Chapter Twenty-Eight

Perspective

Alex was drawn out of her reverie an hour or so later by a knock on her door. It was just one soft tap, so she knew without looking that it was her dad checking in on her.

"When'd you get back?" she asked, rolling over to face him.

"A few minutes ago," he replied, moving to sit on the edge of her bed. He ran a hand along Spitfire's back, who immediately hopped into his wide lap. "I hear you got into a fight with your mum."

"Wasn't really a fight," she mumbled, watching her cat knead her dad's thighs like they were made of dough. "More like a disagreement."

"One that landed you in the slammer?" he asked wryly. Then he winced. "Poor choice of words."

Alex almost rolled her eyes instinctively, but she had already sassed one parent today. "I just don't get it," she admitted, her tone coloured with frustration. "It's clear as day the system screwed up, so why does she keep acting like Sirius Black is the bad guy in this situation?"

Her dad hummed thoughtfully. "You have to see things from her angle," he suggested. "All hell broke loose in the ministry—especially the Auror Department—when Black escaped Azkaban, which was famed for its impenetrability. Not only did they have to deal with finding a suppose felon, they also had everyone breathing down their necks for their incompetence – which worsened when it was revealed he wasn't even guilty after all. Someone else was, and now they have to live with the fact that they condemned an innocent man for over a decade."

Alex frowned. "But she wasn't involved in his case. Was she?"

"Not directly," hedged her dad, and it was one of the worst answers he could've given. "She was there during that confrontation between Pettigrew and Black; she saw the explosion, although from a distance."

"You mean..." Alex swallowed audibly. She must've been two-years-old when that happened. Despite her efforts, she couldn't remember any of this happening. Her parents must've kept it from her, must've grieved behind closed doors.

"How is she even still an auror?" she asked, horrified.

Her dad levelled her with a grave, regretful look. "We've seen worse."

A shiver crept down her spine. The war, she supplied for them both. And to think another was going to break out in the just a few years' time.

Could she stop it? The question plagued her every now and then. Sure, she was armed with foreknowledge—spotty and forgotten though most of it was—but she was just one person in the playing field, and not a particularly crucial one in the scope of things.

Sometimes Alex even wondered whether or not that was the reason she had been born in the first place. If so, then the figure in charge of her life had a bunch of questions that required answering.

When her dad left her to ruminate over things, Alex closed her door and approached her bedside drawer. There were a bunch of old notepads, magazines and colouring books stuffed in there. There was but one she was interested in: the oldest in the pile, a battered colouring book with a field of flowers on the cover.

Crouched over the bottom drawer, Alex flicked through the worn book until she reached the page with a rainbow-coloured unicorn on it. Beneath its prancing form was a bunch of doodles she hoped appeared innocuous to anyone who didn't know any better.

The was a drawing of a lightning bolt hovering over a pair of glasses; a rock in a mirror; a snake in a pipe beside an open book; and a black, wolf-like dog paired with a rat. Several pages later, scattered throughout a print-out of a maze was a cup on fire that spat out those same glasses from before, a dragon, an egg, and a gravestone. It got much vaguer after that: in another corner of the maze was a crystal ball; in another was a circle within a triangle that had a line through it; and finally there was a dilapidated castle consumed by fire.

Alex traced the last drawing, feeling that familiar apprehension descend on her like a weighted blanket. It honestly frightened her how little she knew of the future. Aside from the core events she had penned down, there were a few tidbits she managed to cling onto — they only surfaced every now and then, triggered by certain circumstances.

They were mostly irrelevant, though. What did it matter that she had remembered Lockhart and Quirrell had been frauds? Why could she remember the fact that Dumbledore was a shady old coot but not recall why, in fact, this was so? It was enough to drive her mad sometimes.

Frustrated, Alex left her room and joined her parents downstairs. Based on the noise, they had removed the plastic Christmas tree from the shed and were preparing to set it up. Alex joined them wordlessly and, when her mum handed her one end of the tinsel while she handled the other, she knew things were alright with them. It was hard not to, what with the way her dad was beaming at them like the ruddy sun itself.

Alex waited until they were all seated in the carriage before asking, "How were your breaks? Rake in any gold?"

"That's not what Christmas is about," cut in Hermione.

"I thought Christmas was about Jesus?" said Harry.

"Who's that?" asked Ron. He shook his head. "Never mind. Harry got a new broom! Guess which!"

"A Nimbus 2000," suggested Alex.

"That's the one he already has…"

"A Nimbus 1999."

