A/N: Thank you to those who left kind and thoughtful reviews. Some, however, were curiously rude and demanding considering this is, y'know, free entertainment.

Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-One

Outside Fortescue's

For all that he loved to sleep in, Ron appreciated the daylight — the sun to be specific. He felt like he could never get enough sunlight in his life, but his trip to Egypt certainly rectified that matter. His entire family was sporting a tan, though some lasted longer than others. Percy, for example, was the palest of them all, having spent most of his time either trapped in the hidden corridors of the tombs (courtesy of Fred and George), or locked up in his room in protest (also indirectly due to Fred and George). Ginny was the tannest of them all, having befriended one of the locals during their month there.

"Oh, she told me about that," chirped Hermione as she wiped the corner of her mouth. They were seated outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour in hopes of spotting Harry in the throngs of people shopping in Diagon Alley. "Apparently they still keep in touch."

Ron frowned as he connected the dots. "Is that why I haven't seen Errol much? Ugh, Ginny."

"Maybe I should get an owl myself," contemplated Hermione as she grabbed another spoonful of the sundae they were sharing. "That way I won't have to spend my summer waiting for one of you two to owl me."

Ron rolled his eyes. That was the third time this morning alone Hermione had complained about their lack of communication. "I was in Egypt," he reminded her yet again. "Just like you were in Paris."

"And how long have you been back in England again?"

Ron shoved a scoop of sundae into his mouth in lieu of answering. "At least the weather's nice," he offered, swiping at his chin with the back of his hand.

Hermione frowned lightly even as she handed him a serviette. "That, we can agree on," she said, glancing at the clear blue sky. "You know, Diagon Alley is always unusually cheery whenever I visit. Do you think they apply meteorological magic to ensure an atmosphere conducive to shopping?"

"Sure."

As always whenever she sensed someone was taking the piss, Hermione's eyes narrowed as she looked down on him. Ron smiled back guilelessly.

"Oh," Mr Fortescue said in slight surprise as he emerged from his shop. "It's a tad warm today, isn't it? Would you like me to cool down your sundae for you?"

"Yes, please!" Ron responded with a grin as Hermione offered a much more demure, "If you don't mind."

Mr Fortescue tapped his wand against the glass cup, coating it with a thin layer of frost that had Hermione gasping in audible admiration. He received their enthusiastic gratitude with a broad smile and returned inside to his parlour.

"He's always so nice," commented Hermione as they dug into the sundae with renewed gusto. "I see where Alex gets it from."

"That makes one of us," Ron mumbled from around his spoon.

"Don't tell me you're still prejudiced against Slytherins," Hermione groaned, exasperated. "Really, Ronald."

As much as he'd relish informing Hermione she was, in fact, wrong, Ron would rather endure her pestering for a minute than reveal the truth. It wasn't that he disliked Alex, nor did he mind the fact that she was in the House of Snakes (well, he didn't mind much); something just felt off about her. He couldn't put his finger on it, and Merlin forbid he so much as looked at her funny when Harry and Hermione were around, but still… He couldn't quite shake the feeling that she was more than she seemed.

"Is that…?" Hermione stood from her seat. "It is! Harry!"

Ron followed suit. He scrambled out of his seat and began waving like a madman. "Harry!" he bellowed.

Harry peered up from his inspection of the Firebolt out on display at Quality Quidditch Supplies. His face broke into a grin as he rushed over to them.

"You look well," was the first thing Hermione said as soon as she finished hugging him.

"See, Hermione?" preened Ron as wrapped an arm around Harry's scrawny shoulders. "Told you he'd be fine. S'if anyone would dare expel the Great Harry Potter." He couldn't help the smile that poked out at the cheesy title.

Harry elbowed him lightly in retaliation for that, but he was smiling also. "I take it you heard about the incident?"

"It's all very hush-hush," Hermione assured him as she offered the seat beside her. "I only found out because Ron told me. Before I left for Paris, Ginny owled me and asked if I could stay at the Leaky Cauldron right before the beginning of term." Her face lit up at the mere thought of returning to school. Ron exchanged a look with Harry.

"I'm staying at the Cauldron too!" exclaimed Harry. His sunny disposition was a stark contrast from how he appeared when they first met up this time last year. Judging by the happy way Hermione was gazing at him, she was thinking the same thing.

"You should turn your family into balloons more often," Ron said, only half-joking.

