A/N: Content creation...is difficult. Thanks for your reviews; they're super helpful. As always, enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-Six

Disappear, Reappear

After a stressful day of defying the laws which governed reality, the students of Hogwarts generally elected to relax either in the student lounge or their designated common rooms. The weather permitting, they could also lay about by the lake or in the courtyard in the middle of the castle.

The library was anything but calming. Rather, it had the opposite effect: if the sight of Madam Pince's unwelcoming glower didn't scare you off, the furious scrawls and occasional cries of desperate students did. Unless, of course, you managed to score a secluded spot away from all that.

Alex was one of the lucky few who managed one. To be fair, she hadn't discovered it herself; the portrait of Professor Galing, Binns' predecessor, had shared its location with her out of pity. Apparently, Alex just looked that bad.

A lack of sleep did that to you. Or was it more accurate to say an abundance of nightmares were the cause? She fell asleep easily enough - it was just what happened when she was asleep that disturbed her respite. She had presumed the terrors would fade away with time, but it had been a week since the incident, and they showed no sign of stopping.

On the bright side, her rest remained undisturbed as long as it was during daytime. The sunlight seemed to chase away the horrors to the dark, dusty corners of her mind, and Alex was ever more thankful someone had had the foresight to design fake windows in the Slytherin dorms to simulate the weather outside.

In addition to Binns' classes, the library was the next best napping spot. Her secluded seat in particular ensured no one could find her, let alone disturb her.

Sadly, Stephen Cornfoot seemed to be part-niffler. "Oh, there you are, Alex," he said, cheerily oblivious to her stink-eye. "I've been looking for you. Charms club starts in an hour, y'know."

"Oh dear," she drawled. "We'd better hurry. You go first; I'll catch up with you."

Stephen frowned, confused. "But you don't know where we meet up."

"I'll manage."

"No worries." To her horror, he settled into the seat across her. "I'll keep you company until it's time to go."

Alex glanced around at the dark enclosure she managed to hole herself into. In what shape or form did her circumstances indicate she wanted company in the first place?

But Stephen was already making himself at home. He pulled out a sheaf of papers that Alex eventually realised was a pile of essays. They were all on the same topic to boot.

"Do you normally write ten drafts of the same essay?" she asked sceptically.

"Hmm?" Stephen looked up from his annotations. "Oh, these. They aren't mine. I'm an editor for hire."

Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. "That's a thing? Wait — how much do you charge?"

Rather than replying verbally, Stephen withdrew a contract from his folder. There was a disclaimers, his rates, and agreements that required signatures. All in all, it was pretty official for something as simple as peer-marking.

"Wow," she murmured, impressed. "How much of your time does this take up?"

Stephen hummed in thought. "I have ten regulars—first and second years—and a few irregulars… So about five hours a week? Friends and family get a discount, though," he added, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Alex snorted. "I'm good," she told him, smirking. "What do you charge your sister?"

"She does my chores at home."

"Slave-driver," she muttered beneath her breath.

"Whoa, hey," Stephen protested with a smile. "I'm just fulfilling my duties as an older brother."

"Hm." If the Weasley sons were any indication, Alex considered herself lucky to be an only child.

Suffice to say, not much studying was accomplished in the hour they killed prior to the club meeting. Stephen was probably the most easy-going and least absurd Ravenclaw Alex had ever befriended, even if he did have the annoying tendency to mumble whatever he was reading at that moment.

Stephen checked his watch. "It's almost time," he announced once he was done recounting what magical China was like.

Before Stephen could take the lead and expose her hiding spot to the entire library, Alex overtook him. She winded through the aisles with ease, avoided the drifting ladders and floating books, and peered out from between two bookshelves before deciding the coast was clear.

"How'd you even find that spot?" Alex couldn't help but ask as they exited the library.

"Madam Pince is sweet on me," claimed Stephen – and honestly, that led to more questions than answers. "She was very forthcoming about your whereabouts."

"That's creepy," Alex said flatly.

"Is it?" wondered Stephen. "It's pretty important for a librarian to be aware of stuff like that. What if you get locked in?"

"Not that," she clarified, following him down the stairs of the Training Grounds tower. "The fact that Madam Pince is capable of being sweet on anyone. What'd you do? Put a permanent Silencing Charm on someone?"

Stephen's eyes widened in surprise. "That's a thing? See, this is why the Charms club needs you, Alex."

It was a shallow compliment, one clearly meant to butter her up so she'd actually stick around instead of peacing out after one meetup. Still, after the week she had had, no one could blame her if she felt flattered by that.

The club met up every Thursday on the same floor as the Charms classrooms. According to Stephen, Professor Flitwick liked to drop in sometimes to check up on them. Otherwise, they didn't really have a leader; everyone took turns helping each other out.

