A/N: I will never forgive the films for erasing the importance/prevalence of robes in this series. As if they would normalise mugglewear at that stage in their world. Reason #49593901 why the films were awful.
Also, thank you for your lovely reviews! I see we had a few binge readers the past few days. To answer that one reader's question: I update monthly!
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The Yule Ball
Christmas Day was a little more hectic this year. Once everyone attacked their presents, they spent the next few hours worrying over their hair and makeup and dress robes in preparation for the ball. Well, almost everyone. Alex was capitalising on the deserted state of the library and tackling her holiday homework. Although she was excused from her exams as a champion, slacking on her studies never sat well with her.
Her usual study buddies were notably absent. Hermione was locked up in her dorm fussing with her hair, or so Ron claimed, and Stephen had actually returned home for the break, as had his sister. They were probably the only people riding the Hogwarts Express around this time of the year; Stephen apparently had no interest in the Yule Ball whatsoever, while his second-year sister was unable to attend completely. Alex envied their freedom.
When the clock struck six, Alex decided it was time to get ready. Her descent to the dungeons was uninterrupted, which was fairly unusual on most days, but not so much today. There were actually quite a few people lazing around in the common room, almost all of whom were already dressed in their special robes, their hair smoothed over. Not a single Slytherin in the room was wearing a dress or suit, but then again, no one here would. Alex knew there were bound to be a few students at the ball in mugglewear despite the specific dress code on the announcement poster, either due to ignorance or because they wanted to make a statement. At the very least she hoped there would only be minimal bullying.
The first thing Agatha asked her when she ambled into their dorm was, "Will you have enough time to get ready? You're the main focus of the ball, remember that."
Alex rolled her eyes. As though she could forget.
She opened her mouth to shoot back a sassy report before noticing the lilac robes her roommate was wearing. "That's a nice colour," she said instead. "And I'll have plenty of time to spare," she assured her as she opened her trunk. Her dress robes sat at the very bottom, had been since she'd placed it in there before the start of term. Formal witches' robes were like long-sleeved, ankle-length muggle dresses while wizards' formal dress robes more closely resembled the shapeless robes they wore as their school uniform – or thin, long coats, now that she thought about it.
Alex's own dress robes were a tad more complicated than that. It was made of a loose material a shade of blue so dark it was almost black with long, open sleeves that perfectly disguised her wand holster. She matched it with a pair of black boots she got on sale at Madam Maulkin's years ago and thick, golden hoops. A quick scan of her belongings reminded Alex of the bangle Luna had given her as a Christmas present just this morning: a thin bangle that didn't really close but had a crescent moon on one end and a star on the other. Honestly, it seemed like it should've belonged to the girl whose name was literally that of the moon, but whatever.
"You look nice," commented Katherine as she emerged from the bathroom. Her thick black hair was wrapped in a strikingly coloured headscarf of maroon, amber and emerald that matched her dress robes. What really caught Alex's eye, though, was Katherine's face. Her dark skin was practically glowing thanks to a combination of what she could only assume was glamour charms and ordinary makeup.
Alex stared. Katherine noticed, and smiled. "Want to try?" she asked, glancing at her makeup kit.
Reluctantly Alex accepted. "I don't want anything garish," she said as she sat on the edge of Katherine's bed.
"I know," she replied. The mattress dipped as Katherine sat beside her. "That's not your style. Now, close your eyes."
Alex obeyed. As soon as her eyes fluttered closed, her other senses sharpened. She was now cognizant of the soft creak of the bedframe as Katherine shifted to properly line Alex's eyes. Their proximity allowed Alex to catch a whiff of the surprisingly rich perfume rolling off of Katherine – it was strong, but not overwhelmingly so. Alex struggled to place the scent, but as soon as an idea began to form in her mind, Katherine's presence dimmed as she stood up and announced the completion of her work.
By the time Alex opened her eyes, Katherine was already handing her a mirror while Agatha peered over her shoulder, nodding in approval. "You've gotten better at this," she informed Katherine.
Katherine smiled. "Does that mean I can't practise on you anymore?"
"The opposite," she replied, taking the seat Katherine had just vacated. "Do me next."
"Oh, you look absolutely stunning, dear," praised the mirror Alex was gripping. "Now that's what I call a star!"
Alex tuned out the false flattery with accustomed ease as she inspected her reflection. Thanks to Katherine's handiwork, her dark eyes were dramatized, first with a sharp black line and then a gold one atop of it.
"I don't want to be a star," she murmured, mostly to herself.
