Chapter Sixty
Precursors
In the time it took for Alastor to find a trustworthy Obliviator for Alex, several major things happened.
Draco Malfoy was officially a Death Eater.
Ollivander had been taken by Voldemort.
The Brockdale Bridge had been destroyed by the aforementioned, killing a dozen people at least.
Each piece of news hurt Alex more than the last. Katherine was the one who owled her about Draco's inauguration; how she caught wind of his rite of passage, Alex had no clue, and she wasn't she wanted to find out. Ollivander seemingly went of his own volition, as his shop remained untouched by the Death Eaters. Why Voldemort wanted the old wand-maker was anyone's guess. Alex's mum supposed it was because they wanted future generations of witches and wizards to have less suitable wands, thus weakening them. Dad's face said he didn't quite agree, but he didn't voice any objections of his own.
Brockdale Bridge was located in London and had been attacked at noon. Had the Death Eaters timed things better, they would've done much more damage during peak hour. The loss of a single muggle life was a tragedy either way, and though a few terrorist groups rushed to claim ownership of the attack, everyone in the magical world knew who the true culprits were.
Alex was headed downstairs when a patronus in the form of a bear materialised in front of Sirius in the kitchen. It spoke with Alastor's voice and reported the destruction of the bridge. It also asked for Alex's presence.
Stunned, Alex dropped the book she was holding and apparated herself as close as she could to Brockdale Bridge. She ended up in an alleyway a considerable distance from the bridge. Not wanting to risk apparating in front of a muggle, Alex jogged the rest of the way there.
Emergency services had already arrived, and a perimeter was established around the bridge. It kept back most of the onlookers, Alex included. She was about to step away and disillusion herself when a man in a suit waved the police officer away, assuring them that she was with him.
Alex shot Mr Chang an odd look. "Are you also a muggle detective?"
In any other situation, her Obliviator tutor would've cracked a smile. The wails of the sirens and injured muggles curbed any levity he could muster. "Our government and the muggle government have an arrangement," Cho's father explained, leading her past the paramedics and into a large tent. "Obliviators are provided with false identities that allow us to do our jobs without being questioned by muggle authorities."
A woman with a shaved head was talking to a harried lady. Alex cleared her head and could see that the former was magical, while the latter wasn't. Another Obliviator, Alex surmised, giving the woman a once-over.
"She's my partner, Sylvia," Mr Cho explained as they approached. "She's just finished hearing that man's side of the story, so she knows what to erase from his memory."
Sylvia turned to nod at them in greeting when her interviewee paused to take a sip of water from the plastic cup supplied to him. Shivering, she hugged the trauma blanket tighter around her.
"This lady here saw the whole thing," Sylvia explained, not bothering to lower her voice. Her long eyelashes brushed her cheeks as she blinked. "Said she saw plumes of smoke in the air prior to the attack. If she hadn't stopped to see what it was, she would've been on the bridge the moment it snapped in half."
"Devils!" moaned the woman, causing Alex to flinch. "Those were devils, sent here by our Lord Almighty to punish us for our sins!"
Well, she's close enough, Alex mused as the Obliviators exchanged eye-rolls. It probably wasn't the first—or last—time a muggle they worked on tried to pin the work of wizards on their gods.
Sylvia slid her wand from the pocket of her slacks and pointed it right between the muggle woman's wide eyes. "Legilimens."
"It's one thing to hear about what they saw, it's another to verify it yourself," explained Mr Chang. "As Obliviators, we need to master legilimency before we can even think about setting foot on the field."
Humming, Sylvia pulled back from the woman's mind. She turned back to Alex. "You're Peng's intern, right?"
"Sure," said Alex.
"Watch closely, then." Sylvia flicked her wand in a small, circular motion. "Obliviate."
The muggle woman's shoulders slumped like a puppet with its strings cut. Her eyes glazed over and her lips parted as her expression slackened. Other than that, there was no evidence she was having her memory magically erased.
