Chapter Forty-Two
Aftermath
Harry, first-place winner of the second task and in the overall lead for the tournament, rode the high of his success for approximately thirty-six hours before it all came crashing down on him. In hindsight, his desperate urge to save not only Ron but Gabrielle was foolhardy at best and downright mortifying at worst. At least it had the added benefit of winning the respect of almost everyone around him, even if that hadn't been his intention. It was nice to be appreciated, especially after all the heckling he'd received when his name had been entered against his own volition roughly half a year ago.
Cho even met up with him a day after the second task. After receiving her owl during breakfast, Harry had all but ran to the rendezvous Cho had outlined for him. He slowed down upon spotting her a safe distance from the Whomping Willow and used his fingers to comb through the bird's nest sitting atop his head.
"Hey," he said breathily when he reached her. His heart was pounding in his chest, so loudly he was afraid she could hear it.
Cho refused to look him in the eye. "Do you fancy me, Harry?" she asked quietly.
It felt like she had slung a Bludgeoning Hex his way. "Of course," Harry said when he found his voice. "Why do you ask?"
She tore her gaze from a beetle crawling through the dewy grass, her brown eyes searching his expression for any tell-tale sign of a lie. "You mustn't like me very much," she began doubtfully, "if I wasn't chosen as your hostage for the second task."
Harry's mouth fell open the same moment his eyes bulged from behind his glasses. Was Cho seriously upset over not being in danger? She is, thought Harry as he studied Cho's pout. She really is.
"I'm…sorry?" he said. Then he straightened. No, he wasn't going to apologise over this, not when he had no control of the situation in the first place. "No offense, Cho, but I don't think this is anything to get upset over."
"I'm not upset," she snapped, sounding upset. "I understand that Ron is your best friend, but Hermione barely knows Krum, and she was chosen as his most precious treasure. I don't think Cedric and Alex are even talking anymore, but he was hers. And then there's me."
Harry cringed, not so much at her words but at the despondent way in which she was conveying them. Cho was hosting her own pity party, and Harry didn't want any part of it.
"I'm sorry you feel that way," he said sincerely as he took half a step back. "But it was a situation no one could help. It's nobody's fault."
The scowl on her face made it clear that she disagreed. "Well, if that's how you feel," she sniffed, her eyes becoming shiny with tears.
Oh God. Harry had no idea what to do with emotional criers. He took another step back, closer to the castle and further from this conversation.
"It is," he replied, hoping she wasn't about to burst into tears.
Cho said nothing; she was too busy sniffling. That was the closest to a dismissal as Harry was going to get, so he turned tail and fled from the scene before Cho changed her mind and decided she wanted him there while she bawled her eyes out.
When he recounted the entire situation to Hermione and Ron not ten minutes later, they exchanged a meaningful look.
"You're better off without her," Hermione assured him, already returning her attention to her books.
Ron shrugged, apparently agreeing with her. "There's always Fleur," he reminded him with a waggle of his eyebrows.
Harry blushed at the memory of Fleur's lips against his cheeks when she thanked him for saving her little sister. Ron smiled dopily as he too visited memory lane.
Hermione's nostrils flared. She slammed her hands down on her open book, starting Harry and Ron. "Is what Cho said true? About Cedric and Alex?" she asked, heedless of their flinches.
"Maybe," said Ron while Harry shrugged cluelessly. "It's only been a few days since the second task, though. And they're not in the same House or even the same year."
Pensively Hermione frowned. "Have either of you seen her recently? Even at mealtimes?"
"Now that you mention it," said Harry, mirroring her expression. "Not really."
"That's because she and Cedric had a fight," Parvati informed them, butting in both figuratively and literally as she diverted from her beeline to the dorm and moved towards them. "It's all the Hufflepuffs are talking about."
"They overheard them by the lake," added Lavender, Parvati's other half. Well, other other half if you once you factored in Padma's existence. "Apparently Cedric wanted Alexandra to dive back down and help you out, Harry, but she refused. Said it wasn't her responsibility. I think she's hiding away in shame, now."
Parvati made a great display of shivering violently. "Those Slytherin snakes are so cold-blooded. I'm not sure what he sees in her."