"Then how about the moon?" offered Agatha, her eyes pressed shut as Katherine tailored her.
Alex smiled down at her bangle. Luna'll be chuffed when she hears this.
BREAK
Once Agatha was pleased with her look, they checked their appearances one last time before finally deciding to head down. Katherine had just opened the door when she came to a halt and about-faced. "There's just one last thing…" she said, striding over to her trunk.
Sighing, Alex leaned against the doorframe as she watched her roommates fuss about once more. They had all day to do this, so of course they chose now to drag things out.
"I knew I had this in there." Katherine extracted a heavy cloak from her trunk, her black eyes alight with satisfaction.
"It won't be that cold," Alex assured her as she turned to go.
"It isn't for me." Some quick spellwork on Katherine's end altered the cloak so that it was midnight blue instead of forest green. "It's for you."
Alex mechanically accepted the altered cloak from Katherine's outstretched hands. "I… Thank you," she managed, incredibly touched by the lengths both girls had gone for her.
"You may not like the attention that'll be on you tonight, Alexandra," began Katherine, her expression somehow fierce yet sombre, "but you might as well turn this opportunity to your advantage."
Alex found herself nodding along, but it was only when they left the common room and began encountering other students did she start to see what Katherine meant. More than a handful of people would sweep their gaze over her, then do a doubletake as though there was a slight delay in recognising her. Alex could sympathise with their confusion; after seeing everyone in the same robes all the time, it took a second to place everyone in their new outfits.
Luna was still Luna no matter what, though – the glare of her yellow robes saw to that. She was walking alongside Duncan and Grant, who were sharing a similar colour scheme even if Grant decided to go the muggle route and don a suit.
Alex let out a low whistle as she approached them, her roommates hanging back as they searched for their dates from the top of the staircase. "Damn, Grant, you clean up nicely."
The corner of his mouth lifted up into a lazy smirk. "As do you."
"The power of a good accessory," acknowledged Alex as she raised her arm to show off her bangle. "Thanks again, Luna."
"She gave us similar ones," Duncan confessed in an exaggerated whisper. "We think she's marking us."
"Well, I for one am glad to be part of your cult."
"As long as you all subscribe to the Quibbler," replied Luna in a way that made they question whether she was kidding or not.
Alex shrugged, the usual movement impeded by the unfamiliar cloak wrapped around her shoulders. "Already am."
"Really, though, you look great," gushed Duncan. "Is it too late to swap dates?"
"I think Grant would rather die than even speak to Richard Parkinson."
"You have such shite taste," sighed Grant as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his suit pants.
"Trust me," scoffed Alex, "I'd much rather partner up with a blast-ended skrewt."
"At least it'd be better looking than Parkinson."
"Better mannered too," she sighed. While everyone else had been asked out to the ball in cute and creative ways, Richard had simply rocked up to her and smugly reminded them both about the favour that had been hanging over her head all summer. And to think she had still yet to pay off her immense debt to a slimier, blonder snake.
Her impatient roommates were signalling their eagerness to leave, so Alex parted ways with her Ravenclaw friends with a promise to speak during the ball. They headed to the entrance hall, where they were awaited by their…dates.
When Agatha made a beeline for Zubair's side, Alex shot him a significant look; he replied with a quick wink.
Meanwhile, Katherine was busy accepting a corsage from Blaise Zabini of all people. Behind them, a Christmas tree lit up, bathing them in a bright white light.
Grinning, Alex leaned in close to Katherine. "A younger man?" she murmured. "You cougar."
Katherine's responding smile was as frosty as the grounds outside. "Let's just say he wasn't my first choice."
"But we can say you were mine," interjected Blaise, his eyes on Alex.
She felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment – Blaise had evidently heard everything. Then she registered his confession. "You didn't ask," she pointed out, bemused.
"If I had, would you have said yes?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
"Well, no," she admitted haltingly.
"Exactly. Besides, Dick made it quite clear that you were his."
Alex's frustration at Richard's casual objectification of her person was put on hold at the sound of his nickname. "You…call him Dick?" she asked, mouth twitching into a grin.
Blaise smirked. "Apt, isn't it? Almost like his parents were expecting it."
"He's a self-fulfilling prophecy," giggled Katherine.
An arm snaked around Alex's waist, prompting a shudder to run through her. She tucked her clenched fist into the recesses of her cloak as she turned to glance at Richard, who was dressed in simple but extravagant black dress robes.
"Look at that," he said, dragging his eyes all over her from head to toe. "We match."