Sylvia ended her spell and moved her wand in the same circular motion, this time the opposite direction. "Fictus," she murmured.
Alex knew this spell, having read about it a handful of days ago. It modified people's memories so that their version of events resonated with whatever account the caster was planting into their minds. It was perhaps more terrifying than the Forgetfulness Charm, and was a huge reason why veritaserum and other truth-devising tactics were inadmissible in court.
Her displeasure must've shown on her face. Mr Chang shuffled beside her. "It's not ideal, deceiving muggles like this," he noted. "But we've little choice. If we leave them to their own devices, they'll either lose their minds or concoct ludicrous ideas to rationalise what they've seen. Worse still, they'll blab to anyone willing to listen, and then where will we be?" He shook his head.
Hesitantly, Alex nodded. "What will they think happened instead?"
"So as not to complicate things, there will be no identifiable cause – the bridge simply collapsed. The constructors will probably take the blame, or a terrorist group. That's what happened last time," said Mr Chang, referring to Voldemort's initial rise to power.
That piece of shit. To think one person could cause so much strife and sorrow. Voldemort's very existence was the source of so many ripples, none of them good. People like that honestly deserved to perish.
Sylvia rocked back on her heels once the deed was done. Her wand was tucked out of sight just as the muggle woman blinked slowly as though emerging from a stupor.
"Do you feel better now that you've gotten that all off your chest, ma'am?" Sylvia asked neutrally.
The muggle woman nodded once. "I – yes, thank you." She stumbled off her chair and wandered off, massaging her forehead.
Sylvia rubbed the back of her neck. "How many more to go?" she asked her partner.
Mr Chang thought for a moment. "Four. The rest are being dealt with by Smith and Jones."
"Being an Obliviator isn't fun," Sylvia told Alex soberly. "It takes years of practice, and one mistake can render someone brain dead. And you'll never stop working once the Ministry finds out what you can do."
Then I'll just have to be really good at hiding it, concluded Alex.
Unlike Hermione, Alex sometimes got tired of reading. 12 Grimmauld Place wasn't bad as far as hideouts went, but it left a lot to be desired. It was also bereft of electricity, which meant no video games for Alex. This also meant the kitchen lacked a blender, so Alex was forced to buy overpriced smoothies instead of making her own.
("I mean," said Tonks before she left, "you don't have to buy them."
"No, I'm gonna," assured Alex.")
There was a semi-decent café not too far from the Black estate. It looked like it had seen better days, and there was barely anyone inside. Alex nodded in greeting at the blonde lady by the cash register and browsed the plastic menu displayed behind the front counter.
"I'll grab the mango smoothie, thanks," said Alex.
"In…a…large…or…small?" the cashier asked slowly.
Does she have a developmental issue? "Uh, large."
Whatever she wanted to say next was interrupted the sudden departure of one of the men in the café. "Oi, give that back!" cried the cashier, but he was long gone. She sighed. "Ruddy git nicked the salt and pepper shakers."
"You got any cameras in here?" wondered another patron.
"Yeah, but I doubt the police will give a rat's arse over this," she said, shaking her head. Then she remembered she was in the midst of serving someone. Her voice changed back so that she was speaking both loudly and slowly, "That…will…be…three…pound."
Understanding struck Alex like a lightning bolt. She grimaced. "I'm fluent in English," she informed her as she handed over the correct amount. "I was born here."
Either the cashier was selectively deaf or really dumb, because she responded as if she hadn't even heard Alex. "Thank you," she replied, enunciating the two words painfully.
Alex rolled her eyes. Cunt. She was never coming back here.
In the end, the smoothie didn't even taste good. The mango was low-quality – Alex wouldn't have been surprised if no actual fruit had been used in the blend. She had half a mind to go back and toss the shitty smoothie at the microaggressive cashier, but the act would've been as fruitless as her beverage.
The pocket sneakoscope inside her denim shorts began to whir. Alex's grip tightened on her Styrofoam cup.
