Chapter Forty-Nine
Try-outs
Like most Hogwarts students, Alex was anticipating her first Defence lesson of the year. It was always interesting to see how the newest member of the staff would wrestle control over the class and demonstrate why, exactly, they had been hired. This year Umbridge made it quite clear that the Ministry had placed her here to meddle and snoop, but that didn't preclude her ability as a teacher just yet. Everyone thought Lockhart would be a riveting teacher and look how that turned out.
Everyone's timetables were passed down during breakfast. Typically the Heads of Houses handed them out themselves, but no one ever accused Snape of following the script. Alex shuffled through the pile until she found one with her name on it. When she saw what she had first thing after breakfast, she beamed.
"All right, place your bets," said Jacob, grabbing a napkin to scribble on. "What kind of teacher do you think our latest professor will be?"
"The awful kind," drawled Katherine as she sliced into her omelette.
"You'll have to be more specific than that."
She chewed thoughtfully. "We're going to learn absolutely nothing."
"I think we'll learn something," argued Agatha. "All these years we've at least learnt one thing from each professor."
"A glowing review," Alex remarked dryly. "No wonder we're the best magical school in Europe." And only.
"What about you, Fortescue?" asked Jacob as he wrote down the others' responses. "What's your bet?"
Alex gazed up at Umbridge, who was doing little to hide the fact that she was eavesdropping on the professors beside her. "She'll probably teach us the basics. Disarming, Shield, et cetera. Second-year shite."
"Language," tutted Katherine.
"You people are so cynical," Zubair declared with a shake of his head. "Why, I believe she'll be our best Defence professor yet."
They all paused to stare at him. He grinned, clearly taking the piss.
"It's your money," sighed Jacob as he folded up the napkin. "You bet on Delacour last year, and she came dead last."
As always, Alex's expression tightened at the reference of the tournament. She excused herself under the pretence of greeting her Ravenclaw mates.
The first thing Grant said when she sat down was, "Show me your license."
Amused, she obliged. While Duncan and Luna ooh'ed and ahh'ed over it, Grant yanked out his wand and began his attempts to duplicate it.
Alex snorted. "Just pass the test, mate."
"The test is harder than the O.W.L.s," hissed Grant as he screwed up his first try. "Besides, people get fake IDs all the time."
"Yeah, to get drunk," she snorted. "Not to go for joy-rides."
"Tomato, potato."
"That's not— Whatever. Idiot," she added beneath her breath.
"What d'you have first period?" asked Duncan as he reached for a muffin.
"Defence. You?"
"Transfiguration." Duncan grimaced. "You have the Senior Undersecretary first thing on a Monday morning?"
"The what?" she asked, baffled.
"Umbridge. She's the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic," Duncan clarified patiently. "She's basically Fudge's right-hand man. Woman. Person."
If anything, Alex was even more confused. "Why is it undersecretary and not just secretary?"
"It's a conspiracy to cover the third and most coveted position," declared Luna. "The oversecretary."
Alex nodded soberly. "I choose to accept that as an undeniable fact."
"That's not how that works," Grant told her from where he was still hunched over her license.
"No one asked you."
The bell rang moments later, forcing students out of the Great Hall and off to class. Like every other year, Alex was delayed by lost first-years. With well-versed ease, she provided them with directions and hoped for the best. As it was, she barely made it, joining the end of the line just as they trickled into the DADA classroom.
Professor Umbridge was standing by her desk, watching them with an odd smile on her face as they sat down. Normally it took them a while to settle down, especially since the holidays had just ended, but under the new teacher's watchful eye, all conversation withered immediately.
"Good morning!" she chirped with the brightness only an adult could muster this early in the day.
Still half-asleep, the class murmured a lethargic response.
"Tut, tut," said Umbridge, her smile still in place. "That won't do. When I say good morning, you should all reply with good morning, Professor Umbridge!"
There was a brief pause as everyone collectively wondered if she was being serious.
"Once more, please. Good morning, class!"
Yes. Yes, she was.
"Good morning, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her with the enthusiasm of a dead slug.
"There, now," Umbridge said sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."
