Chapter Seventeen

Secrets Unveiled

Myrtle was a difficult girl to befriend. All she seemed to want to do was cry and sulk, and while Alex enjoyed doing that as much as the next person, it made getting to know her a tad troublesome. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so she searched for the Baron. It took several days, but she eventually tracked him down.

"Hello," she said, trying not cringe at how bright his form was.

It was late afternoon. Classes had ended for the day, and Alex was in one of the lower levels of the castle. It was relatively abandoned, which was probably why the Baron preferred it so much. Aside from her lumos and his opaque appearance, the corridor they were in was almost completely enshrouded in darkness.

"It's you," he said dully. "Have the other ghosts been bothering you again?"

She shook her head. "Not since the first time. Thank you again for that."

"I hear you've been seeking me. Why is that?"

What, and he couldn't have made her job easier by coming to her? Alex clamped down on her initial irritation. "I have a favour I'd like to ask of you," she said. "Do you know of Myrtle? She occupies the girls' lavatory on the first floor."

"I am aware."

"I'll be frank: she's miserable. I'm assuming she's stuck in the same state she was at her death, but Peeves' constant pestering isn't helping."

The Baron's eyes flashed at the mention of the poltergeist. "I assume you'd like me to deal with him."

"If it's not too much trouble," she demurred.

Although there wasn't so much as a breeze in the dim corridor, the Baron swayed as he thought. "On one condition."

"What is it?"

"Tell me about yourself," he said. Herself? What a surprisingly simple request. "Your past self, that is."

Oh. Oh no.

Alex sucked in a sharp breath. "Why?"

The Baron's gaze was heavy as he stared at her. "I wish to piece together the clues of the puzzle that is your reincarnation."

That made sense, she supposed. Still, she couldn't help but hesitate. Was it worth talking about all…that in exchange for Myrtle's brief peace of mind?

Her breathing grew erratic. "I…I c—"

"Baron!" called a third voice. "You know better than to ask something so personal." The Friar, ghost of the Hufflepuffs, drifted through, looking sterner than Alex had ever seen him. His presence lit up the hallway further.

The Baron sighed, exasperated, the chains around him jingling at the movement. "Are you not curious about her?" he asked him. "She is an anomaly amongst us all."

"Regardless, she does not seem comfortable whatsoever." The Friar gazed at her in concern. "You don't have to divulge your secrets, dear."

Her mouth went dry. "But it's the only way I can help Myrtle," she protested feebly.

"It is an unequal exchange," declared the Friar. "Why, other than Sir Nicholas, no ghost would feel comfortable recalling their deaths. I really expected more of you, Baron."

Alex expected the Baron to fly into a rage and ensure their deaths once and for all. She could actually see his anger building as his body tensed and his face screwed up with intense emotion. But he simply released it all in a single sigh.

"Very well," he conceded. "I will speak to him."

Both she and the Friar brightened. "Thank you, sir," she said, smiling. After thanking the Hufflepuff ghost as well, she ran off, ready to tell Myrtle the good news.

"You really got Peeves to stop?" Myrtle asked, equal parts sceptical and surprised.

She smiled. "Yeah."

Myrtle's lip quivered. "But why would you go so far for unimportant, irrelevant Moaning Myrtle?"

"Because no one deserves such unwarranted bullying."

"Hmph. If only you were here when I was in school," sniffed Myrtle. "You could have done something about Olive Hornby."

"Olive Hornby? Who's that?"

"A dreadful girl, that's who! She was a terrible bully, and she's part of the reason I died," she said, sounding oddly gleeful. "She was teasing me all day about my glasses and my acne, making me run off in tears to the bathroom. After a while, I heard a boy's voice. I opened the stall door to scream at him, but all I saw was a great, big yellow eye. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away…" Her voice became rather airy as she pointed to the stall on the very end. "When I looked down, I saw my body on that same toilet."

Alex grimaced. "Did you get revenge on Olive Hornby?"

"Oh, yes," replied Myrtle, grinning viciously. "She came back in hours later, saying Professor Dippet was looking for me. Oh, the look on her face. I made sure she never forgot that moment ever again."

