Chapter Fifty
The D.A.
As with the initial meeting, everyone arrived at the Room of Requirement the following week in small groups so as not to draw any unwanted attention. For the first half-hour, little progress was made as everyone took the time to gawk at the magical room and fling around inquisitive, accusatorial, and theoretical questions.
"Can we learn to fight now?" asked an impatient and unimpressed Gryffindor firstie.
"Finally," sighed Harry. He clapped his hands once to gather everyone's attention, surprising Alex. She had assumed he'd take the backseat for these meetings. "Before we get started, Hermione thinks we should elect a leader."
"Isn't that you?" asked Alex, bemused.
Harry peered at her like a deer in headlights. "I thought that was gonna be you."
They stared at each other for a second before bursting into laughter.
"Get a room!" crowed one of the Weasley twins, much to the chagrin of several people.
Alex flipped him the bird without looking. "You be leader," she told Harry. "It's more symbolic that way."
Somewhat hesitantly, Harry nodded. "Now that that's settle—" He bit himself off with a sigh. "What, Hermione?"
"I also think we ought to have a name," she chirped, unfazed by her best mate's curtness. "It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?"
Silently, Ron rolled his eyes.
"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" Gryffindor's new quidditch captain asked cheerfully. What was her name again? Angelica? Angelina? Angela?
"The Defence Association?" said Cho. Curiously enough, she was looking anywhere but Harry's direction. "The D.A. for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?"
"Yeah, the D.A.'s good," Ginny chimed in with a grin. "Only let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?"
There was a general murmur of assent, so Hermione made a move to write down the name – until Alex shot out a hand to stop her.
"Just D.A. is fine," she told her. "If someone happens to find this list, Dumbledore could land in hot water."
Hermione's eyes widened at the implications of that. Biting her lip, she finished off the D she'd been writing before moving onto the A.
"If that's all?" Harry asked wryly. When Hermione nodded sheepishly, he turned back to the group standing before them and said in a voice loud enough for those in the back to hear, "We were thinking, the first thing we should do is expelliarmus, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful—"
One of the Slytherin first-years, Jamie Lang, scoffed. "As if that'll do anything against the Dark Lord."
"You really shouldn't be calling him that," declared a blonde girl next to Cedric.
Jamie shrugged indifferently. "It isn't any less valid than 'You-Know-Who'."
"The kid's right," said one of the Weasley twins, surprising many. "That's why we should call him Lord Moldy Shorts."
Alex sighed and massaged the space between her eyes as a nervous chuckle rippled throughout the room. That was one way to diffuse a situation, even if it left something to be desired.
Harry had an odd expression on his face, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to smile or not. "Some of you may not realise this, but at the end of the day, Voldemort is just a man. He isn't infallible; the Disarming Charm worked on him. It saved my life last year."
A deathly silence descended on the room. People were gazing at Harry with either pity, shock, or naked disbelief. Alex clenched her fists and tamped down on her magic as it reacted to her frustration.
"Besides," Harry continued, tone lightening, "some of us here may not have seen the charm in action, let alone used it. Hermione and Ron will provide a demonstration."
"Um," squeaked Ron, "maybe you and Hermione should do it instead."
Alex arched an eyebrow at Ron's sudden nervousness. Earlier he'd been all gung-ho about showing off to the others. Now, standing in front of them and their judgemental eyes, he was beginning to experience what Alex suspected was stage-fright. As Gryffindor's newest Keeper, he'd have to get used to spectators sooner or later.
Millie will be happy to hear Gryffindor's out of the running for the Cup, she thought uncharitably.
Millie. Her face was notably missing from the crowd in front of her, because Alex had chosen not to invite her to the club. It pained her even now, but after that tiff they'd had a fortnight ago, Alex couldn't in good faith say she trusted her with this.
While she stewed in her personal pity party, Harry and Hermione stood across from each other and bowed, as per duelling propriety. Harry, of course, lashed out first, his cry of expelliarmus echoing in the cavernous room as his charm hit Hermione with enough force to send her stumbling. She remained on her feet even as her wand went flying, not towards Harry but away from both duellers.
Alex frowned. A properly cast Disarming Charm would've resulted in the opponent's wand zooming into the caster's awaiting hand. Did Harry not know that? Or was he just careless?
She elected to address that issue with everyone else. "While an apt demonstration, in a real fight, your objective would be different. You'd want to cast a charm strong enough to send your opponent crashing to the ground at the same as their wand would fly out of their grip and into yours. Like so."
Without further ado, Alex flicked her wrist. Her wand slid into her palm and was pointed at Harry's chest before he could even raise his arm. "Expelliarmus!"
