Master Xander

Chapter 11

Interlude:

Rita skeeter, ace reporter of the Daily Prophet, had never felt more miserable, frightened, and alone in her life than she did at this moment. She was trapped in her beetle form and didn't dare revert back to her human form unless she chose to commit suicide. The glass cube she was stuck in was barely large enough to contain her animagus form. And the few air holes which allowed her to breathe, were too small to allow for her escape. The cube was her prison for the last few days and the person she had come to loathe and fear continually glared at her through her prison. But that wasn't the worst of it.

She felt horrible. That 'man' had sprayed her with some type of poison, and whatever it was played havoc on her nervous system and had caused a form of respiratory distress which made her breathing erratic. Furthermore, every time she took a labored breath, she could smell and taste that vile, oily liquid, which made her want to gag, which she would have if she had anything on her stomach.

Rita hadn't noticed the eyeball staring at her, but when she did, she tried to scream, (something she couldn't do in her present form). Suddenly, her prison disappeared and instantly, she reverted to her human form.

Coughing and hacking, Rita looked around and to her shock, she discovered that she was in her own apartment lying prone of the floor. The man had somehow gotten into her home!

As a reporter, one that wasn't loved by everyone, the need for her to invest in a series of very expensive protective wards was a very sensible precaution. Oh, she felt perfectly safe, but the wards were there just in case. Those wards were specifically attuned to her, but they didn't feel as they should have. The wards felt somehow muted, as if they were being suppressed or maybe reflected.

This wasn't right and the feeling only served to increase her fear.

Then, she saw him, the American sitting in her favorite chair, just as casually as you pleased as if he owned the place. He was smiling and there was nothing friendly about it.

"Hello, Miss. Skeeter."

Her terror increased. "If you think that you will get away with this, you are very much mis…"

"Please," the man dismissed before she could finish. "Have some dignity, stand up," he ordered. "You look foolish sitting on your butt like that."

Rita found herself standing up. She assumed that he had to had used magic on her to force her up like this. Rita swooned as her body was still adjusting to becoming human once again. She looked and felt a crumpled mess. Her glasses smeared by that oily spray, her hair a sticky mess, and her days-old makeup made her look like some crazed clown. And to make matters even worse, her wand was on the table too far for her to reach. All of those magical defense classes were effectively useless. She was in a terrible spot and she knew it.

"Two years ago, when you came to visit my store with your snotty attitude, you were condescending to Ceraine and myself. Then you wrote several articles, trying to start controversy between me and my fellow store owners in Diagon Alley. Of course, you didn't stop and tried to get the purebloods to push us out." There was an instant when he glared at her and she could literally read what he was thinking. The look on his face was the same as someone who had stepped in something in the street. It didn't work."

"The community had a right to know why you are here and not back in your country where you belonged," she countered, albeit weakly. "The people had a right to know what you are trying to hide, or what you are running from."

"Alex shook his head. "You make me wish Cordelia was here."

Cordelia would give given this woman a tongue lashing that would have burned his ears off. He could only dream. Shaking his head gently, he looked past her, deep in thought. Even after all of these years, her death still affected him. The vampire with-a-soul exacted suitable vengeance though. He owed Angel for that one.

"Who is she?"

"Doesn't matter," he dismissed. "What does matter is this. I politely warned you to back off. I even submitted to an interview with you, which you twisted to your own views. That really pissed me off. If you want to know the truth, it pissed both of us off." He smiled at her and she shivered. "You should be thankful that I stopped Ceraine from sending you to a hell dimension for a few years."

What was he talking about? Was that a threat on her life? she asked herself. "I'm a journalist," she coughed.

"So, you say," Alex whispered in her ear. She hadn't realized that he was next to her until she felt his breath on her ear. "You know, if it wasn't for your ugly-looking hair, and your lousy taste in make-up, not to mention you cruddy taste in clothes, and your pathetically rotten-to-the-core personality, you might be cute," he told her, much to her irritation and confusion. "Then there's that smell."