While Alex was partly gleeful that Olive Hornby got as good as she gave, she sort of felt bad for her. Hornby was a bully, yes, but she might've grown out of it in due time. She didn't know how Myrtle punished her, but it couldn't have been pleasant, especially with the trauma of indirect murder already burdening her.

But there was no use fretting about that now – not unless she could travel back so far in time. "Did you see what killed you?" she asked.

"No. I still don't know, only it was enormous."

"I see." Alex rolled her shoulders as she came to a decision. "I've died once, you know."

Myrtle, surprisingly, nodded. "I can tell." Just like the other ghosts, then.

"You weren't curious?"

She shrugged. "Why should I care?"

"A few ghosts attacked me one time, begging me for my secret. They wanted to live again. You don't?"

"No. I'm already immortal, and I can watch people without them noticing me," she said, giggling.

Alex nodded, a smile frozen on her lips. She made sure to double-check her surroundings whenever she showered from then on.

Sighing, Alex left her table to search for a book that would help her with her Potions essay. Snow had begun to fall the past few days, which meant she was forced out of her usual spot by the lake and into the library instead. It was a dreadful alternative, but the only one she could afford. The common room was...ugh, and visiting the Room of Requirement so often would only draw more and more unwanted attention.

She was about to head to the appropriate section when she saw something that made her want to throw up. Several Hufflepuffs were huddled around a table, their books open and neglected. Instead of studying—as one should in a library—they seemed to be gossiping. Disgusted, Alex moved to turn back to her own desk when she picked up a familiar name.

"So anyway," a stout boy was saying, "I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter's marked him down as his next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born. Justin actually told him he'd been down for Eton. That's not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin's heir on the loose, is it?"

Was she in some sort of alternative universe? Why would Harry want to attack a Hufflep— Wait, no, she could see why.

"You definitely think it is Potter, then, Ernie?" a girl with pigtails asked anxiously.

"Hannah," said the stout boy solemnly, "he's a Parselmouth." Alex almost fell over in sheer surprise. "Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue."

There was some heavy murmuring at this, and the idiot went on, "Remember what was written on the wall? Enemies of the Heir, Beware. Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch's cat's attacked. That first-year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the quidditch match, taking pictures of him while he was lying in the mud. Next thing we know — Creevey's been attacked."

"He always seems so nice, though," said Hannah uncertainly, "and, well, he's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. He can't be all bad, can he?"

Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer, and Alex edged nearer so that she could catch Ernie's words.

"No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, he was only a baby when it happened. He should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark wizard could have survived a curse like that." He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, "That's probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill him in the first place. Didn't want another Dark Lord competing with him. I wonder what other powers Potter's been hiding?"

Okay, enough was enough. It was funny at first, but now Alex was peeved.

"You know," she said loudly, approaching them, "if you really think Harry's the Heir, you probably shouldn't be smearing his name in so public a place."

Shocked by her sudden appearance, the Hufflepuffs leaned back as if she was going to lash out and attack them at any moment. The way she was gripping her wand probably didn't help matters.

Now that she was closer, she could see that they were second-years – all in Harry's age group. So, stupidity was a Hufflepuff trait, then.

"I know you," a brunette gasped suddenly. "My sister warned me about you. You tried to get close to Cedric Diggory before, didn't you?"

The Hufflepuffs began to inflate indignantly, perhaps feeling protective of their kind Housemate. Alex was tempted to grab the photo of herself and Cedric from her wallet and shove it in their faces. Instead, she said, "I have a name. It's Alexandra Fortescue. And I can't stand those that spread rumours about my friends."

"Even if they're true?" sneered Ernie.

Alex rolled her eyes. "One of Harry's best friends is a muggleborn. He thought he was non-magical himself only two years ago. And do you honestly think a baby—future Dark wizard or not—could defeat Voldemort?"

A round of gasps rang around the table. She sighed. These kids hadn't even lived through Voldemort's reign like their parents, so why were they acting so afraid of his very name?

"Stranger things have happened," protested Ernie.

"That's true," she admitted. "Such as people actually accusing him of being able to kill powerful wizards before he could eve form coherent sentences."