Her intent was clear and unwavering, her aim true and her casting accurate. Harry's wand was torn from his grip, but even if he had it on him, the duel was decided by the time he careened into the padded floor.
"There," she said, smiling with satisfaction as her fingers closed around the hilt of Harry's wand. She continued lecturing as she strode over to her friend and helped him up from the floor. "If strong enough, the spell can disarm an entire group of people in close proximity, and even knock someone unconscious. I've yet to try that out, and neither should any of you while we're here."
Her smile dropped when she faced the others. They seemed unsettled, especially Cedric. Alex tore her eyes from his and sought solace from the pride shining in Katherine's dark eyes. Her pulse settled.
"What are you waiting for?" she asked sardonically. "Pick a partner and practise."
"I hate you," Harry groaned as he massaged his back. "I'm not even joking."
"Shut up," groused Alex as she picked up an errant wand that rolled her way. "You're a big boy; you can handle a bruise or two."
"How'd you know all that stuff about the Disarming Charm?" asked Ron as he narrowly dodged a wand that came close to poking his eye out.
"I read," she drawled. "And my mum teaches me some tips and tricks."
"Must be nice having an auror for a parent," Ron said wistfully.
Alex was distracted from that comment when Cho accidentally set her friend's curly hair on fire. She barely managed to stifle a laugh as she ran over. Her first aguamenti failed thanks to the chuckle in her throat. "Aguamenti!" she tried again, this time successfully.
The redhead glared at Alex while she wrung her hair out. She'd lost a good few centimetres, but at least her skin was unmarred.
"You're welcome," Alex said lightly.
The other witch sneered. "For what? The laughter?"
"For saving your ugly mug. Besides," she added before the Ravenclaw could do more than squawk indignantly, "I wasn't laughing at you so much as the expelliarmus cast on you. I had no idea that could even happen."
Cho's face was redder than a tomato.
"Screw this," growled the redhead. Rather than reaching for her wand, she turned away from them and marched towards the exit.
Cho chased after her, distraught. "Marietta! C'mon, we need to learn this!"
"You might, but I don't," she scoffed, wrenching her arm from Cho's grip. "Stay here and try to win Potter back all you want - I have nothing to gain by being here. You know my parents have forbidden me to do anything that might upset Umbridge."
An awkward silence filled the air. Everyone had stopped their spell-casting when Marietta's hair had caught fire and was now shifting uncomfortably at the veracity of her words. Morale was down; Alex needed to fix this, and fast.
"Well, my father is very supportive of any anti-Ministry action," Luna declared proudly from right beside Alex. "He's always saying he'd believe anything of Fudge. Think of the number of goblins Fudge has had assassinated! And of course he uses the Department of Mysteries to develop terrible poisons, which he feeds secretly to anybody who disagrees with him. And then there's his Umgubular Slashkilter—"
Thank Merlin for Luna Lovegood, Alex thought as the tension seeped from her shoulders.
"Right!" Hermione said, deliberately cutting Luna off before she could go on another tangent. "Well, seeing how it's almost nine, we should wrap up here. Same time, same place next week?"
"Sooner!" said Dean Thomas, grinning.
Harry grinned back. "Can't, I'm afraid. Quidditch and all that."
His captain nodded in vehement agreement.
Huffing loudly, Marietta made a move to open the door.
"Wait!" cried Hermione. "We have to check if the coast is clear!"
Although irritated, Marietta listened. "How?" she spat.
As one, Harry, Ron and Hermione looked to Alex. She in turn glanced at the clock. "He should be here by now," she murmured, frowning.
"Who?" wondered Cho.
Her question—and no doubt everyone else's—was answered when Sir Nicholas drifted into the room through the wall. "Oh, there's more of you than I realised," he noted, eyebrows raised.
"Are the halls empty?" she asked him.
He nodded reassuringly. "No one in the vicinity, my dear."
Alex blushed at the murmurs she overheard from the students who picked up on Sir Nicholas's affection for her. "Thanks," she muttered.
"Please leave in small groups the way you entered!" called Ron, his hands cupped around his mouth.
Cedric smiled at her as he walked past, his friend hissing in his ear, "Your girlfriend is mates with a ghost?!"
If possible, Alex's blush darkened.
Marietta, for some reason, was still in the room. Moreover, she was gazing at Alex with narrowed eyes. "How do you know he won't snitch?" she asked, jutting her head towards Sir Nicholas, who was idly surveying the room.
"Uh, because he's my friend and I trust him?" Alex replied, arching an eyebrow. "He has literally nothing to gain from ratting us out. You, on the other hand…" Her expression grew icy. "Talk, and you'll have more than your hair to worry about."
