed, because what else could he do? They walked to the deserted courtyard, as most of the students were huddled up in their common rooms, too afraid to be lurking around the castle. They probably hadn't received the news yet that the attacks were over.

They each grabbed a seat on a stone pillar.

'You are quieter than I would expect,' observed Grandfather thoughtfully, eyeing him. Alexander shrugged and made a low sound under his breath. 'What is the matter, and, most importantly, how are you feeling?'

Alexander swallowed hard before croaking out an answer. 'I'm fine, honestly.'

Grandfather raised an eyebrow. 'You and I both know that is not true. I read your letter.'

A burst of anger pooled in his chest. 'I don't know what you want from me,' he snapped, glaring, 'You asked how I was and I told you I was fine! What more do you want?'

Grandfather pursed his lips sternly, but for once Alexander was not affected by it. He was pleased to see the genuine surprise on his grandfather's face. Grandfather chewed the inside of his cheek as if finding the correct words to say.

'I just want you to be . . . honest with me, Alexander,' said Grandfather slowly, 'I know I am not the best person to share with but I am not going to judge you for it.' He sighed wearily, appearing his age. 'All I have ever wanted was for you to be happy, Alexander.'

A tiny scoff escaped from his lips before Alexander could stop it. He peered up with narrowed eyes. Honesty, he thought, that was funny.

'Something happened to you and I hope you can tell me,' Grandfather continued in his measured tone, 'so I can help you in any way I can. It is heavy, what you've dealt with – I can tell – and you should not deal with this on your own or bottle it up. Talk to me.'

Alexander stayed silent for a while, watching the tiny blades of grass sway back and forth from the wind. The longer Grandfather spoke, the more he sounded like a stranger to Alexander. He turned to sneak a peek and his thoughts gnawed at him restlessly.

Perhaps Riddle had introduced him to the real Antoine Laurent and one that Alexander knows and has grown up with is not. Who was the real version and who was fake? Was Grandfather simply putting on an act, even right now? Was he aiding that psychopath even when he tried to kill Harry and him?

But Riddle's truth made sense in some way. Grandfather was always secretive about his life. He wasn't like Eliot, who always shared bits of himself with strangers on a train. Then there were also grandfather's views on Muggleborns and Squibs – real, published and written by Grandfather's hand. So, Grandfather had most likely worked with . . . Voldemort.

A shudder ran through him, and his stomach felt like there were rocks lodged inside.

'Alexander, are you listening to me?' interrupted Grandfather, his brows furrowed, 'You look sick. Is everything all right?'

He breathed in deeply, hoping his voice wasn't shaky. 'I'm fine. I'm just hungry. I haven't eaten in so long, you know.' An awkward silence settled between them as Grandfather watched him carefully. It was a weak excuse and neither of them bought it.

He wasn't going to leave until Alexander told him what had happened. Resignation settled in his bones as Alexander sighed then began telling the basic facts about the chamber.

This seemed like a safe route. He didn't completely reveal everything, steering far clear from Riddle's knowledge about him. Grandfather listened intently, hardly interrupting. It felt good to get it off his chest and the hollow ache, while still lingering, eased the more he spoke.

Grandfather's brows were raised to his temples when Alexander finished. He leaned back, rubbing his hands on his knees.

'This is beyond anything I imagined,' said Grandfather, closing his eyes.

'Are you . . . mad at me?' Alexander asked quietly.

Grandfather opened his eyes, appearing startled. 'No, Alexander. I am more worried after what I just heard.' He scowled in animosity. 'Although, it is not the last that Dumbledore has seen of me today, mark my words. Regardless, are you hurt? Taking on a basilisk must have been no easy feat.'

'You heard Madam Pomfrey – I'm okay, really. You don't need to worry.'

Grandfather frowned. 'It is my job to worry about you.'

Alexander mumbled something bitter under his breath, too quiet to hear audibly. He just wished Grandfather showed his worry more often. And be honest with him as well. Grandfather spoke up again, his brow creased in contemplation.

'You also mentioned your strange ability while fighting the basilisk.'

'Oh, er, yeah,' nodded Alexander, sitting up straighter, 'I, uh, don't know where it came from – I didn't say any words. I just don't understand it.' He paused for a moment, running a hand through his hair. 'Grandfather, is there something wrong with me?'

'No,' Grandfather replied firmly, causing a ball of relief to float in Alexander's chest, 'of course not, do not be foolish.'

'Oh, okay. . . then what is it?'

'It is completely natural – there's no need to worry,' said Grandfather simply, 'It's been a part of our family for a long time.'

Alexander was becoming more confused by the second. Elaborating wasn't exactly his grandfather's speciality. 'What are you talking about?'

'Essentially, most Laurents can do what you did – more effortlessly. Although, I am amazed by how early you seem to be able to cast these spells.' Grandfather smiled approvingly. 'You should be proud, Alexander. You are an exceptional wizard.'

Alexander couldn't help but beam despite not fully understanding. No matter how conflicted he felt about his grandfather, praise from him was a tough longing to shake off, and it was something he craved constantly growing up and even now.