"A Firebolt," answered Harry, grinning. "From Sirius."

Funny, thought Alex with a small smile, he got me the same thing.

She had been stunned when she opened the conspicuously shaped package, and her parents had openly gaped upon realising what make and model it was. Alex had waited until night fell before taking it for a spin – and she hadn't even fallen, to her immense pride. It was dented slightly when her mum informed her it was charmed to help keep its rider on; even if she did fall, the broom would rush to catch her again. Now it was at home, most likely taking turns being used by her parents.

But the real surprise had been from Remus. Now she was extra glad she had given him a gift, tacky as it was. He had gotten her a book that detailed all the Dark magical creatures to watch for all over the world, as well as how to fend them off both magically and otherwise.

The chapter on dementors was especially helpful. Although their class had dedicated two weeks learning the Patronus Charm, it was relatively fruitless. The only person who actually produced a corporeal patronus had been Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw.

"Pretty and talented," she had overheard Agatha murmur approvingly.

"The power of good hair," Alex had quipped.

She received a bemused look for that.

Alex knew, in theory, how a patronus worked. You had to summon a happy memory — a truly joyous one. And she honestly had no clue what that was for her.

"Hermione," she said halfway into their journey, "what do you think your happiest memory is?"

Hermione peered up from her textbook. "When I got bumped up to fourth form," she said dreamily.

Yeah, that was no help. "Ron?" she asked.

He must've really liked his new owl—which Ginny had quickly stolen—because there was no frost in his voice when he replied, "When Ginny helped me thrash Fred and George."

Alex already knew Harry's—when he discovered he could leave the Dursley residence, or when he found out he had a godfather—so she didn't bother asking him. Instead, he asked her.

She shrugged. "You tell me."

"When you got a dog."

Oh, crap. He remembered that? Yikes. Sirius better not have revealed his animagus form to Harry. Judging by his lack of suspicion, it seemed they were still in the clear. Alex wasn't looking forward to explaining that any time soon.

"Nope," she replied. "Ron?"

"Whenever people kiss up to you," he decided, digging through his pockets.

She stared at him for a solid five seconds. "What?"

"What?" he said blankly.

"What d'you mean 'people kiss up to me'?" Who? When?

"It's not that they kiss up to you," clarified Ron, frowning as he struggled to put his thoughts into words, "but they definitely try to impress you. You guys have noticed it, right?" he asked, turning to his best mates.

"Uh, not really," said Harry, since he was as observant as a rock. "I've noticed people don't like you, though."

"Thanks, mate," sighed Alex.

Hermione tapped a finger against her chin. "I sort of get what you mean, Ron," she mused. "People definitely look up to you, Alex – take Ginny, for example."

"But we're friends?" she said cluelessly.

"You don't have any friends you look up to?"

Uhh. "Do dead people count?" The ghosts and portraits were pretty impressive, based on her conversations with them.

"You're friends with dead people?" asked Ron, paling dramatically.

"You're not?"

Harry shook his head, exasperated. "Who aren't you friends with?"

"Parkinson and Malfoy," Ron answered immediately.

"Well… I'm acquainted with a Parkinson." Pansy's low-tension cousin, at any rate.

"You're beyond help."

Overall, Harry knew Ron was right about one thing – Alex and Malfoy really didn't get along. Maybe things would've been different if she hadn't befriended him, but Harry highly doubted it.

The blonde snit himself slammed their compartment door open just as Hogsmeade village came into sight in the distance. "Really, Potter?" he drawled apropos of nothing. Then again, that was how it usually was with Malfoy. "I know you're desperate for some semblance of a parent, but a convicted felon? Talk about low-hanging fruit."

Harry shot up from his seat, startling everyone else. He normally let Malfoy's snide jabs go for the most part by choosing to retaliate verbally rather than physically. Harry wasn't a complete pushover, though; he wasn't going to let Malfoy badmouth Sirius like that. The man's name had been dragged through the mud enough as it was.

"Say one more thing about my godfather," he spat, grabbing his wand from his pants pocket. "I dare you, Malfoy."

Crabbe and Goyle puffed up in preparation for a fight, as did Ron and Hermione. Before spells could start flying, however, someone pushed Goyle, sending him toppling into Malfoy and Crabbe.

"Strike. I should take up bowling as a hobby," contemplated Alex, who had just returned from the bathroom. Her wand was out and pointed down at her Housemates' tangled forms.

