Chapter Sixty-One
Seventh Year
"You're…going to Diagon Alley?" Alex asked despite hearing Harry clearly the first time.
The Chosen One nodded. "We need new robes," he said nonchalantly.
Alex dragged her palm across her face. "You know you're one of magical Britain's most wanted, right?"
"Don't you remember?" said Ron as he lowered Remus' arm. It was his turn to help their comatose ex-professor with his daily exercises. "Dumbledore said Harry is basically untouchable until he's seventeen."
"Uh, yeah," scoffed Alex, "but that doesn't mean someone can't kidnap or maim Harry bad enough to keep him down and out until Voldemort can kill him."
"Thank you!" said Ginny, exasperated. She stepped away from the door and slapped Ron's hands away from Remus' legs before he did more harm than good.
Hermione frowned thoughtfully. "I think Voldemort is afraid of Harry."
Alex shot her a sceptical look, then directed her gaze to the skinniest teen in the room. "Really?"
"Well, think about it. Harry defeated him at the height of his power when he was just an infant. It happened again in our first year, when Harry was eleven. The odds were stacked in his favour last year, but the magic protecting Harry was so strong that he escaped essentially unscathed." Hermione shrugged. "It's less about Harry's own prowess than the prophecy, really."
"Thanks," the Boy-Who-Lived said wryly.
"Whatever," sighed Alex as she left the room. "Risk your lives for your uniforms. Who gives a shit anymore?"
She rolled her eyes when she saw Sirius hovering by the edge of the staircase. "If you're gonna lecture me, kindly save it."
Sirius arched an eyebrow at her. "Wasn't going to lecture you so much as wonder whether you're taking your frustrations out at the others because you yourself have a target on your head."
Alex scowled. "This is basically a sneak-attack version of a lecture."
Sirius smiled.
Her scowl deepened. "You'll be pleased to know you hit the nail on the head," she snorted. "You're right. I'm pissed that Harry can do whatever the fuck he wants because he's invincible for another year, while me and my family can hardly step foot into a magical community without glancing over our shoulders every few seconds."
Sirius remained silent. There was nothing that could be said. Instead he closed the distance between them and pulled her into a one-armed hug.
Instinctively Alex tensed at the close contact. Her shoulders slackened after a moment and she rested her forehead on Sirius's shoulder long enough to take one deep breath. Then she stepped back.
"Sorry," she murmured quietly, rubbing the back of her neck and averting her gaze. "It must be pretty annoying to hear me complain when…" When Sirius himself had it so much rougher than her. He didn't have much of a target on him now, but his whole life had been upended when he had been only a few years older than she currently was.
"That doesn't discount your own strife," Sirius replied easily.
The sense in his words had Alex nodding in agreement. "Yeah. Thanks."
"Besides," he said, reclining on the banister, "you can still head to Diagon Alley yourself. Harry's invisibility cloak seems like it'd be more useful for you than him these days, or you could disguise yourself as another."
Alex managed a smile for the first time in what felt like days. "Maybe." If she did go, it would be a different day than when the others headed out.
Sirius gave her one last pat on the head before moving past her and towards Remus's room.
Harry won out in the end. In lieu of Hogwarts owls, Professor McGonagall delivered their booklists to Grimmauld Place the day after Harry's birthday. Though half-tempted to make a quip about owl-mail vs cat-mail, Alex held her tongue. Fred and George had no such compunctions and eagerly made the joke, much to their mum's and the professor's consternation.
"Happy birthday, Potter," said Professor McGonagall as she handed him his letter.
"Thanks, Professor." He scanned his booklist and gasped loudly, distracting everyone from their own mail. "I'm quidditch captain?"
"That gives you equal status with prefects!" squealed Hermione. "You can use our special bathroom now and everything!"
"Oh, well done, Harry!" cheered Mrs Weasley.
"Wow," gushed Ron, reaching for Harry's new badge, "I remember when Charlie wore one of these."
"I thought it was gonna be Katie Bell," confessed Harry, his eyes still wide with surprise.
Professor McGonagall smiled. "It is a common misconception that seniority is the deciding factor when in actuality it is about ability and sportsmanship."
Or favouritism. Alex carefully kept her expression neutral as she tore open her mail and slid out her letter.
"Huh," she murmured when a new badge of her own fell out of the envelope. "I'm head girl."
Hermione basically exploded with excitement. Alex's friends and Mrs Weasley congratulated her warmly. Meanwhile, Alex was peering at Professor McGonagall in confusion.
"Is this Dumbledore's doing?" she asked.
"The headmaster is responsible for appointing the head boy and girl each year," replied the professor. "They're chosen because of their academic achievement, outstanding reputation as a student, and an honest, good, and hard-working personality." It felt like she was reciting that phrase straight out of Hogwarts: A History.
Alex scratched her head. Did she even fit that description?
Professor McGonagall glanced down at her with something akin to pity in her eyes. "You earned this position, Miss Fortescue. Have more faith in yourself."
