A/N: Happy New Year!

Chapter Thirteen

Desire

"Are you okay, Harry?"

Harry's head snapped upwards, his green eyes wide and bloodshot. "I'm okay, yeah. Why do you ask?" he said all in one breath.

"Well, you look like you've had one cup of coffee too many." Did Harry even drink coffee? "Not to mention you've barely touched your lunch."

"He didn't have much for breakfast either," Ron told her, his brow furrowed. "Harry, I know you're worried about the mirror, but you've got to eat."

Alex trusted his judgment, slept through breakfast herself. "What mirror?" she asked, slowly lowering her spoon.

"I went exploring with the cloak last night," Harry said, eyes lighting up like a madman. "And I found this mirror in an abandoned classroom. It showed me my family, Alex," he whispered, awed. "My real family. My parents, my aunts and uncles and grandparents."

"That's amazing," she admitted with no small amount of hesitation. "But how?"

Harry shook his head furiously. "I don't know. But I'll take you to it tonight. Both of you, after dinner."

"Okay," she said somewhat uneasily. "But only if you eat."

Harry did so reluctantly, as if he had no appetite. Alex was feeling the same, but for a different reason. She wasn't anticipating seeing the mirror; rather, she was dreading it. Because there was no doubt in her mind that the mirror Harry was obsessing over was the Mirror of Erised.

She found herself glaring at the teachers' table. What the hell was Dumbledore thinking? Why would he arm Harry with an invisibility cloak, and place one of the most dangerous objects in mankind somewhere so accessible? It was obvious what someone like Harry would see in the reflective surface. Why put him through such torture?

Alex was still conflicted by the time night fell. Harry practically inhaled his dinner, ready to get it over and done with so they could see the mirror. Alex ate at a much slower pace, hoping to put it off as much as possible. Ron was no help, as he finished his meal almost as quickly as Harry did. Soon enough, they were creeping beneath the cloak and towards the classroom.

Harry's impatience forced them to powerwalk to keep up with him as he rushed through the halls. Ron was complaining about his cold feet, and Alex shot a warming charm at him to shut him up. It was like the kid hadn't grown up in a magical environment.

Upon reaching the room, Harry practically flung himself in front of the mirror. It was huge, towering over them and framed in gold. What truly took her back was how it seemed to ooze magic. "There they are," Harry said, excited. "Come see, you two."

Ron, unaware of the danger the mirror posed, happily moved in front of it. He was instantly entranced. "Look at me," he said in amazement. "I'm Head Boy! And I've won both Cups. I'm quidditch captain too!"

Harry was deeply confused. "What?"

Ron managed to tear his eyes from the mirror to glance excitedly at Harry. "Do you think it shows the future?"

Alex winced. Ron really needed to use his brain sometimes.

"How can it?" Harry said a tad bitterly. "My family are all dead. Let me have another look."

But Ron wasn't going to let go that easily. "You had it to yourself all last night; give me a bit more time."

"You're only holding the Cup, what's interesting about that?" Harry asked nastily. "I want to see my parents."

They resorted to pushing and shoving, their friendship disappearing momentarily in favour of glimpsing their heart's desire. Before things could grow too serious, though, a sudden noise from the corridor jolted them back to their senses. Ron threw the cloak over himself and Harry, but Alex was too far. She wasn't worried, though; she was already casting the disillusionment charm on herself.

She had just tucked her wand away when Mrs Norris strolled in. A shame such a cute cat was so evil. Its red eyes scanned the room for a second before running away, most likely to tattle to its malicious owner.

"We'd better go," she heard Ron's voice whisper.

They hastily made their way back to Gryffindor Tower.

"You didn't get to see what was in the mirror," Harry said after they caught their breaths. He turned to her, brow furrowed. "Why not?"

Alex shrugged, her gaze never leaving the fireplace. "I wasn't interested."

"But why not?" Harry sounded so bewildered.

She was forced to look up this time. Alex met Harry's eyes steadily. "Because it made you act like an addict suffering from withdrawal, Harry. Anything that does that can't be safe."

Alex didn't sleep much that night. She laid in bed, staring at the small fire crackling in the fireplace and pretending not to notice Harry sneak past her. When he left, another pair of footsteps reached her.

"He's gone to see that mirror again, hasn't he?" she asked quietly.

Ron came closer to her. "Yeah," he said, disgruntled. "I'm worried about him."

Alex sat up to face Harry's (second) best friend. "Don't worry. Dumbledore should be there waiting for him."

"What?" cried Ron. "How do you know?"

"He was there last night too," she said, twirling a loose thread from her blanket. "I could feel it." Though it was difficult to pinpoint individual sources of magic in the castle, Dumbledore's was so strong she could have sensed it anywhere.