She murmured something, and the hoods of Goyle's and Crabbe's robes swallowed their heads just as they scrambled to sit up. Their hands flew to their covered faces, frantically attempting to rip it open.

That taken care of, Alex directed her wand-hand so it was pointed at Malfoy, whose weaselly face was torn between an expression of alarm and chagrin. She smiled coldly at the reaction, and Harry thought his mates were wrong. People didn't respect Alex; they were apprehensive of her.

"It's funny you should say that about Harry," said Alex lightly, "considering what type of person your father is. I bet your family's pretty worried about the talks of revisiting old war trials, huh, Draco?"

"I've no clue what you're on about," Malfoy said through gritted teeth.

Her smile grew. "I'm sure."

With a finite incantatem, Crabbe and Goyle were released from their own robes. They inhaled sharply, and it was only then that Harry realised they had been running out of air the entire time. Once they regained their breaths, they turned to Malfoy for instructions.

Malfoy pulled himself up with as much dignity as he could muster. "You'd better watch your back, Fortescue. Who knows what'll happen to Black – or the people protecting him?"

Alex's body grew tense. She tightened her grip on her wand. "Rest assured," she said with forced calm, "the retaliation will be swift and painful on their parts."

Malfoy could only sneer in response. "Let's go," he barked at his goons.

Once they disappeared down the corridor, Alex closed the compartment door and sank into the padded bench with a sigh. It was as if the strings holding her up had been cut, the fight in her extinguished. Malfoy's parting comment had seriously shaken her.

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione, her rabbit teeth worrying her lower lip.

Alex rubbed the back of her neck. "My mum… She's one of the aurors watching Sirius."

Hermione's eyes widened. "And you think Malfoy's father is out to get them?"

"Maybe. Someone in that circle, at any rate." Alex leaned back in her seat and glanced up at the shelf that held their napping pets. "Harry, you might want to send a note of warning to Sirius. Ron, where's your owl?"

"With Ginny," answered Ron. "Want me to find her?"

Alex smiled, evidently touched by his offer. "That'd be nice, thanks."

"Actually," said Harry, "I have something that can help."

It took a little work, but he eventually grabbed a handheld mirror from his bag. It was another gift of Sirius's, something he had found when he returned to his mysterious, secret apartment.

"It's a two-way mirror," he said in response to the curious looks being shot thrice his way. "Sirius has the other."

Ron's face lit up with understanding. "Like a fellytone!"

"Yep," said Harry, grinning, "just like that."

Hermione berated him with a look for misleading Ron like that, but the small quirk of her lips told him she was otherwise okay with it. Alex just rolled her eyes.

Feeling like a salesperson showing off his wares, Harry cleared his throat and held the mirror up. "Sirius?" he asked tentatively. It was his first time using the mirror, so he was unclear about the process.

After a moment, the mirror shimmered and Sirius's worried face appeared. "Harry?" he asked, his voice a tad muffled. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah. Well, not really." Harry quickly summarised the encounter with Malfoy.

Sirius's expression darkened, but he didn't appear surprised by the news. "Thank you for telling me. I've overstayed my welcome here, anyway," he added, gesturing towards his room in the Tonks residence.

It was an empty lie, and they both knew it; all three members of the Tonks family adored Sirius. He could stay for another year and they wouldn't even bat an eye.

From his periphery, Harry caught Alex making a move for the mirror. He conceded it to her easily.

"Hey, Sirius, what's up?" She said it casually, like she did whenever she was on the phone. "There's a rat—figuratively—among the aurors, or whoever knows about your situation. There're plenty of them in the Ministry." Her eyes rolled so far back Harry was worried they'd fall out.

"Bloody bureaucrats," Sirius muttered. "I'll be discrete. Thanks for the tip."

"No worries." Alex handed the mirror back to Harry.

"Be safe," he said, frowning.

Sirius shot him a reassuring smile. "I will. Enjoy the rest of the term."

"Did you do something to piss Malfoy off?" Katherine asked at dinner that evening.

"You mean besides exist?" wondered Alex.

Agatha frowned. The lines in her face were going to be permanently etched at this rate. "You should avoid antagonising him. Even now his family holds a lot of power."

"What, more so than the ice cream man?"

Katherine blessed them with her pretty smile. "Just a fraction more," she quipped, reaching for some mash.

"Seriously, though," Agatha pressed from across the table. Her skitterish gaze flickered from Malfoy's grumpy frown to Alex's apathetic appearance. "What happened?"