It wasn't like Alex had self-confidence issues. She was a realist above all, and while she was quick to acknowledge her wit and intelligence, she doubted she was a stand-up character suited to leading and representing the entire student body of Hogwarts.
"Oh, damn," she muttered to herself. "I'm the first Slytherin head in decades."
Professor McGonagall's expression grew grave. "Yes," she agreed softly. "It's been over half a century since the last Slytherin student was granted such an honour."
Alex grimaced. One guess as to who that was.
Her parents all but hugged her to death when they returned later that day. She was prefect and head girl, much to everyone's delight but her own. As if she didn't have enough on her plate.
Mrs Weasley put together a celebratory feast in commemoration of Alex's and Harry's new badges. At some point in the night, butterbeer and firewhiskey were brought out. The minors were forced to settle for the former while everyone else was permitted the latter, despite Mrs Weasley's attempts to prevent her twin sons from drinking even one drop of alcohol. She practically fainted when Fred and George showed Alex how much firewhiskey and butterbeer she needed to mix together to achieve the perfect firebeer cocktail.
"Oi, quit it," barked Ginny as a tipsy George ruffled her hair.
He sniffed dramatically. "When did our baby sister get so big and rude?"
"Ten years ago," replied Ron.
Mrs Weasley heaved a sigh. "They really do grow up too fast," she lamented to her husband.
He smiled sadly to himself.
Rolling her eyes, Ginny grabbed a compact mirror from her pocket and used to check her hair. The compact was cute but stylish, designed to look like a golden switch with wings that could be folded around the outside.
"Where'd you get that?" wondered Alex.
Ginny blushed. "From a mate," she said evasively.
Ah. Dean Thomas, her new boyfriend. He seemed like a good bloke – better than her ex Michael Corner, at any rate.
The compact remained on her mind even as Ginny put it away. It wasn't until she finished her cocktail that the idea manifested in her mind. She ambled over to Sirius, who was in the middle of talking to Tonks when Alex rested her chin atop her girlfriend's head and said, "You know your handheld mirror? Can you recreate the spellwork on other mirrors?"
Sirius thought for a moment. "I could," he said slowly. "It's been literal decades since we charmed those mirrors, though."
We. As if any other Marauder could help him out right now.
Good thing they had a wonderful alternative.
Alex stepped back from Tonk's hard head and pointed at the twins, who had polished off the butterbeers. "Fred and George can probably do it."
"What's this now?" piped up one of the twins.
"What are we doing?" asked the other.
"Upholding the Marauder legacy," Alex said seriously.
The boys' eyes sparkled with interest.
Sirius shot her a look. Sly, he mouthed, amused.
She beamed at him in response.
Despite what most people thought, the Weasley twins were nothing short of geniuses. Not many eighteen-year-olds could open and maintain a successful business at Diagon Alley, let alone now that the streets were fraught with tension and terror. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, also known as Weasley & Weasley, was the most colourful and lively shop by far at Diagon Alley. Most if not all of their products were created by the Fred and George themselves, and so Alex had the utmost confidence in them in recreating the mirrors.
Weasley & Weasley was the first shop the gang stopped at the following day. Alex, disguised as an unremarkable 30-something-year-old white man courtesy of Tonks, purchased a handful of items that could prove useful someday, including but not limited to: bruise removal paste, extendable ears, portable swamps, and a Shield Cloak.
Disguised as she was, Alex didn't dare associate herself with Harry. She stuck with Ginny, who was less conspicuous than the duo and had a much wider social circle than the other Gryffindors combined. Soon after they entered Weasley & Weasley, Alex parted ways with Ginny, uncomfortable with how packed and noisy the store was.
Not like the dead silence of Diagon Alley was any better, to be honest. Drawing her newly purchased Shield Cloak tighter to herself, Alex headed to the ice cream parlour. It was abandoned, of course, the windows boarded up and the front door sporting a lovely crack near the bottom, as if someone had kicked at it. The sight of her second home dilapidated like this made her heart ache.
"I'm afraid you'll have to sate your sweet tooth elsewhere, love," remarked an older witch as she exited the cauldron shop. "Sugarplum's has my seal of approval."
Alex smiled. "Thank you, ma'am."
"It's such a shame what happened to the Fortescues," continued the woman, frowning. "Florean was a good man. Neither his wife nor his daughter have any clue where he's disappeared off to, perhaps for safety's sake, but it's sad nonetheless."
Nodding, Alex pasted an appropriately sympathetic expression on her face despite how badly she felt like throwing her head back and screaming.
A pair of irate figures swept down the street, narrowly avoiding bumping into the middle-aged witch. Alex's eyes widened as she recognised Draco and his mother; what truly caught her attention was the way in which they carried themselves. Instead of their usual haughtiness, they rushed by in a manner that could only be described as harried.
You'd think Death Eaters would throw their weight around as if they owned the place, Alex mused, following after them from a safe distance. Then again, the cornerstone and patriarch of the Malfoy family was rotting away in Azkaban, so perhaps they weren't faring as well as they would have liked.
