Chapter Thirty-Two

Responsibility

Most prefects, Alex knew, weren't very invested in the kids sorted into their Houses during their first year with the badge. This wasn't purely out of apathy-although that was definitely a contributing factor-but also because there was this unspoken rule at Hogwarts where you basically had to carve your own path and navigate the school yourself. You had to draw the lines between friend and enemy, discover who your allies were, and rely on them to survive. That was the brutal reality of boarding school no one ever really told you about.

So Alex did. After the Sorting Feast, she gathered the first-years around her and made them sit in a circle in the corner of the common room. Taking inspiration from the prefects meeting in the train, she introduced herself as their fifth-year prefect and pointed out Zubair, who waved at them from the other side of the room.

"Alright," she said once they were done. "What do you think this House stands for?"

"Pride," replied Sasha Park, and honestly, that wasn't what Alex had been expecting.

"Ambition," volunteered Malcolm Baddock.

Then came the answer she'd been waiting for. "Blood purity," sniffed Janet Doolan.

Alex smirked lazily. "Then half of us wouldn't even be here, unless half-bloods fall under the umbrella of purity."

Some of the firsties shifted in discomfort; Rachel Falero sat up, her eyes bright with attentiveness.

Was it bad that Alex already had a favourite?

"Don't get me wrong," she continued blithely. "Our founder, Salazar Slytherin, loathed muggles – but that was because of the witch-hunts that were so prevalent back then. Muggles had the power to harm us, but now the tables have turned. We have not only the ability to hurt them, but to kill and maim and torture them, and sometimes they're none the wiser."

The muggle family from the World Cup sprung to mind. They had been obliviated to hell and back following the riots, and while Mr Weasley assured them they'd be right as rain in a few days' time, Alex remained sceptical.

Malcolm was smiling now, as though gratified by the power they could wield over unsuspecting muggles. She levelled him with a sombre look.

"Put yourselves in their shoes." Alex subtly palmed her wand. "They could be incapacitated"—she cursed him with a Half-Body Bind that restricted movement in his arms and legs—"or humiliated"—he burped out a butterfly—"or just generally thrown into confusion." The colour of Malcolm's robes changed colours, flashing through the entire rainbow before being returned to its usual shade of black. With another flick of her wrist, he regained feeling in his arms and legs once more.

"So don't you dare use fear as a basis to hate muggles," she said with a harsh glare at each of her charges. "We're neither superior or inferior to muggles." The witch hunts of the past were proof of that. "We're just different."

Now that that was done, Alex allowed some warmth back into her disposition. "I got pushed around a bit when I was your age, and I don't want the same thing to happen to you. If you have any questions or concerns, ask me or any of the other prefects."

Alric Vytiaco leaned forward in his seat. "Will you be entering the Triwizard Tournament?" he asked almost breathlessly.

She laughed softly. "If you have any relevant questions, seek me out. Otherwise, go explore your dorms."

Zubair approached once the firsties reluctantly got up from their seats. "Nice demonstration," he said, lounging across a sofa. "Makes you wish our cohort received a similar speech in our first year."

The Shafiqs, although technically labelled as a pureblood family, were mostly composed of half-bloods. That set-up actually wasn't too uncommon; the Malfoys similarly married half-bloods several generations in a row to avoid practising incest. Unlike the Malfoys, though, the Shafiqs weren't part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight of pureblood society and weren't particularly vocal about anti-muggle rights either.

She had a feeling Zubair himself didn't care for the vitriol the more outspoken members of their House liked to espouse.

"I'm not sure our cohort needs a wake-up call so much as the year below us does," replied Alex. Her eyes darted to where Draco and Pansy were flirting with each other.

Zubair made a show of shuddering visibly. "Easily the worst bunch in our House. Let's take care to ensure this year's firsties don't end up as prattish."

"Agreed."