Marietta's throat bobbed as she swallowed nervously. "C'mon, Cho," she mumbled, hastily turning towards the door.
Cho shot Alex a disapproving look as she followed her friend.
"Guess you guys won't be getting back together anytime soon," she commented to Harry.
He shrugged as if this didn't bother him. "Think that became clear last Valentine's."
"You guys coming?" asked Ron from the doorway.
Alex shook her head while Harry nodded. "You go ahead," she said, already striding towards the bookshelf in the room. It was a treasure trove of information just waiting to be plundered.
The D.A. meetings gave Alex a sense of purpose she didn't realise she had been lacking. It reinvigorated her drive, and while her productivity went up, her grades suffered. She found it difficult to care even with her professors' disappointment hanging over her like a heavy cloud, because for the first time in her life she was able to cast a fireball with her hands alone. It was the size of a golf ball, sure, and couldn't do so much as light up a dark corner of the room, but she was proud of her progress nonetheless.
In between the D.A. and Charms Club—which Stephen managed to rope her into re-joining—the days flew by until it was suddenly her birthday. She was finally seventeen.
"Huh," she murmured when she woke up on the morning of Halloween. "I don't feel different."
Katherine, having turned seventeen last month, laughed at her. "Did you really expect to?" she asked, brushing out her long, thick hair.
"Kinda. I mean, the Trace is gone, y'know? I expected to feel…lighter? Freer," she concluded.
"I suppose that lends credence to your conspiracy that the Trace isn't real."
Alex nodded. Luna would want to hear about this.
"Happy birthday!" Agatha said, stepping out of the bathroom. Judging by the clouds of steam that wafted in after her, she'd used far too much of the hot water again. "How does it feel to be an adult at last?"
"I can't even apparate yet," she reminded her gloomily. "Really, we can't be considered actual adults when we haven't graduated." Two years to go, she added silently.
Smirking, Agatha shook her head, her numerous braids swinging from the action. "You're already beginning to sound like an adult."
Alex sniffed. "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean."
By the time she was seated at the Great Hall for breakfast, Alex had received no fewer than a dozen 'happy birthday's from beings living and non-living alike. Myrtle's had been particularly tearful as she lamented the fact that she'd never reach a similar milestone, and it took a lengthy reassurance from Alex's part that she was basically immortal and thus ageless for the thirteen-year-old to settle down.
Like every year, she received a gift from her parents via owl. They usually sent her books or clothes—one time makeup, which was weird—but this year was special. It wasn't every day you became of age, after all.
Her dad gifted her his family heirloom. It was an old watch passed down to him from his own father, and his father before him. Despite its obvious age, it had been cared for well; there wasn't a single scratch on the watch face, and its band had recently been replaced. It was a little…bulky, but she appreciated it all the same. Alex attached it to her right wrist before unwrapping her other present.
It was a sheath, and a fancy one at that. The firm, dark leather was inlaid with a floral design and bordered by a metal hilt and tip. Attached to the sheath was an adjustable strap large enough for her to wrap around her waist…or Hagrid's forearm. Bemused, Alex consulted the letter that came with the present.
Dearest daughter,
Happy birthday. When I was your age, my parents bestowed upon me the gift of emancipation. However, I think you're too independent for your own good, so I won't be following their footsteps.
As soon as I spotted this sheath, I knew I had to buy it. The thought of gifting it to you gave me pause. After much debate, I decided to swallow my apprehension. The strap is magically adjustable and can fit anyone regardless of size, and the sheath will automatically resize itself into the perfect fit for any blade. That said, I draw the line at a sword, no matter what your father says.
I love you. Make good choices. If you show off these gifts and get them confiscated, I will shave your head bald and prevent you from regrowing your hair for a solid week.
母
Alex traced over the final character with the tip of her finger. Her mum had never signed off on her letters like this. Was she worried someone was going to feign correspondence as her? On that note, there were rumours Umbridge was screening their mail. What did she think of these gifts, then?
Her head still lowered, Alex darted her gaze to the staff table. She couldn't be a hundred percent sure, but her gut told her Umbridge was looking this way. Unnerved, Alex folded the brown parchment over her gifts and tucked them quietly into her bag.
"Was that from your parents?" asked Zubair as he slapped Jacob's hand away from the last crumpet.
Alex nodded, her expression clearing. "They got me a watch," she chirped, brandishing said present.
"Now that's an old man watch if I've ever seen one," laughed Jacob.
She turned to Zubair. "Slap him again, please."