A few of the Hufflepuffs flushed, embarrassed. Ernie opened his mouth, about to argue back. Before he could, though, someone else cleared their throat. Harry stepped out of the shadows, and if the 'Puffs were surprised to see her, then they were petrified at the sight of Harry. Ernie was turning as white as a sheet.

"Hello," said Harry, as if he hadn't caught them all speaking about him. "I'm looking for Justin Finch-Fletchley."

"What do you want with him?" said Ernie in a quavering voice.

"I wanted to tell him what really happened with that snake at the Duelling Club," answered Harry.

Ernie bit his lip and then, taking a deep breath, said, "We were all there. We saw what happened."

"Then you noticed that after I spoke to it, the snake backed off?" asked Harry.

"All I saw," continued Ernie stubbornly, though he was trembling as he spoke, "was you speaking Parseltongue and chasing the snake toward Justin."

"Maybe you saw what you wanted to see," interjected Alex. She gazed at Ernie coolly. "Maybe you're so terrified about what's happening out there that you're ready to point the blame anywhere, even Harry."

Ernie stiffened. "Maybe things are different in your House, snake, but being a Parselmouth is a terrible thing! If anyone's the Heir, it's Potter!"

Alex's wand-hand twitched, but Harry wasn't done yet.

"I didn't chase it at him!" he yelled, his voice shaking with anger. "It didn't even touch him!"

"It was a very near miss," sniffed Ernie. "And in case you're getting ideas," he added hastily, "I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks and my blood's as pure as anyone's, so —"

"Then maybe you're the Heir," Alex cut in smoothly. "So eager to use Harry as a scapegoat, yet all the while boasting about how 'pure' your blood is." She clicked her tongue softly. "If a Gryffindor could be the Heir, then why not a Hufflepuff? No one would see it coming until it was too late."

It was as if her words had a magical quality to them. Whereas Ernie's friends were leaning close to him in a protective huddle before, now they retreated, looking both alarmed and cautious. Ernie gaped at them.

"I'm not the Heir!" he protested. "She's just trying to deflect suspicion from Potter."

"Or were you trying to deflect suspicion from yourself?" she countered, lips curling into a gleeful smirk. "Come on, Harry. Let's go before Ernie decides to sic the monster on you."

They left, Ernie's fumbled reassurances to his friends ringing in Alex's ears. Her smirk grew, but Harry didn't share her enthusiasm. He was glaring at the floor as he followed her, furious at everything he had just heard. He stood, tense as a statue, as he waited for her to pack up her things.

"I can't believe them," he fumed.

Alex shrugged, closing her bag. "I've discovered that wand-wavers aren't the most intelligent of beings." That summed up the Wizarding World pretty accurately, in her opinion.

Harry a hand through his hair, a scowl still twisting his features. "Maybe I should've let the snake attack Justin after all," he muttered bitterly.

"Don't let anyone hear you say that," she warned him, walking towards the exit. "Also, Ernie seems like he could use a good bite or two. What even happened?"

"You didn't hear?" he asked, his slight surprise wiping away his fury temporarily. "I thought the grapevine would've spread everywhere by now."

"Well, I'm not exactly the most social of people," she drawled, opening the door and letting Harry head out first. She followed, closing it behind her.

Harry shivered at the sudden lack of warmth in the corridors. "It happened at Duelling Club," he said, hugging his cloak tighter to himself. "Malfoy and I were duelling, and he conjured a snake. It started to edge towards Justin Finch-Fletchley, so I told it to stop. Next thing I know, everyone's looking at me like I'm Voldemort reincarnate."

It took all of Alex's will not to visibly react at Harry's choice of words. Years down the track, she would be sure to remind him of this incident. The irony would hit him like a pile of bricks.

"It's because they're stupid," she told him. "It's not like all Dark wizards could speak Parseltongue, and it's not like those who could were all evil. Idiots," she spat. "Next think you know, they'll be saying everyone with green eyes is evil too."

This brought out a smile from Harry. "Thanks, Alex."

"No prob. But if you do intend to take over the world, let me know so I can help."