Unsurprisingly, Alex found it difficult to feel sorry for them.
Also unsurprisingly, the Malfoys entered Knockturn Alley. Alex stopped to peruse a noticeboard of wanted persons and watched from the corner of her eye as her Draco stepped foot into Borgin and Burkes. Narcissa had wandered off into Mr Mulpepper's Apothecary. As Borgin and Burkes was infinitely more fascinating than an apothecary, Alex opted for the latter. Not wanting to raise any suspicion by entering right after Draco, she counted to thirty in her head, dropping some coins into the open mages' caps of the wandless beggars lining the alley.
Draco and the storeowner didn't seem to be getting along when Alex popped inside. The man gawked at Draco's bare forearm until the Draco shoved his sleeve back down, covering what was no doubt his still-fresh Dark Mark. Alex wondered how much it hurt getting the tattoo, and if it continued to cause him pain even now.
"Tell anyone," said Draco in a low voice, "and there will be retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback? He's a family friend. He'll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention."
"I… Yes, understood," muttered the shopkeeper.
"And don't forget to keep that one safe, I'll need it."
"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?" the man asked a tad hopefully.
"No, of course I wouldn't, you stupid, little man," snapped Draco. "How would I look carrying that down the street? Just don't sell it."
"Of course not… sir." Despite his obvious reluctance to treat a boy-wizard with any semblance of deference, the shopkeeper nevertheless bowed deeply to the Death Eater.
"Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand?"
"Naturally, naturally," murmured Borgin, bowing again.
Smirking, Draco strode out of the store, paying no mind to the mousy man Alex was disguised as.
As soon as he left, Borgin momentarily dropped his insipid smile and began to appear worried. His customer service demeanour returned quickly as he hastened to Alex's side in hopes of making a sale. She dutifully played the part of his patron and perused the store as she thought of a subtle way to inquire after whatever it was Draco was so intent on buying.
"How about this necklace here?" suggested Borgin, pointing at an opal necklace still in its box. "Unassuming though it may seem, this cursed necklace will kill all those who wear it – perfect for getting rid of an unwanted lover.
Alex grunted noncommittally. A lot of the items on offer were deceptively innocent, designed to surreptitiously maim or murder those it was gifted to. Alex had no enemies whom she could get away with sending presents to; if she wanted someone gone, she had more direct means of achieving that goal.
"What is it that blonde lad from earlier wanted off the shelves?" she asked gruffly. "Must be worth its weight in galleons if he's that desperate to keep it to himself."
Borgin visibly hesitated. "It's a pile of junk, really," he said, leading her away from the back corner of the shop. The sole item there was an old wardrobe. "How about a counterfeit sneakoscope? It looks just like the genuine article, only non-functioning."
She ended up buying the fake sneakoscope. The chances of her having a use for it were exceedingly slim, but it stopped Borgin from breathing down her neck, so it was well worth the handful of sickles it cost her.
With nothing else left to do, Alex returned to Grimmauld Place just in case her transfigured features returned to normal. She spent the rest of the day investigating magical closets, but the only thing she could find was a story that seemed suspiciously like a rip-off of C.S. Lewis' Narnia series.
Harry came to collect from the library for dinner. "Have you heard anything about magical cabinets?" he asked apparently out of nowhere.
Alex stared at him. "Why…?"
"We saw him slinking off into Knockturn, so we followed him and eavesdropped using an Extendable Ear. He seemed quite interested in this shoddy old cabinet at Borgin and Burkes."
"I know," she said. "I was there. I was the other wizard."
"Oh," murmured Harry, sounding mildly disappointed. "We thought you were a Dark wizard."
Alex shrugged. "Can't say I've found anything close to relevant on magical cabinets. There's apparently a magical cupboard that can turn you invisible, though. It came in handy for home invasions. Or high-stakes hide-and-seek games."
"Yeah, can't say that last one seems like Malfoy's cup of tea," replied Harry, grinning.
"I dunno," she sighed, closing her book shut. "These days I've no clue what to make of Draco Malfoy."
"He's a git," Harry said fervently. "Always has been and always will be."
Well, she couldn't really argue with that.
"Y'know, you're the only one besides me who thinks Malfoy's up to no good in that store," Harry confessed on their way down to the dining room. "Hermione and Ron refuse to believe he's a Death Eater now – officially, anyhow. Did you happen to see what it was on his arm that scared Borgin so badly?"
"Didn't see it, but it was probably the Dark Mark." She bit her lip. "Actually, you're right; he's been branded as a Death Eater. My Slytherin mates mailed me about it a few days ago."
Harry stopped at the end of the staircase. He stared at her with wide eyes. "What?!" he all but yelled. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"Why would I?" she scoffed, brushing past him. "He's a Death Eater. So what? Everyone knew this was going to happen sooner or later. Turns out it was sooner thanks to his dad's imprisonment. Draco had to take his place and fill the ranks." Voldemort and Malfoy – a more perfect pair didn't exist.