While her students exchanged their wands for their quills, Umbridge withdrew her own wand from her handbag-also pink-and tapped it against the blackboard. The title Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles appeared, followed by three course aims:
Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.
Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.
Always one to cut corners, Alex re-wrote the list in a more efficient manner.
Defensive magic principles
Recognise when can be used LEGALLY
Context for use
The more she stared at the three lines, the more confused Alex grew. She nudged Katherine with her elbow.
"These all say the same thing, don't they?" she asked in a low voice. Aside from the scratching of her peers' quills, the classroom was silent.
Katherine spared an amused glance at Alex's shorthand. "Essentially. I told you we won't be learning anything this year," she added to Agatha, who was sitting on her other side.
Agatha sighed in resignation.
When everyone had copied down Umbridge's three redundant aims, she asked, "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"
The class grunted their assent.
"I think we'll try that again," said Umbridge in that same saccharine tone as before. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply yes, Professor Umbridge, or no, Professor Umbridge. So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"
Alex screamed silently as the class responded with a marginally louder "Yes, Professor Umbridge."
I'm going to kill this woman. The vicious thought was so sudden and obtrusive Alex almost snapped her quill in two out of shock.
"Good," said Umbridge. "I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one: 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk."
Whatever reluctance existed within Alex died out of existence with each minute they spent doing absolutely nothing. Surely they weren't going to just read for an entire period?
As the hour continued to crawl by, Alex concluded that, yes, that was exactly what they were going to do.
That night during dinner, there was an amazing rumour flying around; word was that Harry Potter had lost the plot during the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw DADA lesson during fourth period and had had a whole screaming match with the new professor. With every retelling she overheard the story grew more and more fantastical to the point where Alex decided to clear the air and hear it from the direct source.
She ambushed the trio outside the Great Hall and lead them to an empty classroom. "Apparently you called Umbridge a hideous toad and hoped Voldemort would strike her down before the year's up," Alex told them wryly.
"This school," huffed Hermione.
"Don't say his name!" hissed Ron.
"She doesn't even believe he's back, so that threat would've meant nothing to her," muttered Harry. "But no, that's not what happened. We started asking whether or not we'd actually be casting any spells in her class—the answer's no, obviously—and then she acted like we were ridiculous for wanting to protect ourselves in any way, because Voldemort's resurrection is a tall tale me and Dumbledore have been spreading to cause unnecessary panic." The derision dripping from Harry's words were so acidic Alex almost flinched.
She frowned instead. "That freak knows there are threats beside Death Eaters, right? Our literal schoolmates could curse us if they felt like it."
"Yeah, but clearly our theoretical knowledge will suffice in that case. Her words, not mine," he said when Alex opened her mouth to provide a rebuttal.
"So that bit about you getting detention is also false?"
"Unfortunately not," sighed Hermione. She cast a disapproving glance at Harry that went largely ignored. "Upset at his outburst, Professor Umbridge sent Harry to Professor McGonagall's office and wants him in detention with her tomorrow evening."
"And Professor McGonagall was cool with that?" Alex asked sceptically.
Ron grinned proudly. "She gave him a biscuit."
"A what?"
"A biscuit," Ron repeated slowly, as though she had taken too many quaffles to the head. "But she also warned him to be careful, because that Umbridge woman's here to spy on us for Fudge."
"She kinda made that obvious with her speech last night," Alex pointed out.
"Did she? I wasn't listening."
"Right," she snorted. "Well, let me know how detention goes. Maybe she'll have you massaging her feet."
Gagging, Harry kicked her shin. "Don't say that," he groaned.
Alex laughed.
Approximately twenty-four hours later, there wasn't a single trace of levity in her demeanour. She was out on her scheduled patrol when she took a detour to Gryffindor tower. According to Violet the portrait guard, Harry had yet to return. Seeing how it was nearing midnight, Alex felt concerned enough to abandon her routine for good and head to the Defence Against the Dark Arts staffroom. The location never changed despite the temporary nature of its users.
Alex was just rounding the corner when Harry himself ran into her – literally. Biting back an expletive, she straightened herself before she could trip over. A witty comment was on the tip of her tongue before she noticed the fear etched into her friend's features.
"What's wrong?" she asked, wide-eyed with concern. "What did she do to you?"