"You two make an excellent couple," commented Jacob as he joined them.
"No date?" Alex asked him as she ignored Richard's preening.
"Not for me; I'm a bachelor for life," he declared apathetically.
"I'm sure your parents would love to hear that," scoffed Richard.
"They'd go spare all right," acknowledged Jacob with a roll of his eyes. "But it's my life, isn't it?"
Agatha grimaced. "My parents would burn me off the family tree if I refused to continue the bloodline like that."
Zubair shook his head. "Your families are mad."
Richard's brow knitted into a scowl at that. Before he could have a go at him, the front doors of the castle's main entrance were opened. The Durmstrang students entered with Karkaroff and were led by Krum, whose arm was supporting that of Hermione's. She was dressed in cute blue robes and matching shoes, and was showing off her newly charmed teeth by smiling brightly at the onlookers, but mostly at her date. Krum's smile in turn was considerably subtler but just as warm.
That's what love looks like, Alex thought with a surprising amount of wistfulness.
"Who's that with Krum?" asked Richard like the daft moron he was.
"Hermione Granger," replied Katherine, her eyes tracking said girl as she and Krum moved towards the closed doors of the Great Hall.
"The Gryffindor m- swot? She looks…different," he said with strained neutrality.
"She looks like a million gallons," corrected Alex as she stepped outside of Richard's hold. Professor McGonagall had arrived, dressed in robes somewhat glitzier than her usual wear, and was now calling for all the champions and the partners to line up behind Krum and Hermione while everyone was permitted entry to the hall. "Come on, we need to go."
Harry and Cho got there first. The former was appearing rather gawky in his grey dress robes, which seemed to be of a vintage design – nothing from the last decade or two, that was for sure. Cho looked totally at ease in her dress robes, which celebrated her cultural background and bore striking parallels to the Chinese hanfu. Her black hair was tied back in a perfect bun, her face bare except for a touch of lip balm.
"Harry," said Alex as she approached, "I'm sorry, but your partner's look for tonight definitely blows yours out of the water."
Cho smiled while Harry, instead of rolling his eyes like she expected him to, gazed admiringly at his date. "Agreed," he replied, blushing.
So cute. Unable to help herself, Alex reached out and pinched his red cheek, laughing as he slapped her hand away indignantly.
"Seriously, though, where'd you get those robes?" she asked, withdrawing her hand. "Did Sirius buy it for you?"
"Sort of. These were his, actually, back in the day. He owled it to me a few months back after getting it tailored."
"Bit baggy around the shoulders, though, don't you think?"
He gave her a flat look in lieu of an actual reply.
"I think he looks adorable," commented Fleur as she joined the queue, her arm tucked in Cedric's. Alex idly noted the way her silver robes matched her hair as she struggled not to immediately stare at Cedric. He was…dashing, she supposed, dressed in black robes with shiny silver latches, his hair styled and pushed back differently than usual.
Alex was saved from speaking to him thanks to Professor McGonagall's intervention. Finally, they were allowed to go in.
Every other student was already seated, a dozen to a table covered in white tablecloth with a chic lantern hovering in the middle. They clapped politely as the champions and their partners followed the blue carpet to the dance floor. Alex was far too aware of the eyes on her and the weight of Richard's arm in hers even as she tried distracting herself by admiring the crystal palace décor the professors had been aiming for. There was even fake snow drifting down from the starry ceiling, disappearing of course before they could graze any of the attendees – Madam Maxime included. She, along with the other judges, were seated at the High Table where the staff usually sat (they were demoted to a circular table in front of the dance floor).
As they got closer, though, Alex noticed one of the judges was missing. Barty Crouch was absent; in his place was none other than his employee, Percy Weasley. His navy-blue dress robes were so new she could practically smell the stale air of the storage room it had just been pulled out of. Percy locked eyes with her behind his horn-rimmed glasses and pulled out the chair beside him pointedly. Taking the hint, Alex sat down beside him. At least now she had an excuse to avoid starting and maintaining conversations with Richard.
"I've been promoted," Percy declared before Alex could even get comfortable in her ornate chair. "I'm now Mr Crouch's personal assistant, and I'm here representing him."
"He skiving?" she asked, resting her elbow on the wide table as she ran an eye over the assembled crowd.
"Of course not," Percy replied, sounding highly affronted. He then informed her in more words than necessary that Crouch was ill, having been overworked ever since the international catastrophe that was the World Cup. Alex listened with half an ear for most of it, but tuned in once more Winky—or "Blinky", as Percy called her—was mentioned.