That wiped the smile off Hermione's face. "Ron!" she admonished him. "In my opinion, both of you are taking this issue far too lightly. Harry, you could have had your wand snapped."

"Or worse," said Ron, smiling slyly at Harry.

"Expelled," Harry hissed, putting upon a scandalised expression all too reminiscent of Hermione in first year.

Hermione huffed, but there was definitely amusement glinting in her dark eyes.

"But he wasn't," Ron reminded them smugly. Then realisation struck. "Wait. Why aren't you in trouble?"

Harry shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine," he informed them, idly playing with their melted ice cream. "Fudge met with me right after I left the Dursleys'. I thought about going to Alex's, but I had no clue which way to go, when suddenly this bus appeared out of nowhere."

"The Knight Bus," Ron and Hermione said simultaneously.

"What was it like?" Hermione continued excitedly. "I've always wanted to ride one."

"Trust me: you don't," groaned Ron. He had ridden the Knight Bus a handful of times in his brief life, and none of those experiences were particularly enjoyable. "It's awful."

"It's like the London night bus, but a lot more dodgier," Harry explained using what Ron assumed was the muggle equivalent. He wondered if their version had creepy shrunken heads decorating their dashboards too.

"Much dodgier, you mean," corrected Hermione, adopting an expression Ron secretly deemed as her 'know-it-all' face.

"Do you want to hear the story or not?" snarked Harry.

Ron chortled as Hermione's cheeks grew pink with chagrin. Satisfied, Harry continued with his recount: he met the Minister, who promptly waved off any and all of Harry's apologies with a dismissive smile. He even rented a room at the inn for Harry, which struck them all as odd.

"Are all famous people treated this way?" Ron asked only a tad bitterly.

"Definitely not." Hermione paused. "Probably not."

"Alex says he was kissing up to me," Harry added with a look that pretty much summed up how he felt about the situation.

"But why now?" wondered Hermione, her gaze distant. "The only thing that's made ripples in the magical community lately is, well, the escapee Sirius Black."

Ron shivered. "Even hearing his name gives me the chills."

"That's just racist."

Hermione opened her mouth to refute the absurd claim before she noticed Alex's amused smirk. "I'll allow it," she said dryly.

"Working today?" asked Harry.

"How'd you know?"

"The ice cream themed robe is a bit of a giveaway."

It was a soft blue, animated to seem as though ice cream cones and sundaes were cascading downwards like rain. A bit over the top, in Ron's opinion.

"And they say Gryffindors aren't observant," drawled Alex.

Ron puffed up a bit at that. "Who's saying that?"

"Me." Her smile grew like a Cheshire cat's. "What's up, Ron. Saw the article — how was Egypt?"

"Amazing," he admitted, beaming at the memory. "Mum wouldn't stop telling Fred and George off."

"Sounds relaxing." Alex shook her head slightly. "How long will you guys be in Diagon for? My shift ends in five hours."

"We're actually staying at the Leaky Cauldron," Hermione told her brightly. "It's a good thing we booked the rooms in advance; it's absolutely packed right now."

"I wonder why," Alex muttered, shooting Harry an amused look.

Yeah, that made sense. Ron definitely recalled several people in the pub wearing pairs of fake glasses reminiscent of Harry's.

The door chimed again as Mr Fortescue popped his head outside. "Everything all right out here?" he asked, his curious brown eyes darting from Alex to Ron and Hermione. They brightened when they landed on Harry. "Good to see you again, my boy. Back for another sundae?"

"Dad, please," whined Alex, appearing exasperated. "Harry told me about the freebies and refills — you're gonna give him diabetes."

"There's a potion for that," interjected Hermione, fiddling with her thick hair. "It's truly remarkable."

"Don't encourage him." Alex pushed her dad inside; Mr Fortescue waved at them cheerily as he allowed himself to be corralled in. "I'll see you all later," she called back after them.

Ron shook his head as he watched the door close behind them. "Still don't see the resemblance," he confessed.

"She takes after her mum," assured Harry. He began standing, his back to the alley. "We should go — I think people are noticing I'm here."

"Look, mum! It's Harry Potter!"

All three exchanged a subtle eye-roll.

Most people would've been freaked out by the fact that their newly acquired pet was, in fact, a human in disguise. Fortunately, Alex was gifted with the power of foreknowledge due to an apparent screw-up in the reincarnation cycle (that was the only explanation she was willing to consider) and so she hadn't reacted as strongly as, say, Ron soon would.

Soon, if things went accordingly, anyway.