Humming, Alex tapped her fingers on the tabletop as she figured out to word her reply. "He was talking smack about my mates, so I gave him as good as he got." Well, she took the higher road, really — at least she hadn't made fun of someone for being an orphan.

Agatha made a noise of mild disgust. "You're so..." She trailed off with a shake of her blonde head.

"So what?" prompted Alex, lowering her cutlery.

Katherine slowed her chewing.

"So- So brutish," stammered out Agatha. She looked a second away from waving her goblet in the air wildly. "Why must you retaliate? Anyone with common sense would just let it slide."

"Guess I don't have common sense, then," Alex scoffed with an exaggerated raise of her eyebrows.

Agatha hissed out a sigh. "I'm just saying," she bit out, "you should think twice before crossing a Malfoy."

"Just a Malfoy? Or does this extend to purebloods in general?"

Katherine cut through the mounting animosity by stating with a smirk, "If so, Alexandra, you'll need a time-turner to save you."

Alex huffed softly in amusement. Time-turners were one of, if not the most, ridiculous magical objects in the world. To mess with the flow and flux of time, even for a few meaningless hours, was absolutely nuts — and dangerous. True, they were regulated by the Ministry, but Alex was gradually beginning to grasp just how tenuous their grip on the world was.

So imagine her surprise when she discovered that Hermione Granger of all people was in possession of such a restricted device.

It happened a full two months before exams were set to start. Alex was in the library on her own—a rarity these days—and had stumbled upon Hermione on her way to grab a reference book. Alex's swottish friend had the entire block of tables to herself, and if she listened carefully, she could've sworn she heard the wooden structure groan beneath the weight of all the books piled onto it.

"Jesus, Hermione," murmured Alex as she approached. "You studying for every subject in the curriculum?"

Hermione, who was already frazzled as it was, looked simultaneously like a deer in headlights and a kid caught with the cookie jar at Alex's words.

"Of course not," she eventually forced out with a weak giggle. "Don't be ridiculous, Alex."

Alex's mouth fell open. "No!" she gasped, scandalised and delighted all at once. "You've outdone yourself, Herm, seriously."

"Don't call me that," she snapped, scowling. Ah, it seemed like study-mode-short-tempered Hermione was out in full force.

"But Hermione is so long," she sighed.

"Well, tough. It's my name."

Alex grinned. Hermione was endearing. "For real, though, why are you studying everything?"

Hermione eyed her shrewdly. "If I tell you the truth, will you let me study in peace?"

Alex nodded as she took a seat.

"I'm studying everything because I'm undertaking every subject available." Sighing softly, Hermione reached for something around her neck. She pulled out a necklace from beneath her robes. "A time-turner. Professor McGonagall received permission from the Ministry so I could enrol in every class."

"What...the hell..." Alex's brain ceased working for several seconds. "What."

"Okay, bye," dismissed Hermione as she returned to her studies.

Alex staggered back to her desk in a daze as she tried to process the bombshell Hermione dropped on her. Who in their right minds gave a thirteen-year-old free reign of a time machine for a whole year just so they could study more than they needed to? Was that a thing? Or was Professor McGonagall that fond of Hermione?

Holy shit. Just what kind of connections did their Transfiguration professor have?

The next time she had Transfiguration class, Alex sent the professor a look that she hoped conveyed the magnitude of respect she had for her.

"Please stop," begged Grant as he fixed the legs of his transfigured cat. "You're creeping all of us out."

"I just really admire her, y'know?" Alex had long given up on her mutation. "She's a real one."

"A real what?" asked Duncan, confused. "Is this muggle slang?"

Grant ignored him. "If you really want to impress Professor McGonagall, you could try improving your transfiguration skills."

"Maybe in my next life," Alex muttered. She knocked on wood to be safe.

"Do you plan on flunking your Transfiguration exam, then?"

"Nah," she said, paying no mind to the fire beneath Grant's words. "I'll ace the theory and attempt the practical." It was what she did every year anyhow.

"More than attempt, I hope," Professor McGonagall commented as she surveyed their table and its hodgepodge works.

Alex smiled brightly. I make no promises, she thought but didn't say. Professor McGonagall was either a legilimens or extremely good at reading people, though, because she arched an eyebrow inquisitively.

Fortunately for them both, Alex passed all her exams. The chimaera statue they were meant to bring to life for Transfiguration – hm, yeah, she didn't want to dwell on that.