"Aw, come on…"
After she'd eaten but before it was time to head to class, Alex excused herself from the table. She entered the nearest bathroom and chose the stall furthest from the door to try out her mum's gift.
The dagger and its simple sheath never left her person except when she bathed or slept, and even then—much like her wand—it was within close reach. Still, without a strap, it had been tedious to keep on her, especially when she walked too vigorously and the thing would slap against her thigh in the pocket of her robes. Smiling, Alex exchanged the sheaths, marvelling at the way the new one closed in on the blade like it was sentient.
She bunched up the sleeve of her right arm in order to move it out of the way so she could tie the strap against her forearm, mirroring the wand holster on her left. After three attempts, she was successful. The excess material dangled down, but one tap of her wand had it shrinking until it was a reasonable length. Not for the first time and definitely not the last, Alex appreciated the miracle that was magic.
After flexing her arm and moving it this way and that, Alex grew satisfied with how secure her new accessory felt. Her sleeve fell back into place once she lowered her arm, completely concealing the weapon from prying eyes. In one smooth motion she raised both arms, snuck her left hand into the sleeve of her right, and slowly withdrew the dagger.
She frowned. If she drew it any quicker, it would slice through her sleeve – which, while not dangerous, was extremely inconvenient. Unlike with her wand, she couldn't summon it into the palm of her hand with the flick of her wrist, either.
I wonder if there's a way around that, she mused as she put the dagger away for good this time.
"What are you doing?"
It was a testament to how accustomed Alex was to Myrtle's drop-ins that she didn't even flinch any more. "Just testing out my presents," she replied, pushing the door open and through the ghost's body.
"Who are you going to use it on?" asked Myrtle, her eyes alight with mischief.
Alex began washing her hands. "No one right now. Why? Have anyone in mind?"
"All my enemies are dead," she replied, pouting. "If you can exorcise Peeves, though, that's another story."
"Is he harassing you again?" Alex asked as she tightened the tap.
"No, I just hate him."
Myrtle's frankness drew a laugh from Alex. "You and half the school," she quipped.
Grinning, the ghost girl drifted out through the door before popping back in again. "Almost forgot," she said, nose to nose with Alex while the rest of her body stayed on the other side. "Your boytoy is looking for you."
"Please don't tell me you call him that to his face."
Myrtle's grin only widened.
Sighing, Alex shook her hands dry of the last drops of water. "Thanks for letting me know, I guess."
"You're welcome." Giggling shrilly, Myrtle shot up straight into ceiling and disappeared, no doubt off to terrorise another hapless student.
True to her words, Cedric was waiting for her in the hallway when she pushed the lavatory door open. The beginnings of a sigh worked its way up her throat. Her day was starting off way too busy for her liking.
"Hey," she said instead, mustering up a smile for her boyfriend. "What's up? Need to use the loo?"
"Very funny," he said wryly. "No, I came to give you this."
Alex stared at the small cloth bag in Cedric's outstretched hands. Her gut churning uneasily, she took it from him as though it was a ticking time bomb, and carefully opened it. Inside was a ring.
"Uh," she said intelligently.
Cedric seemed to misread her hesitation, for he smiled. "I noticed you looking at this last time we were in London, and since you've been collecting rings lately, I thought you should have this."
Alex's mind helpfully flashed back to the inexpensive jewellery store she'd been window shopping at weeks ago. If she recalled correctly, this sterling silver ring was less than a hundred, but it was still too much from Cedric, whose family's financial situation was more tenuous than hers. She'd be the worst sort of ingrate if she rejected it, though, so Alex forced her expression into one of warm appreciation.
"Thank you," she said, beaming.
"You're welcome," he replied, smiling sweetly. Cedric watched as she slipped the ring onto her pointer finger, right beside her snake ring.
To no one's surprise, as soon as Jacob spotted her new piece of jewellery while they waited in line for class, he made fun of her apparently questionable taste. Even Agatha was against it. "It doesn't suit you," she declared, Katherine nodding behind her.
"It's not that different from my dragon one," Alex said defensively. The referenced ring was back in the dorm and was made of a simple metal shaped to appear like a tiny dragon curled protectively around a black pearl. After spotting it at the weekend markets hosted at Diagon Alley, how could she resist purchasing it?
"It's as different as night and day," rebutted Agatha.
Before things could escalate, the classroom doors opened and in they marched for another riveting DADA lesson. After two months with Umbridge, they were more or less used to her teaching methods—and Alex used that term loosely—and opened their textbooks without needing to be asked as soon as they planted their rears onto their seats. Few people used this time to actually read said books, instead choosing to work on their other subjects or doodle. Alex, however, opted to meditate.