"She's not even that pretty," agreed Lavender, her nose wrinkling slightly. "Not nearly pretty enough for Cedric Diggory, at any rate."
"Not everyone is as obsessed with physical appearances as you two are," Hermione said scathingly. Her temper tended to run hot and short whenever it came to her roommates.
"That explains Viktor Krum, then," Parvati muttered, already turning away from them.
Hermione fumed silently as Lavender followed her, giggling. "Honestly, those two… singlehandedly fuelling the rumour mill, they are…" she grumbled, glowering at her papers.
"What they said makes sense, though," reflected Ron, ignoring the way Hermione shone her glare at him. "We haven't seen her since then."
Harry pushed himself to his feet. "Well, let's look for her. It's only 'cause of Alex that I even had a means to complete the second task in the first place. Still haven't thanked her for that."
Ron scrambled up, eager to put off studying. Hermione followed suit after a moment's hesitation, her focus spoiled by the distraction Parvati and Lavender had posed. They asked the ghosts and the portraits, Alex's friends and classmates, but they were just as clueless as Harry and his mates were. Hagrid was out, and she wasn't in the library, so they were left wandering the corridors aimlessly until they stumbled upon Fred and George snickering to themselves over a piece of parchment.
"What's that?" asked Ron, poking his head between his brothers' shoulders.
"Whoa now!" said Fred, shoving Ron aside as his twin hastily pocketed whatever they had been holding. "Don't stick your beak where it doesn't belong, Ronny."
"Hey, Harry," said George with a friendly nod. "Good show the other day – very Gryffindor of you."
Harry's cheeks warmed in embarrassment. "Thanks," he murmured. "We're looking for Alex. You guys seen her?"
"What's up? Got another dragon to slay? A damsel in distress to rescue?"
"You're the damsel," clarified Fred to Ron, who scowled.
"Nothing like that," Harry said hastily before Ron could snap at them. "We're just worried about her."
"Ah, because she told Cedric she'd leave him to drown if she was in your position?" George said, nodding.
"There's no way she said that," rebutted Hermione. "It's like this school is locked up in a perpetual game of Chinese whispers, honestly."
The purebloods of their group appeared nonplussed by the comparison.
"We can find her," said Fred, smiling, "for a price."
"No," retorted Ron.
"Why a price?" demanded Hermione.
"What is it?" wondered Harry.
The twins exchanged a conspiratorial look before putting their heads together to whisper furiously. Harry ignored them until they blatantly began hissing, "Psst, psst, psst. Psst."
"Very funny," Ron said derisively. "If you aren't going to tell us, we'll just leave."
"Alright, alright," sighed George. "We'll tell you – free of charge. Only because Harry here did us a favour and helped us win our bets."
Hermione appeared as though someone had just kicked Crookshanks in her line of sight. "You two have been gambling?" she shrieked, sounding scarily like Mrs Weasley. Judging by Ron's shudder, he was thinking the same thing.
The twins drew themselves up to their full heights and straightened out their robes. "Do you have proof of such an accusation?" scoffed George.
Decidedly unimpressed, Hermione rolled her eyes with a sigh and let the matter drop. "So? Where's Alex?"
As though they had rehearsed it, the twins whirled around simultaneously so that their backs were turned to them. George whipped out the parchment he had stuffed into his pockets and opened it up with an audible crinkle. After several oddly intense seconds, Fred and George spun on their heels and faced them once more.
"She's in the kitchens," said Fred, beaming. The parchment was no longer in their hands.
"What do you think that was?" wondered Hermione as they left for the kitchens. Alex had exposed its whereabouts to them long ago, and the smartest of their trio still remembered its exact location.
"Has to be some kind of map," decided Ron. "What else could it be?"
Harry considered Ron's conclusion. "Makes sense. D'you think it helps them locate people? Like, you say someone's name and it finds them?"
"How would you even go about making something like that?" asked Hermione, sounding equal measures baffled and impressed. "They must've bought it off someone."
"As much as it pains me to say this, you shouldn't underestimate Fred and George," sighed Ron. "They can be scarily smart if they want to be. Bill even told me that the Hat considered sending them off to Ravenclaw."
