29th of August 1995
"Dear friends, we gathered here today," started the headmaster when someone interrupted him with murmuring:
"...to join this man and this woman in a holy institution of matrimony..." Most of the gathered order laughed at the incredulously ridiculous statement. Those who did not, did so just because they had problem with the source of the comment – professor Snape and Mrs. Weasley, or because they just did not understand the humour – Mrs. Weasley. Even Mr. Malfoy, a spy in the Death Eater fraction, let out a slight chuckle.
"You just can't help yourself, can you Black?" snarled Potion Master.
"Well what about you, Snivellus? Can you be anymore doomish and gloomish?" followed the immediate reply of Sirius Black.
"You are the one to talk. I have always thought that the house reflects the character of the owner. It need not be said, I find it lacking." Severus did not let himself be bested in the quip department.
"Yes, thank you for your input, gentlemen, very enlightening. As I was saying, we are here today to discuss any new occurrences and attacks in Britain. As Minister still refuses to accept that Voldemort," winces form majority of the gathered, "has risen again, I urge you to be covert still, while you search for new members and/or information. Does anybody here have anything new to report?" He asked as an afterthought and looked at the members of the Order of the Phoenix, who were set around the small dreary kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.
As stated before Grimmauld Place Number Twelve is the house of one Sirius Black, escapee from Azkaban prison, one of the most secure prisons around the globe, that nobody before him managed to escape from. The house also served as Headquarters for the aforementioned Order of the Phoenix, group established by Albus Dumbledore during the first war to fight against Death Eaters and to protect innocent civilians.
Also as stated above, the house was quite dreary, the doom and gloom image fitted it very well. The most ancient houses, and this one was no exception, managed to absorb magic and intentions of its occupants throughout the ages. As Blacks were traditionally a dark family, it was understandable that the house rebelled against the presence of so many light witches and wizards, and protected its secrets so much more diligently.
That was the main reason, that no matter how hard they had tried, they just could not clean it up or even remove majority of the dark artefacts. Of course, the house elf Kreacher, who was still loyal to the long deceased Mrs. Black, was not any help as he was constantly replacing removed objects on their rightful places. It wasn't his fault, house elves are very loyal creatures, and their loyalty is given to that master, who shows them most kindness, which was sadly not the case of Sirius Black.
Sirius even though tolerant and kind to most less fortunate than him, could not stand reminders of his past, and Kreacher along with the House and Severus Snape were those unfortunate reminders, that just did not allow him to show any regard to them.
"No? Nobody? Very well, then I would like to announce that young Mr. Potter, had not spent his summer with his relatives, but was instead receiving training he requires from one of the most qualified, if not the most qualified, humans, if not beings, that are out there. And it is my honour to say that, they are originally from Britain. So without further ado, please let me share with you the identity of..." but again he was interrupted; however this time from no one present in the room, but because of the ruckus outside.
"I hate you! I absolutely loath you! I'm not a child! I can take care of myself!" The voice of the young boy-hero carried throughout the house.
"Hate, Mr. Potter?" The answer was quiet, almost whispered, carefully enunciated with an undertone of amusement, but it resonated just like a scream would for the unspoken threat it carried. "What do you know about hate? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You think you can take care of yourself, but every time I asked you to prove it, you were not able to stand a minute against me in duel, and it was full of standardised rules, not the real one, where your enemy would kill you without any exertion... But you are right; I am immensely pleased that our little arrangement came to an end. One more day spent with such a child, and Voldemort would have nothing to do, because I would just kill you myself."
Mrs. Weasley wanted to come to his defence, wanted to silence the upstart that talked that way to her 'adopted' son, but she remembered the words spoken two months ago. 'Should you interrupt my conversation, any conversation that I participate in, one more time, the consequences will not be pleasurable. I can promise you that.'
Many others wanted to do the same, for instance Arthur Weasley – husband of Mrs. Weasley, Fleur Delacour – one of the Champions of the Triwizard Tournament, which took place in Hogwarts the previous year, and girlfriend of William 'Bill' Weasley, or even reporter for Daily Prophet Hestia Jones, but they all recognised that had they done so, they would turn her attention on themselves and it was not something either of them wanted in her current state.
Some of the onlookers were rendered motionless, when they realised just who was supposed to train their Harry. Charley Weasley and Nymphandora Tonks were stunned because their idol throughout their whole Hogwarts careers had been standing in front of them, dressing down the Boy-Who-Lived.