"You could feel it?" Ron asked incredulously. He shook his head quickly. "Never mind, I don't want to know. I'm just glad Harry isn't there by himself."

"Why didn't you go with him?"

Ron glanced at his slippers. "He was scaring me. I don't think he wanted me with him this time."

Alex sighed sympathetically. "Don't worry, Ron," she told him. "He'll come back to his senses soon." And if he didn't, then she was going to make it so.

Alex was sad to say goodbye to the break. Her nights of easy sleep were gone, and she was back to fitful rests in her own dorm once more. At least the Slytherin common room came with a great view of the lake. The weather had also taken a turn for the better, meaning she could see letters to her parents without worrying about the owls that delivered them.

She was glad to say that Harry had lost interest in the mirror. He returned to his usual self after her conversation with Ron by the fireplace, and her suspicions about Dumbledore being there were right. She wondered why the old headmaster was there in the first place. To spy on Harry's predictability? Or was he using the mirror to catch glimpse of something that could never be?

Alex was so caught up in her musings she almost slammed the library door open and into Malfoy's sneering face. "Oops," she said, catching the door before it could swing out too wildly, "my bad."

Malfoy drew himself up indignantly, the spell he was reciting dying on his lips. "Watch it, Fortescue. Or I might practise on you instead."

"Oh yeah?" Alex arched an eyebrow, practically daring him to do so. Her wand materialised in her hand. "You wanna try?"

Her unfailing confidence caused Malfoy to deflate a bit. "Never mind," he said harshly. "Why bother on a fellow Slytherin when I have Longbottom here to practise on?"

Alex turned her head slightly to follow Malfoy's line of sight, but she still kept one eye on the weasel, lest he try something underhanded. Neville stood a ways away from them, trembling slightly as he desperately searched for an escape route.

Cool and calm. Alex forced herself to adopt an indifferent attitude, despite the fact that she was actually very worried about Neville. Merlin knew he suffered enough shit from his own family and Housemates; he didn't need his year's biggest bully to pick on him too.

"Oh, Neville," she said, faintly surprised. "Professor Sprout was running around in search of you. She was muttering something about the greenhouses?" Alex tilted her head slightly so that her hair blocked her expression from Malfoy's view. She widened her eyes purposely, trying to communicate through her eyes alone.

"Oh! Right." Neville nodded furiously. "Yeah, I was asking about the dittany the other day. Apparently they're almost ready for collection."

"Really?" she asked, genuinely interested. "Dittany's the plant that pretty much heals flesh wounds, right?"

The talk of herbology seemed to have a magical effect on Neville. Gone was the nervous wreck, replaced by someone much more confident and collected. He straightened somewhat, smiling. "Yeah, that's the one. It even makes your wound look several days old almost immediately after application."

"Do you mind if I join you to the greenhouse? I'd like to see them." She probably didn't need to, since Malfoy had long slinked off by then, having grown bored by the topic. Still, one couldn't be too safe.

"Sure," agreed Neville. They were silent for a few moments, until they reached a fork in the road. The path to the left led to the Gryffindor common room, while the right went straight outside to the greenhouses. Neville eyed her curiously. "Professor Sprout wasn't really looking for me, was she?"

Alex shook her head. "I saw that blonde git harassing you, so I thought you might've needed a hand."

Neville sighed. "Thank you, Alexandra."

Alex smiled. "Call me Alex, Neville."

Neville looked taken aback, and rightfully so. Alex could count on one hand the amount of people who used her nickname. (She wasn't sure if her dad really counted, since he had a tendency to use dessert-related pet names.)

A loud, painful grumble from Neville's stomach jolted her out of her thoughts. "Hungry?" she asked, smirking. When Neville nodded pitifully, Alex came to a decision. "Have you been to the kitchens, Neville?"

"Uh, are we allowed to?"

"Dunno," she admitted. "But I've been going ever since last year, so…"

"Oh, okay. Then sure."

Neville was actually rather easy-going. He seemed so nervous all the time that Alex assumed he was a rule-abiding goody-goody. That was probably just Hermione, then.

As they walked, Alex was reminded of the last time the two of them wandered the corridors. This time, though, they were both much more relaxed, as they didn't have to fear whatever the castle held in the middle of the night. She also liked to think that Neville was more comfortable around her now.

They passed by several Slytherins on the way. Alex ignored most of them, except for the ones she was on decent terms with. This was limited to James Parkinson, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. She nodded at them, and they nodded back, even if they did seem a bit bemused by Neville's presence.

"How was your holiday, Neville?" she asked as they descended the stairs leading to kitchen floor.

"It was…fine."

Alex hummed noncommittally, knowing full well that Neville was lying – and not every well, either. But she knew better than to pry in the lives of others.

"Well," she couldn't help but add, "if you wanna talk about it, my ears are all yours."

"Really?"