"Ha. Sure."

All good humour dissolved from them as they reached a dimly-lit corridor. The torches along the wall had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane. When Harry shuddered, Alex shot a warming charm at him, as well as herself, and he nodded gratefully.

They were halfway down the corridor when they saw the two figures. One belonged to a dark-haired boy from Hufflepuff. He was lying on the ground, shock frozen onto his Petrified face. Next to him was someone that made Alex's heart lurch.

It was a ghost, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floated immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin's.

"Sir Nicholas," she gasped. "Harry, we need to get help. Harry?"

But Harry was too busy staring at the boy on the ground. "That's Justin," he whispered, horrified.

Alex's body tensed. Her voice was low and grave as she said, "Then we need to get out here. Let's go."

They had taken but a few steps when Peeves shot out of one of the nearby doors.

"Why, it's potty wee Potter!" cackled Peeves, knocking Harry's glasses askew as he bounced past him. "What's Potter up to? Why's Potter lurking—?"

Peeves stopped, halfway through a midair somersault. Upside down, he spotted Finch-Fletchley and Sir Nicholas. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs and, before they could stop him, screamed, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"

Door after door flew open along the corridor and people flooded out. She and Harry were trapped as they were swarmed from either side. For several long minutes, there was a scene of such confusion that Finch-Fletchley was in danger of being squashed and people kept standing in Sir Nicholas. Alex gave those special few a good, hard shove.

Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class. She used her wand to set off a loud bang, which restored silence, and ordered everyone back into their classes. No sooner had the scene cleared than Ernie arrived, panting.

"Caught in the act!" Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Harry.

Alex raised her wand, a jinx on the tip of her tongue, when Professor McGonagall snapped, "Enough. Run along, Mr Macmillan. Miss Fortescue, lower your wand or I'll lower it for you."

Grimacing, Alex forced her arm by her side. She didn't let go of her wand, though.

Peeves was still bobbing overhead, surveying the scene with a wicked grin. As the teachers examined the Petrified duo, he broke into song.

"Oh Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done? You're killing off students, you think it's good fun—"

"That's enough, Peeves!" barked Professor McGonagall, and Peeves zoomed away backward, sticking his tongue out at them. She turned to them, anger still etched into her weathered face. Alex took a step back.

"Potter, with me. Fortescue, you'd best be on your way too."

As much as Alex wanted to protest, she would rather fight toe-to-toe with a Death Eater than talk back to Professor McGonagall. Nodding, she turned to leave, but not without squeezing Harry's shoulder in reassurance. The queasy face he was wearing told her it didn't work.

She needn't have worried, though. When she saw Harry the next day, he explained to her that everything was okay. Dumbledore only wanted to ask if he had anything he needed to tell him.

"D'you think he knows about the Polyjuice Potion?" Hermione asked, biting her lip.

Alex glanced at the potion brewing by Hermione's lap. She'd known of it long ago, of course, as the trio had asked her for help regarding the hairy portion of their plan. She shot them down quickly, telling them that it would be weird if she went up and grabbed the hairs of Malfoy's cronies. Not everyone in Slytherin was exactly courteous to each other, after all. Why did they assume she could do what they couldn't?

Seeing them crestfallen wasn't a pleasant sight, so Alex promised to tell them the password and location of the common room when they needed to know it. They brightened immediately after that.

"How's it going?" she asked.

"It'll be done during the break. Speaking of which, Alex, are you staying again this year?"

"Nah. My parents are free this time. Are you all staying for the potion?"

Three heads nodded. "My parents are off visiting Bill in Egypt," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "All my siblings are staying too."

"That reminds me – how's Ginny? I haven't seen her since the summer." She was surprisingly elusive for a first-year with bright orange hair.

Ron frowned deeply. "She's been weird all year. It's probably just everything that's happening. It'd be enough to spook anyone."

Alex mirrored his frown, feeling like she was forgetting something. But what?

A/N: I lowkey adore Myrtle. That exchange between the Hufflepuffs was almost verbatim, by the way; I think a few of us have forgotten that Hufflepuffs are just as capable of pettiness as the other Houses.