"How is she?" interjected Alex. "Winky, that is."
Percy lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. "Can't say I know – or care. The damage that house-elf has done to Mr Crouch's reputation was insurmountable."
"I'm sure you can help with that," Alex replied with a knife-like smile. She wondered if she could get away with setting his robes on fire beneath the table.
She settled for stealing one of his bread rolls instead.
In the middle of the table by his usual seat, Dumbledore peered down at his shiny golden plate, menu in hand, and said audibly, "Pork chops."
His preferred dish appeared thanks to the elves working tirelessly in the kitchens. As everyone else took Dumbledore's cue and began ordering their own servings, Alex made a mental note to visit the elves tonight and thank them. She waited for most of the hall to order before deciding on a steak and mash for herself.
As Alex ate, she eavesdropped on the conversations around her. Viktor was describing to Hermione what Durmstrang was like, but was cut off by his wary headmaster, who seemed keener on shooting down any visitors than welcoming them. But who would even want to go there? Their dingy castle literally had just four floors, and the male-to-female ratio of students was uncomfortably uneven.
Beauxbatons' student body demographic was much more equal. According to Fleur's bragging, their castle was basically a crystal palace; instead of poltergeists and tortured souls of the dead, they had wood nymphs to serenade them while they ate.
"Willingly?" asked Alex sceptically. "Don't they have anything better to do?"
"They enjoy it," answered Fleur, frowning uncertainly.
"You should ask them when you get back," Alex suggested, pouring herself some pumpkin juice. She topped up Richard's half-empty goblet out of politeness. He was too busy gawking at Fleur and her proximity to him to notice.
"Why would you speak with a dryad?" Krum asked, flummoxed.
"Why not?"
Cedric laughed. "That's such an on-brand thing for you to do."
Alex batted away the pixies fluttering in her stomach. "If I ever transfer to Beauxbatons, you'll know where to find me."
"Chatting with the portraits?"
She grinned. "Too right."
"You really do that?" asked Fleur. When Alex nodded, she adopted a speculative expression. "Such strange customs you people have."
Harry snorted. "That definitely isn't a Hogwarts thing."
Fleur merely shook her head. "I just don't understand why you would keep poltergeists around," she continued, seemingly unable to let go of that particular topic. "At Beauxbatons, they would be expelled just like that!" She slapped the table emphatically, an impolite gesture Alex was startled to see from her.
"Exorcised," Hermione correctedly quietly. When that drew their attention, she straightened and repeated herself — once in English, then again in French.
Fleur's eyes sparkled as she eagerly responded in her native tongue. "Finally," she said, switching back to English, "another person of culture."
The fact that Hermione immediately didn't pick a fight with her was a testament to how good of a mood she was in.
Unfortunately, the next topic of conversation was quidditch. It was only natural, Alex supposed, what half of the students on the table being quidditch players. Alex wasn't sure who was keener to speak with Krum tonight: his date or his fans.
She was in the middle of trying to spot all her friends from her vantage point when dinner ended by Dumbledore's hand. After standing up and asking everyone else to do the same, he waved a wrinkly hand at the room and dimmed the lanterns. Another wave caused a platform to rise in front of his seat; on it were a set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes.
"Merlin's bollocks," muttered Richard, his eyes drawn to the Great Hall entrance. "The old coot actually got the Weird Sisters to come."
Alex sighed. It was impressive and all, getting the biggest band in magical Britain to play at their school dance, but that was the problem – now she had to dance. She—and Harry, by the looks of it—were screaming internally as they filed down to the dance floor.
The Sisters played the first chord of their hit song, Sparks in the Sky, an odd choice considering its mournful tune and melancholy lyrics. Then again, thought Alex as Richard placed a hand on her waist as she held onto his shoulder, it's probably apt.
Thanks to the countless practice sessions Katherine and Agatha had forced her to undergo, Alex mentally clocked out as she allowed Richard to lead her through the opening number. She amused herself by watching Harry step on his dress robes as well as Cho's feet and tried not to cringe at the way Fleur was trying to flirt with Cedric using her eyes alone. At least Hermione and Krum were happy.
Just as the Weird Sisters reached the final chorus, other students began making their way onto the dance floor. Alex breathed a small sigh of relief as the spotlight was no longer on her. As soon as the song ended, she stepped away from Richard with a customary bow and waded through the crowd to find her friends.
Or tried to, at least.
Richard reached out and snatched her by the arm. "Where are you going? This next song is one of their best."
She shrugged his grip off of her. "Not in the mood," she said dismissively. "Dance with someone else."