Being a prefect was more tiresome than Alex had anticipated. It wasn't just the patrols or the occasional point-taking she was forced to do – it was playing parent and mediator for the first years beneath her charge. Yeah, she had told them to come to her if they needed help, but she hadn't meant every day.

If they weren't lost, they were homesick. If they weren't struggling with classes, they had trouble making friends. At least there wasn't any overt bullying going on – none that she knew of, at any rate. Alex tried her best to accommodate all their needs, but there was only so much she could do as a student four years their senior.

Fifth year at Hogwarts was notorious for being known as O.W.L. year. Their end of year exams were the most important to date, determining not only what N.E.W.T. classes you could take and, in a majority of cases, even what your future would look like.

So it made sense why some fifth-years were freaking out this early. Except Hermione wasn't a fifth-year.

"O.W.L.s certainly are daunting, aren't they?" she asked, sounding exasperated as she joined Alex in the library.

"I think they're rather cute myself," Alex responded noncommittally. She was presently reviewing Hagrid's lesson plans for next month, which were only slightly less questionable than the ones from last year.

Hermione frowned in disapproval. "You should really be focusing on your own studies."

The irony of her words didn't miss Alex. She looked up from her papers to raise an eyebrow at her fourth-year friend.

"Exams are ages away," Alex continued once Hermione grew flustered upon realising the hypocrisy of her statement. "Besides, Cedric gave me his notes from last year. The exams don't really change much."

"Seems a bit dishonest," admitted Hermione. She was trying her best to keep from making her judgement obvious, and for that Alex was grateful.

"So you're saying you don't want my notes after?"

Before Hermione could reply, Stephen swooped into the empty seat on their table and said, "If she doesn't want them, I do."

Alex rolled her eyes. This was why she liked her secluded table, so people would stop seating with her. Unfortunately, it had been taken when she got there; she was forced to use a more accessible one instead.

"Hermione, you know Stephen, yeah?" Alex asked, nodding at her Ravenclaw mate.

Hermione nodded. "He, um, almost got burnt by a dragon toad in Hagrid's class the other day."

"Almost being the prerogative here," said Stephen.

Alex pulled a complicated face. "You're not gonna get one, are you?"

Over the summer, she had learnt that Stephen's household had more animals than people. In addition to their literal reptile room, they had a dog, a cat, two birds, a fish pond, and some hamsters. What was even more surprising was how loaded his family was - his house was larger than hers, the Weasleys' and the Lovegoods' homes combined.

"Nah," replied Stephen. "No magical pets allowed in our house."

"Not even owls?" asked Hermione.

"Can owls be considered magical though? I mean, they're just owls."

"There's a distinct difference between magical and non-magical owls. You see—"

Alex blocked out that enlightening discussion rather quickly. She wondered if she should be concerned by this newfound companionship between her most Gryffindorish Ravenclaw friend and her most Ravenclaw-like Gryffindor friend.

She zeroed back in on the conversation when the topic turned to their latest Defence professor. Mad-Eye Moody's infamy grew a tad larger after his lessons with the Unforgivables, and Alex was certain more than a few complaints would be directed to and from the Hogwarts Board of Governors after this month.

"He's positively insane," huffed Hermione. She tugged on one of her dark strands of hair. "No one in their right mind should be casting Unforgivables on schoolchildren, even if it is for educational purposes."

"Yeah," murmured Stephen, frowning distantly. "My sister was pretty messed up after that lesson."

Alex inhaled sharply. "Even the younger years went through it?"

At Stephen's nod of confirmation, Alex grabbed some parchment from her bag and began scribbling away furiously.

"What are you writing?" inquired Hermione.

"Letter," she replied. "To my mum." She needed to find out all she could on Mad-Eye Moody.

"You've had your first lesson with him, yeah?" said Stephen when she paused to read over her writing. "How'd you go?"

Alex shrugged. Her class had been one of the last to have a lesson with Moody, so they hadn't been caught off guard like their peers. Still, foreknowledge did little to prepare them for the shock of witnessing all the Unforgivables in action like that.