When half an hour had passed with her in a trance-like state, Alex pried open her eyes and activated what she jokingly called her magical vision. After years of conditioning, the brightness setting had been dimmed so that the overwhelming light of magic no longer left her reeling. She could distinguish between the magical energy of beings, be they dead or alive, and—most importantly—the castle itself. While the ancient structure was not magical in itself, it had absorbed centuries of residue conjured by its inhabitants. If Rita Skeeter went back on her word and returned to skulk for more secrets, this time Alex would know.
"Let me get this straight," Alex said slowly at the end of another D.A. meeting. "You want to put a hold on these meetings because of quidditch?"
They had finally moved on from the Disarming Charm to the Reductor Curse, and were almost done with that as well, much to everyone's relief (Terry Boot had come close to losing his entire left leg today thanks to one of the Creevy brother's awful aim).
If Alex's sardonic tone affected her in any way, Angelina Johnson didn't show it. She nodded enthusiastically. "The season's about to start, and we need all the practice we can get to lay waste to those dirty snakes." She paused. "No offense."
"None taken," Alex said earnestly even as her Housemates stiffened in her periphery. "But also, request denied. If you wanna play quidditch, go ahead. I'm not going to sabotage everyone else's learning for such a non-reason."
Alex was half-surprised Angelina didn't deck her then and there, when she so clearly wanted to. "You want your House to win the Cup that badly?" she asked, snarling.
Alex turned to Harry as if to say: 'Is this girl being serious?' Based on Angelina's expression, she totally was. The stubborn scowl marring the quidditch captain's brow made it obvious she wasn't going to back down without a fight – then so be it.
"How about a duel, then?" proposed Alex, twirling her wand between her fingers. "If you beat me, meetings will be put on hold for quidditch. If not, we continue with business as usual."
At that, Angelina hesitated. She was finally beginning to have second thoughts, but by then it was too late; everyone was eager to see a duel unfold, and her teammates were even more excited at the prospect of things going their way. The decision was made.
The rest of the group spread out to the sides of the room as a platform rose from the middle. Alex and Angelina ascended the stairs on opposite sides of the platform and bowed when they came to a stop a few metres away from each other. Cheers and jeers echoed throughout the expansive room, and while the latter rolled off Alex with ease, she felt emboldened by the former. She wondered who Harry was rooting for.
She and Angelina regarded each other for a few moments. Neither of them were at full capacity thanks to their meeting just now, but they weren't spent either.
Like real-life brawls, the quicker the fight was over, the better. Attacking first left you open – unless you used the right spell, which Alex did.
"Vertigino!"
"Expelliarmus!"
Both spells hit almost simultaneously. Alex's wand flew out of her hand despite her tight grip, landing close to Angelina's feet. In most cases, this meant the duel was over. Fortunately, Alex had played her hand right by casting the Vertigo Hex, rendering Angelina of no use as she doubled over, her head in her hands.
While Angelina struggled not to drown beneath a wave of nausea, Alex calmly picked up her wand and cancelled out the spell with a finite. Groaning, Angelina pulled herself together admirably, only to register the white wand pointed right in her face. Alex stared down at her.
"I yield," Angelina croaked.
Smiling, Alex offered her a hand and helped her back on her feet. As her opponent dusted herself off, Alex addressed their audience. "You don't always have to use traditional spells when duelling. Sometimes little tricks like that can help you win. If you're talented at Transfiguration, change your opponent's hands into flippers; make them incapable of picking up their wand. If you're a natural at potion brewing, keep some on you to toss at others. Nauseate them. Blind them. Make them trip over their own feet. Work with your strengths and think how you could apply them mid-battle."
Her smile widened. "See you next week."
Once again, Alex was the last to leave. This time she was joined by Cedric. As much as she would like to spend some time with him, all she really wanted to do right now was go for a nice, long soak without any interruptions, be they living or non-living.
Cedric crossed his arms as he regarded her. "You didn't have to do that," he said softly.
She frowned, confused. "Do what?"
"Humiliate Angelina. She looked like she was about to throw up."
Alex rolled her eyes. "One of the hazards of duelling," she drawled. "And it's not like I hurt her permanently. She's the one who wouldn't let go of the issue, not me." Even to her ears her words sounded like excuses, but she believed they were valid.
Now it was Cedric's turn to frown. "Do you know what people say about you?" he asked, his voice growing somewhat quiet. "That you're heartless, that it's made of ice or stone."
She couldn't help but laugh at the melodrama.
Cedric's frown deepened. "Doesn't that bother you?" he asked, genuinely concerned on her behalf.