"Nothing," Harry replied with a speed borne out of defensiveness. "Lines. Just lines."
"What did she make you write?" Alex's eyes scanned him from head to toe in search of some evidence as to why he looked as if he'd seen – well, not a ghost, but perhaps a demon. A demon who favoured pink, perhaps…
Harry scowled, the expression chasing away the last remnants of panic from his face. "I must not tell lies," he recited sourly.
Alex half-expected Harry's nose to elongate. She wouldn't put it past Umbridge to jinx him like that. "That's not too bad," she said hesitantly. "Is she making you come back?"
A curt nod. "Tomorrow. And the next day. And the next."
"We could poison her tea," she joked half-seriously.
Harry's lips twitched. "We'll see. Night, Alex," he said, walking past her.
"Night," she murmured, watching his tense frame disappear into the dark hallways.
"I've been thinking," Hermione said later that week as they reclined by the lake. The sun was out today, probably for the last time in months, as even the most stubborn person was forced to relinquish all memory of summer. "We should start knitting things for the house-elves. Hats and the like."
"We?" Alex repeated, amused. She ran her fingers through the tips of the grass as she thought over Hermione's proposal. After her repeated interactions with Kreacher, her righteous friend had come to the conclusion that he was the product of his awful circumstances, and so he and his ilk deserved to be treated humanely - and that meant liberating them from the lifestyle they'd been indoctrinated into enjoying for the past few centuries. "I'm assuming you'll have Dobby hand them out? If they know it's from a human, they'd sooner burn your gifts than accept them."
Hermione's nostrils flared like a bull about to charge. "It's not right, the way we treat them! They're autonomous beings, stronger than the average wizard, and they should be able to move freely."
"I'm not saying you're wrong," Alex began gently, "but hundreds of years of a certain lifestyle can't be changed overnight, especially when it's being forced onto them. They should be the ones to take the first step, like Dobby. If you want to help them unlearn what they've been taught, he's your best bet."
Hermione deflated at her reasonable argument. "So you'll help, then?" she asked brightly.
Alex snorted. She got her good. "Yes, yes," she conceded, smiling as she closed her eyes and tried to soak in as much Vitamin D as possible. "We can even join the Knitting Club."
"Aren't you busy with Charms?"
She hummed in response. "Yeah, but compared to last year, I've loads more time." N.E.W.T.s were still awhile away, and without another deadly tournament to participate in, Alex found she had more leeway than she knew what to do with, even if she had to pick up the slack when it came to prefect duties. "Who would've thought Draco and Pansy would abuse their authority and shirk their responsibilities?" she mused sardonically.
Hermione spent the next ten minutes ranting about the stain her fellow fifth-year prefects were leaving on their otherwise spotless reputation.
"Didn't you say Ron was too shy to reprimand his own brothers?" Alex asked, opening her eyes to peer at Hermione dubiously.
"Well, yes," she admitted reluctantly. "It's any wonder he keeps letting Fred and George get away with experimenting on impressionable first-years. Honestly, they're going to get someone killed these days with their daft sweets."
Alex elected not to disclose the nosebleed-inducing lollies currently in her pocket.
"How's Harry?" she asked, wisely changing the subject. "He seemed pretty shaken after his first detention."
Hermione bit her lip - a tell that signalled she was about to lie. "He's taking it hard. Professor Umbridge keeps making him skip quidditch try-outs, and Angelina-the new captain-isn't pleased. On the bright side, Ron made the team."
Alex whistled, impressed. "Prefect and quiddtich? He's gonna be busy." Not to mention the upcoming O.W.L.s…
"It's not as if he does his homework anyway," Hermione said with a snort.
"That's cool. By the time he's done with this season he won't have a single brain cell to spare."
"Somehow, that isn't very reassuring."
Alex kicked her legs out in front of her. "Your House was the first to start their try-outs, y'know," she said, tapping her feet together. "Hufflepuff only had theirs yesterday." She had sat in, too, despite being from a different House – according to Cedric's teammates, she was there to spy on them, to which he replied dryly, "She's my girlfriend, not a spy." That distracted them pretty thoroughly.
"I thought you were anti-quidditch?" said Hermione, frowning lightly.