The twins were conniving enough, but add some Ravenclaw-influence intelligence to the mix? "That's terrifying," Harry said bluntly.
They paused in front of the painting of the fruit bowl, momentarily doubting Alex's instructions. After a quick game of rock-paper-scissors that left Harry the loser, he shoved down his embarrassment and tickled the pear. It giggled and turned into a doorknob which they used to pry open the painting-turned-door.
Before they even stepped through the organised chaos of the kitchen almost knocked them over. Dinner wasn't meant to begin for another two hours, but the house-elves were already in full-swing. The stovetops were crowded with various pots and pans, and the ovens looked as if they were one tray away from bursting open. The smells they elicited mingled in the air, combining into one delicious if unidentifiable scent. It reminded Harry painfully of the hours he'd been forced to slave away in the kitchen of 4 Privet Drive without rest.
Alex was easy to spot, being the only one human there. She was seated at one of the four long tables that Harry supposed were meant to mimic the House tables up in the Great Hall. A half-empty bowl of soup was in front of her, as well as the leftovers of a roll of bread. They were abandoned for the moment in favour of the conversation she was having with a house-elf Harry could recognise anywhere.
"Dobby?" he said, shocked.
"Harry Potter!" squealed Dobby. He ran towards him, tackling him a hug tight enough to make Harry's bones creak. "Dobby was just wondering when Harry Potter would come!"
"He surprised me, too," confessed Alex. She bit off a chunk of soup-softened bread. "You all right there, Hermione?"
Hermione was not, in fact, all right. She was about to have a heart attack at the sight of all these house-elves working down here. Though she'd been dimly aware of it, this was the first time she was actually seeing them in person.
"When did you start working here?" Harry asked Dobby, who finally let go of him.
"Just a few months ago!" he chirped. "Dobby has traveled the country for two whole years, sir, trying to find work! But Dobby hasn't found work, sir, because Dobby wants paying now!"
"Good for you, Dobby," said Hermione with a firm nod. "That's the very least house-elves deserve."
The uncertain looks the other elves were shooting their party begged to differ.
"Dobby was just telling me about another house-elf he found while job hunting," announced Alex. She leaned over so they could see the tiny elf sitting beside her. "Remember Winky?"
Harry did indeed remember the poor house-elf. Alex had stumbled upon her on that awful night of the World Cup, and not only had Winky taken the brunt of the blame, she'd been freed before their very eyes.
Winky seemed to carrying the weight of her shame even now. Unlike Dobby's pristine toga tea towel, her child-sized dress was stained and ridden with holes. Her large ears drooped down so that they were almost level with her watery eyes.
"Winky is working here now, more or less," explained Alex as she rubbed circles in Winky's back. "I tried to offer her employment myself, but she only wants to be back with the Crouches."
Hermione's scowl made it obvious what she thought about Alex's suggestion. She softened her expression when she kneeled by Winky's side. "It's not all bad here, is it?" she asked gently. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore is treating you well."
Winky sniffled.
Unbothered by Winky's recalcitrance, Dobby launched into a speech about how generous Dumbledore was. Only Hermione seemed interested in what he was saying; Harry was content to let her humour Dobby while he directed his attention to the reason why they were here in the first place.
"How've you been?" he asked, settling into the seat across from Alex. Immediately the table was crowded with snacks, courtesy of the elves. "Haven't seen you since the second task."
Alex's mouth tightened at the reminder. "I've been busy," she said, finishing the last of her bread. "Thinking."
"'Bout what?"
She didn't reply for a while, busying herself with a cuppa. "If I told you I had no intention of saving your arse back there, would you think I'm a bad person?"
"I honestly wouldn't be surprised," Harry replied sincerely.
She rolled her eyes. "That's not what I was asking."
He shrugged. "No, I don't think you're a bad person. Just a cautious one."
It was like Harry cast a charm on her. Alex's shoulders slumped with relief the same moment her expression unfurrowed itself. "Thanks," she sighed. She turned to Ron and asked him the same question.
"Nah," he said, shrugging. "Harry was a bit of an idiot back there, thinking Dumbledore would actually let any of us die in the lake."
Alex nodded, muttering something about PR.