She had to admit, though, she was going to miss Sirius's companionship; she finally had someone she could be herself with. The only time Alex felt remotely free was when she was talking to Harry or Spitfire, and even then she had to reign it in — the former because Harry, though accustomed to her biting commentary, still possessed the obliviousness of a child, and the latter because Spitfire was a cat. One-sided conversations with your pet could only do so much.

One of the perks of having parents that worked full-time was that she was left alone quite a lot. This used to bother Alex as a child; before Spitfire came into her life and became her sounding board, she was forced to keep all her thoughts locked up for fear of her parents reading anything she wrote in her diary. Even transcribing it in a foreign language was out of the question what with how easy translation spells were to cast.

Sirius, even in dog form, was a wonderful distraction from things. Once her parents had left for the day, he would usually revert to his human form if he felt like it. He spent that time catching up on the past twelve years either from her own anecdotes or books and the news – both magical and muggle alike. It was refreshing, seeing someone without a muggle background actually partaking in a world beyond their own.

Sirius had smiled when she pointed that out. It was a rather mirthless expression, however. "I suppose that may seem strange to you," he said, flipping through a broadsheet from the dining table. "It's a habit we acquired during the war. Back then, information of any kind was of great importance. It often made the difference between life and death."

Whenever Sirius reflected on the war or his dismal past, he often spent the next few minutes in a doom and gloom sort of mood. Feeling antsy, Alex attempted to take his mind off things by sharing a light-hearted story that usually centred on Harry. Though her endeavours were completely transparent, they never failed to cheer him up – ostensibly, at least.

And Sirius reciprocated the effort. He always seemed to catch her when she was too lost in her thoughts, perhaps because she stared at nothing for long stretches of time. He peppered her with questions whenever he caught her doing that, which was occurring less frequently thanks to all the toys she had bought herself with her basilisk cash.

("There was a basilisk in the castle? And you guys found it?"

"Yah.")

In addition to making donations to Mungo's and several other establishments, Alex bought herself a Gameboy and whatever games she could get hold of. Since they lived in the middle of a muggle neighbourhood, their house didn't have enough magic to interfere with most electronics. She almost cried when she caught her first Pokémon — a fact Sirius seemed to find very disturbing.

The mere memory of his expression had her chuckling. She smirked down at the empty tub of ice cream she was replacing.

"Stop that," Dad instructed from the cash register. "You'll make another toddler cry."

Alex huffed as she closed the display to keep the cold in. "That was one time," she reminded him even as he went to the back for his lunch break. Besides, that baby was close to tears anyway even without her help.

Dad was right, though; she really needed to learn to control her expressions. She could keep it as stoic as necessary while in the Slytherin common room or in similarly risky situations, but outside of that? She was basically an open book.

Speaking of books…

"Hey!" she snapped at the two boys lounging in the store. "Don't open that in here."

Unlike the previous idiot she had warned, this pair listened to her. One was obviously a third-year like Harry and, judging by all the blue he sported, undoubtedly a Ravenclaw. With him was a girl who was about to begin first year if Alex was reading her right. Her book-bag was stuffed to the brim with her required textbooks, not to mention her uniform. She wore a plain bangle decorated with four plastic beads: red, green, blue, and yellow.

That's adorable, thought Alex.

"Wouldn't even know how to," grumbled the Ravenclaw as he inspected the Monster Book of Monsters. His carefree sister continued to nibble at her cone. "What kind of curriculum requires such literature?"

"The magical kind," she sighed, wiping the display clear of fog.

He finally made eye contact with her at that. "You a muggleborn, Fortescue?"

Alex came close to expressing surprise that he knew her name before remembering where, exactly, she was. "Nah," she replied, folding the dishcloth. "Went to a muggle school, though."

He actually appeared shocked at that. "Us too," he admitted. "Uh, I'm Cornfoot, by the way. Stephen Cornfoot."

Alex pinched herself on the leg to keep from laughing at the poor lad's surname. "With a v or a ph?" she asked instead.

"Ph," he replied automatically. "This is my sister"—please don't say Stephanie—"Kim."

Thank Merlin. "Nice to meet you. I'm Alexandra," she said, mostly for Kim's sake. "Are you excited for your first year, Kim?"

"Indubitably," she answered, fiddling with her wand. It was small and gnarled, almost like Duncan's. "I want to be in Hufflepuff."