It must be mentioned that Alexandra, even though few years older than them, was a role model for the whole school. She was the star student, excellent Quidditch chaser and the matchless partier. It seemed as if she lived by the motto 'Study hard, but play even harder' back then. Through and through she was the most popular student then, boys wanted to date her and girls wanted to be her.
Bill Weasley was flabbergasted, because before him stood the girl he once gave his heart to. They were in the same year at school, had a friendly competition going in classes – he never managed to win but occasionally did tie with her, and outside of it, she was his, as the muggle saying goes, 'high-school sweetheart'. However he knew, that as he was, he could never be worthy of her, so he left to prove to her, to the world, and to himself he can be her equal. As the years passed, he heard many accounts of her, but never from her and thought that she had simply moved on.
The last person who was absolutely staggered was owner of the house, Sirius Black. He could not believe that the most beautiful woman he had ever lay eyes on was the same little girl with pig tails he used to play with, have false tea parties and give piggyback rides to, the daughter of the older brother of his best friend James Potter. She was stunning, mind-stopping, and breath-taking. Then he shook his head, and scolded himself for such thoughts, but once a womaniser, always a womaniser.
"You are reckless, idiotic, without any real talent or ability. You think that because you do not fail in school, you are any good? Your professors pity you; that is the real reason why you pass classes. The Triwizard Tournament? A farce. Without Junior's help you would have died in the first task or at the very least been out of the commission for the rest of your life."
With her words Harry looked more and more ashamed. And perhaps he would have stopped her, but she was not to be interrupted. Nobody of the present has seen Harry look so before, not his professors, nor his friends. He was drowning in shame and embarrassment, with barely held back tears.
"You want the truth? Full disclosure? From what I observed of you during past two and half months, you are nothing. Nobody. Mediocre student, who could not be bothered to open a textbook, I am not even talking about a library books and independent study to get caught up with your peers, that come from the wizarding families," they had gathered quite the audience – full Order, the Weasley children and Hermione – but neither one paid them any heed. "From what I have seen, I became afraid. Afraid for the wizarding world, because if you are their saviour, they better pack up their things quickly and leave the country as soon as possible, because you, Mr. Potter, will only be their downfall."
His friends, Ginny and Hermione, because the twins and Ron were too busy gaping at her, wanted to interrupt her, too. After all she was tearing, metaphorically speaking of course, into their friend, their hero, their saviour. But even they could see the magic crackling on her skin, more and more with each word passing her lips.
"You hate me? You are not the only one, so take your place in a very long queue. But hear me out first. I knew Lily and James Potter, they were my aunt and uncle after all, and let me tell you, had they seen you now, they would cry from the embarrassment. Both of them had been exceptionally talented in their own fields, you can barely manage in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and it is reportedly your best subject. So good riddance, Mr. Potter. I hope to never have to rely on you, because you are the most unreliable, irresponsible person I have ever met, and trust me when I say, I have met more than my share of slobs."
With those words she took a deep breath to calm the magical aura she excluded, turned on her heel and faced their audience.
"You... c'est vous que..." started the heavily accented voice of the French quarter veela.
"I what, Miss Delacour? Please be so kind to elaborate." With boredom accentuating her whole being, stated Alexandra.
"Vous avez pris mon George. Je vous déteste," accused angry veela.
"You mean Mr. Pelletier? I can assure you; I had nothing to do with him. He was but a child back when I met him. And as I already stated today, you are not the only one, who hates me, so please, kindly get in line."
"Mais, il m'a quitté pour vous," The girl was close to tears. "Ee told mee que je ne suis pas assez belle."
"But that is not my fault, Miss Delacour. You cannot fault me for my appearances anymore than many can fault you for yours." And with that stated, she addressed the headmaster.
"Albus, I have done all I could think of. But I must admit, with deep regret, that I could not manage to teach him anything substantial, which I take as my personal failing. Alastor, it is good to see you again. Professor McGonagall, always a pleasure, now if you'll excuse me..." Suddenly somebody interrupted her.
"Lexie, wait. Don't... don't leave." The plea was evident in speaker's voice.
"William, it has been a long time," said Alexandra as she identified the source.
"Bill, what are you doing, talking to her? Have you lost your mind?" interrupted Mrs. Weasley, but quickly quieted down after Alexandra shot her an annoyed glance.
"It has, will you let me explain?"