Harry sighed. "Is it bad I feel vindicated?" he wondered, catching up to her. "Ron and Hermione said Draco was way too young to be a Death Eater, that Voldemort had no interested in recruiting a sixteen-year-old."
"Considering his arch-nemesis is another sixteen-year-old boy, I'm not sure what they're expecting of Voldemort."
The morning of their first day back was busy indeed. All those returning to school were hastily cramming their belongings into their trunks, which were promptly inspected by Mrs Weasley in case they forgot anything important. She arched an eyebrow at the books Alex had taken from the Black library, most of which had questionable content. Unlike with Harry or her own children, Mrs Weasley couldn't tell her what to do, so Alex got to keep her books. She almost cursed Ron on the spot when she found his dirty magazines; he tried to blame it on the twins, but their mum didn't care either way.
"Have you guys eaten yet?" Alex asked as she watched Hermione try to wrestle Crookshanks into his carrier.
"We woke up a few hours ago and ate then," said Ginny, who was shrinking her broom. "Why do you sleep in so late, anyway?"
It was too much of a hassle to explain how she exhausted herself reading by Remus's bedside because her paranoia kept her up, so Alex merely shrugged and said, "Beauty sleep."
To put off any more questions—and because she really was hungry—Alex hopped off the bed she was sitting on and made for the door. "D'you want anything from the kitchen?"
"A muffin if there's any left," replied Hemione, closing the door of the carrier shut. Crookshanks mewed angrily from within.
"You might wanna wait," muttered Ginny. "Lotta phlegm down there."
Alex stared blankly at her. "Bat Bogey?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "I wish."
It wasn't until Alex reached the dining room and saw Fleur at the table that she put two and two together. As distasteful as their dislike of Fleur was, Alex had to admit it was a good insult.
"Alex!" Fleur said brightly when she spotted her. "I have wonderful news. How would you like to be my bridesmaid?"
"Sure." Alex sat down and filled her plate with hashbrowns. "You got a dress robe in mind?"
Fleur nodded and slid her a photo of shimmery gold dress robes. "I was thinking pink initially, but it would clash terribly with Ginny's hair."
Mrs Weasley loudly greeted Harry as though she wanted to distract herself from Fleur's mildly offensive comments.
Passive aggressive as always, Alex reflected to herself with a smirk.
"Gold is kinda gaudy," she told Fleur, sliding the photo back. "How about rose gold? It's a nice compromise."
Fleur tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I suppose that could work."
Apparently, that was all the permission Fleur needed to rope Alex into more wedding planning. They debated on the style of the dress robes as well as the type of flowers best suited for the wedding.
"Shouldn't this be your fiance's job?" Alex wondered as she flipped through another stack of bridal magazines.
"Bill is happy with whatever I choose," claimed Fleur.
"The secret to a successful marriage."
"It's a shame you broke things off with Cedric," Fleur said offhandedly. "That would have been a memorable wedding."
"Oh, I'm never gonna get married," Alex replied, ignoring the sting inflicted by Fleur's comment. "Not in that sense, anyway. A ceremony where I'm the centre of attention? No, thank you."
Fleur frowned. "But you entered the Triwizard Tournament."
"Yeah, but people didn't really care about me, not when they had three celebrities to gawk at." For that, Alex was infinitely grateful.
"Weddings are such great fun, though," interjected Mrs Weasley as she whisked some dirty dishes into the sink. How she managed to do that without damaging any of them, Alex would never know. "All your loved ones in the same place, celebrating a magical moment between you and your other half."
Alex glanced down at herself. "I dunno, doesn't look like half of me is missing."
"Half your brain is," snorted Harry as he reached for the juice. He yelled in protest when she charmed it closer to herself and out of his reach. "You don't even like pumpkin juice!"
"Yeah, but you do," she jeered, sticking her tongue out at him.
Harry, taking a page out of her book, whipped out his wand and summoned the jug back to him. Unfortunately, his spell-casting was shit, and a good deal of the juice sloshed out and onto Fleur's planning diary. She screamed at Harry in French, who looked like he was staring at Death himself while Alex laughed her ass off at the chaos unravelling before her.
"Perhaps I should've been cheering for Krum in the tournament instead," Mrs Weasley muttered beneath her breath.
After Alex wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes and regained her breath, it was a simple matter of charming the juice out of Fleur's things. The orange liquid seeped out of the photos and parchment and coalesced into fist-sized ball hovering by the tip of Alex's wand. She was so very tempted to lob it straight at Harry's face but decided there had been enough excitement for one morning and deposited it into the sink, much to Mrs Weasley's apparent relief.
Everyone who was present had a quick lunch before they were whisked off to King's Cross in shiny black cars courtesy of the Ministry. Sitting in the plush leather seats, Alex remarked that it felt more like they were headed to Downing Street – a quip that only Hermione and Harry appreciated.