Of the three of them, Agatha had the worst reaction. Her hands trembled when the Cruciatus was being cast and flinched violently once it had died from the Killing Curse. Katherine, who was seated in front of Alex, reached for Agatha's hand to steady her.

"It's just a spider," she had muttered. But her flimsy reassurance had fallen flat in the face of the tautness around her eyes.

Alex had scowled, infuriated not at them but for them. She understood that it was important to be exposed to the Unforgivables in a controlled environment, and taught how to circumvent them, especially given the thunderous incident that went down right before the start of term. But that didn't mean she had to like it.

After the spider had curled up and died, Moody glanced up to take in their reactions. His asymmetrical gaze lingered longer on some students, his expression impassive. His scarred face twitched, however, when he took in her glower. She spent a good while puzzling over that but couldn't figure out whether he was amused or intrigued by her. Either way, she left the class feeling significantly discomfited, particularly due to Moody's insistence on attempting to Imperio her until he was successful.

"I threw off the Imperius," she said in answer to Stephen's question. She knew that was the response he was fishing for.

Stephen appeared impressed. "No one in my class did."

"Harry was successful," Hermione informed them, looking both proud and vexed. "After the first attempt, too."

Alex sighed softly. To her knowledge, the only students to have thrown off the Imperius were herself and Harry. No doubt people were going to make weird comparisons between the abilities of herself and the Boy-Who-Lived. Well, she supposed it was going to happen sooner or later, what with the impending commencement of the Triwizard Tournament.

The constant stream of drizzly days finally broke in late October just before the arrival of the other schools. Lessons ended half an hour early in anticipation of their appearance, and not only were people speculating on their means of transportation, they couldn't stop discussing the tournament either.

It's a death trap! Alex wanted to scream at them. It'd do more harm than good, though, so she secluded herself from the cacophony by retreating to the less frequented parts of the castle.

Professor Galing peered at her through narrowed eyes as Alex made her way towards her portrait. "You aren't here to see if we need another cleaning, are you?"

Alex raked her gaze over the amass of paintings lining the wall. "You all look pretty spick and span," she concluded. It seemed no corner of the castle was being left unscrubbed in preparation for the visiting schools.

"Honestly," began the old History professor with a roll of her eyes, "I don't understand all the fuss with the Tournament. It's brought nothing but trouble to this castle."

"How do you mean?"

The professor put on quite a show of seeming burdened by Alex's curiosity, but really, they both knew she was always down for a chat. Not only did she know of the historical facts of the tournament, she had witnessed—or at least heard of—a good deal of them as both a witch and a portrait, so she was privy to some lesser known details that fleshed out her recounts.

In addition to the lost lives and limbs, drama was always bound to happen when three schools with different cultures and politics were placed in the same space for an extended period of time.

"Why, one time, a colleague of mine was caught having an affair with the headmaster of Beauxbatons!" exclaimed Professor Galing.

"Scandalous," said Alex, grinning.

"What's even more scandalous is the amount of cheating and sabotage that goes on behind the scenes. Oh, sure, there are rules and regulations to prevent malpractice, but really, no one bothers enforcing them, no matter how blatant the infractions are." She shook her head in disdain. "Not to mention all the trouble the Yule Ball causes!"

Mule ball? asked a voice in her head that sounded a suspicious amount like Duncan.

Professor Galing went on griping about the ball, which was essentially a dance that occurred on Christmas day whenever the triumvirate came together. The champions paired up with a partner of their choice and then danced in front of everyone. The mere thought had Alex shuddering in disgust.

"I'm glad to see you agree," proclaimed the professor.

Alex nodded, well aware of the fact that she couldn't show her face down here for a good while until the tournament ended. Despite the professor's countless warnings, Alex was still going to enter - and win. There were lives at stake after all.