Grandfather tapped a foot repeatedly, his eyes lost in thought, 'I do not want to bore you – and we probably don't have the time – but to shorten a long family history, there is a gene within the Laurents that some – but not all – inhabit. Fundamentally, it allows for a natural aptitude in magic and creates powerful spells, some without a wand.' Alexander's blue eyes widened. 'Normally, it wouldn't appear until you were sixteen, but somehow, I believe your heightened emotions, considering the situation, must have tapped into it and caused it to become active.'

Alexander's mind raced as he eagerly consumed the information. He thought about the events that occurred that caused him to perform those spells. It had been life and death.

Grandfather's penetrating stare settled on him. 'But I am proud of you, Alexander, despite your imprudent decisions. After all that you have achieved and been through, it tells me that you are on the way to becoming an extraordinary wizard.'

Grandfather smiled softly at him, an unusual sparkle in his eye. Alexander sat there, stunned. Well, then. It explained why Charms and most of the spells he learnt came so easily for him.

'I have a question,' he began and Grandfather gave a curious nod, 'Why do I feel so tired afterwards? It's like I can't stand anymore, my muscles won't let me.'

Grandfather thankfully had an explanation for this too. 'Because you are young, you have little experience and your magic is uncontrolled; your magical core is smaller and weaker, and therefore conjuring wordless spells will take a lot out of you. Some can become better and better as they grow, but it depends on the person.'

Alexander peered curiously at Grandfather. 'Do you have it?'

'Yes,' Grandfather chuckled softly, 'my father hired a special tutor for me outside of my normal education to become get more practice and become more disciplined.'

'Oh. Are you going to get one for me?'

Grandfather raised an eyebrow in interest. 'Not if you don't want to.'

Alexander is silent once again. He doesn't know what to think but is glad for his grandfather for telling him this; it had been wriggling at his mind for weeks, believing himself to be stranger than his classmates.

'Was there anything else you want to mention?' asked Grandfather inquisitively, catching Alexander's attention.

Alexander opened his mouth, his breath suddenly caught. He thought about Riddle, or Voldemort, whatever. He was at a crossroads as he stared at his grandfather's face.

'No,' he declared, then clearing his throat repeated it more firmly. 'That was it.'

Grandfather stared at him for a second or two before nodding curtly. He stood up to check his gold watch, which lay luminously across his jacket.

'I should be getting back soon. Just as soon as I've spoken to Dumbledore.' Shaking his head, he turned back to Alexander, who peered up at him. 'We'll meet again, hopefully. At the platform.'

Grandfather gave a final genuine smile, with a hand laid on his shoulder, but Alexander didn't smile back.

∞ ϟ 9¾

The Hogwarts feast was a nice distraction for Alexander. Everybody was in their pyjamas, and people were cheering loudly, jubilant that the danger was over at last and the monster had been destroyed.

His favourite part by far was when Helen gave him the biggest smile yet with Nia at her side. It had been a sudden shock, arriving at that the Great Hall and seeing Nia with a bright smile on her face and her familiar silver rings on her fingers.

He couldn't stop himself from bounding over to her, making sure that he wasn't seeing things. But she was sat at the Hufflepuff table, her arm linked with Helen's, who looked as if Nia might disappear into thin air if she let go. Nia didn't seem to mind judging by the large, radiant smile stretched across her face.

She raised an arm in a wave as she noticed him approaching; Alexander exclaimed his delight at seeing her again.

'I'm glad to see you guys again, too,' laughed Nia, then grimaced in memory, 'Believe me, being Petrified was not a fun experience. Wouldn't recommend.'

'Oh, did it hurt terribly, Ni?' asked Helen worriedly.

Nia shook her head. 'No. I don't even remember much of it to be fair. The stupid snake got me. How embarrassing.' She sighed.

Alexander grinned at her. 'I'm glad your back. We missed you loads.'

Nia rolled her eyes though she was secretly pleased. 'Yeah, don't get all sappy on me, Laurent.'

Unexpectedly, Helen moved in to hug Alexander, who didn't realise until he had an armful of blonde hair. 'Thank you, Alex,' she mumbled in his shoulder, 'for putting an end to it. I know it was you.'

A hot flush rose, infusing his cheeks rosy red. 'It was nothing,' he muttered embarrassingly, cursing himself for being awkward. He was fine a few seconds ago.

Helen leaned back, but then her lips pressed to his cheek like a dew-speckled petal caught in a breeze. It was so soft and quick that Alexander could only blink, his mouth parted at the wonder of it all. She smiled at him and Nia then bounded off towards the Ravenclaw table with a sweet giggle.

Alexander knew that if he looked in the mirror right now, his face would probably resemble the colour of Ron's hair. He turned to Nia, whose smile appeared tight. She looked at him for a few seconds, his pulse quickening in anticipation of what she would say.

'Do you like Helen?' Nia asked slowly, hardly blinking. Alexander shrugged, avoiding her gaze, though his heart was beating like crazy. 'I mean, like, do you have a crush on her or something?'