"Hey," Harry protested half-heartedly. "If I hadn't rescued Gabrielle, Fleur wouldn't have expressed her gratitude the way she did."
The tips of Ron's ears reddened. "True," he murmured.
Hermione's scowl was back with a vengeance. "I suppose you've forgotten how cruelly she rejected you, then," she hissed to Ron.
Ron was now beginning to resemble a tomato. "I've no idea what you mean," he lied.
Hermione rolled her eyes but left it be. "Why the concern, Alex?" she asked, softening her demeanour like she had when speaking with Winky.
"We've heard some rumours," Harry offered haltingly when Alex said nothing.
"Yeah? Like what?" she asked, her eyes glued to the water mark on the table.
"That you're a cold-blooded snake," Ron said bluntly. He yelped as Harry and Hermione simultaneously punched his arms. "What? Not like any of it's news. That's the Slytherin image, innit?"
"It is," Alex confirmed, one side of her lips twitching upwards into a smirk. "Ever since my name was plucked from the cup, my stocks have never been higher as a Slytherin."
"Stocks?" Ron mouthed, appearing as confused as Harry felt.
"But yeah," she continued, her eyes darkening, "Cedric was pretty disgusted with me back at the lake. He wanted me to help you, Harry, but I refused."
"I'm sure he understands by now," said Hermione, biting her lip. "He was probably just caught up in the moment."
Alex hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
"Cho and I are done," said Harry, hoping to break her out of her reverie.
It worked. Surprise illuminated Alex's eyes as she glanced up at him. "What happened?"
He summed it up for her with as much detachment as he was capable of. "It's actually sort of a relief," he admitted when he was done. He had been unlucky enough to witness more than one messy break-up following the Yule Ball.
Alex nodded, her expression pensive. "I get you."
"Being single's looking better and better," Ron noted brightly as he thumped Harry on the back.
Hermione muttered something beneath her breath that sounded suspiciously like "It does, doesn't it?"
Harry grimaced. Poor Krum.
Poor Viktor, Alex thought over a week later. And Hermione and Harry.
Rita Skeeter had published a new article, this time the focus being on the alleged love triangle between Viktor, Hermione and Harry. She even dragged Cho into it, though the Ravenclaw fifth-year was more of an afterthought who suffered as collateral in Harry's desire of Hermione.
Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl."
However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys' interest.
"She's really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it."
Lips pressed together, Alex peered up from the glossy magazine in Agatha's hands and glared at Richard. "Your cousin's a cunt," she informed him.
He lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. "What can I say? She loves drama," he remarked wryly.
Pansy, for her part, was eating up her new bout of infamy with relish. She practically preened from the middle of the table, even as Viktor shot daggers at her with his eyes alone.
From what she could see from the other side of the room, Hermione was doing her best to laugh the article off. By the end of the day, though, she and Harry were visibly exhausted.
During that evening, Alex left for the Great Hall earlier than usual. She waited by the large doors for the trio, and persuaded them rather easily to eat down in the kitchens instead. They were eager to see Dobby again, and more importantly, they were sick of tired of being pestered by their peers about Skeeter's article.
Dobby almost exploded with glee at seeing Harry again so soon. He served them personally, the other house-elves preoccupied with dinner. Ron ate with gusto, with Alex not far behind, while Harry and Hermione alternated between picking with their food and recollecting their unfortunate spat with Snape.
The fourth-year Slytherins pissed away the first few minutes of Potions class by reading out loud to the Skeeter article, unable to resist the window of opportunity to antagonise their Gryffindor classmates. Predictably, Harry snapped back, instantly drawing Snape's attention and of course his derision. Much like the students he was in charge of, Snape wasted several minutes of his lesson to mock Harry and his apparently desperate claim to fame – as if he needed to actively seek it out.
"This is where it gets weird," said Ron, frowning at his crumpet. "Karkaroff barged in and demanded to speak with Snape."
"Not even bothering to maintain the illusion of professionalism," remarked Alex with a roll of her eyes.
"He looked really worried," continued Hermione, her expression mirroring Harry's. "Karkaroff, that is. Snape was mad."