Once it was almost half-past six, Alex bid Professor Galing farewell and made her way towards the Great Hall. The Durmstrang and Beauxbatons delegations would've arrived by now, no doubt in each of their own flamboyant ways. Alex had no interest in crowding around outside the castle in the cold with the rest of the school in a bid for a quick glance of their dramatic entrance. Judging by Professor Galing's descriptions, it wasn't anything worth waiting for anyway.

Most students were already seated in the hall by the time she got there. It was specially decorated tonight, with symbolic banners strewn above each table to represent the four Houses. Behind the staff table was an enormous silk banner bearing the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large H.

How cute, Alex thought derisively as she took a seat at the end of the table. This time, no one found it out of place for her to be sitting with the first-years of her House.

Across from her, Janet was pouting up a storm. Out of the six Slytherin firsties, she was perhaps the most childish of them all. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing; in fact, it was rather refreshing at times. Alex wished they could all be as unburdened as she was.

"What's wrong?" she asked, unable to help the amused inflection in her voice.

"Professor Snape told her to get rid of her hair accessory," answered Graham Pritchard. Like Harry, he was a half-blood raised in a muggle environment – except he didn't let anyone give him shit for his background, having decked Malcolm the first time he dared to degrade him.

"No," refuted Janet. "His exact words were: Remove that ridiculous decoration from your head before I remove it for you. Why? Are butterflies offensive to the other schools?"

"Collective lepidopterophobia," Rachel murmured thoughtfully.

"Lepido-wha?" said Malcolm, bewildered.

Alex ignored them in favour of returning her attention to Sasha. "May I see the accessory?" she asked her.

No longer pouting, Sasha withdrew a simple hair-tie from the pocket of her robes; a yellow-and-orange butterfly was attached to the elastic. The butterfly was charmed to flap its plastic wings slowly, reminding Alex of one of those cheap muggle toys salespeople tried to peddle to parents of spoiled children.

Let's see… Alex inspected the butterfly, turning it this way and that as she thought about what she was about to do. It was going to take a lot of spellwork, but nothing she couldn't handle. That decided, Alex tapped the tip of her wand against the fake butterfly.

With a magnificent shake of its wings, the butterfly detached itself from the band and drifted towards Sasha. Before she could reach for it, the butterfly multiplied so that there was an entire flock of them. The yellow-and-orange bugs fluttered around and over her head before unanimously turning into sunflowers, which gently floated down and weaved themselves into Sasha's black hair.

Alex smiled at Sasha's look of amazement as she placed her wand back in its holster and subtly wiped her sweaty forehead. She flexed her wand-hand, which was beginning to cramp after all that waving and flicking.

Not wanting to meet any of her Housemates' probing gazes at the moment, Alex took the time to glance around the room. The last of the visiting students were settling into their seats around the Great Hall; there were pockets of blue and red as Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students interspersed themselves randomly between the four tables. While most of them were drawn to Ravenclaw and Gryffindor—likely due to the similar colourings of their robes—a good amount of Durmstrang students were sharing the table with her Housemates.

Wait. Was that Viktor Krum?

Alex bit her lip to keep from gasping once she determined the dark-but-sallow student conversing with Draco was none other than Bulgaria's seeker. Well, to be fair, Draco was doing most of the talking, while Viktor nodded here and there and threw in the occasional reply.

She felt bad for the poor guy. Of all the Slytherins to sit next to, he had to wind up beside the most obnoxious of them all.

The Beauxbatons students leapt out of their seats and into standing positions as the staff filed into the hall. Despite the snickers at their odd behaviour, the students dressed in silk robes maintained their stance, their respectful gazes remaining glued to a gigantic woman whose size rivalled that of Hagrid's.

Someone further up the Slytherin table snorted. "Can you imagine standing for Dumbledore like that?" they said, voicing exactly what they were all thinking.