Alex shrugged. "What can I say? Cedric looks fit in his quidditch uniform. Besides, it's not like they were playing any actual games yesterday. Speaking of which," she added, straightening, "what ever happened to you and Viktor?"
Hermione squirmed. "I did end up visiting him in the summer, but that spark was no longer there," she murmured, rubbing the back of her neck.
"Damn. You could've had it all," lamented Alex.
Hermione rolled her eyes even as she smirked. "I don't want it all. The baggage attached to such a big name should be enough to plant the seeds of doubt in anyone's mind."
"Maybe," she said, watching as a group of Slytherins walked by, "but some people would do anything to get what they want."
Millie was trailing behind her peers as they headed towards the castle, broom in hand. Head bowed and shoulders tense, she seemed upset. Concerned, Alex said bye to Hermione and hurried after her underclassman.
It took three calls of her name for Millie to hear her. She paused right before the steps leading into the castle, her expression clearing for a moment when she noticed Alex rushing over.
"What's up?" asked Alex, slightly winded. "You look…stressed."
Millie's face tightened as she frowned. "I was practising my flying with some of the others," she replied, nodding towards the group that was quickly disappearing from their view. "They're good. Really good." The handle of her battered broom creaked within her grip.
"Oh." Alex shuffled her weight from foot to foot as she struggled to come up with a half-decent response. "Didn't you say you were the best flyer in your year?"
"Yeah, back when I was a firstie," she snorted. "Things have changed. I've stopped flying as frequently, and I gained a not insignificant amount of weight too."
"That matters?" asked Alex, genuinely surprised.
Millie scoffed. "Of course. The heavier the flyer, the more your speed decreases. It's basic physics."
"But some of the best quidditch players in the world aren't exactly light," Alex pointed out, nonplussed.
"You mean Beaters and Keepers? Those players use their size to their advantage by knocking others off their brooms and blocking goals. Everyone else needs to be as fast as possible."
"So why not just try out for those positions?"
The way Millie's eyes flashed with anger told Alex she had just said the wrong thing. "That's what people keep telling me, but I don't want to be a Beater or Keeper. There's no finesse or grace involved, just brute strength. My ma was a Chaser, and that's the path I want to take."
Alex blinked rapidly, having never seen her friend so passionate about…well, anything, really. From irritation to amusement, Millie always expressed herself with a mildness some mistook for maturity.
"Work harder, then," said Alex after a moment of deliberation. "Try to beat your own record every time you fly. Be flexible; outmanoeuvre your competition. And if you don't make it in this year, there's always the next."
Millie nodded in acknowledgement of Alex's advice, her face no longer flushed with emotion. "Thanks, Alex."
"My pleasure. Also, chin up," she added as they made their way towards the common room, "with Flint gone, you and the other girls have a higher chance of joining the team."
"Don't count your owls before they're delivered," muttered Millie. "No one wants females on their team. Flint was just the most open about it."
"What? Why?"
Millie shot her a look so bewildered it was borderline offensive. "Because of our monthly preoccupations. We can't exactly train and play like a foolproof team if some of us are out of commission several days a year."
"There are potions for that kind of stuff, though," Alex reminded her.
Millie's eyes widened as she read between the lies. "You mean you actually take it?"
"Um, yeah. Why wouldn't I?" No periods for the rest of her life? Who wouldn't want that?
"How many have you taken? Don't you dare say more than one."
Alex smiled coldly. "More than one."
Groaning, Millie massaged the bridge of her nose with her free hand. "I get taking one of those potions, for when you have an exam or whatever, but stopping your cycle completely more than once means your womb is all but dead, Alexandra. You'll never be able to have children."
"Oh no," she said indifferently. "I'll never have the privilege of having a tiny human shred my insides as it crawls out of my hole after nine months of hell. Whatever will I do?"
Millie's voice lowered a fraction. "Do your parents know?" she asked gravely.
"Ew, no. That's none of their business." The mere thought of informing her parents about such an intimate fact of her life had Alex shuddering in disgust, much to the confusion of a bypassing Ravenclaw.
Millie grimaced. "There'll be hell to pay when they realise they won't be having any grandchildren."