"Think the PM has an entourage of aurors keeping an eye on him?" Harry asked a tad bitterly.
"Not an entourage, but usually the PM has one or two," answered Alex, thinking back to what her mum told her ages ago. "Right now he might have more, all of whom are in the Order." According to Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt was one of them.
Harry's impatience with the aurors grew when they physically tried to manhandle him through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾. Shooting her colleague an irritable glance, she held up a hand, signalling for him to back off as the rest of them filed off through the barrier.
Harry motioned for them to follow him up the platform in search of an empty compartment, but Hermione and Ron reminded him they needed to go to prefects' carriage, while Ginny was off to meet with Dean.
"Oh, okay," said Harry, sounding hurt despite the way he tried to school his features. "Right. You guys go ahead – I need to speak with Mr Weasley about something."
Ginny peeled off with a wave, but Ron and Hermione remained where they stood. They stared at Alex expectantly. "You coming, head girl?" Ron asked, tapping his foot.
"Oh yeah," murmured Alex, instinctively reaching for the spot where her new badge would rest. "In a bit. You guys can go ahead; I don't need a posse flanking me. Take my stuff too, please!"
"That'd be a sight indeed," remarked Tonks from behind her.
Smiling, Alex turned around and gave Tonks one last hug. "Thanks for everything. You've made this summer bearable."
Tonks returned the hug much more enthusiastically. "Right back at you. Have a great term. Keep me updated, yeah?"
Alex nodded, maintaining her smile despite the twinge of regret that struck her. If only Tonks was still a student at Hogwarts. For a few moments, Alex indulged herself in a fantasy where she had been born a little earlier and had enrolled in the same year and House as Nymphadora Tonks. In between wars, without Harry and Voldemort's conflict hanging over them, perhaps Alex would've been able to grow up happily and wholly.
She released her grasp on that delusion as she turned around and stepped inside the Hogwarts Express. After dumping Spitfire and her things with Harry, she changed into her uniform and pinned both the prefect and head girl badges on the left side of her robes. People raised their eyebrows in surprise when they saw the accessories as she made her way to the prefects' carriage. Alex didn't bother acknowledging them and their scepticism. She did, however, make sure to smile back at those who greeted her.
Since she was the first to arrive, Alex took the time to prepare the meeting's agenda. Cedric—bless him—had given her everything she needed for her role as head girl when she owled him over the summer. He was genuinely pleased for her achievements; likewise, she was content with the knowledge that he was doing well post-grad. If things continued to progress with his training, he might even play for his team in a genuine match before the year was up.
The carriage door opened. She and Duncan locked eyes and then, simultaneously, gazed at their respective head badges. They hi-fived and grasped each other's hands, grinning.
"Brilliant," said Duncan, voicing her exact sentiment.
"Thank Merlin it's you," sighed Alex, retracting her hand. "I was absolutely terrified at the prospect otherwise."
Duncan nodded enthusiastically as he took a seat beside her. "It's not uncommon for non-prefects to be head, though I can't imagine why. They'd be so out of the loop it wouldn't even be funny."
Alex rolled her eyes. "It's just politics and favouritism."
"That makes an awful lot of sense." He took notice of the parchment laid out in front of her on the table. "Good, you're prepared. Let's go through it together?"
"Right on, partner."
They swapped notes and made corrections here and there so as not to repeat themselves or cause any misunderstandings. Alex was in the middle of defending her threatening end message when the first of the prefects filed in.
Hermione put on her best smile for them, evidently incapable of squashing her innate urge to people please and suck up to her superiors despite the fact that she and Alex were basically related by now. Ron merely nodded at them in greeting, much like a normal person would.
The rest followed soon after. Alex committed each face to memory, particularly the new fourth-year prefects. Only a handful of them seemed surprised to see Alex sitting in the head girl's spot, either because they called it beforehand or their Hogwarts grapevine had already worked its magic.
The last prefect to trickle in was Draco. Alex's mouth tightened at the sour expression he was wearing, so unlike his smug grin back at Borgin and Burke's last month, but repugnant all the same. Cold grey eyes met hers in an even stare.
"Thank you for joining us," announced Alex, peering at Draco imploringly before sweeping her gaze over the others.
Draco scoffed softly as he sat beside his prefect partner, Pansy.
Duncan spoke first. He was warm and vibrant where Alex was taciturn, and welcomed them all to a new year with an enthusiasm Alex found difficult to muster these days. He laid out the ground rules for them, such as the do's and don't's, as well as what sort of duties they were responsible for.
A Ravenclaw fourth-year raised her hand. "Last year, apparently, shifts were swapped a lot. Can we do that this year?"
Alex placed a hand on Duncan's arm, stopping him before he could reply. "You get one opportunity to swap, so make it count," she said.
Ron stared at her incredulously. "You're joking."
She arched an eyebrow at him. "Does it look like I'm joking?"
"But we did it loads of times last year!" Pansy pointed out.