Was it Death Eater? Her eyes darted from side to side. Across the road was a brunette in her thirties. She was dressed like a muggle, and when Alex focused her senses, it became clear she was without magic. Alex widened her search but still struggled to detect any magical signatures that didn't belong to her.
"Susie!"
Alex glanced up instinctively. The brunette from across the road was approaching her, a friendly smile on her face. "I thought I recognised you, Susie. Headed to your dad's?" she asked, hooking her arm around Alex's.
The strange woman leaned closer towards her. "Creepy bloke has been following you for a while now. Don't look," she murmured.
Alex's hackles rose. Her sneakoscope wasn't going mad even with the proximity of the woman hanging off of her, so Alex had no choice but to believe her.
The brunette peered over her shoulder. "He's gone," she sighed, disentangling herself from Alex. "D'you want me to keep walking with you just in case?"
"I'm good," Alex promised her. "Thank you, though."
The brunette beamed. "Today you, tomorrow me." With one last wave, she jogged back across the street and continued on her merry way.
Alex tossed her melted smoothie into a nearby bin and about-faced so that she was returning the way she came. To her satisfaction, her sneakoscope began to buzz again.
A man stepped out from behind a post box and promptly flashed her. He leered openly as put his family jewels out for display.
"Ew," she muttered, dragging her gaze upwards.
The pervert's face fell. Huffing, he pulled his sweatpants up and made to run away.
Too bad Alex had robbed him of all autonomy waist-down.
The Partial Body-Bind, weirdly enough, was more difficult to accomplish than the Full Body-Bind. With the latter, all you had to was point and cast. The former required constant control – if you put too much power into the spell, it would paralyse the entire form; too little and the curse would be virtually non-existent.
It helped that Alex wasn't using her wand to curse the flasher. She didn't want to burden the Obliviators with more work due to bypassing muggles. Instead, she used her hand to direct the curse. Her arm was outstretched as though she was reaching for his legs.
While her victim struggled against her spell, Alex took the time to inspect him closely. He seemed to be untouched by magic besides her own, fuelling her suspicion that his debaucherous acts were of his own volition. Still, it was best to be thorough.
She had to bring her wand out for her next curse. "Imperio," she murmured.
As soon as the spell hit, her captive's stunned expression mellowed out. Alex shivered at the sight.
"Stand still," she ordered. When he did as instructed, Alex put her wand away. "Answer all my questions truthfully. Tell me why you exposed yourself to me."
"For fun," he replied idly. "It gets me off."
Alex rolled her eyes. "Did anyone make you do this?"
His head flopped from side to side as he shook it.
"How many people have you done this to?"
"Eleven," he said.
Before she could go any further, Alex needed to destroy any doubt lingering in her mind. Sighing, she grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt and apparated them into her bedroom at Grimmauld Place. It was the most secure, private place she could think of on the fly; no one was permitted to enter her room save for herself. The spells and runes she carved into the entrance ensured that.
Alex shoved the man onto the floor and placed the Full Body-Bind on him. Then she pointed her wand in the spot between his eyes and poked through his memories.
Show me your victims, she thought.
His mind opened itself to her. A more prepared person could've fortified their mental barricades a bit by simply having a constitution strong enough to say no. Not only was this man muggle, he had never had a spell cast on him before her. His brain was like putty in her hands.
A part of her felt bad for what she doing to this defenceless muggle. All traces of guilt vanished as she saw up-close the way he zeroed in on girls who caught his eye, how he followed them until they were alone before exposing himself, how he memorised the terror etched into their faces so he could savour them for later. One girl burst into tears on the spot, amusing him to no end.
Alex forced herself to probe further. She wanted to know if he had any like-minded acquaintances she needed to pay a visit, but if he did, she could find no evidence of them.
Having seen enough, she ended her spell and Stunned the man. Winded, she rocked back on her heels and stared at the comatose man as she pondered her next moves. Ideally, she would try to erase his memories of her as a way to practise her obliviating. She was already tired as it was, though, and she didn't want her sloppy work to result in his head exploding.