Personally, Alex saw no problem with that. But Stephen said the club needed structure — something she was supposed to supply, not just because of her advanced knowledge but also due to her status as the oldest person there.

True enough, she was the only fourth-year there. There were eight other members including Stephen; the only other Slytherin there was Millicent Bulstrode, whom Alex believed to be in the same year as Harry.

They were sitting in a circle constructed by the tables and chairs of the unused classroom. On the board were the words VANISHING CHARM, and Alex realised with a silent groan that she was expected to facilitate this evening's meeting.

"Hey guys," said Stephen as he sat down in one of the opens seats. "This is Alex Fortescue, a fourth-year. She's interested in joining the club."

Alex barely refrained from rolling her eyes at the blatant lie. Instead, she addressed the group watching her.

"Okay," she said, trying not project any anxiety she was experiencing as multiple pairs of eyes zeroed in on her. "Raise your hand if you've heard of the Vanishing Charm before."

Every single person in the room, barring her, raised their hand. Some were slower to do so than others, perhaps because they actually didn't know of the spell, and were just lying to appear on the same page as everyone else (Duncan did that a lot).

"Keep it raised if you heard of the Vanishing Spell." Alex smiled as half the hands went down. "Well, they're one and the same. The spell is actually considered a piece of transfiguration magic and not a charm, as some magical theorists argue that the object is being transfigured into nothingness. Personally, I think that's a bit of a reach since you could say almost everything falls under the branch of transfiguration magic." Medicinal potions, for example, could be said to transfigure illness rather than eradicating it.

Shaking her head lightly, Alex changed the subject before she could lose the crowd completely. "Can someone pass me something they don't mind parting with?" she asked, approaching the circle with her wand in hand.

A sickly looking boy obligingly handed her a ball of paper he had been toying with.

"Thanks," she replied distractedly. "So to cast the charm, you have to encircle the item with the tip of your wand—just once—and say, Evanesco."

The wad of paper disappeared as intended. "And there you have it," she said, shrugging.

"But where does it go?" asked a girl with thick glasses.

Alex tugged on a lock of her hair. "There are a lot of theories about that," she said slowly. Too many, in fact. "Some scholars suggest Vanished objects are transported into black holes or voids, or that they get converted into magic absorbed by whatever's around. But no one knows for sure."

Was that boy next to Stephen taking notes? Hm.

"Try not to focus on that too much," she advised them. "It'll just distract you from the actual spell."

She had learnt that the hard way, all those years ago in her early Transfiguration lessons. Alex still sucked at it, though, just like the members of the Charms club couldn't seem to wrap their heads around the mystery of the Vanishing Spell.

Surprisingly, it was Millicent who assumed the role of assistance and guided others through the spell. She hadn't even completed it herself, and yet there she was helping others.

In the end, Alex repeated her demonstration six times and explained the framework of the spell in four different ways. Millicent eventually had it down, while the sickly boy—Eric Sobbi—managed to Vanish part of an old quill he had brought in.

"That wasn't bad," mused Stephen once the meeting ended. "It went better than expected, actually."

Alex huffed as she reclined in her chair. "Can't say I feel the same way."

"It'll get better next time," he assured her, standing up.

Stephen basically ran out of the room before Alex could do more than sit up in surprise. Still, she had to admit that the session was productive in more ways than one.

It also landed her with a newfound appreciation for teachers in general. So, the next day, when Alex walked into her first DADA lesson of the year and saw a projection of a dementor on the board, she just managed to stop herself from cursing Lupin out then and there.

Alex froze for a split second as she silently debated skiving. But then Lupin smiled at her in greeting, and she resigned herself to a lesson centred on her the figure which stalked her dreamscape.

Fortunately, no one acted nearly as poorly as she did to the projection, so at least Lupin wasn't going to be chewed out by irate helicopter parents any time soon.

"Good afternoon," he said amiably. His smile didn't waver at the tepid response. "As you have probably inferred, we'll spend today's lesson on dementors. Please raise your hand if you've heard of them before."

One-third of the class signed affirmative, Alex included. Lupin nodded, a mild expression on his face. He looked to be in a much better condition now than when Alex had first met him; Sirius's exoneration had bolstered him both emotionally and financially. She eyed his new robes speculatively, recognising the design.

"Dementors," he continued, turning to the chalkboard, "are some of the foulest creatures to roam this earth. They feed off all that is well and good in the world, and drain their victims of their life and soul, leaving them as shells of their former selves – a fate worse than death, in my opinion."

Several students shifted in their seats. Despite Lupin's light tone, it was clear he had some personal bearing on the matter. Relatable, thought Alex, staunchly keeping her eyes on Lupin's handwriting as opposed to the projection looming over them.

