Chapter Twenty-Four
When One Door Closes
Alex wiped the gunk out of her eyes as she trudged towards Dumbledore's office. It was half-past eight now, and she was dreading having to wake at this time every weekday from now on until Christmas rolled around.
"Did you sleep well?" Dumbledore asked leisurely. He was almost swamped beneath mounds of paperwork undoubtedly related to last night's incident.
Alex nodded absently, her gums still smarting from the dental hygiene spell she had applied soon after waking. It was easier than transfiguring a toothbrush, but much more irritating.
"Is everything all right now?" she asked.
Dumbledore sighed at the loaded question. "I doubt things will be all right for a long time," he admitted wearily. "But the first steps have been taken at the very least."
The ancient wizard returned his quill to its inkpot and rested his elbows on the desk with his fingers linked together. "The Minister was not very receptive to the revelations discovered last night," he began. "I predicted as much and instructed Sirius to wait in my quarters until Cornelius fully understood the situation."
If the Minister was everything Alex believed him to be, then the need for discretion made sense. He seemed like the type to spell first and ask questions later.
"He couldn't deny the evidence, however, especially once we interrogated Pettigrew once more. He'll undergo a private trial today. After the magistrate determines he is guilty, Sirius will be officially and legally exonerated. For now, however, he will remain in the castle for his own safety."
Yeah, because that worked out so well with the philosopher's stone. Alex grimaced, but she couldn't think of a better alternative.
She made it back to the Leaky Cauldron with only minimal nausea. Gagging slightly, Alex tucked Dumbledore's quill behind her ear. The magic used to turn it into a portkey had worn off, sure, but an ordinary quill still had its uses.
Though not as busy as it had been yesterday, Diagon Alley remained decently populated. They were probably last-minute stragglers hastily shopping for school supplies, judging by how frantic they appeared.
The ice cream parlour was empty, of course. Technically they didn't even open for another hour, but her dad always began work at nine on the dot to get things prepped. One day she would learn what, exactly, that meant, but for now she was content to stay in bed until eleven (most days, anyway).
Alex tapped on the door, alerting her dad of her presence. The beginnings of a smile on her face faded away once she noticed the distraught expression on his face.
"I have some bad news," he told her, and Alex's gut lurched. "Lucky's gone. We think he's run away."
Alex carefully shifted her expression into one of shock. "Maybe he returned to his original family."
Her dad nodded dejectedly. Alex squeezed his shoulder briefly in consolation.
"It's okay," he sighed, grabbing her trunk from its place by the wall. "It's better this way; now that you and Spitfire are returning to school, no one would keep him company anyway."
Speaking of which... Alex unlatched the carrier holding her pet and gave Spitfire a hug. His tail slapped her face, but his verbose purring told her he was enjoying the attention.
"I missed you too," she replied, kissing him on his fuzzy head.
Her dad wrapped them both in a hug. "Have a great term. We'll see you at Christmas."
Alex used her unoccupied arm to return the hug. "Sure thing. Don't adopt too many dogs while I'm gone."
Her dad chuckled but was definitely seeming contemplative. Alex shot him a narrow-eyed glance.
"You look more and more like your mum with each passing day," he said fondly.
Alex answered his warm smile with a bemused one of her own. "Laters, Dad," she said, picking up her trunk – which he had lightened, thankfully. She then hurried to the Leaky Cauldron, the note she had scribbled last night at the forefront of her mind.
Spitfire meowed in protest as she raced up the stairs. In a way, she was too late. Mrs Weasley was knocking on her door, a concerned frown on her face. "Alexandra, dear, are you all right?" she asked.
"Yep," called Alex from the other end of the hall. She lifted her trunk somewhat. "Just went to grab my things from Dad."
Mrs Weasley's face cleared with understanding. "I take it you're ready for breakfast, then?"
"More than ready," she assured her. "Let me just grab something from my room and I'll be right on down."
"Take your time, dear."
Alex returned her amicable smile as she approached her room. As soon as Mrs Weasley descended the stairs, Alex dropped her trunk and used her free hand to throw open the door. She released Spitfire from her hold and dived onto the bed to reach the dresser upon which the note was sitting. A simple Vanishing Charm took care of that, and there was finally a moment in which she allowed herself a breather.