There was another spell she'd been wanting to try her hand at, one that required less precision than obliviating and would be far less messy should things go awry. It wasn't one she could see herself using anytime soon, simply because you had to get right into someone's personal space in order for it to have any effect. Once she mastered it, though, she'd be unstoppable.
Alex hovered over the unconscious muggle. She placed the tip of her wand against his chest and said, "Corimpetum."
He let out a loud snore.
…That wasn't what she had been aiming for. Frustrated, Alex dragged a hand over her weary face. Was her magic more exhausted than she had realised? Or did she lack the resolution to go through with her spell? It was like the Unforgivables – if you didn't have your heart in the curse, you wouldn't succeed.
She had to go through with it. If not for his past victims, then his future ones. And if she couldn't kill this measley pervert, what chances did she have of murdering her classmates' parents?
Alex breathed in deeply, steeling herself. When she exhaled, her mind was quiet. She repositioned her wand over the man's heart.
"Corimpetum."
"Andrew Cole, 47, was found dead in Bedford Park two nights ago, seemingly of a heart attack. Mr Cole had no history of heart problems; police suspect foul play. This is the seventh suspicious fatality this month, not including the bridge collapse that killed twelve and injured five more."
The boy behind the counter groaned. "Boss, can't we change the channel? This is depressing."
"It's the news," the cook by the fryer said dryly. "It's not meant to be uplifting." Regardless, he snatched the remote from behind the cash register and switched the tv over to something more lighthearted.
"You gonna finish that?" Tonks asked, pointing at Alex's lemonade.
"Hm? Nah," she replied, sliding the now-lukewarm bottle over.
Tonks chugged the remainder of her drink and burped. Normally the crass act would've drawn some arched brows, but the metamorphagus was presenting as a man today, so the most Tonks got was an eye-roll.
Tonks typically enjoyed appearing as a woman, but the last time she had done so while holding hands with Alex in muggle London, they had been on the receiving ends of cold glares and cutting insults. It miffed Tonks and infuriated Alex, so they decided to make things a bit easier by conforming to everyone else's expectations.
It still gutted Alex, though. Not to mention it had some weird drawbacks. One time, when Alex was bantering with a male-presenting Tonks at the shops, she made a joke that could've come off as insulting. The man paying for his groceries in front of them turned to them and said completely seriously, "This is why I don't let my woman talk. You should get a less mouthy one," he advised Tonks. His smug expression was wiped off his face when he fell to the floor courtesy of Alex's Tripping Hex his way. His shopping bag and its contents exploded, sweetening the deal.
Alex nibbled on a chip and glanced at her watch. There were a few minutes to go before her next appointment. After she had written to Stephen about the protective runes she was researching, he had immediately owled her back asking if she could apply some barriers to his house and his neighbours'.
"You about ready to duck out?" asked Tonks, picking up on Alex's body language.
Alex nodded gratefully. She popped the last few chips into her mouth and pushed her plastic chair out – and right into the back of another chair.
"Oi, watch it," the woman in the chair snapped.
Her partner snorted. "Clumsy bitch," he muttered beneath his breath.
Frowning, Tonks appeared moments away from defending Alex's honour; the girl in question shook her head. That didn't stop her from flicking her fingers at the other couple as she passed them, though. The segment of lemon the man was squeezing promptly went berserk. Instead of garnishing his fried fish fillet, the lemon juice splashed onto his face and seared his eyes.
His scream muffled her soft laughter. "Clumsy bitch," she murmured, grinning.
She and Tonks walked the one-minute trek to the nearest apparition point. It was a rusty phone booth that had the rune for transport engraved into the door handle. Naturally, it had a notice-me-not spell placed over it and you only really knew it was there if someone else pointed it out for you.
Tonks kissed Alex on the forehead before popping into the booth first. Alex blushed furiously at the domesticity of the action and opened the door of the phone booth after the telltale pop of Tonks disapparation. She closed the door firmly behind her and willed herself away.