Stephen's responding sigh was audible. Alex smiled lightly. "Do you wanna hear a secret?" she asked, dropping her voice to a whisper and leaning forward over the counter. "I prefer Hufflepuff over Ravenclaw."

Kim guffawed, which was the kind of sound you'd expect from a man like her dad or Hagrid, not an eleven-year-old girl whose black hair was braided into two pigtails. Stephen flicked a stray peanut at his sister, and before she could retaliate, Alex Vanished their mess.

"Whoa," breathed Stephen, watching her tuck her wand away. "You know the Vanishing Charm?"

What, like it's hard? "Yep."

"Can you teach me?"

Say what now? "Nope."

Stephen pouted. "Why not?"

Alex gestured at the animated ice creams falling through the folds of her robe. "Do I look like a professor to you?"

"Yes," Kim said sincerely.

Alex stared at her in silent wonderment. Before she could even think of a reply, several new customers came in. Alex pasted on her customer service smile and demeanour and did her best not to thank the gaggle of teens for their timely interruption.

As soon as the customers wandered off, content with their cones, Stephen pounced. (Figuratively. If he had actually attacked her Alex would've sent him flying out the window.)

"You should join the Charms Club," he suggested, approaching her. The counter served as a barrier between herself and the eager Ravenclaw. "We have a Slytherin third-year — Millicent Bulstrode?"

"You do realise that does not exactly inspire me to join, right?" Alex asked, unimpressed. It was hard to make that scepticism work when wearing an ice cream themed robe, but she think she pulled it off based on the way Stephen deflated.

Alex sighed. "Fine. I'll check it out. You owe me, though."

Stephen did a one-eighty. "Great! We meet every Sunday after lunch. See you then!" He grabbed his sister and practically ran out of the parlour, (correctly) assuming she would change her mind if he stayed there any longer.

I hate Ravenclaws.

As soon as she closed up and her dad popped off back home, Alex rushed to the Leaky Cauldron and asked the question that had been burning in her mind all night. Fortunately for her, Hermione was with the boys; they were chilling outside the inn so she could locate them with ease.

"What do you know about Stephen Cornfoot?" she asked in lieu of a greeting.

Ron snickered. "Who?"

"He's in our year," Hermione told her after shooting Ron a disapproving look. "Ravenclaw. "

"He's a nice bloke," offered Harry. "He was nice to me last year when, you know…"

"When people found out you were a parselmouth?" suggested Ron.

"When you were accused of being the heir?" asked Hermione.

"When the Hufflepuffs orchestrated a witch-hunt on you?" was Alex's input.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes," he said, "to all of that."

Hermione winced. "You probably shouldn't say that phrase," she warned Alex. "It gets the more…conservative members of the magical community riled up."

"You mean the purebloods," drawled Alex. Aka the biggest offenders when it came to using the m-word.

"And some half-bloods," Hermione acknowledged with a grimace.

"As fun as this conversation is," interrupted Ron, "dinner's starting soon, and I'm hungry." He gestured towards the inn.

They followed him inside. Alex was familiar with the Leaky Cauldron. Like other witches and wizards living in muggle London, she tended to reach Diagon Alley through the Cauldron's false muggle exterior. Most times she apparated alongside her parents, but when they were gone and she was bored, she had to take this route.

The pub was packed tonight, filled with lodgers now that the term was about to begin. Mr Weasley's head of dark orange hair was quite easy to spot in the brightly lit room. He was seated at the hand of a long table, presumably in wait for the rest of them.

"Hullo, Mr Weasley," greeted Harry as they approached him. Alex smiled at the middle-aged man.

"Harry!" he said, smiling as he looked up. "Alexandra! How are you both?"

"Fine, thanks," Harry replied politely.

"Fine, thank you very much." Alex's smile was perfectly in place despite the narrow-eyed glance Harry was shooting her.

Mr Weasley seemed oblivious to this, though. He nodded, satisfied with their answers, and gestured for them to take a seat. As he did so, he put down the paper he was reading. Alex flinched at the familiar—if unhinged—man plastered on the cover.

"May I?" she asked, holding her hand out.

"Of course." Mr Weasley reached past Hermione and gave her the paper.

Alex murmured a distracted thanks, her eyes already on the article. She had yet to see this edition; had her parents hidden it from her?

MASS MURDERER REMAINS AT LARGE, proclaimed the title. Alex snorted.

At large doing what? she thought derisively. Emptying my fridge?

"Harry told me what you said about his case," Hermione murmured as Mr Weasley and the boys discussed the issue in the background. "The situation seems pretty set. Do you really think he was wrongly prosecuted?"