"Now, because they survive off despair, they'll more often than not draw forth some of your worst memories to the surface of your mind to ensure as much negativity as possible." Lupin swept his grave gaze over them. "Those with trauma are especially vulnerable to dementors."

Trauma, huh? Alex bit down on her lip as she fought off the memory threatening to drag her under like a tumultuous wave.

"So how do we fight these manifestations of fear and despair?" he asked them once he finished writing down the Ministry classifications of dementors.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw Hufflepuff raise their hand. "By thinking positively?"

Lupin smiled. "That's one way, yes," he said approvingly. "Five points to Hufflepuff. Anyone else?"

Katherine put up a hand. "There's a specific charm dedicated to warding off dementors," she declared. "The Patronus Charm."

"Five points to Slytherin," continued Lupin in that warm tone of his. The Slytherin half of the class perked up with interest.

"Your word choice is very apt here, Katherine," he announced after a brief consultation of the seating chart on his desk. It was magical, of course, appearing automatically in every class as long as the proper spells were in place. "You can ward off dementors, you can chase them away, but you cannot fight them. The only way one can hope to destroy a dementor is by lifting the collective spirits of the world. A difficult feat, but one that isn't impossible."

Lupin the professor was a sharp contrast to Lupin the wizard. He was in his element here, and Alex regretted the fact that years of their Defence education had been squandered on the corrupt frauds forced onto them.

As the lesson progressed, Alex's mind wandered back to her conversation with Hermione after they had made amends. She approached her on Wednesday night outside the Great Hall. Alex had just finished eating and was planning on doing some studying in the library when Hermione ambushed her into an abandoned classroom away from prying eyes and ears.

Hermione's speech had been sincere, if a little rehearsed, and Alex in turn apologised for her rudeness. Feeling the need to patch things over further, she asked Hermione how her third year was going.

A minute into Hermione's reply, Alex realised something. "Wait. Are you doing all the electives?" she asked, baffled. "Are the professors tutoring you privately?"

Hermione made a face that meant she was hiding something. "I worked things out with Professor McGonagall," she claimed, skirting away from Alex's inquisitive stare. Her hand twitched.

Alex filed that away for later. "Is Ron still sore about Scabbers?"

"Unfortunately. I'm sure he'll come around with a little more time, though."

She sighed. It was fair, she supposed; if the tables were turned and she thought her friend's pet had killed hers, Alex would've sulked for at least a year.

"Have you had a Defence class yet?" asked Hermione, a glimmer in her eyes. When Alex replied in negatively, she grew even more excited. "You'll love it. Professor Lupin is easily the best Defence professor we've had—although that's not really saying much, all things considered—and everyone else seems to agree."

The corner of Alex's lips twitched upwards as she studied Hermione carefully. "Do you…fancy Lupin?" she asked, eyeing her friend's blush. Her complexion made it slightly difficult to spot in dim lighting, but since Hermione got flustered rather easily, Alex knew what she was looking for now.

Her blush deepened at Alex's supposition. "No!" she lied. "I just admire him is all."

Aw. Hermione was absolutely adorable. Alex was about a second away from cooing over her. As much as she wanted to, she knew Hermione didn't take well to such teasing, so Alex settled for a small smile instead.

Now, as Lupin guided them through the Patronus Charm, she could sort of see what Hermione meant. Merlin knew this school was in dire need of respectable adults to look up to. Professor McGonagall could only have so many fans.

In the end, no one got the charm down pat. The closest most achieved was a faint wisp of grey smoke, the kind kettles were prone to emitting. Lupin assured them all that was normal, and that even the wisp they produced was more than he had been expecting for today. It sounded like false platitudes, true, but they were starting to realise that their professor this year was the epitome of sincerity, and so when the class ended, they all left feeling vaguely accomplished.

Well, not everyone.

"Alexandra," called Lupin from his desk, "if you could wait a moment?"

Alex tried her hardest not to throw her head back and groan. This was the second time in two weeks a professor had stopped her from leaving with the rest of the class. Who was going to be next? Flitwick? He had started treating her with notable warmth as of late, no doubt due to Stephen's club.

"I noticed your reaction when you walked into class today," began Lupin, his brow furrowed with concern. "I apologise if the lesson upset you in any way."

"It's cool," she replied automatically. "It's an important subject to learn about." It wasn't like he was going to bring in a live dementor or anything.

Lupin's concerned frown deepened as Alex exhaled shakily. "Are you quite all right?" he asked her. "Did the dementor dredge up any bad memories for you last night?"

"I – yes." Confessions could be cathartic at times, and there was no point in telling an obvious lie.

Lupin seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Would you like to talk about it?" he offered gently.