Most of her subjects were easy enough to deal with, but the new professors this year for CoMC and DADA were particularly interesting. In additional to a simple questionnaire, Hagrid surveyed their ability to interact with the hippogriffs – they were scored based on how many bows received in under a minute. Alex was aware of how the test was biased in her favour, seeing how she was friends with Hagrid and thus had more access to the hippogriffs, but at the same time she didn't really care.

The practical portion of the Defence exam was an obstacle course, awfully enough. They had to make their way from the front of the Great Hall to the back by fending off the slew of magical creatures they had learnt about throughout the year. The test ended with a demonstration of the Patronus Charm, which was just a wisp of silvery smoke for most people.

"Chin up, Alexandra," advised Professor Lupin with a smile. "You managed more than some of your classmates."

Alex fiddled with the sleeve of her robes. "They're probably upset by the rumour."

"Rumour?"

"Yeah. People are saying you're not teaching after this year."

To her immense disappointment, Professor Lupin nodded in confirmation. "Do you recall when I was away for a bit, and Professor Snape had to cover my class? What was that lesson about?"

"Werewolves." Alex engaged in a stare-off with him for a few seconds before realisation slammed into her. "Oh. You're – oh. That's cool."

Professor Lupin's smile didn't reach his eyes. "It isn't, but thank you. Of course, parents and stakeholders alike are displeased with my presence now that some of the students have put two and two together. I figured I'd save everyone the trouble and resign before things get out of hand."

You should bite Snape. Alex forced a smile as if the positive act would push the grim suggestion from her mind.

"We'll miss you," she said instead — and she meant it, too. He was easily the best Defence professor to grace these halls in a long, long time.

Afterwards, Alex sought out Hermione to see how she was coping. She found her outside, soaking in the warm spring weather. Her hair was even frizzier than normal, probably because of all the stress.

"I had to use the time-turner three times today," Hermione confessed when Alex sat down next to her. "I almost went mad keeping track of things. Do you know how many people spotted me and asked what I was doing back so soon?"

"You gonna keep doing this next year?" Alex asked as she ran her fingers through the tufts of grass.

Hermione shook her head furiously. "Definitely not. What's the point of studying everything if you're not going to enjoy it?"

"Relatable," she lied. "Still have the turner?"

"No." Hermione slide her a suspicious glance. "Why?"

Damn. "No reason," she replied, plastering an innocent look on her face.

"Hm." Sighing, Hermione leaned back on her hands. "Do you have any plans for the summer?"

"Work. Video games. World domination," Alex listed off. "You? Paris again?"

"I've had enough of France for a while," confessed Hermione. "The Quidditch World Cup is happening in August, though, so I might see what that's like."

Alex grimaced. "Isn't there a near-death incident at every tournament?"

"What, really?" gasped Hermione. "I might just stay home, then."

Ginny wouldn't have any of it, though.

"You have to go!" she told them on the train ride home. "I need you guys to keep me company."

"You have your brothers," placated Hermione. "And Harry."

"Girl company."

"You just want someone to fawn over Krum with," said Ron with a sneer.

Ginny turned her nose up at him. "Don't act like you don't have a giant poster of him tucked away in your room."

Ron's reddening face clashed terribly with his hair. "How'd you know about that?" he asked in a squeaky voice that had Harry snorting with laughter.

"Crumb?" asked Alex.

"Viktor Krum," answered Harry, pausing in his game of wizard's chess. "Famous quidditch player. He's our age, too."

"Sounds like you're a fan."

He shrugged. "That spot's reserved for Ron."

"Harry," whined Ron, feeling betrayed.

"Anyway," interjected Ginny, "my dad has a bunch of tickets from work, so you lot won't even need to pay."

Hermione was almost sold on the idea, but Alex remained unconvinced. "I dunno," she said slowly, playing with Spitfire's paws. "I'm not really keen on watching a bunch of thick-skinned lads trying to kill each other."

"Ireland's team is mostly composed of women," offered Ginny.

"Isn't their captain Japanese as well?" asked Harry.

"Alright, I'm good to go," declared Alex.

Ginny grinned, having emerged victorious. "By the way, we're in the nosebleed seats. I can't wait!"

Hermione's eyes grew wide in alarm. "It's called that because it's so high up, right? Right?"

"We should probably bring helmets just in case," mused Alex. Damn, she was already regretting her decision to go.

Oh well. It sounded fun enough.

Ron shared similar sentiments. "You worry too much," he said as Harry stole his king. "It'll be fine."

A/N: And so Book 3 comes to a close. What are your hopes/expectations for GoF?