Her tired body sagged against the soft bed. Hopefully the rest of the year won't be this exciting. She knocked on wood just in case.
"Are you still sleeping?" Ginny asked, amused.
Alex didn't even bother lifting her head up. "Ever heard of knocking, Weasley?"
"I'll knock you in a sec," Ginny grumbled.
She finally sat up, and they shared an amused smirk. "Your mum send you up here? She told me to take my time, though."
"She always says that," confessed Ginny, rolling her eyes, "but never means it. But no, she didn't ask me to come here — Ron did. Scabbers is gone."
"Oh no."
Ginny's look was flat but tinged with amusement. "You've gotta act better than that when Ron eventually confronts you. He'll probably blame the suspicious arrival of your cat, too," she added, kneeling down to let Spitfire sniff her hand.
"Spitfire only eats wagyu beef."
"I saw you feed him some broccoli before."
Alex clicked her tongue in mock irritation.
True to Ginny's words, as soon as they reached the dining parlour, Ron began his interrogation. He leapt up from his seat, almost knocking the goblet from Harry's hand in the process. "You!" he hollered, pointing rather dramatically at the black cat in Alex's arms.
Spitfire yowed at him.
"He says hi," translated Alex as she took the seat by the end of the table. Percy politely moved his elbow out of the way for her.
Mrs Weasley frowned at Spitfire. "Are you sure you need to bring him down here, Alexandra?"
"He has separation anxiety."
Harry's stare informed her that he was completely aware of her bullshit.
"Crookshanks is still sleeping," Hermione felt the need to point out. "He wound up outside my room halfway through the night."
"He couldn't stand Alex's smell for long, hm?" the twin beside Mr Weasley asked innocently.
"Don't be crude, Fred," said the one Alex now knew was Fred. "It was obviously her snores that drove him out."
"I don't snore that loudly," she protested, huffing.
"Must be the flatulence, then."
"Boys!" snapped Mrs Weasley. "Enough!"
The twins snickered; Alex couldn't help but snort.
"Um, you all seem to be forgetting something," interjected Ron as breakfast began to arrive. He didn't even glance at the omelette set in front of him. "Scabbers is gone! Eaten, probably!"
"There, there, son," soothed Mr Weasley as he dug into his sausages. "We'll get you a new pet."
Mrs Weasley cleared her throat pointedly.
"We may get you a new pet."
"How do you know a cat ate him?" posited Hermione. "It could've easily been an owl."
Ron directed his laser-eye glare at Harry.
"If Hedwig didn't want Scabbers before, she wouldn't be interested in him now," reasoned Harry. He seemed to be the only one to genuinely sympathise with Ron's current plight.
Best friends for life, mused Alex as she poured herself a cup of tea.
Spitfire mewed from his position on her lap. Alex dropped him a bit of scrambled egg, ignoring Ginny's suspicious glance as she did so. Ron glared at her from across the table.
Well, she'd rather he remain cross with her for the rest of their lives than have him discover the truth behind Scabbers' disappearance.
After breakfast, they collected their belongings from their rooms and brought them down to the muggle-facing side of the Leaky Cauldron. Two old-fashioned green cars were parked across the road, each driven by wizards in similarly coloured velvet suits.
Alex was both impressed and repulsed by the tackiness of it all. She was sorely tempted to hop on another Knight Bus instead.
"Quit dawdling," grumbled Ron as he brushed past her.
Alex arched an eyebrow at his back, thoroughly unimpressed. Harry, upon catching her expression, shrugged apologetically for his best friend's trashy behaviour. Huffing, Alex handed her trunk to Mr Weasley and hopped into the car that was Ron-less.
The inside of the car was conspicuously wider than it appeared from outside. It easily fit herself, Hermione and the twins in the back as well as Mr Weasley and the driver in the front.
"Bit sus," she noted wryly.
Hermione pulled a thoughtful expression. "I wonder what this looks like to others," she mused.
"Are muggle cars not this spacious?" queried Mr Weasley with a frown.
"Not these kinds, no."