"What else is different?" spat Harry. "Anyway, I pretended to drop something and clean it up to eavesdrop when class was over. Didn't hear much, except Karkaroff insisting that something on his forearm was getting darker and clearer – something that hasn't happened in a while. Before I could see it, though, Snape told him to put his robe-sleeve down and for me to get out."
"Maybe Karkaroff has skin cancer," Alex suggested blandly in the silence that followed. "And he's noticed the first signs on his forearm."
Hermione deflated. "So you don't know anything about it?"
The weight of their expectation conjured a headache from behind Alex's brow. She massaged it with the tip of her fingers as she thought. Karkaroff had been a Death Eater, but had Snape? He was definitely dodgy—put him in a room with Neville Longbottom and he made that abundantly clear—and everyone knew he was a die-hard fan of the Dark Arts, but that wasn't proof of anything. And though Dumbledore had a few screws loose, there was no way he'd hire someone who had been supportive of Voldemort in any way. Still, Alex couldn't shake the feeling that she was forgetting something about Snape, something crucial.
She sighed. I remember useless crap but nothing important. Typical.
"Have you consulted Sirius?" she asked instead.
"Not yet. I don't want to bug him too much – he seems really busy whenever I contact him."
"With what?" Therapy, she hoped.
Harry shrugged. "Political stuff. He didn't really elaborate." And judging by Harry's disinterested expression, he hadn't asked for an explanation.
"Tell him," said Alex. "He'll want to know."
To her mild amusement, Harry pulled the mirror straight out of his bag. It was like a magical walkie-talkie. Alex made a side-note to ask Sirius if he could make a version out of the compact mirror she kept on her person.
"He wasn't really forthcoming last time I asked if he knew anything," Harry volunteered as they waited for Sirius to respond. "I told him about what we overheard at the Yule Ball. He was as clueless as we were."
It took a minute or two, but Sirius finally appeared in the mirror's image. His expression darkened with each new fact Harry shared. When asked about what Snape and Karkaroff were hiding, though, his mouth tightened with reticence.
"I have my suspicions," he admitted, "but I can't share them with you until I'm certain."
Alex angled herself so that Sirius couldn't see her roll her eyes. She hated being left in the dark no matter the reason. Sure, Sirius didn't say he wouldn't tell them, but Alex was antsy with impatience. Maybe the ghosts of the portraits would share some info with her, even if they weren't the most reliable of sources.
She left the kitchen in search of her undead acquaintances. Professor Galing had died years before Voldemort's rise to power, so she was no help. The other portraits were more interested in sharing their life stories than anything of interest to her, and the ghosts were either too difficult to find or too scared to speak with her. It wasn't until Alex exhausted her list of potential collaborators that she realised she could've just asked her friends for answers.
Alex found Agatha and Katherine in the dorm busy charming a piece of string for Spitfire to chase around like his life depended on it. Wordlessly she cast a familiar light charm. Little balls of light drifted lazily in the air like fireflies; her cat squeaked in excitement as he leapt at each one.
"Y'know how Karkaroff was a Death Eater?" she began, deciding to strike right for the heart of things. "Was Snape one too?"
Like she always did whenever she brought up darker topics, Agatha shrunk in on herself as if she was attempting a magic-less Vanishing Charm.
Katherine stiffened, her gaze darting to the door to confirm it was indeed closed. "I've eavesdropped on my parents before," she said slowly, as though each word was a struggle to voice. "Professor Snape puzzles them, you see. Back during the war, they saw him with the Dark Lord's inner circle quite a bit. He's still close with a fair few of them – rumour has it he's even Draco's godfather."
"Ew," muttered Alex. "Is that why he always goes easy on him?"
Katherine nodded.
"My father hates Professor Snape," sighed Agatha. "Says he's a traitor and Dumbledore's lapdog."
Alex frowned. Pursuing this path was pointless. "Thanks anyway," she sighed as she got up.
"A word of advice," offered Katherine before Alex could leave. "You should be careful about where you poke around. You wouldn't want to draw any untoward attention to yourself."
Alex met her gaze evenly. "I know," she said calmly. "But I trust your discretion."
A touch of sincerity softened Katherine's eyes. "I see," she murmured, smiling slightly.
She received a smile in response, as did Agatha.