Alex reigned in the urge to comment on how she and Ron seemed to be on the same page for the first time in their lives. "You might've done so, but I certainly didn't. And I know for a fact that it was a source of headaches for last year's head girl and boy – I don't need that on my plate, thanks."
The prefects appeared positively mutinous at that.
Too bad.
Richard rolled his eyes. "Hard-arse," he muttered none too quietly.
"Speaking of which," added Alex, "you get three chances. Miss a patrol, abuse your power, skip a meeting, et cetera, and your title as prefect is revoked."
"What?" several voices barked as one.
Alex smiled. "Meeting adjourned. Any questions?"
Duncan remained by her side as the prefects stormed out. "You're a bit bitchier than usual this year," he noted cheerfully.
She slid him a look. "You're probably the only person allowed to use that word on me." Sighing, she massaged the knot that had formed in her shoulder. "Last year the heads were able to be gentle because they were friendly and likeable. You think I have the same pull?"
"I think you're both those things," Duncan said loyally.
"Yes, you love me and I you. The Parkinsons sure as hell don't, and if I want their respect, I have to keep them on their toes." Alex swept up her papers and stood up. "I'll play bad auror and you play good auror. Maybe we'll survive the year with minimal migraines, eh?"
"You can't sit with us."
Alex stared at Ron through the glass window of the compartment door. He stared back grimly.
"Are…" Alex blinked rapidly as a million thoughts cascaded through her mind. "Are you a mean girl, Ron?"
"A what?" Now it was Ron's turn to act bewildered. "If anything, you're the mean one!"
Alex lunged for the handle, which Ron hastily locked shut. "You being serious right now?" she asked, wide-eyed.
"C'mon, Ron, stop being a git," Harry sighed from behind him.
"She's the git!" insisted Ron, turning back to address his best mate. "You shoulda seen her at the meeting, Harry. She basically whipped her wand out and threatened us into behaving."
"He's exaggerating," Hermione assured Harry, Neville and Luna. "Really, though," she added, leaning to the side so she could see Alex without Ron blocking her view, "there aren't enough seats here, Alex. You truly do have to sit elsewhere."
Alex huffed but saw the logic in Hermione's words. "You coulda just said that instead of doing all this," she told Ron, glancing meaningfully at the locked door.
"This is my way of fighting the system," he told her.
For a second, Alex contemplated the pros and cons of punching the window. She didn't want to risk the glass shards slicing into Ron's eyes, though, and took a decisive step back. Unable not to have the last laugh, she flipped him the bird.
"I have your cat!" Ron reminded her triumphantly as she walked off.
"I hope he shits in there!" she called back over her shoulder.
Since she was out and about anyway, Alex elected to check on the prefects on patrol duty. People gawk at her as she passes, and not because of her new position. They were much more interested in her scuffle in the Department of Mysteries last year, as well as the absence of her ice-cream making father.
Alex understood their curiosity. She just wished they were much more discrete about it all.
Just as she had that thought, a moth flew up to her – only it wasn't a moth, but a square of parchment folded up and flapping in front of her face in a manner reminiscent of a moth or butterfly.
Bemused, Alex plucked the note from the air. To her relief, it didn't struggle, instead becoming inert as though it had never been charmed in the first place.
Alexandra,
I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.
Sincerely,
Professor H. E. F. Slughorn
Alex stared at the message for a good deal longer than she'd like to admit. Was this from their new Defence professor? Why was he seeking her out?
That is, if this note was even from him. Alex wouldn't put it past someone to set up such a prank. Ever since the Weasley twins' explosive departure last year, people were itching to become the next best pranksters at Hogwarts.
There was only one way to find out, she supposed. Wand out, Alex headed for compartment C.
She had almost reached her destination when someone called out to her from behind.
Blaise Zabini smiled at her. "You're looking well."
Alex chuckled. "A trick of the light," she quipped.
The sixth-year's smile widened into a grin.
Alex tried not to bite her lip or inhale sharply or do anything remotely humiliating when she was this close to Blaise. He was—quite frankly—very pretty, having lost the remainder of his baby fat over the summer. His cheekbones and jawline were to die for, and she didn't even want to get started on his eyes. Sometimes it felt like he was staring right into her soul with that intense gaze of his.
Shame her mind was still full of Tonks.
Alex held up her note. "You get one too?" she presumed.
Blaise answered her question by showing off his own copy. "What do you know of Slughorn?" he asked as he stretched his arm past her to open the compartment door.
Alex blushed at his close proximity. "Very little," she confessed.
"He likes to collect students," he said vaguely. And with that disturbing comment, Blaise opened the door. "After you," he told her.
She smiled softly at his unexpected kindness. "Thanks."
"I was wondering how long you two were going to loiter out there!" said a balding middle-aged man that could only be Professor Slughorn.
He was a cheerful-looking man with a round, ruddy face marked with smile lines. He actually reminded Alex a bit of her dad.
"Alexandra Fortescue, yes?" he asked, moving to shake her hand.
She responded with a firm grip. "That's me."