"Ced, our cohort used to call Harry the Heir of Slytherin, and now they think he's a pathological liar who's desperate for attention. People are dumb and love to gossip. If they said anything actually harmful, I'd care, but this? I'd like to think it only adds to my reputation," she said, grinning shamelessly.
Mollified by her cavalier attitude, Cedric relaxed a little. "As long as you're okay with it…" He trailed off with a smile that was almost reassuring.
"I am," she confirmed. "Now get out, please. You're interrupting my R&R."
Cedric knew her well enough to be aware there was no venom in her words. On the contrary, he smirked. It was a ridiculously charming expression on him. "Sure you don't want any company?"
Alex rolled her eyes even as a blush spread across her cheeks. "This girl needs her alone time. Merlin knows I don't get enough of that anymore," she muttered beneath her breath.
Chuckling, Cedric acquiesced. For the first time all week, Alex luxuriated in the knowledge that she was no longer the object of probing gazes. As the Room did every week after the meetings, the interior transformed. Gone was the cold, unwelcoming training room, replaced instead by a fancy bathroom that could've been fit for the Queen's tastes.
Alex threw off her clothes and stepped into the perfectly warm water, her head dropping back onto the roll of towels already in position for her. Sighing, she turned off her brain for a short while, taking care not to lose herself completely lest she fall asleep in the bath again. She narrowly avoided an infection that time and wasn't keen on coming any closer than that.
I wonder if anyone else has tried to sneak back in here, she thought several minutes later. I wonder what they think I'm doing here. Dark Rituals, probably, based on what Cedric informed her. She hadn't been lying when she told him it didn't bother her; in fact, it was kind of hilarious. It explained the furtive glances she'd caught some people giving her, at any rate.
Really, the witch they should be keeping an eye on was Hermione. Alex took out the fake galleon from the pocket of her discarded robe and inspected it closely not for the first time. Inspired by the Dark Mark—of all things!—the galleon was lined with digits that, on real galleons, were indicative of the serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On Hermione's coins, though, it reflected the time and date of upcoming D.A. meetings. Harry had the original coin, which could be altered thanks to Hermione's Protean Charm – a N.E.W.T. level spell that allowed replicas of an item to be changed whenever the original was modified. It was complex enough when casting it on just one copy, but dozens? That took some serious skill, especially by someone who hadn't even taken their O.W.L.s yet.
"Your brain is to die for," Alex had told Hermione when she gave her a coin. The rest of the D.A. had agreed vehemently. A few Ravenclaws were even pissed she had been Sorted into Gryffindor instead of their own House.
The alarm clock beside her went off. Alex dutifully emerged from the tub and dried herself off. By the time she was in her pyjamas, the Room had shifted once more so that it was now a bedroom. Comforted by the security of the Room, she fell asleep moments after her head hit the pillows.
Hagrid's absence was felt keenly by those close to him, so when one of the portraits Alex was on good terms with reported to her he had returned, she had dropped everything to rush down to visit him.
When she saw him face-to-face, however, the smile slid right off her expression. He looked like he had just lost a fight with a hippogriff. His hair was matted with dried blood, his left eye swollen closed while the rest of his face was coloured with purple and black bruises. Although he was trying to hide them, Alex could spot cuts along his hands.
"C'mon in," he said, sounding happy to see her despite his less than stellar condition. He shuffled aside to allow her in, limping as he went. The way he carried himself signalled more than a few bones were broken.
Alex watched Hagrid gingerly prepare some tea for them while she absentmindedly hugged an ecstatic Fang in the meanwhile. "I'm going to guess a magical creature didn't do this," she said delicately, nodding her thanks for the tea.
"Yeh'd guess right," he said roughly, gently lowering himself into his seat. "Order business – and I'm not sayin' more than that."
"Don't worry, I'm not Harry." That boy was too nosey for his own good. "How come you haven't gone to see Madam Pomfrey?"
"That'll lead ter too many questions. I've got it covered." Apparently, that meant slapping an
enormous green-tinged steak to his face. He sighed in relief as the coolness of the dragon flank soothed his stinging cuts.
"I know some healing magic," she offered hesitantly. Her mum had a whole shelf dedicated to books of that kind, for when she got hurt on the job and had no time to get to Mungo's.
Hagrid's eyes lit up. Dragon steak wasn't too great of a solution, it seemed. He made a show of protesting, but Alex insisted. Hagrid's ankle was merely sprained and not broken, so it was trivial enough for a simple episkey. His broken ribs were a bit trickier, so Alex left that be for now. The easiest of all was tergeo, which siphoned away liquid. That and scourgify got rid of the congealed blood matted in his hair.