When the world righted itself, Alex wound up behind a line of parked cars. She scanned her immediate area and, once she decided no one had spotted her, walked between two identical sedans and headed towards Stephen's home.
On her way there, she spotted a boy hunched over by the kerb, crying his heart out.
Naturally, Alex approached him. She sat next to him and pulled out a packet of tissues from her skirt. The boy glanced at her in surprise and took the tissues, blowing his nose into one wholeheartedly.
"Thank you," he hiccupped.
"Need me to bash someone for you?" she asked mildly.
Glumly, he shook his head. "Won't matter if you do."
Alex frowned. The kid couldn't have been more than eight, yet he looked impossibly world weary. "What happened?"
The boy rubbed the back of his head. "Someone cut my hair," he mumbled.
She stared at him. "Can you elaborate? Uh, explain," she clarified when he screwed up his face in confusion at the unfamiliar word.
He heaved a sigh. "I spent all year growing my hair out at boarding school," he began, and Alex instantly sharpened her focus in attempt to determine whether said institution was magical or normal. "I finally got it to reach past my shoulders when these pricks came outta nowhere and said I looked like a girl so they decided to help me out by holding me down and cutting all my hair off!"
Alex patted the kid's back as he dealt with another wave of tears. "Cunts like them will always exist," she said, reaching behind him and transfiguring a stray leaf into a comb. It was missing some teeth, but whatever. "They'll say shit like, you're X so you can't do Y. Whatever you are, no one can tell you how to live your life – granted it doesn't hurt anyone in the process," she added, brushing the back of his head with her dodgy-looking comb.
She silently cast a spell as she ran the comb ineffectually through his short hair. By the fourth stroke, things changed. The tips of his hair grew out all the way to his shoulders.
"There," she said, sitting back.
The boy tugged on his newly grown hair and gasped at the dramatic shift in length. "How?" he asked incredulously.
Smiling, Alex waved the comb in his face. "Magic brush," she replied conspiratorially. "A witch sold it to me at the markets a few years back."
Total bullshit, of course, but she couldn't have him suspecting her of witchcraft. There were limits to how blatantly Alex was willing to defy the Statute of Secrecy.
The kid's eyes grew impossibly wide. "Can I have it?"
His audacity made her laugh. "I'm afraid all the magic's run out." She dragged the brush through her own hair. "See?"
He deflated. "Thanks anyway," he said, gripping onto his hair.
Alex patted him on the shoulder and disappeared behind a nearby tree. In reality she had merely Disillusioned herself – she couldn't have the kid following her to Stephen's after all. As she suspected, he waited around a bit in search of her, but when he couldn't spot her, he wandered off. Alex dropped her charm and walked the rest of the way to Stephen's.
"Do you have a blender?" she asked when he opened his front door for her.
"No," he replied without pausing. "Isn't Pokémon enough for you?"
"Technically it's my game," Alex reminded him archly. She had mailed her console and games to Stephen as soon as she realised Grimmauld Place had no way to allow her to play them.
"Well, now it's my sister's." He nodded towards the inside of his house. "Come in."
"Anyone home?" she asked, stepping inside.
Stephen shook his head. "Parents are working, my sister's at a crammer."
"What? Why?"
"Mum and Dad want her to go to uni after school. They kind of hate that we're, y'know," he said, shrugging.
"That's fucked," remarked Alex.
"Yeah. So, Pokémon?"
They spent the next four hours glued to the screen of Alex's old GameBoy. It'd been forever since she allowed herself to act her age.
"I bought a few copies of your book," she told Stephen after they returned from their toilet break. "How's it going?"
Stephen tilted his hand in the universal gesture for so-so. "My publishers got their first hate-mail, so that was interesting."
Alex snorted. "Why were they pissed? Because your protagonist is muggleborn?"
"Bingo," he replied, rolling his eyes. "They said my book and the ideals it was promoting was a threat to the wizarding world as we know it."
She smiled. "In that case, let it burn."