Alex shook her head nonetheless. Oh boy, would she like to discuss it. But how on earth could you explain that you were being tormented with images of how your previous self had died? And she had repressed that memory so effectively, too…

It was clear Lupin was disappointed by her refusal, but he didn't press her nevertheless. "There was a boggart discovered in the castle on Tuesday," he confessed, switching topics admirably. "I was debating whether or not it should be brought in for a practical lesson."

Alex stared at him for a handful of seconds. "You decided not to, right?" Dread curled in her stomach at the knowledge that Lupin had even considered it in the first place.

To her ineffable relief, Lupin nodded. "After a brief consultation with Sirius, I evidently switched to dementors instead."

"Not to mention it's good for Sirius's case," Alex noted wryly. The only reason he wasn't still rotting in prison was due to a mere fluke, and so his situation had emboldened the more progressive population of the magical Britain to push for prison reforms – starting with the elimination of dementors as guards-slash-torturers.

Lupin had enough self-awareness to smile bashfully. "Well, that doesn't hurt either."

Alex rolled her stiff shoulders. "How is he, by the way? Did the talk with Harry go well?"

"You and Harry are friends, correct?" When Alex nodded affirmatively, Lupin's expression grew puzzled. "He hasn't told you?"

She valiantly did not take offense at how Lupin's eyes flickered to her green nails and the snake ring adorning one of her fingers. "We planned to meet up today," she explained, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"I won't keep you, then," he assured her with a smile. "Have a good evening."

She could hear the chaos within Hagrid's cabin before she even stepped foot inside.

Harry opened the door in response to her two knocks. "I hope you've brought a bucket," he quipped, letting her in.

"Hermione can always transfigure one for us." Alex paid Fang his affection toll by dutifully petting him and accepting a single lick to her cheek. "Why is Hagrid crying?" she asked, wiping the slobber from her face with the sleeve of her robes.

"Um, you might want to sit down for this," advised Harry as he returned to the table. Tea and rockcakes were already laid out for the three of them.

Alex took a seat, Fang trotting after her. He rested his chin on her lap, tail wagging lazily as she played with his ears.

"I got here early, and Hagrid started asking me about Sirius Black, and — get this, Alex." Harry's back was ramrod straight even as a wide grin stretched his lips. "He's my godfather."

Above them, Hagrid blew into his handkerchief loudly. "I-I'm so happy for yeh, Harry," he said, sniffling. "Y-You an' Sirius both."

Though already aware of this fact, all the emotion in the room made her tear up regardless. "Tell me more," she said, reaching for her tea.

Harry did. He told them how he went to Dumbledore's office on Wednesday night per his request. There, sitting in front of the Headmaster, was the recently acquitted ex-con Sirius Black.

"I wasn't sure what to think," confessed Harry, laughing slightly. "Ron says he would have run away, thinking Dumbledore had finally cracked or something."

In reality, Harry had just stood there in confusion. He quickly grew bewildered when Sirius, crying, introduced himself as his godfather and a good friend of his father's.

Hagrid wiped away a stray tear before it fell into his beard like the others had. "So is Professor Lupin," he informed them, his voice still stuffy.

Harry nodded, unsurprised. "Sirius told me. We've been meeting up in Lupin's office every day. They have so many stories about my parents…" His expression hardened. "And about Pettigrew."

"The real culprit?" asked Alex, thinking back to the bombshell released in the Daily Prophet on Tuesday morning. He was dead now, having been Kissed by the dementors not long after Sirius's name had been cleared.

Fang whined, forcing her to resume her petting.

"Yeah," muttered Harry, swallowing thickly. "He was selling secrets to the other side. Pettigrew's the reason why..." Wordlessly, he touched his scar.

An uncomfortable silence fell over them like a heavy blanket.

"Do Hermione and Ron know?" she asked, fumbling for her tea.

Harry nodded, sufficiently distracted from his reverie. "I told them right after I returned from Dumbledore's office."

Alex hid her clenched jaw behind her cup. Why wait 'til now to tell me? she wanted to demand. It was a petty thought, one that surged to the forefront of her mind without her permission. Still, she understood Harry's actions; he would've been busy catching up with Sirius and processing the reality he could have had.

She wondered if this wasn't an improved alternative. If Pettigrew weren't a traitor, if Sirius remained the Secret-Keeper and Harry had grown up hidden from society, he would've been raised as a weapon whose sole purpose was to destroy Voldemort.

Alex poured herself another cup. Hagrid couldn't bake for the life of him, but he sure could make tea — he probably grew the leaves himself, now that she thought about it.

"You two should meet him," Harry said brightly. "He's leaving the castle today, and Ron, Hermione and I were gonna see him off."

Alex smiled. "I'd love to meet your godfather."