Once all the staff were seated, the Beauxbatons students sat back down. The man on Dumbledore's right appeared disgruntled, even offended, by the clear display of deference. No doubt he was Igor Karkaroff, the head of Durmstrang Institute – and suspected Death Eater. Like Dumbledore, he was tall and thin, but his white hair was cut short like his goatee, which had a funny little curl at the end. For some reason, he reminded her of a goat. A mean, genocidal goat.

Hm. No wonder so many of his students had made a beeline for the Slytherin table.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and—most particularly—guests," greeted Dumbledore as he beamed at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

Out of the corner of her eye, Alex saw a few Beauxbatons students share sardonic smirks.

Leave, then. She seethed internally.

"The Tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," continued Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

In the end, the Goblet of Fire was a bit of a let-down. Alex had been expecting a golden cup encrusted in jewels, not the rough wooden thing sitting atop the ancient casket it came in. The goblet would've been totally unremarkable were it not for the blue-white flames it held.

The goblet was a mystery wrapped in an enigma. No one knew when or why or who had created it, except that it hadn't been in the last century and perhaps not even the one before. The flames were inextinguishable, and though the goblet was sentient enough to act as an impartial judge, it wasn't foolproof either.

At least the golden Age Line Dumbledore had seared into the floor did its job at keeping the younger students away. None of the first- or second-years had dared to try their hands at it when everyone was still in the hall, instead waiting it out until everyone had left. Of those legible to compete, a good amount actually submitted their names right after Dumbledore had dismissed them for the night, apparently heedless of the dangers the tournament posed. Alex had a feeling none of them were going to selected anyway.

The invisibility cloak rustled softly as Alex glanced at her watch. She had borrowed it from Harry weeks ago just for tonight. Like a good friend, he had handed it to her easily enough, but not without asking why. Prepared for his curiosity, Alex had claimed it was for prefect patrols.

Midnight had come and gone. Alex had been in the Great Hall for the past two hours, having waited until her roommates had fallen asleep before sneaking out. Fortunately, another student had been leaving the common room at the time and had been heading for the goblet himself. He hadn't even bothered concealing himself, perhaps emboldened by the knowledge that others would be breaking curfew anyway tonight.

In the time Alex had been keeping an eye on the goblet, over twenty people had entered their names. Curiously enough, they were all Hogwarts students. Some tried putting in more than one slip for themselves, but the goblet simply spat the parchment back out at them. Alex almost revealed herself by laughing when she saw that.

She only recognised a handful of the entrants, and fewer still by name. To her chagrin, Malcolm and Rachel had both tried skirting the Age Line by levitating their parchment into the goblet. To their collective surprise, a transparent golden barrier had flickered into existence when the parchment came close to the Age Line, preventing their papers from coming close to the goblet.

Afterwards, the amount of people trickling into the hall had declined dramatically. Satisfied with her snooping, Alex rose from her cross-legged position on the floor and approached the goblet.

She peered down at the blue-white flames, momentarily entranced by their delicate dance now that she was so close to it. It was almost hypnotic, really. Alex felt her eyes grow heavy; she closed them briefly, the parchment in her hand crinkling slightly as she clenched it.

Please, she begged silently. Please choose me over the others.

As she opened her eyes, the anxiety that had been bubbling away all night finally settled. Feeling oddly calm, Alex moved her arm through the opening of the cloak and loosened her grip on her parchment. As it had with all the other submissions, the blue flames turned red as it swallowed the parchment. Sparks shot into the air briefly before the fire settled itself once more.

She stared at the Goblet of Fire for a moment more before turning away. She softened her footfalls as she left the Great Hall, wary of crossing paths with others. Fortunately, she returned to the common room without seeing another living being.

Alex didn't remove the invisibility cloak until after she climbed into bed. The snores of her roommates faded out of existence as she pulled the curtain of the four-poster closed. The two-way noise-cancelling charms meant no one could hear what she was doing either, so she didn't worry about subtlety as she threw off the cloak and shoved it beneath her pillow.

Drained, Alex tucked herself in and spent the rest of the night staring at nothing.