"Adoption's always on the table," she reasoned with a shrug. "And why should I be worried about that? It's not like my parents look at me and see a vessel for their future grandchildren. If they want babies that badly, they can make another one themselves."
Sighing, Alex stretched her neck to work out the kinks that had developed as her conversation with Millie grew less and less casual. "Why do you even care so much?" she wondered softly. "It's not like you're pureblood; you aren't pressured to fill the ranks like some of our Housemates are."
"I'm still a Bulstrode," Millie reminded her somewhat testily. "Our lineage may no longer be pure but our name still holds weight in this world. Besides, if I play my cards right, my children can still be pure."
It took all of Alex's willpower to keep her from dropping her head into her hands. Who cared about blood this badly? Millie wasn't even a pureblood and yet she was so deeply entrenched in their nonsensical beliefs.
Originally, pureblood had been a term used to describe those who never had a muggle or muggle-born ancestor, yet even that logic was flawed; most academics believed such a heritage was impossible. Nowadays, the term was tossed around more liberally so that it could be used to label an individual whose parents and grandparents were neither muggle nor muggle-born. But what was even the point? The circumstances of one's birth should not be inherently praiseworthy. The sooner everyone realised that, the quicker they could progress as a society.
Both disappointed and surprised by Millie's myopia, Alex broke away from her side under the façade of needing to borrow a book from the library. She didn't even get halfway there before running into Hermione again, this time with Ron and Harry in tow.
"Just how small is this bloody school?" she muttered, exasperated.
"Alex!" Ron said brightly. "What d'you say we swap shifts for patrol? You do tomorrow and I'll do tonight?"
"Why?" she couldn't help but ask warily.
"Quidditch practice. I mean, I'm glad I made it and all, but Angelina is just as demanding as Oliver used to be."
Alex shrugged. "Then sure."
"Thank you," he sighed. "You're a life-saver."
She nodded austerely. "I know."
Hermione nudged Ron. "Show her the letter."
Disgruntled, Ron shoved a hand into the pocket of his robes and rummaged around until he unearthed a crumpled ball of parchment. "There we go," he said, proudly depositing the rubbish into her awaiting hand.
"Thanks," Alex said dryly as she began smoothing it out. It was a letter from Percy, the most pro-government of Ron's brothers. Contact between him and his family had dropped considerably since he moved out. Worried that he'd been brainwashed by his employers, Alex made sure to check on him from time to time - apparently that sentiment went both ways, for even though Percy's letter was to Ron, he was enquiring about her as well. Alex would've been touched if only the topic had been about anything but Harry's growing infamy.
A quick glance at the Gryffindors' expressions—poorly concealed anxiety from Harry, open outrage from Ron, indecision from Hermione—convinced Alex that they had jumped the gun.
"Do you hate your brother, Ron?" Alex asked, returning her gaze to the creased letter.
Ron spluttered for a few seconds before forcing out a vehement denial. "He may be the world's biggest git, but he's still my brother," he explained squeakily.
Alex nodded, accepting his response. "That's good. I imagine he feels the same about you, misguided though he may be. Don't take it too hard, Harry," she added, taking in his glower. "For all we know, Percy may be writing this against his own will. At least he gave us some pretty important updates regarding the Ministry."
"That's what I thought too!" added Hermione. "He all but wrote that Fudge and Umbridge are keeping tabs on Harry, and that Dumbledore may no longer be in charge of the school much longer…"
"As much as it pains me to admit it, there is no Hogwarts without Dumbledore. As long as he's alive, this school is his."
The next morning, the front page of the Daily Prophet announced that Umbridge was appointed High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, which Alex figured was code for 'Nosy Bint'. And boy, was she right.
Hogwarts' first ever High Inquisitor spent the entirety of the second week of term observing every professor in their element, her presence as loud and obtrusive as a banshee. She would interrupt every other minute, directing pointed questions at both teacher and student alike. Though she felt guilty about it, Alex was privately glad Hagrid was away on Order business; Umbridge didn't seem like she'd warm up to half-giant, no matter how friendly he was.
As she always did whenever she thought about the Order of the Phoenix, Alex grew moody. She'd only been back at school for two weeks and already she was growing complacent. There was no substantial news coming in their way even with Sirius's sporadic updates, and what with the sheltered and secluded nature of the castle, there were moments where Alex forgot there was even a war brewing at all.