Smiling, he greeted Blaise with similar enthusiasm. "Take a seat wherever you'd like."
Slytherins that they were, they chose seats close to Slughorn's but not too close. She and Blaise sat across from each other; while that put some distance between them, it also meant more direct eye contact.
Thankfully, Slughorn was interested in engaging Blaise in some small talk. "Are you familiar with the Notts?" he asked him.
Blaise tilted his head in what wasn't quite a nod. "Theodore Nott and I are roommates. We've also been acquainted ever since we were children."
"As was his father and I," said Slughorn. He frowned suddenly. "It's a shame what's happened ever since. He was caught red-handed at the Ministry last year, wasn't he? To think old Elliot is in cahoots with You-Know-Who…"
Alex wondered which one Elliot Nott had been. Had he hurt any of her friends? Had they hurt him in turn?
She was distracted from her musings when Cormac McLaggen walked in – none too quietly either. The door slammed open, and Alex shared a grimace with Blaise.
"He's a slimeball," she confided to him as Slughorn welcomed McLaggen.
"I've heard rumours," acknowledged Blaise. He raised his eyebrows at the next bloke to walk in. "Marcus Belby was invited?"
Alex peered over her shoulder at the thin, nervous boy. Ravenclaw, her mind supplied for her. He was in her year and a fiend at Astrology.
"His uncle concocted the Wolfsbane Potion," Blaise supplied for her when she appeared nonplussed. "But I don't think poor Belby has the same affinity for ingenuity. Slughorn will be disappointed."
Alex couldn't help smirking at his sardonic tone.
To her surprise, Ginny entered the compartment next. They shared the same wide-eyed glance before the Gryffindor narrowed her gaze at Blaise. She opted to sit right behind him, incidentally facing Alex. Ginny instantly tried to communicate with her using facial expressions alone.
Slughorn brightened notably when Harry (and Neville) stumbled inside. Alex and Blaise scoffed almost simultaneously.
"Sit, sit!" urged Slughorn, either oblivious to or ignoring the boys' reluctance to linger. "I brought some lunch to share. The trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on liquorice wands, and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things… Pheasant, Belby?"
Slughorn smiled in approval as Marcus accepted. Taking their cue, they accepted some of what was floating around. Alex eagerly swiped a bread roll.
"I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles," Slughorn told Harry and Neville, now passing around a basket of rolls. "Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"
Unfortunately, Marcus had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant; in his haste to answer Slughorn he swallowed too fast, turned purple, and began to choke.
"Anapneo," said Slughorn calmly, pointing his wand at Marcus, whose airway seemed to clear at once. He turned, curiosity piqued at Alex's similarly upraised wand. "Well, now! It seems we have a medic in the making here."
Alex laughed politely. "I'm afraid that's a bit of an exaggeration."
"Either way your efforts are to be praised, Alexandra. Anapneo is not an easy spell to master."
"I've been practising." On who, she'd rather not say.
Slughorn offered her a plate of pies, bypassing Marcus' outstretched hand completely. "Your mother is a talented auror, is she not? Yes, she's been steadily climbing up the ranks for a while now. It's a shame about your father," he said sincerely. "We attended Hogwarts at the same time, I'll have you know. Oh, your grandfather was so strict on him all the time. I suppose he couldn't help it, being headmaster and all."
Alex sipped at her tea as she waited for Slughorn to finish rambling. "Thank you, professor," she replied.
Even though he wasn't certain what she was grateful for, Slughorn beamed at her. He then diverted his attention to McLaggen, who was somewhat acquainted with the new Minister of Magic.
While Alex was far from saddened to hear of Fudge's retirement, the circumstances which forced it were vexing indeed. Voldemort had threatened Fudge to step down—no doubt to replace him with one of his own—and when Fudge had refused, the Death Eaters attacked the bridge Alex had been brought to not long ago. Rufus Scrimgeour was elected, and he had a tighter grip on Wizarding Britain than his predecessor ever did.
It was a shame McLaggen was such a wankstain. Alex would've loved to use him to get to Scrimgeour.
Slughorn moved onto Blaise, focusing on—of all things—his mother's enviable beauty and the seven husbands who had left the Zabinis their immense wealth following their tragic deaths. Blaise, for his part, merely offered a cool smile in the face of Slughorn's blatant nosiness. The old professor probably wanted to know how Madam Zabini continued to get away with the supposed deaths of her husbands.
Things grew even more awkward when Slughorn directed his sights on nervous Neville. The Longbottoms had been great aurors, for sure, but they'd also been tortured into insanity thanks to one of their classmate's aunt. Slughorn ended that topic of conversation looking uncertain of Neville's personal flair.
"And now," said Slughorn, shifting massively in his seat with the air of a compere introducing his star act. "Harry Potter! Where to begin? I feel I barely scratched the surface when we met over the summer!"
Alex came close to breaking her neck due to the speed with which she whipped her head over to Harry's direction. She stared at him in disbelief.
When the fuck did they become such good mates?