Poor Neville sounded so touched and disbelieving that Alex couldn't help but smile. It wasn't a pleased one, though. "Of course."

Neville hopped back to Gryffindor Tower, his mind whirring furiously as he tried to recall the countercurse. He had hoped to run into a professor on his way—or even Alex—but the only people he encountered were those weren't bothered helping him and simply laughed instead.

Cheeks burning, Neville finally made it. He jumped over the ledge of the painting, and fell flat on his face as his locked legs flailed. He glanced up, but immediately regretted the action. Everyone had fallen over laughing, except for Hermione, who had sprung up and undid the Leg-Locker Curse that had been plaguing him for the better part of an hour.

He got to his feet shakily. "Thanks, Hermione."

"What happened?" she asked, worried, as she led him over to where Harry and Ron were sitting. Their amusement died as he approached. Neville was upset, yes, but it wasn't just at Malfoy, who had caught him unawares after he left the kitchen for his late lunch with Alex. He was also furious at the rest of his House, who were supposed to look after him, not make his misery even worse.

"Malfoy," was all he said.

"Go to Professor McGonagall!" urged Hermione. "Report him!"

But Neville shook his head. She didn't understand. Even if he did report him, all Malfoy would get would be a detention and a few deducted House points. It wouldn't stop him from terrorising others.

"I don't want more trouble," he mumbled.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" said Ron. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

"There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor. Malfoy's already done that," Neville choked out.

"You're worth twelve of Malfoy," Harry said firmly, like he really believed it. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he unwrapped the frog. "I don't think Alex would be happy to hear that."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Right."

"Thanks, Harry," Neville said, feeling a lot better. He wiped the melted chocolate off his fingers and onto his cloak. He could hear his gran screeching at him about hygiene from here. "D'you want the card? You collect them, don't you?" Neville handed it to him when Harry nodded, unwittingly handing him the clue he needed in figuring out the famous Nicholas Flamel.

Sighing, Alex wrapped her cloak tight around her. It was freezing out here in the stands. Whose ruddy idea was it to hold a quidditch match in the middle of January? If only Hufflepuff weren't playing. She should have been warm and comfy in bed, not out here shivering like mad.

Fortunately, the game only lasted a whopping five minutes. It was mostly due to Harry, who had caught the Snitch almost immediately after the game began, and the fact that Cedric had looked away from the game for a moment to wave cheerily at her. Embarrassed, Alex waved back slightly before pointing back to the game.

As much as she wanted to stay and chat, she knew Cedric would soon be surrounded by his fellow badgers. Alex really didn't want to head back to the common room with everyone else; the dungeons would be way too congested for her tastes.

She headed to the library instead. The upcoming exams were doing a fantastic job of keeping her busy. Alex wasn't worried about them—unlike, say, Hermione—but she at least made an effort to do well. The sheer thought of exams would have been mundane, except, well, it was a magical school. It couldn't get more exciting than that (education-wise, at least).

She glanced at her watch: it was time to visit Hagrid. After Christmas, Alex made it a point to visit him at least once a month for tea. Humming to herself, she packed her things up and set off for the grounds.

She frowned as it came into sight. A constant stream of smoke billowed from the chimney, even though it was warm enough to go without a jumper.

Puzzled, she knocked on the door. There was a great big crash, followed by some rustling, before the door cracked open a smidge. Upon realising it was her, Hagrid opened the door much more widely.

"Alex! That time already, eh? Come in, quickly now."

Alex was forced to shed her cloak the moment she stepped inside his hut. She scanned the room, ignoring the Gryffindor trio huddled around the table. Her eyes landed on the large, dark egg on the middle of the table.

"Please tell me that's one large chicken," she muttered.

"Nope," Hagrid said proudly. "It's a dragon egg."

"Oh," she said. "Okay."

"Come watch, Alex," ushered Harry. "It's about to hatch."

A fire-breathing dragon inside a wooden hut? She couldn't see a single flaw in that plan. Still, watching a dragon hatch was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Alex hastened to pull up a seat, closing the curtains of the window as she walked by it. What Hagrid was doing was highly illegal, and there were eyes everywhere.

Odd clicking noises emerged from the egg, signalling the dragon inside was close to hatching. They all leaned in, watching with bated breath.

All of a sudden there was a scraping sound, and a huge crack split the egg. The shell continued to fracture until something wet and leathery broke free. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body, it had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"So cute," Alex cooed. "What're you going to name him?" Name him Puff. Puff the magic dragon.

"He's beautiful," agreed Hagrid. "I think Norbert'll do." Oblivious to Alex's crestfallen expression, he reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing off his pointed fangs. "Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!" he cried, ecstatic.