"They didn't even give him a proper trial," Alex sighed, massaging her temple. "No one bothered, given his background and especially because they were too busy trying to leave the ugly war behind them." Harry's parents, Pettigrew and several others had seemingly been murdered by Sirius Black, yes, but Voldemort had been vanquished. His imprisonment all but signalled the end of the war itself.

Hermione's large front teeth worried her lower lip. "That's not common, is it?" she asked anxiously.

Alex didn't answer — which was an answer in and of itself.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Mr Weasley said in the harshest tone she had ever heard from the typically cheerful man. "Black's not going to be caught by a thirteen-year-old wizard. It's the Azkaban guards who'll get him back, you mark my words."

Alex hid behind the newspaper so no one would see her shake with laughter.

The rest of the Weasley family came streaming down the stairs, their thunderous steps almost drowning out their laughter and chatter. The pub seemed to grow brighter with their presence, and not just in the literal sense. Alex blinked the orange out of her sight as Ginny took the seat on her right.

"I like your robes," she said, settling into her seat.

Alex beamed. "Thanks. This is one of my less garish ones."

"How?" Harry asked flatly.

Two red spots appeared on Ginny's cheeks as she mumbled a hello at Harry. It clashed horribly with her hair. Harry, blind even with his glasses, took no notice, probably because he was too busy trying not to grin at the solemn way Percy was greeting him.

"Harry," Percy said formally, shaking his hand as though he was a bureaucrat rather than a teenager having dinner with a mate of his little brother's. "It's nice to see you. I take it you're well?"

"I'm—"

"Harry!" exclaimed one of the twins, elbowing Percy out of the way and bowing deeply. "Simply splendid to see you, old boy—"

"Marvellous," said the other, pushing his twin aside and seizing Harry's hand in turn. "Absolutely spiffing."

Alex huffed, amused but also irritated – it was a strange combination of feelings only the twins managed to draw from her.

"Ah, Alex!" Both twins reached over to shake a hand each. "How really corking to see you—"

"Is that even a real word?" she wondered, retracting her hands.

"Dunno," confessed the first twin, heading to the other side of the table.

"Percy loves to use it, though," explained the second as he sat across Hermione.

Percy cleared his throat pointedly as he sat beside Ginny. "I do hope you two behave better when we're back at school," he said, tapping the badge on his robes.

Alex leaned forward to get a better look at the thing. "Oh," she murmured in slight surprise. "Head Boy? Congrats, Percy."

Percy preened. "Thank you, Alexandra."

"No, no," said Gred. "You're reading that wrong."

Forge grinned. "The HB actually stands for horrible bast—"

"Fred!" snapped Mrs Weasley. "George!" The fierce expression on her face mellowed out immediately once she turned to Harry and Alex. "Percy is the second Head Boy in the family," she informed them proudly as she sat at the other end of the table from her husband.

"And last," Fred muttered, playing with the cutlery that had appeared on their table.

"I don't doubt that," said Mrs Weasley, frowning suddenly. "I notice they haven't made you two prefects."

"What do we want to be prefects for?" scoffed George, looking revolted at the very idea. "It'd take all the fun out of life."

Ginny giggled.

"You should want to set a better example for your sister!" scolded Mrs Weasley.

"Ginny's got other brothers to set her an example, Mother," Percy said loftily. "I'm going up to change for dinner."

Alex frowned after him. "You guys should be nicer to him," she told the twins once Percy was out of earshot. "He's your brother."

"That's exactly why we treat him like that," Fred tried to explain.

"He is pretty insufferable," added Ron. He quailed under his mother's glare, though.

"You wouldn't understand." George dismissed her with a sneer. "You're an only child, right, Fortescue?"

"Yes," she admitted grudgingly. "Unless you count Harry."

"We don't," said the twins.

"I don't," added Harry.

Alex threw her head back at them like she'd seen Bhagat do occasionally – his condescending looks were typically directed at desserts, however. Huh, maybe that was why he disliked her?

"Being an ice cream vendor is a dangerous job," she murmured to herself, shaking her head.

The twins and Ginny turned to look at her.

"You get used to it," Ron assured them, pouring himself some pumpkin juice.