To counteract such a placid mentality, she reignited her motivation from the holidays and resumed her training, both magical and alike. Defensive magic was much easier to practise when you had a partner, so whenever she could, she roped in her friends for a mock-duel in an abandoned classroom. Last year, no one had been interested in sparring with her, but seeing how their actual DADA professor less useful than a literal flobberworm, Alex found it all too easy to locate an eager study buddy.
"How are you so good at non-verbal spells already?" panted Duncan after she wiped the floor with him and Grant simultaneously. On their own they were decent duellists, but together they posed an actual challenge.
Alex smiled like a cat who had gotten the canary. "Practise makes perfect," she all but sang.
Grant growled in response to her smug attitude. "You think you're so great, aren't you? Well, you are!"
The three of them shared a laugh.
"Seriously," sighed Duncan as he collapsed onto the floor in exhaustion. "We've learnt more in these little sessions than we have all term."
"It's only been two weeks," Grant reminded him, but they all knew that was a weak argument. The reason for their ineptitude had to do with something more tangible than time.
Duncan scrambled up to face them. "You should start your own duelling club!" he told Alex.
She hoped her flat expression signalled exactly how unimpressed with that idea. "And risk being expelled by the High Inquisitor? No, thanks."
"More like Haughty Idiot," mumbled Grant as he wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Only if you get caught," Duncan retorted almost giddily, "which you won't."
"I will if I start a whole club, no matter how clandestine it is. These small sessions with you and my other mates is enough."
"And the rest of the school? You don't think they deserve to learn to defend themselves either?"
Alex threw her hands out in front of her as if they alone could protect her from Duncan's growing irritation. "I'm not stopping them! If they want to duel amongst themselves, they can. They don't need me for that."
"But they need some guidance. And like it or not, you're the best duellist in our year, maybe even our whole school."
Alex turned to Grant for support. He offered a mere shrug. "He's right, y'know."
"Traitor," she hissed.
He shrugged again, smirking. "Gotta have my man's back."
"I'm your man now."
"Please," he scoffed. "As if I could date someone as short as you. People might mistake me for a giant."
"I'm average!"
"You wish you were average!"
Duncan intervened with a sigh before their playful argument could grow serious. "Children. Please. Back to the topic at hand." He levelled Alex with a look so serious it sobered her immediately. "One of my cousins started school this year. He's in Gryffindor. More importantly, he's muggleborn. At this rate, he and the other firsties won't even know how to cast a basic expelliarmus. If we don't help them, who will?"
Alex hung her head, heavy as it was with guilt. Duncan was right, of course. She had the knowledge and power to help others who couldn't help themselves, so it was her responsibility to do so. If she turned her backs on them, she might as well be handing them to the Death Eaters on a silver platter.
"Fine," she said, resigned. "But if I get caught, I'm dragging both of you down with me."
"No, you won't," replied Duncan, smiling gently.
She sighed. He was right again.
They spent the rest of their Saturday planning. The who, when, and where were settled after some debate. To Alex's chagrin, any Slytherin other than herself was prohibited from joining on the off-chance they would be compromised and snitch to either Umbridge or their own parents. It was a security risk, they argued. Alex countered by reminding them there were blood purists in every other House—except perhaps Gryffindor—and that any student had the potential to tell on them regardless.
"All right," Grant conceded wearily. "But only the snakes you trust. Invitations cannot be extended to their friends."
"Fine," she bit out, "but that rule applies to everyone regardless of their House."
"Yeah, yeah. Should we put a limit on the maximum amount of people?"
"Nah," said Duncan, "just split the groups. They learn the same things, but the fewer people congregating in one spot, the better."
"So now I have to teach more than one party?" Alex asked, exasperated.
Duncan clapped her on the back. "We'll help you out. I'm not a bad teacher myself."
"I suppose you can't be worse than Umbridge," she muttered.
"That's the spirit!"
Grant brushed the feather of his quill against his chin as the gear turned in his head. "That's not a bad idea. You think Potter would be interested in teaching the other group?"