Alex smiled at Hagrid's first taste of parenthood, but the others weren't sharing her sentiment. They tried to warn Hagrid about the possible consequences of raising a dragon of all things in his hut. Hagrid dismissed them easily, still high on the birth of his first child (it was pretty much the same thing in her eyes). Although the trio tried to get Alex to side with them, she wasn't one for fruitless endeavours, and spent her time soothing a neglected Fang instead.

By the time she tuned back in, she and Fang felt much better. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, though, seemed to grow more stressed. They were worried about Hagrid to the point of being obtrusive, and had an elaborate scheme to get Ron's brother Charlie to take Norbert away.

"Wouldn't it be easier if you just told Dumbledore?" she asked as they made their way back up the castle.

"That's crazy!" Ron said scornfully. "Hagrid'll get in trouble!"

"Although Professor Dumbledore is fond of Hagrid," Harry mumbled thoughtfully.

"Do you honestly think Dumbledore is the type to rat out a fellow Gryffindor?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"Alex is right," declared Hermione. "Professor Dumbledore will know what to do."

"Let's vote on it, then," said Alex, pausing in her steps. "All in favour of telling the headmaster?"

She and Hermione raised their hands.

"All against?"

Ron was alone in raising his. They all turned to Harry, waiting on his answer.

He gnawed on his lip as he thought. "I think… I trust Professor Dumbledore. We should tell him."

Alex smiled, feeling absurdly proud of having the majority agree with her. They ignored Ron's grumbles as they entered the castle and headed towards Dumbledore's office. Although the first-years were clueless as to where it was located, Alex had passed by it countless times when she was exploring the castle. They reached it within minutes.

They stared at the gargoyle protecting the office. It stared back.

"Hello," she said. "Do you remember me?"

The gargoyle tilted its head to the side as it thought. It nodded.

Alex sighed, relieved. She made it a habit to stop and talk to the gargoyle whenever she passed by it. Partially because she was lonely, but mostly she was damn excited and curious about an almost-sentient gargoyle.

"We need to speak with Professor Dumbledore. It's urgent. Could you tell him we're here?"

"Um, Alex?" piped up Hermione. Poor girl obviously thought she was crazy. "Can the gargoyle even talk?"

"Of course he can," she said, feeling offense for her friend. "He's spoken to me a few times." It took her several visits and a lot of one-sided conversations, but she got there in the end. The gargoyle jumped away from the entrance, punctuating her words. "See? He's letting us in. Thank you," she told the gargoyle. Man, she really needed to learn his name.

Alex led the way up the magical moving stairs, as the trio behind were much more anxious than she. (So much for Gryffindor bravery.) She could tell Dumbledore was up there waiting for them simply from the fact that the room radiated magic, more so than the others did. They gazed in awe at the round room, from the curious silver instruments whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke on his table, to the portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses decorating the walls. Out of the corner of her eye, Alex could see Hermione practically drooling over the shelf of old tomes and thick books by the side. She understood the sentiment.

There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tainted wizard's hat — the Sorting Hat. It recognised them, too.

"My, my," it said. "Three hatstalls altogether at once. What a pleasant surprise."

"Hello," Alex said, while Harry and Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"Hm? No, of course not. Your secret is safe with me."

Alex fought the urge to bury her face in her hands. Way to raise some flags.

Feeling several gazes on her, Alex turned around to the curious Gryffindors. "He means almost Sorting me into Hufflepuff," she explained.

Ron, the twit, snickered. "I can't imagine it."

"I can," confessed Hermione.

Dumbledore chose that moment to descend the spiral staircase behind his desk. She suspected it led to his quarters. He only looked mildly surprised to see them; the nosey old man was probably eavesdropping on them.

"Children," he said, sounding like the friendly grandfather image he projected, "how can I help you today?"

They all automatically looked to Harry. Slightly awkwardly, he began to explain their predicament. Again, Dumbledore didn't appear surprised. Not much got past him, it seemed. Alex made sure to look everywhere but in his direction. She may have forgotten much about this world, but the fact that the headmaster was a manipulative Legilimens didn't escape her. (Sure, it was illegal to rifle through someone's mind without their consent, but she didn't doubt Dumbledore's ability to somehow overcome that minor setback.) Instead, she exchanged some funny faces with the portrait of her grandfather on the wall beside her.

"That is rather alarming," Dumbledore concluded at the end of Harry's speech. Funnily enough, he didn't look alarmed in the least. "I thank you all for bringing this to my attention. It'll be dealt with smoothly, I assure you all."

"Hagrid won't get in trouble, will he?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Dumbledore smiled. Alex kept her focus on his beard, not allowing her eyes to stray any higher than that. "Of course not, Miss Granger. Hagrid only has the best intentions. He won't be punished for having a heart."

The Gryffindor first-years collectively relaxed. After thanking the professor, they streamed out of his office. And although Alex kept her eyes on the door, she could feel Dumbledore's gaze following after her.