He shrugged at her.
Slughorn regarded Harry for a moment as though he was a particularly large and succulent piece of pheasant. "'The Chosen One,' they're calling you now!" he crowed.
Blaise feigned a cough to hide his scoff of amused scepticism. Ginny took great offense at that.
"Don't be jealous, Zabini," she said, sneering. "It's not your fault all you're good at is posing."
"Careful, Ginny," hummed Alex, smiling at the fiery girl over Blaise's tense shoulder. "That sounds a bit complimentary."
Slughorn chuckled good-naturedly while Ginny pinned Alex with an incredulous glare. "Now, now, you might want to be careful. Ginny here can perform the most marvellous Bat-Bogey Hex! I wouldn't cross her!"
So that was why Ginny was here; she had impressed Slughorn with her spellcasting. Alex found it odd that Hermione wasn't invited – although, now that she thought about it, there wasn't a single muggleborn in the compartment. The realisation had her mouth tightening into a grimace.
Slughorn released them from his so-called Slug Club when night fell. Taken aback by the time, he ushered them out, though not without promising them another gathering sometime soon. Most of his invitees gave the impression that they'd sooner choke than suffer another Slug Club meeting, but Alex found the experience interesting.
Slughorn charmed the door ajar for them, robbing Blaise the chance to open it for her again.
"How was your summer?" she asked him as they left the compartment.
"Too eventful for my tastes," he replied dryly. "Yours?"
"Same," she sighed.
"I'm glad that's over," muttered Neville not too far behind them. "Strange man, isn't he?"
"Yeah, he is a bit," agreed Harry. "How come you ended up in there, Ginny?"
"He saw me hex Zacharias Smith," snorted Ginny. "That idiot from Hufflepuff kept asking about what happened at the Ministry, so I hexed him. When Slughorn came in I thought I was going to get detention! Mad, isn't he?"
"I'll say," Blaise muttered inimically. Alex couldn't say she disagreed.
"Better reason for inviting someone than because their mother's famous," said Harry, raising his voice. Then, abruptly, he called her name.
Bemused and more than a little annoyed, Alex stopped to face him. "What?"
He stared right at her, ignoring Blaise completely. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"
"Alright…" Not wanting to be rude, she flashed a smile at Blaise. "I'll see you around."
His gaze defrosted instantaneously as he slid it from Harry to her.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Ginny said, "What was that all about?"
"I like Blaise," she replied frankly. "He's nice."
"He's the enemy," Harry said seriously.
"Fuck off," scoffed Alex. "The Zabinis were never Death Eaters in the first place."
"No, they just associate with them," Harry reminded her, scowling. "Who was the one who said being neutral in the face of evil makes you complicit? You did."
"Is this what you wanted to talk about?" she wondered, unimpressed. "If so, I'm going."
Harry dropped his scowl. "I need a favour," he began hesitantly. "I need you to open Blaise's compartment so I can sneak in and eavesdrop on Malfoy."
"Fine."
He regarded her with surprise. "Really?"
"Sure. If I say no, you'll just do something stupid and caught anyway." Besides, it wasn't that bad of an idea.
"Great. Brilliant." Harry bid his goodbye to Neville and Ginny before throwing his invisibility cloak over him, because of course he had it on hand.
Alex lead him through the train, her attention divided as she kept a look out for Blaise while trying to locate Harry's magical signature using her mind's eye. Like they suspected, Blaise was seated with the rest of his roommates. Several pairs of eyes narrowed when they saw her approach.
"Blaise," she said, sliding the door wide open. "Can I speak to you for a second?"
Out of those in his compartment, Blaise alone seemed pleased to see her. Alex held the door open as Blaise approached and didn't bother closing it even as they stood in the corridor; with her back facing her Housemates, she had no clue whether Harry managed to sneak in without detection. She focused on keeping up her end of the deal by distracting everyone through her conversation with Blaise.
"Sorry to call for you so soon," she began, and she didn't even have to feign her embarrassment.
"Don't be," Blaise said easily. "I find it quite flattering."
If anything, Alex blushed harder. "Right," she coughed. "Well, um, I know it's still ages away, but would you like to spend the first Hogsmeade weekend together?" Talk about pre-emptive. But what other excuse would she have for calling him out like this?
To her relief, Blaise wasn't put off by the invitation. "I accept your invitation, granted nothing happens in the next few months."
Alex's smile felt much less forced now. "The others won't give you shit for it, will they?"
He shrugged. "I'm not the sort of person who cares excessively what others think."
An ugly, terrible thought shot through Alex's mind like a bolt of lightning. If Blaise was willing to be judged by his mates for fraternising with her, what else would he be willing to sacrifice? Would he and his family take a stand against the Dark for once? Would he fight a Death Eater for her? Would he defend and support her? Cedric did. Tonks would. Maybe if she played her cards right…
Alex tucked several strands of hair behind her ear as she smiled sweetly at Blaise. "Have a pleasant evening," she told him.