Richard watched her go, perplexed and more than a little insulted. Still, he found another girl to dance with easily enough, and didn't bother stopping her again.
Alex had to dodge no less than five flailing limbs as everyone tried to keep up with the upbeat pace of the current song. She managed to cross the dance floor without any wounds and collapsed into an empty chair by the only occupied table in the entire hall.
"Why the long face?" she asked of Ron, who was sulking harder than any of the first-years forbidden from the ball. Merlin, could they whine.
"Sod off," he said sullenly, crossing his arms and sinking further into his seat.
"You're gonna wrinkle your new robes," she nagged him. "Wait, isn't this brand expensive?"
"Still got that basilisk money, don't I? Even with most of it locked up til we're of age."
She rolled her eyes, but it wasn't like she hadn't participated in her fair share of exorbitant spending recently. Maybe she should've just worn her dragonskin clothing tonight.
Alex was in the middle of debating whether she should ask Ron if he was dateless by choice when Harry and Hermione made their way over, giggling and chatting about their own respective dates with several drinks in hand.
"How's it going?" asked Harry as he doled out a bottle of butterbeer each to his best mates.
Alex popped hers open and took a sip. It warmed her up immediately. "What happened to Cho?"
"She's dancing with her friends. I needed a break anyhow," he admitted, sounding a little drained. "Who knew a ball demanded this much dancing?"
"Anyone with half a brain?"
"So not you, then."
Alex chucked her bottlecap at him; she missed.
"Children, please," laughed Hermione, sweeping a loose strand of hair away from her flushed face. "Put all this energy to good use on the dance floor instead, won't you?"
"I don't dance," Alex told her seriously.
"Then was that your doppelganger with Parkinson earlier?"
"Yeah."
Hermione rolled her eyes and switched targets, (correctly) getting the sense that Alex wouldn't be budging any time soon. "What about you, Ron? Will you be sitting here all night?"
Ron glared at the general direction of the entire student body. "What do you care?" he huffed. "Shouldn't you be out there with Vicky?"
Hermione looked at him in surprise. "What's up with you?"
"If you don't know," said Ron scathingly, "I'm not going to tell you."
Alex and Harry exchanged a pained look. Hermione continued to stare at Ron as though his grumpy face would unveil the answers to all her questions.
"Ron, wh—?"
"He's from Durmstrang!" snapped Ron, practically leaping out of his seat in sheer vehemence. "He's competing against Harry! Against Alex! Against Hogwarts! You— you're"—He spluttered as he sought the perfect way to frame Hermione's apparent crime—"fraternising with the enemy!"
Alex's brow furrowed. "Don't you have a poster of Viktor in your room?" she asked, thinking back to her brief stay at the Burrow over the summer.
"Stay out of this!"
Alex's eyebrows met her hairline in incredulity at Ron's response. Harry noticed, and promptly choked on his drink.
"No wonder he's been lurking in the library," continued Ron. He was on a roll now, the infinite depths of mind awhirl as it conjured a non-existent conspiracy regarding Viktor Krum and his ulterior motives. Neither he nor Hermione seemed to have noticed Harry's close brush with death just now. "Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang around with. He's just trying to get closer to Harry — get inside information on him, y'know?"
Harry cleared his butterbeer-drenched throat. "Actually," he croaked, "isn't that what Alex has been doing with her mate's cousin?"
"Yeah," she sighed. "It's slow-going, though. She's pretty reluctant to get on Karkaroff's bad side." Maybe Viktor could be their mole instead? Alex chanced a glance at Hermione, who was trembling with rage as she gawked at Ron. Then again, it was probably best to ask at a different, less strained time.
"Well, then, I bet he just wants help with the egg," sniffed Ron, who seemed like he was willing to die before he even thought about backing down. "I suppose you've been putting your heads together during those cosy little library sessions—"
"I'd never help him work out that egg!" gasped Hermione, outraged. "Never. How could you say something like that — I want Harry to win the tournament! He knows that. Don't you, Harry?"
"I mean," began Harry, darting a glance at the other champion seated right next to them.
Alex made a face and quietly got up from her seat. Hermione and Ron's screaming match was beginning to draw the attention of others now that the music died down as the Weird Sisters prepared for the next number. Harry scrambled to follow her example especially now that Hermione was trying to insist that the whole point of the tournament was to befriend other schools, while Ron was loudly claiming it was, in fact, about winning.
"You need new friends," Alex scoffed once they were in the peacefully quiet entrance hall, a safe distance from the pugnacious pair.