"Thanks, Alex," he breathed, sinking into his chair. "Feels a lot better, it does."
Smiling, Alex wiped the sweat from her brow.
She had just finished treating his face with another episkey when there was a knock at the door. Fang sprung off his cushion and started barking ferociously. Harry's voice managed to cut through the noise as he shouted, "Hagrid, it's us!"
Hagrid beamed. "Shoulda known!" He made to get up, but his wince told her he wasn't fully healed yet.
"I'll get it," she assured him, rising. She drew the bolt and peeked her head through the gap.
"Password?"
"Uh," said Harry.
"Correct." Alex gave them an official sort of nod and threw open the door. She shut it behind them once they all clamoured in, with Ron still in his full quidditch uniform. When she asked him about it, the whole mood seemed to plummet. "Did you…not win?" she hedged, sitting back down uncertainly.
To her confusion, Harry shook his head. "We won the battle, but lost the war. After I caught the snitch, Malfoy was in a right snit, throwing insults around about mine and Ron's families. The twins and I lost it and hit him, which Umbridge considered enough of a reason to ban us from quidditch. Forever."
Alex inhaled sharply. She couldn't give two sickles about quidditch, but Harry loved it with his heart and soul. "And Professor McGonagall just let that happen?"
"She had no choice. That bloody toad has Fudge eating out of the palm of her hand – he's given her free reign over the school now."
Hagrid roared indignantly, causing all of them to jump. He unleashed a sleuth of expletives, cheering all but Hermione up instantly. "That ruddy fool! His Ministry stooge's barely been 'ere for three months, an' now she's in control o' everythin'!"
"She's horrid," lamented Hermione. "We're learning absolutely nothing in her classes."
Ron smirked. "That's why we've started our own duelling club," he told Hagrid proudly.
But Hagrid was far from impressed. "D'yeh want ter get expelled?" he demanded furiously. "'Cause that's what'll happen if yeh keep doin' what yeh doin'!"
"Yeah, well, I'd rather be expelled and know how to defend myself than to act like a sitting duck here," spat Harry.
Hagrid could only shake his head.
"So," ventured Harry after a few minutes of polite tea-sipping, "how was your summer?"
Alex sighed. Discretion definitely was not a Gryffindor value.
"Can' answer that, Harry," grunted Hagrid. "Top secret. More'n me job's worth ter tell yeh that."
"Did the giants beat you up, Hagrid?" asked Hermione quietly.
Everyone in the room expressed surprise at Hermione's conclusion.
"Giants?" Ron repeated, shocked.
"Don't you remember Dumbledore giving out orders last year in the infirmary after the Third Task?" she asked, ignoring Harry's twitch and Alex's shudder at the reference. "He told the Minister to make allies out of the giants, and since Hagrid is in the, um, unique position of connecting with them, it only makes sense to send him. And it's probably unsafe for you to have gone by yourself, so someone else… Madame Maxime? You two were really friendly last year."
They stared at Hermione throughout her musing.
"Again, I love your brain," said Alex.
Hagrid's pause lasted a second too long for it to be natural. "Oh, all righ'," he sighed, resigned. Despite his act, once he started talking, he couldn't seem to stop. Over the summer, he and Madame Maxime traversed through the mountains in search of the giants. The trip lasted a month, and they were forced to hunt for their own food and sleep in caves the whole time. Alex's lip curled at the very thought.
"A month?" spluttered Ron. "But why couldn't you just grab a portkey or something?"
Hagrid's expression tightened at Ron's naiveté. "We're bein' watched, Ron. The Ministry's keepin' an eye on Dumbledore an' anyone they reckon's in league with him."
With a shake of his shaggy head, Hagrid continued with his recount, with minimal interruptions. Once Hagrid and Madame Maxime finally reached the group—there were only eighty left in Britain, less than a tenth of their population since last decade—and waited until morning to make their entrance. They followed the proper decorum, keeping their heads high and their gift to their leader even higher as they walked forward. The gift wasn't food or money or anything as common as that; no, they presented him with magic. It was a branch alight with Gubraithian fire, flames that would never die out so long as no one snuffed it.
After communicating what the gift was, the two half-giants bowed and left. They returned the next day with another trinket—an indestructible, goblin-made battle helmet—and negotiated some before retreating once more. Of course, just as things were looking up, the rollercoaster that was chance came dipping back down.
Giants were prone to in-clan fighting. That was one of the main reasons wizards looked down on them; even though there were so few of them, they fought so often and so violently that they were practically exterminating themselves. That night, their leader had been murdered, and a new Gurg took his place. His name was Golgomath, a bloodthirsty fool who soon allied himself with the Death Eaters.