"There is nothing to explain; to me all was perfectly clear seven years ago."
"Lexie, please. You don't understand..."
"Don't understand what, William? That you left in the middle of a night like a thief? Without goodbye? Without explanation? Trust me, the message was clearly received."
"Bill? What iz going on?" asked his clearly confused girlfriend, but he had his all attention focused on the girl from his past.
"It wasn't like that, Lex." He started to explain, but as if suddenly aware of their audience, he said instead. "Look, can we talk for a moment in private?"
"I do not see what difference it would make, William. Do not drag our history out. We were just children; both of us have changed since."
"Please, just give me a minute. Just a minute." And with that he motioned to the now empty kitchen. With a sight she followed, perhaps nothing would change, but he deserved at least that much. After all, she had loved him once. With that they left the rest of the Order standing in the hall and parlour.
"Well, we are alone now. What do you want, William?" asked Alexandra as she set in the small chair at the table. She was looking strangely out of place, the dark and dreary kitchen and her all majestic looking.
"I want to explain why I left." He saw she was about to interrupt him, so he rushed on. "It wasn't because I didn't love you, I did, I still do, I love you more than anything, but because I wasn't worthy of you. And I left to prove to myself and to you and everybody else that I do deserve you. And maybe it is just a wishful thinking, and you really are too good for me, but I can't let you go. I don't know how. I have a girlfriend, that's true enough, but I always thought that we would find a way to be together. And because of that, I didn't have serious relationship since you. I was just passing time, waiting for us to be together again. Just please; say it is not too late, that I didn't destroy everything with my stupid actions. That you still love me." He ended with the same begging tone as he started; it never left, never wavered.
"I would like to say that, I truly would. But you left, William. You left me without a word. I had had to get over you. We changed and we are just not suited to be together anymore. Had we stayed together then, we could have been possibly happy together, but we didn't. There is a girl out there in the hall, who loves you. Do not destroy your second chance at happiness on couldas-wouldas-shouldas and by second guessing yourself, because we could have been, but we are not. Let me go, William. And especially let yourself go."
She finished her speech with a sad smile, pated his hand that somehow found its way to cover hers, stood up and left the kitchen without looking back. Had she seen the shattered expression on his face, everything could have been different, but she had not.
Everybody was at the same place they had left them, waiting with curious faces and perhaps speculating about the topic and mainly conclusion of their conversation. She did not pay them any mind. As she was leaving someone in the corner of her eye caught her attention.
"Siri?" It was the man she claimed as hers, when she was six years old girl. She loved him then, and he never failed to brighten her day. But the war ended and he disappeared along with her parents, aunt and uncle. As she grew older, she, of course, found out what happened and few times even tried to reason with her uncle to do something, but his was a half-hearted effort.
"Sasha, how do you do?" replied with a smile Sirius.
"I-I...How..." It was the first time in ages that someone managed to render Alexandra speechless. "I do not understand; how are you...?" She did not know how to finish her sentence. Free? Here? Out of the prison? Did it matter?
"Just say it, Sasha. I fucked up, did I not? But no, I am not free, just an escapee."
"Why are you not free? You did nothing wrong or at least your actions weren't any worse than the actions of others."And it was true. After all, even Lucius Malfoy managed to be free of all charges.
"Not in the eyes of the public. To them I am betrayer of the Potters and murderer of the thirteen."
"It was a time of war, casualties happened. And as far as I am aware, there is no law that prevents you to tell a secret of Fidelius."
"Assisted murder?" commented Severus.
"Plausible deniability? Ignorance? I stand by my previous statement, casualties happen in the times of war."
"My parents weren't casualties!" suddenly shouted Harry. However nobody, but Mrs. Weasley paid him any mind.
"Let me share a piece of wisdom with you Mr. Potter, nobody is just a casualty to their family, but in the grand scheme of things, they are nothing but," retorted Alexandra.
"I didn't do it." whispered Sirius.
"What? Then who?" Her confusion was apparent for all to see.
"Peter," he whispered, as if ashamed of admitting it aloud.
"I'll be back." And with those words she disappeared from the spot in the hallway, leaving a staggered Order and shocked Dumbledore. After all someone had just apparated from a place he personally warded against apparition.
As Bill Weasley finally joined the rest in the parlour, everybody saw his ashen complexion; Fleur in particular took note of it, but did not comment. If he did not leave her for Alexandra, all was good. She would not repeat the same mistake twice, there really was no competition.