"You need a new date," retaliated Harry with a pointed look outside. Richard was being chased out of the bushes by an irate Snape, his hair and robes rumpled as a similarly disoriented witch ran after him.
Alex wrinkled her nose in disgust. Really, doing that in such a public place? What an embarrassment to the Parkinson name – not that there was much left to besmirch, anyway.
"Ugh, Snape," muttered Harry. "C'mon, let's go back inside."
Alex was halfway through a nod when a figure crept out of the dark and into the faerie lights. It was Karkaroff – and he was headed straight for Snape.
Heart hammering in her chest, Alex hastily disillusioned herself and Harry. She shushed his yelp and grabbed where she thought his arm would be. When she found it, she gripped it tight and dragged him outside.
The grounds before the entrance had undergone an unrecognisable transformation for the night. Rather than the usual green plains they were used to, there was now a rose garden with winding paths and ornamental statues; people were sitting here and there on carved benches, gazing at the starry sky or canoodling.
Though well lit, it was still considerably dark out, providing extra cover just in case Alex's spellwork wasn't sufficient. They came to a stop by the hippocampus fountain at the centre of the renovated garden just close enough to catch Snape's and Karkaroff's voices.
"…don't see what there is to fuss about, Igor," drawled Snape in that voice he reserved for his dimmer students.
"Severus, you cannot pretend this isn't happening!" hissed Karkaroff. He sounded nervous – but about what? "It's been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned here."
"Then flee," Snape said curtly. "I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts."
"And continue this farce? Severus, I implore you—"
"Wait," bit out Snape, his voice colder than the air around them. "There are students nearby."
Alex could feel Harry freeze up the same moment her own body went still. Her mind went deliriously blank as she waited those excruciating seconds for Snape to pull out his wand and strike – instead of aiming his weapon at where she and Harry were crouching over, however, he struck a nearby rosebush.
"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!" Snape snarled as a girl ran past him. "And ten points from Hufflepuff too, Stebbins! Honestly, the nerve of Dumbledore, setting up this confounded garden…" he grumbled, turning to the entrance of the castle with a dramatic swish of his cloak. "For now, Igor, I'd suggest worrying about your students and your students alone – particularly your shooting star, whose taste in witches leaves a rather…muddy taste in one's mouth."
Alex's wand grew warm in her palm at the steaming pile of bigotry Snape had just dumped out. Beside her, she could feel the magic in Harry's system go haywire; she tightened her grip on his forearm before he screwed them both over.
Karkaroff was hot on Snape's heels as they returned to the Great Hall. Alex waited a few more moments after they had ducked inside before releasing her steadily weakening hold on her charm. Visible once more, she and Harry rose from their squat, the latter rubbing his now-sore arm.
"I'm gonna hex him," Harry muttered darkly.
"I'll help," she assured him. Spotting a beetle struggling to swim in the fountain, Alex dipped her hand into the icy water and helped it out onto the paved pathway. "What were they talking about, though? What's happening? What's clearing? And what farce is Snape upholding?"
"I dunno… But I know who would."
Sirius. Alex nodded. "Later. You should probably get back to Cho."
Harry smiled at the thought of his crush. "Yeah, she's probably wondering where I am."
He was right, predictably. Cho was out in the entrance hall when they returned, and she wasn't alone.
Wow, thought Alex as she and Harry came to a stop in front of Cho and Cedric. Awks.
"Are we…interrupting?" Cedric asked with a meaningful glance between herself and Harry.
Alex stared at him as though he had just asked whether quills came from owls. "Are we interrupting?" she said, grabbing his implications and loading it into her proverbial slingshot.
Cho blushed lightly, well aware Alex knew she'd asked out Cedric weeks before only to be shot down. "Of course not," she said. "We were searching for you two—separately—and people said they spotted you outside."
"We were taking a walk," explained Harry as he power-walked over to her. "Getting some fresh air. Let's get back to dancing, yeah?"
Cho smiled, never doubting Harry for a second, and they returned to the Great Hall side-by-side.
That left the entrance hall all to Alex and Cedric.
"So," she said in the ensuing silence, "where's Fleur?"
"Entertaining some fans," he said wryly. "Eagerly, I might add."
"Well, she does look killer tonight." And every night, really.
"Maybe. I wouldn't say she was the best-looking witch at the ball, though."
"Hm, yeah," Alex murmured thoughtfully. "Hermione definitely gave her a run for her money."
Cedric's face twitched as if he was holding back a sneeze. She hoped he wasn't; those sorts of things were better out than in.