Mr Weasley hummed in response. He seemed a second away from pulling out a notepad and writing that little tidbit now.
Hermione let out a small squeak as they drove past a cop car. "What if we get pulled over?" she gasped, eyes widening with distress. "We might never get to Hogwarts at this rate."
Alex tried not to let her amusement show. "We're fine, Hermione. They didn't even glance our way. Besides, even if we're pulled over, a simple Confundus would do the trick."
"But that's illegal," she protested, straightening slightly. "Not to mention highly immoral."
For a lack of a better response, Alex merely lifted her shoulders in a brief shrug. Hermione's nostrils flared; a mix of frustration and disappointment evidently came over her. There was something she wanted to say—a million things, to be sure—but apparently Hermione decided it wasn't worth the effort. Frowning sharply, she glanced away.
Great. Not only had she pissed off Ron, now Hermione was upset with her. Which of Harry's best friends was she going after next?
She should apologise. Alex knew this with unwavering certainty. But she was tired, and besides, their current setting wasn't exactly conducive for a sincere admission of guilt.
Sighing, Alex pressed her forehead against the window and watched London stream past her.
Alex left the others as soon as she stepped onto the Express. Either she was extra wily, or the others didn't bother chasing after her, because she managed to get away uninterrupted. The Ministry drivers hadn't gotten them to King's Cross as fast as she had expected despite the Repelling Charms that chased the other vehicles away from them; almost all the compartments were taken.
Fortunately, she spotted a familiar face soon enough.
"Hey," she greeted Grant. "What's up? Where's Duncan?"
"We're not always together, y'know," he drawled even as he helped her with her trunk.
She waited patiently for an answer.
Grant relented with a roll of his eyes. "Bathroom."
"How was your summer?" she asked, taking a seat across from him. "I didn't see or hear from you. Like, at all."
Grant stared pensively out the window. "I was busy," he said, eyeing the flat plains of England. "Family stuff."
That could mean a myriad of things. Sensing that topic of conversation was off-limits, Alex preoccupied herself by playing with Spitfire's pointy little ears.
The tension dissipated noticeably when Duncan stumbled in, a faint wince wrinkling his skin as he rubbed his belly. "That the last time I add marshmallows to my BLT," he moaned.
Alex's stomach turned at the mere thought of that travesty.
"I weep for your future family," Grant said flatly.
"But you're right here?" Duncan smiled benignly.
"Cute," quipped Alex, grinning.
"Please," scoffed Grant. "Love's a sham."
Alex leaned into her seat, taken aback. She exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Duncan.
Well, she thought as a gloomy silence descended on their compartment, at least now I know what family problems he's having.
As they crossed the imaginary line separating England from Scotland, dark clouds began to choke the sky. Rain fell in sheets with little warning, and Alex wondered if the driver was able to see through it all.
They must've, for the train reached Hogsmeade station with little fuss. Night had fallen by then, and Alex fought the urge to flinch every time someone's robes swished in the dark. A quick scan of the sky assured her there were no dementors present – a fact that grew more apparent the longer they remained unbothered.
"Are you looking for nargles?" wondered Luna as she followed them into their thestral-pulled carriage. "If so, they're clustered around that girl right now."
Alex spared a moment to sneak a peek at the direction Luna was indicating. Funnily enough, Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy came up in her line of sight.
"Makes sense," she snarked.
"Luna Fortuna," greeted Duncan, grinning. "How was Belgium?"
Alex wasn't sure what surprised her more: Luna's vacation, or the fact that Duncan knew of it. A glance at Grant's unperturbed expression informed her that he was in the loop as well. Feeling oddly disconcerted, Alex only partially listened to her Ravenclaw mates swap summer tales.
"What about you, Alex?" asked Luna as she formed another braid from her dry blonde locks. "Did you do anything revolutionary?"
She smiled. "I got a dog. He's gone now, though."
"Felt like a snack, did you?" asked Grant, smirking.
The whole world seemed to crumble away. The only thing Alex could hear was the deafening thuds of her heartbeat. She stared at her redheaded friend.
"What…did you say?" she asked, her voice quiet with shock.