"Harry?" Alex's eyebrows met in confusion. "Why?"
"Well, he was the second Hogwarts champion; he's proven his mettle in all three tasks. And if what he and Dumbledore said is right, he's gone toe-to-toe with You-Know-Who and lived to tell the tale."
Honestly, all those feats had been successful not so much due to skill as sheer dumb luck. Alex didn't voice her objections, however; she didn't want to come off as jealous and bitter even though she totally should've won the tournament. Fucking Crouch Jr, she thought acidly.
Instead, she said, "He's gonna refuse."
"Just try," coaxed Duncan. "If he's anything like you, he'll want to help."
"No."
"Okay," said Alex, taking a bite of the toastie the house-elves had made upon her request. "I tried."
Harry, having had visibly geared up for a long and arduous argument, deflated at her abrupt concession. "Okay," he mumbled, echoing her. He took a sip of his pumpkin juice and watched the elves prepare for dinner. "Y'know, Hermione put up a fight much more than you."
"A fight about what?" she asked after swallowing.
"About our own duelling club. Looks like you guys had the same idea."
"Great minds do think alike," reasoned Alex with a sage nod.
Harry rolled his eyes. "I kind of went off at them," he admitted in a quiet voice after a few minutes. "Ron and Hermione. They kept talking me up and referencing everything that happened last year, even though I only got by because I had help. I can't teach anyone anything."
"Maybe," allowed Alex as she finished the last of her snack. "But together, we could. And I'm sure Hermione and Ron have plenty to contribute. Like I told Duncan yesterday, we can't be any worse than Umbridge."
"That's the lowest bar in the history of Hogwarts." And that was saying something.
"Just think about it," said Alex. She lightly slapped Harry's hand and left him in the kitchen to brew.
To everyone's surprise but hers, she received a note from a nondescript owl with a simple message written on it: I'll do it.
Smiling, Alex kept the owl waiting as she wrote her response listing her terms and conditions in full. She made extra sure to emphasise that, if her Housemates were barred, then she would ditch the rest of them and form her own Defence club. The threat must've been effective, for when they all met in an unused classroom the following week, they didn't dispute her ultimatum, much to her immense gratification.
As per Hermione's instructions, people trickled into the classroom in twos or threes over the span of half an hour. The meeting commenced at two on the dot, with Alex locking the door with a simple charm ten minutes in.
All in all, she counted at least thirty people in the room. They were all seated behind the dusty desks laid out by herself and the trio, who were standing at the front like a quartet of inexperienced teachers. From his seat directly behind Stephen and his sister, Duncan waved at her cheerfully from his seat beside Grant and Luna. She waved back with a small grin, which turned sly as she spotted Ginny beside her newly acquired boyfriend Michael Corner. Cedric was seated on the right side of the classroom, surrounded by a small sea of Hufflepuffs. They exchanged smiles before turning to Hermione, who seemed unnerved by the crowd watching her.
After stammering through a greeting, she shot pleading looks to Harry and Ron, who were flanking her. Alex stepped forward from the far right, instantly commanding the attention of the mock-class.
"Who here thinks Umbridge is a rubbish teacher?" she asked, her loud voice clearly cutting through the classroom. Her lips twitched into a smirk as hands flew up, some hesitant (the younger students), some immediate (what appeared like the entirety of the Gryffindor quidditch team). "Good. I'd be surprised if you said otherwise, to be honest. Since we're learning nothing of worth in that Ministry mole's class, we've decided to take things in our own hands. We're here to form a duelling club of sorts."
Emboldened by Alex's introduction, Hermione took things from there. "We'll be learning how to defend ourselves properly. Not just theory but the real spells—"
"You want to pass your Defence Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?" drawled a Ravenclaw boy.
"Of course I do," Hermione said, unfazed. "But I want more than that. I want to be properly trained in Defence because…because Lord Voldemort's back."
Alex rolled her eyes as the room reacted violently. Funny how they were so terrified by Voldemort's mere name, when the only person in the room who had actually faced the Dark Lord gave no indication he was frightened at all.
"That's the plan, anyway," Hermione finished in a mumble. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to—"
But a blonde Hufflepuff boy couldn't seem to wait to ask his question. "Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" he asked aggressively.