Oh. Had he meant me? The realisation hit her like a whack to the face courtesy of the Whomping Willow – or Wanking Willow, as Grant had once accidentally declared to a Beauxbatons boy. He had promptly left the Ravenclaw table, red-faced, and retired early that night instead.
"Cedric," she said, deciding it was time to face this particular dragon, "do you fancy me?"
Cedric looked as though someone had botched an attempt to transfigure his head into a tomato. He covered his embarrassment with the use of both hands. "Why are you always so direct?" he murmured, anguished. "Course, it's one of the things I like about you, but still."
"You're an awful flirt, you know that?" she laughed.
"I'm honestly a very good one. Just not with you. Have you hexed me?"
"If I had, you'd know it."
"I wanted to ask you to the dance," he said, sobering as he lowered his hands and looked her in the eye. "That day at the owlery? And then I'd tell you during the last dance of the night."
Alex executed a simple tempus. It was only 9pm. "You still have three hours," she joked. "But I have to tell you – I don't dance. Not even for you."
He frowned. "But you would for Parkinson?"
"Hell no," she scoffed. "That was mandatory – if anything, that was for Professor McGonagall. I don't give a rat's arse about Richard, but to willingly dance with you in front of everyone like that… People would talk." They would speculate, knowingly, and the sheer mortification of being vulnerable in such a way made Alex feel naked.
"Who cares about people?" asked Cedric, baffled. "They always talk. They talked when you and I first became friends, remember?"
"Vividly." She rolled her eyes. "But that was different?"
"How?" he pressed. Cedric could be as stubborn as a griffin when he wanted to be. It was vexing.
Alex pressed her eyes closed as weighed the pros and cons of taking the time to explain herself to him. "Back then we were just dumb kids doing dumb kid stuff. Now our words and actions have impact – my name is on the map thanks to this whole tournament, and I don't want to deal with dating or whatever while everyone is scrutinising my every move." That whole love triangle Skeeter was trying to create between herself, Hermione and Harry was weird enough.
"Not to mention your dad," she added.
Cedric's shoulders, which had begun to slump during her tirade, snapped up again in a knotted bunch. "What about him?" he asked a tad too sharply.
Alex winced. "You really think he'd be okay with this? I'm basically a- a Death Eater in his eyes."
"Don't say that," he said in a hushed, anxious tone. "That's not true."
She shrugged. "The truth often matters little."
He peered down at his polished shoes. "I take it this is a rejection, then?"
"Yes and no." Alex was equal parts fond and horrified by the speed with which Cedric raised his head, his eyes practically sparkling with hope. "I like you, Cedric. I'm not sure in what way, but…"
"So there's a chance," he surmised breathlessly. He clung to her tentative words like a lifeline.
"I guess?" she offered, cringing. I would die for you, she thought but didn't say. She'd die for a lot of people, honestly.
Cedric's responding smile was so bright it almost pained her to look directly at her. "Let's head back inside. We don't have to dance," he assured her hastily. "Just sit and chat."
She laughed. "The usual, then."
"The usual."
"Sure. But I've gotta use the bathroom first," she said, excusing herself. "You go ahead and dance your pants off or whatever."
Not that he had any pants on in the first place. That was the beauty of robes.
The lively dance music ceased to ring in Alex's ears the further she got from the Great Hall. The rest of the castle seemed lifeless; everyone being, living or otherwise, was at the ball. Alex was no stranger to wandering the corridors late at night, but she never felt alone like she did now.
She shook herself out of it. That conversation between Snape and Karkaroff had her on edge, that was all. As a distraction, she conjured up several small balls of lights that floated around her like magical fireflies.
When Alex heard signs of life again, she thought she would be relieved. Instead, an abhorrent mix of dread and horror welled up within her when she recognised the muted sounds of protest for what they were. Alex sprinted around the corner of the dim corridor and was confronted with the sight of a fellow Hogwarts student slumped against another, groaning softly as she tried to pull her arm away from the shoulders of the person helping her along.
"Are you all right?" she asked cautiously as she slowly approached.
A bloke with close cropped hair stopped leering at the disoriented witch, staring at Alex like a deer caught in headlights. "We're fine," he said forcefully. With maximum effort, he smoothed out his features to appear unassuming. "She's just a total lightweight – someone snuck in some firewhiskey and now she's feeling it. All she needs is to go to bed and she'll be right."
"But you aren't allowed to go up to the girls' dorm," Alex said slowly, her wand already in hand. "The infirmary will do."