Dinner that night was surprisingly enjoyable. Alex had never eaten at the Leaky Cauldron before; although it paled in comparison to her parents' cooking as well as the Hogwarts elves', she could see why it was such a hotspot. They even had dessert, which was slightly disappointing. Alex tried to put away her Fortescue Parlour discount coupons back in her robes as subtly as she could, but she was pretty sure Ginny took notice. Alex slid her one to keep her mum.

"So," said Alex, turning to Hermione, "how was France? I hear the people there can be pretty anti-Asian."

Hermione's eyes widened comically. "What?" she spluttered, her food momentarily forgotten. "Where'd you hear that?"

Alex shrugged. "My parents went there for their honeymoon," she explained, concentrating on getting a pea on each prong of her fork. "I guess things could've changed since the last time they were there."

"Oh. Well, I didn't notice anything of the sort," said Hermione, frowning. "Although the wizards and witches there aren't the friendliest when interacting with the non-magical community."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Do tell," she said, popping the peas into her mouth.

"I've heard about that," chimed in Ginny. "French wizards and witches like to play pranks on the muggles there, right?"

"Not just muggles." Hermione pursed her lips together. "Muggleborns too."

The way she stabbed her food with her fork indicated that Hermione had either witnessed of experienced said instances of muggle-baiting on her trip. They knew better than to ask for an elaboration, however. Alex just hoped Hermione had retaliated justly.

They were just getting started on dessert when Fred asked his parents how they were all getting to King's Cross tomorrow. All movement came to a halt when Mr Weasley informed them that they were, in fact, being provided with cars from the Ministry itself.

"Why?" said Percy curiously.

The twins used that opening to pounce. Apparently, the cars were a reward for Percy's new status as Humongous Bighead. As Mrs Weasley forced them to settle, Alex and the trio exchanged a speculative look. Harry appeared particularly disturbed by the Ministry's continued generosity.

"Well, as we haven't got a car anymore," Mr Weasley continued patiently, "and as I work there, they're doing me a favor."

He sounded casual enough, but Alex had spent enough time watching dodgy liars at school to spot the tells. Mr Weasley's red ears and inability to hold anyone's gaze were major ones.

"Good thing, too," Mrs Weasley added briskly. So she was in on it as well. "Do you realize how much luggage you've all got between you? A nice sight you'd be on the Muggle Underground! You are all packed, aren't you?"

"Ron hasn't put all his new things in his trunk yet," sighed Percy. "He's dumped them on my bed."

"You'd better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won't have much time in the morning," Mrs Weasley called down the table.

Ron scowled at Percy. He truly was everyone's favourite punching bag. Alex patted him on the head in consolation.

"I'm not a ruddy cat," he hissed, slapping her hand away.

"You look like Hermione's one, though," Ginny chipped in with a broad grin.

Alex gasped, delighted. "You have a cat?" she asked, whirling towards Hermione.

Smiling, Hermione nodded. "Bought him from the Menagerie earlier today. He's gorgeous - you'll love him."

She was right, of course. There was a lot a fluffy animal had to do for Alex not to fawn over it. It took a few minutes for Crookshanks the cat to warm up to her, but when he did, he wouldn't get off her lap - which was great, except he was really big and really heavy.

"You sure he isn't part-tiger?" Alex asked once more as she flexed her foot. Either Crookshanks was oblivious to her discomfort or he simply didn't care. If she knew cats as well as she thought she did, Alex was betting on the latter.

"I'm not convinced," announced Ginny. She was sitting beside Alex on the bed, happily patting the napping cat.

"The witch at the shop said he was part-kneazle," Hermione informed them as she organised her trunk for the seventh time. "So he's a bit more exceptional than the average housecat."

Ginny slid her eyes to Alex, smirking slightly. "She's insulting Spitfire, you know."

Alex gasped indignantly, startling Crookshanks. "Hermione, how dare you. I shan't let this slide. Wizard's duel, right now, let's go."

Hermione's eyes sparkled with amusement. "But then you'd have to push Crookshanks off your lap. That's a felony right there."

"Hm. True." Alex flopped down on the bed, allowing Crookshanks to get up and knead her belly. "Duel postponed."

While Hermione and Ginny moved on to gossiping about their Housemates, Alex revised what she knew about kneazles. They were shockingly intelligent, larger than normal cats and-most importantly of all-had tails resembling that of lions.

"I doubt that's what's most important," said Hermione, frowning.

Alex blushed lightly at the realisation she had been caught voicing her thoughts again. "Agree to disagree," she replied.

"I do wonder, though," began Ginny. "How smart is Crookshanks?"

Alex discovered the answer to that question later in the night.