To his credit, Grant instantly appeared uncomfortable. "Never mind," he muttered, refusing to meet her gaze.
Alex pressed a hand against her temple. Was it too late to turn this carriage around? The Express hadn't left yet, had it?
Duncan glanced between them, evidently confused. As someone who had been raised in the magical community his entire life, the only semblance of racism he understood was limited to that of blood purity. Alex wished other dark-skinned people had that luxury.
Luna seemed completely uninvolved – she was humming a nursery rhyme that involved a merperson and a narwhal. No doubt she had gotten distracted at some point in their conversation.
The rest of the ride was silent, each person absorbed in their own thoughts. It wasn't until they came to a stop that Grant reached out to her – literally. Alex hesitated a brief second before accepting his hand as she stepped down from the carriage.
They moved out of the way for the next group.
"I'm sorry," Grant mumbled, eyes downcast. "It was a shitty joke. I thought…" He shook his head. "It doesn't matter."
"You thought I'd be okay with you saying something like that?" Alex finished off for him. Her brow was knit with scepticism.
Grant scowled. "You're sure acting all high and mighty for someone who pokes fun at me for being muggleborn."
Alex's jaw fell open. A denial was on the tip of her tongue, but then she realised what Grant was referring to. "That's different," she insisted, cheeks ablaze. "I'm just being sarcastic. Ironic, even."
"How?" demanded Grant. "How is you saying crap like 'Top of the class? A muggleborn?' different from what I said back then?"
"You know I don't mean it," she snapped, her face red with shame. "It's, like, satire or whatever."
He rolled his eyes. "Aren't you the one who's always saying jokes have a semblance of truth to them?"
"There's nothing wrong with being honest," said an uninvolved party. Katherine had walked over towards them from her carriage; Bhagat and Agatha were hot on her heels.
"Truth hurts, doesn't it?" Bhagat sneered, and although he didn't say the word, they all knew he was thinking it.
Grant responded by flipping him the bird. Without even sparing a glance at her, he turned around and ascended the stairs of the castle.
As she watched him go, she felt a weight settle on her soldiers.
I'm so tired.
"Come on, Fortescue," invited Agatha as her friends began heading into the entrance hall. "Sit with us tonight." Of the three of them, she seemed to be the only one with a shred of compassion in her.
She was still a blood purist, though.
"No, thank you. I'm skipping dinner tonight." Not wishing to see Agatha's reaction to her rejection, Alex branched away from her and towards the direction of the dungeons.
At the last second, she went up instead of down the stairs. The Room of Requirement seemed more appealing at the present moment; she was at least promised solitude there.
When she reached the corridor of the seventh floor, she greeted Barnaby the Barmy, the figure on the tapestry positioned right across the room. He was still futilely attempting to train a troupe of trolls for the ballet.
"Anyone in there, Barnaby?" she asked as she began pacing in front of the room.
Barnaby managed a shake of his head before one of the trolls fell on him.
After her third round of pacing, the entrance materialised. Alex opened the door and was greeted by her bedroom. Relieved, she jumped onto her bed and laid there for a good while.
She wanted to cry or scream—something to release her frustrations—but all she could manage was a groan. The dementors had robbed her of more than just her sense of security, it seemed.
That topic wasn't one she wished to deliberate on, so Alex directed her focus towards meditation instead. Her eyes fell shut as she measured her breathing: in for two seconds, out for three.
It had become a common practice for her over the summer, suggested by Sirius after he had noted her explosive bouts of accidental magic. He had been surprised and a little bemused by her latent…abilities — and he used this word extremely loosely.
Frankly, it was embarrassing for someone her age to have such poor control over her magic. She wasn't a child, for Merlin's sake. While using a wand helped reign it in a little, it also meant she would never be able to use wandless magic.
When she conferred her concerns to Sirius, he had advised not to lose hope. Whenever she was feeling particularly emotive, he recommended she meditate to cool off.
"My father used to say magic was a harmonic union of your brain, heart and soul," he told her one sunny afternoon. "Otherwise known as knowledge, intent, and passion."
Alex had frowned, then, just as she did now upon recalling the lecture. Weren't the last two basically the same thing?