He met her gaze. Then he flicked his eyes to the empty hallway behind her as though measuring his chances. His mouth tightened, and that was the only indication of his conclusion Alex received before his unoccupied arm swung up, wand in hand.
Adrenaline had been coursing through Alex's system long before then. Her wand was already pointed at him by the time his arm completed its arc, her magic rushing from her core and into her wand-arm before he even parted his lips to utter a spell.
The Stunner that shot out from the tip of her wand was a bright, angry crimson reminiscent of a rash. It barrelled into her opponent with startling ferocity, throwing him all the way down the other end of the corridor with a sickly crunch of bone against stone. He was lying face down, his nose probably broken, and barely moved aside from the rise and fall of his torso. He was down and out but alive.
A pained moan from the ground reminded Alex of the girl's presence. Without the predator to prop her up, she'd been dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Alex rushed to her side, concern replacing the fury warming her from within.
"Are you okay?" she murmured, kneeling by the witch's side.
"No," she admitted, struggling to right herself. "Wasn't firewhiskey. Was a potion."
Even with her slurred voice and rough sentences, Alex got the message: she had been drugged.
"Shit," muttered Alex. "We need to get you to Madam Pomfrey."
She spared a glance and a Full Body-Bind for the comatose wizard before considering the safest and most convenient way to get both parties to the medical wing simultaneously. Alex was just about to start dragging her victim like a sack of potatoes against the ground when a stunted tapping alerted her to Moody's presence.
"Need a hand, Fortescue?" he grunted, surveying the scene with his magical eye; his natural one remained zeroed in on her.
Alex relinquished her grip on the unconscious wizard with little fanfare. "Did you just get here?" she asked, making no effort to disguise the suspicion seeping into her voice. At this point in the night she didn't care about keeping up appearances or propriety; she was still on edge, the shadows of the corridors darkening and deepening the more she looked at them.
Moody grunted out what she assumed was an affirmation. "Spotted some magical activity from the next hallway over," he explained, his blue eye whirling about as if to punctuate his claim. "On a night like this, patrols are more important than ever. Constant vigilance!" he barked.
"Um, okay," she muttered to herself once she controlled her flinch.
Alex reached down to help the drugged witch up before realising with a flash of anger that she was knocked out. Holy shit, she thought, a muscle in her jaw twitching, he really took no chances with her.
Despair clawed at Alex's throat, so ardently it took her three tries to get a working levicorpus on the other witch. Her body drifted into the air horizontally, pulled along by an invisible, intangible rope as Alex followed Moody to the medical wing. Fortunately they ran into no one along the way.
Madam Pomfrey accepted the situation with grim shock. Her reaction gratified Alex; it meant incidents such as these weren't common. Unless they were, and just had never been reported or discovered.
Alex forced herself to breathe evenly as Madam Pomfrey purged the girl free of whatever drug was plaguing her. "What'll happen to him?" she asked Moody, darting a glance at the levitating wizard.
"Professor Dumbledore will have to be made aware of this," he replied gruffly. "If his victim wants to press charges, the aurors will get involved." His tone of voice indicated he doubted she'd actually go that path.
"If?" she repeated, confused. "Why wouldn't she?"
Moody peered down at her levelly. "Victims of assaults like these rarely come out unscathed once they pursue legal recourse. There isn't much evidence to pin on him, so it'll be a matter of he-says-she-says. McGaffin here is a minor in the eyes of wizarding law, so it's not like he'll be tossed into Azkaban even if he is found guilty."
"But that's…" She bit her lip. "So we do nothing?"
"Oh, rest assured, Miss Fortescue, something will be done," Moody promised her darkly. "Be it officially or otherwise."
Alex relaxed, reassured by the threat of a promise Moody was offering her. "Okay, professor."
Moody nodded curtly. His blue eye rolled in its socket. "How are you faring with the egg?" he asked almost conversationally.
"Oh. Um, not very well. My friends say I might have to fight a banshee."
"I've heard the egg, and it sounds nothing like a banshee – your ears would bleed otherwise." Moody shook his head dismissively. "In fact, it's the sound of a creature you'd never find above ground at all."
Alex held her Defence professor's gaze as she attempted to sort through his words. "I…see. Thank you."
She was still staring after him as he left the infirmary, unconscious student in tow. Tomorrow she was going to take out the golden egg from the depths of her trunk and give it a much-needed wash in the prefects' bath. Right now, though, she was staying here in the medical wing where she could watch over the sickly witch until she felt better. Everything else could wait.