They all tensed when Hagrid mentioned Macnair being there. Harry was trembling. Dumbledore had warned Hagrid and Madame Maxime not to engage with Death Eaters should they encounter them, but if Alex was in their position, she would've Disillusioned herself and started a fight between the Death Eaters and the giants. Macnair would've been flattened in no time.
In the end, they were forced to return empty-handed. Hagrid left the neutral giants an open-ended offer to join Dumbledore, but the chances of them taking that on beneath Golgomath's oppressive reign were slim. Worse still, Hagrid had discovered through the giants that his mother had died years ago. Hermione's eyes watered at that, but they barely had time to commiserate over the dreadful news when someone rapped their knuckles against the door sharply.
It seemed like Umbridge was just as eager to visit Hagrid as they were.
Hermione froze as if someone had Stunned her; the mug in her hand slipped out of her weak grip and fell to the floor with a crash. Alex quickly Vanished the mess, as well as all the mugs on the table, while Harry whipped his invisibility cloak out and hissed, "Get under here!"
All four of them dove beneath the cloak and huddled into the corner of the hut, trying to make themselves as small as possible. Hagrid cast them a confused look before opening the door, nudging Fang away with his foot while he was at it.
Umbridge leaned back to look Hagrid in the eye; she barely reached his chest. Today, she had abandoned her pink outfit in favour of a green tweed cloak. A matching hat sat on her square-like head, protective flaps covering her frost-tipped ears.
"So," she said slowly and loudly, as though speaking to somebody hard of hearing, "you're Hagrid, are you?" Without waiting for an answer she strolled into the room, her bulging eyes rolling in every direction. Fang growled at her as she passed, but fortunately held himself back from attacking what he saw was a threat.
Alex held her breath as Umbridge approached their hiding spot. She stared at them intently, and just when Alex thought that the jig was up, she turned to Hagrid and began interrogating him. Hagrid tried his best to come up with something, but it was evident he was lying – and badly, too.
Who had he been talking to? (Fang.) Why were there footsteps leading to the hut, but not back to the castle? (Uh…) And, most importantly, where had he been all these months? (On leave for his health.) Umbridge eyed him shrewdly at that, but had no evidence to contradict him. Displeased by what she found, she left, but not without warning Hagrid that she would be around to inspect his classes, as "the Ministry is determined to weed out unsatisfactory teachers". Beneath the cloak, she and Hermione shared a look; they had a lot of work to do.
They finally became visible again once Hagrid deemed the coast clear. He pulled the curtain back shut and heaved himself onto a seat, drained from the confrontation. "Inspectin' people, is she? What's it like?"
Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Okay for the most part. Trelawney's on probation, though…"
"Um…what sort of thing are you planning to do with us in class, Hagrid?" asked Hermione. "It's- It's nothing dangerous, is it?"
"Dangerous?" said Hagrid, looking genuinely bemused. "Don' be silly, I wouldn' give yeh anythin' dangerous!" His smile fell when he noticed the faces they were pulling. "Ah, yeh four worry too much. I've got a great load o' lessons planned – with some special creatures, too!"
"Erm…special in what way?" asked Hermione tentatively.
"I'm not sayin'," said Hagrid happily. "I don' want ter spoil the surprise. Alex should know, though. I showed it ter all the O.W.L. classes las' year."
Alex's face scrunched up in thought. "You mean…the thestrals?" She grimaced when Hagrid nodded enthusiastically. "I think you should save those for after she's inspected you, Hagrid. Not many people can see them, remember?"
"Thestrals?" asked Ron. "What're those?"
Out of the three of them, Hermione was the only one who had a clue about the horse-dragon hybrids. "They're skeletal horses who pull the carriages every year. According to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, only people who have seen and accepted the reality of another person's death can see them."
"Exactly," said Alex, keeping her gaze on Hagrid. "They were a hit with our class, since a few people could see them, but Umbridge might decide that you're pulling her leg and that there's nothing there at all. Or worse," she added darkly, "she'll decide they're unfit to be taught about, since they're technically classified as dangerous."
"I…s'pose so," Hagrid grumbled uncertainly.
Hermione, sensing a give, pounced on the opportunity eagerly. "Alex is right – you can always show us these thestrals later. Hagrid, you've got to pass Umbridge's inspection, and to do that it would really be better if she saw you teaching us how to look after porlocks, how to tell the difference between knarls and hedgehogs, stuff like that!"
"All right', all righ'," he huffed. "Guess I can do that… I can't guarantee it'll be fun, mind yeh!"
The trio exchanged smirks while Alex breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted. For now, at least.