Eventually, she was forced out of her peaceful state by the relentless growls of her empty stomach. Alex rolled out of bed, straightened her robes, and made her way down to the kitchen.
She wasn't the only wand-waver there, though. Her brain almost short-circuited when she spotted Sirius at the empty tables.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, curious.
Shouldn't that be my line? Alex rubbed her eyes. Nope, he was still there, sitting at one of the empty tables.
"I go to school here," she replied, moving to sit across from him.
"Really?" he said, his flat voice tinged with amusement. "I could've sworn you were a Durmstrang student."
"I hear the uniforms are a crime against fashion."
"That was the sole reason my family was enrolled in Hogwarts instead," he claimed. "Well, that and centuries of tradition."
Alex snorted before greeting the house-elf who had rushed to her side. "I'll have whatever's leftover."
"Yes'm," chirped the elf, already hurrying off.
"Serious— Actually, though," said Alex, turning back to a grinning Sirius. "Why are you here instead of…well, anywhere?"
Sirius dipped a morsel of bread into his soup. "Would you believe me if I said I was here for nostalgia's sake?"
"Yes," she admitted. It was a reasonable excuse; the last time she suspected Sirius had been truly happy was during his schooldays.
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Let's just say it's best for everyone if I'm not on my own for a good while."
The implications of his statement left Alex reeling. Just how much baggage had Sirius been burdened with after his twelve-year imprisonment?
"Your dinner, miss," announced the house-elf from earlier.
"Thank you." What began as a grateful expression ended with bemusement as the house-elf continued to unload more and more plates onto the table. Alex smiled as the house-elf skipped away, silently wondering if the food was all for her, or if they noticed how frightfully skinny Sirius was.
He was slowly but surely putting on weight. In a few months' time he'd probably even look his age again.
"So, why aren't you in the Great Hall?" he prodded as he finished his soup. He dutifully moved onto the steak Alex slid in front of him.
Alex sighed into her goblet. "Can't be bothered," she admitted. All that noise and drama... Yeah, the kitchens were definitely a better alternative, busy as it was.
Was it fair for her to disparage it that way when she was at the crux of it all?
"On the bright side," interjected Sirius before her thoughts could spiral out of control, "I'll be publicly exonerated tomorrow morning."
Alex tilted her head to the side in contemplation. "Tomorrow morning…you mean when the owls deliver the papers?"
Sirius nodded. "The Prophet wanted an interview with me, but my attorney advised otherwise. She said to wait a few days for maximum impact."
"Like how none of the trailers showed the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park," noted Alex. The film had been released over the summer, and she had dragged her parents, Sirius and Harry to see it — separately, of course.
"Exactly," said Sirius, already moving onto dessert.
The house-elves had just cleared away their dishes when the door swung open. Rather than raising suspicion by using his animagus abilities, Sirius merely turned his back to the door. His appearance differed enough from his mugshot, so she supposed it was worth a shot.
It was just Lupin, though. He seemed surprised to see her, but not overtly so.
"What happened to not being spotted?" he asked Sirius, eyebrows raised. "This is exactly why you should've stayed in my office."
"What?" protested Sirius, whirling around to face his friend. "It's just Alex."
"Oi," she groused.
He grinned. "Did you see him?" he asked Lupin, his excitement visible. "How was he?"
Lupin's expression softened with fondness. "Just like James."
Oh. They were talking about Harry. Embarrassed, Alex remained exceptionally still so she wouldn't intrude on what was clearly an intimate moment.
She had to know, though. "Are you gonna introduce yourself to him?" she asked of Sirius. He needed Harry as much as Harry needed Sirius.
Lupin stared at Sirius. "You told her?"
Ah, right. He and Dumbledore were under the impression that she and Sirius had encountered each other sporadically upon seizing Pettigrew – who was most likely dead, now that she stopped to think about it.
Sirius nodded in answer to both their questions. "Dumbledore recommends we do so after the article is released."
"Good luck," Alex told him sincerely. She kinda wished she would be there, just to help mediate things. Then again, her presence would probably raise more questions than answer them.
"Thank you," Lupin replied wearily. "We'll need it."