He cleared his throat and slowly nodded. 'Yeah, er, I do,' he admitted, resolved. It was the truth, there was no denying it. He liked Helen.

Nia opened her mouth then closed it. Her eyebrows furrowed with a crease in the middle. 'Okay,' she said with a shrug.

Alexander blinked. 'Okay. . . ?'

'Yeah, I mean, okay. It's not a big deal.' She scrunched her face as she continued as an afterthought, 'Boys are stupid in general, anyway, but, well. . . I guess you're better than that Johnny guy.' Nia appeared in thought. 'I think she likes you too if I'm being honest.'

Alexander's heart jumped, his head snapping up swiftly. 'She does?'

'Yeah, I suppose so. . .' Nia shifted uncomfortably.

Alexander nodded, not quite sure what to say. The atmosphere had fast become awkward for some reason.

'Hey, Laurent, look, they have those disgusting peppermint humbugs you like so much,' remarked Nia, breaking the tension. Alexander smirked at her expression.

However, his highlight of the night had to be when Hermione bounded into the Hall, her doe brown eyes glinting blazingly in wonder and happiness. A beam extended over half his face, euphoric joy surging through his veins; it came from deep inside him to light his eyes and spread into every part of him.

He leapt from the table, and this time was the one to throw himself at Hermione, wrapping his arms around her and almost lifting her off her feet. Hermione's laugh chimed beautifully in his ear as she hugged back. The familiar scent of her fragrance wafted through his nostrils, and his knees wobbled from how much he'd missed her.

It was a great feeling. Having Hermione back meant that he was whole again. Her presence had made him genuinely happy since Riddle. A sense of contentment filled him as watched her and Ron lightly bicker as he and Harry rolled their eyes.

Other happy news came from Dumbledore's announcement that, unfortunately, Professor Lockhart would be unable to return next year, since he needed to go away and get his memory back.

'Fortunate more like,' said Alexander, with a snort of laughter, as he clapped along happily with the Professors, very pleased, 'Good riddance.'

'Shame,' sighed Ron, helping himself to a jam doughnut. 'He has started to grow on me.'

The rest of the final term passed in a haze of blazing sunshine. Too soon, it was time for the journey home on the Hogwarts Express. They made the most of the last few hours in which they were allowed to do magic before the holidays. They played Exploding Snap and practised magic.

The ride back for Alexander, however, was more worrisome than ever. Although he tried to join in with the others in their fun, his thoughts were preoccupied with Grandfather. In the last few days, he had decided to keep a closer look on his grandfather over the summer. He didn't trust him enough to tell him the truth.

There came a nudge on his leg as he was looking out of the train window, green fields passing by in a blur. He looked up, surprised to see Hermione peering at him with a questioning glance. He shook his head, giving her a soft smile before asking her about her book, which she was glad to indulge him with.

They were almost at King's Cross when she had promised to invite him over the summer to her house to meet her parents. Alexander said he'd be glad to visit. Getting out of the house would be a good idea, plus he'd get to see his best friend over the summer. She'd given him a blinding smile for this.

The Hogwarts Express slowed and finally stopped. Harry pulled out his quill and a bit of parchment and turned to Alexander, Ron, and Hermione.

'This is called a telephone number,' he told Ron, scribbling it thrice, tearing the parchment in three, and handing it to each of them. 'I told your dad how to use a telephone last summer – he'll know. Call me at the Dursleys', okay?'

'You'll tell me if it gets too much, right, and I'll come round,' said Alexander to Harry, who nodded.

'I will definitely. I can't stand another two months with only Dudley to talk to.'

Alexander barked a short laugh. 'I'll bet.'

During the car ride home, Alexander watched the brick houses and cobbled streets go past. He hadn't spoken since greeting his grandfather at the platform. He was seated the furthest away from him, his knees pushing into the car door.

'Good year?' asked Grandfather with a copy of the Daily Prophet laid open in his hands, and Alexander could feel his eyes on the side of his head.

'Yes,' he replied without moving an inch, and Grandfather hummed in response. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke once again.

'Here is an idea,' Grandfather offered cheerfully, 'I could take a day from work and stay home if you wanted. We could watch a film together.'

'No thank you,' said Alexander, 'I'm too tired from the journey, I just want to sleep.'

Grandfather turned a page. 'Well, never mind, then, perhaps another time.'

Alexander mumbled uncommittedly.

That was the final chapter. Thank you so much for bearing with me during my slow updates and for reading this far. This book has been finished but the series is far from over. I love writing this, and will never abandon it, no matter how long it takes me. Hopefully, you'll stick around for that long.

I have plans with this series and especially with Alexander. His relationships, familial and friendship, in the next book will develop even further (perhaps even with Helen), and who knows where it will go?

The next book will probably take a while to come out as I have to strengthen my plan for it before I start it, so I know which direction to take it. Also, please don't hesitate to let me know if you have any ideas, major or minor, that you want me to consider. I'm happy to take it into account. You can comment or send me a personal inbox.

As always, let me know what you thought about this chapter or in general, I love hearing from you.