"Well, Dumbledore believes it—"
"You mean, Dumbledore believes him," he scoffed, nodding at Harry.
"Who're you?" interjected Ron, scowling down at the Hufflepuff git.
"Zacharias Smith," said the boy, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back."
For the first time that afternoon, Harry spoke up. "What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?" he asked, staring straight at Smith. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."
The group watched silently, entranced by the spat that was about to break out. Scowling, Smith opened his mouth to refute Harry's argument, when Cedric said sharply, "Enough, Zach. If you're not interested in joining, why are you staying?"
Smith snapped his mouth shut, his face aflame with embarrassment.
Alex spared a grateful smile for Cedric, which he returned brightly. Schooling her features, she said to the rest of the group. "If you're just here to interrogate Harry, get out. You might believe what the Ministry says even though they've been wrong countless times already, but that's your business. If you want to be ignorant, go ahead. But if you want to protect yourself from the dangers that are all too prevalent in this world, then stay." Feeling as though she was a bit too harsh, Alex added a smile to soften her words. Judging by the flinches of the younger students, it didn't work.
"Right," Hermione began, rallying herself for round two. "So, if you'd like to learn Defence from Harry, we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where we're going to—"
"Who'll be teaching us?" asked Sasha Park, one of her second-years. The poor girl was presently suffering from an outbreak of pimples that Alex knew she'd been struggling to control all month.
"We will," Alex replied, nodding at Harry. "Of course, this is a collaborative effort. If you have any suggestions, write it down and send them our way."
"Yeah, I've got one," said a Gryffindor Alex wasn't familiar with. He had short dark hair and an eyebrow piercing that she shouldn't have found intriguing. "Separate the snakes from the rest of us."
"Go fuck yourself," was Alex's immediate, instinctive reply.
Every other Slytherin in the room smirked appreciatively, except for Agatha; she had her head buried in her hands at Alex's crude rebuttal.
"If you don't wanna be here, then piss off," she said with a lackadaisical shrug that disguised the irritation roiling beneath her skin. "It's not up to you to decide who gets to learn how to defend themselves and who doesn't."
"Besides," Ron added as the atmosphere grew terser by the second, "as you can see, there are barely any Slytherins here."
Hermione perked up. "That reminds me – not just anyone can join. We can't risk this group being compromised because people can't help but let their mouths run."
"What happens if someone snitches?" wondered Stephen.
Death. It was a joke, of course, but she doubted anyone would believe her light-hearted intentions, especially following her latest embarrassment. Judging by the amused twitch of Stephen's lips, though, he totally knew what was going through her mind.
"That's what my contingency plan is for," Hermione declared, pulling a rolled-up piece of parchment from her bag on the table behind her. With a flourish, she unfurled it. "You'll all have to sign this, not only so we can get numbers and keep track of who's joined, but also to ensure no one tattles. It's charmed," she added, smiling serenely.
Predictably, people freaked out.
"This is your last chance to back out," Harry reminded them not unkindly.
Half a minute passed. When it was clear no one was moving, he nodded as though satisfied. "Now we just need to figure out when and where to hold future meetings."
"What's wrong with this place?" asked Collin Creevy. He was sitting next to what looked like a smaller version of himself. His twin, perhaps?
"For one thing, Umbridge or anyone else could walk in at any time," drawled Grant.
Hermione nodded in agreement. "We'll need somewhere more private, less exposed. If anyone has any ideas…?"
Suggestions were thrown around, none of them good. Alex's own offer of the Shrieking Shack were shot down vehemently. Sure, it had a bad reputation, but Sirius and Remus had made it clear it was nothing but a dilapidated building. Then again, it always did look like it was on the verge of collapse, so maybe everyone was right to veto it.
Someone's gaze was burning holes into the side of her head. Alex turned and was surprised to see Cedric attempting to mouth something at her.
The…room? Oh. He wanted her to share the Room of Requirement.
Alex's expression soured. For one petulant moment, she wanted to reject Cedric's idea, pretend she didn't understand what message he was trying to convey. Ultimately, though, she knew she needed to put aside her pettiness and do what was best for the collective.
She sighed. "I know a place."
This better not come back to bite me on the arse.