"That is not my fault. You sprayed me with that horrid stuff!"

It was a rare thing for her to be thrown off her game, however this man was confusing her. Was this man attempting to make a pass at her after what he'd done? Well, she never expected something like that.

Alex had confused her and he knew it. "Just to let you know that what I sprayed with is a poison. It kills roaches."

"It's a beetle!"

Alexander shrugged, and he tapped his wand on his knee. "Beetle, roach, same difference. The reason you're not dead is that you're human imitating a bug. But I promise the next time you're sprayed will be the last time. Your beetle form will not survive. If you manage to turn back to human, then you will suffer the effects for the rest of your life. You'll never feel right again. You'll never be able to change again without dying. Your little feet will be sticking up in the air like a little dead roach."

She gulped. "You're lying. You wouldn't do that. It's murder!"

Alex rolled his eyes. "I've watched you smear a lot, and I mean a lot of people in my three years here, and I saw the joy in your profile picture as you tore people apart. How many people have had their lives completely ruined because of your spite? How many people have died because of your smears? Do you even know, you bitter old cow?" he snarled. "Of course, I would." The man looked livid and Rita shrank from his gaze which made her feel like a scared little child. "You've gone at the Potter kid relentlessly. What did that little boy do to you?" he asked.

She didn't know what to say, not to this man. Rita felt that anything she had to say would just place her in more danger than she already was. Her instincts were screaming at her to keep her mouth shut.

"Wait, don't answer that," he growled, letting her off the hook for the moment. "Answer this. How did you get by Hogwarts' wards?"

"That is privileged information," she answered before she could stop herself. The woman barely got the words out when her eyes started bulging outwards as a can of Raid Ant and Roach spray appeared next to Alex's wand on the table. He casually picked up the can and looked at her. "Okay, your choice."

"No!"

He began carefully examining the can. He turned the spray nozzle in her direction. "Good grief, I can't even pronounce some of the ingredients in this potion but they all seem bad."

Rita nearly fainted in terror.

"Miss. Skeeter, I want you to understand that I am not your friend. You are an unregistered animagus, but you won't have to worry about that because you will never use it again if you value your life once I hit you with this spray a second time. Naturally your human form will suffer physical agony for the rest of your life because of your alternative form. The taste and smell will remain with you until you die. No matter what you do, people will always notice the smell when you are around. No one will ever want to be around you. Ever." He waved his wand, and it glowed a bit as he sent a wave of magical energy which slammed into her. "Don't worry, that's just insurance. You will never be able to tell anyone what happened to you."

"You cannot obliviate me! It's illegal to do that to a member of the Press!"

"Who said anything about obliviating you?" he asked her. "Tell me, how did you get into the school undetected Don't lie, I will know and the consequences will be severe," he told her as he played with the spray nozzle once more.

Rita hesitated but only for a moment. "It was someone in the Ministry who showed me how to slip through the wards."

"Who?" he demanded.

She told him, told him everything.

"Wise decision, Skeeter." He smiled at her and walked towards her apartment door. "Thank you ever so much," he said mockingly.

"You're evil," she screamed.

"I'm not evil. I'm just bad," he smirked. "And that's better than being a low-level gossiper," he retorted. "Remember what I said. I am not your friend. Write your next articles carefully."

With that, he stepped through her door and to her surprise, she never saw he enter the hallway. He hadn't apparated as far as she could tell.

What just happened?

He was so intense!

Her poisoning, being trapped in a cage, the threats, it was all too much for her. She grabbed her wand and held it close as she cried. Falling on her bed she checked her now functioning wards and fell into a fitful sleep and unconsciously dreamed about a man who was so bad, he was good…

An hour later, Alexander sat in his chair in his apartment, going through everything had Rita had told him. It wasn't much, but it was enough to confirm that he was being watched by not one but two elements in the Ministry. The first he expected. It was the second that was most interesting and the one he'd have to watch.

Years of preparation were now coming to fruition.

The Fourth Class

"We've had a couple of classes now, and Professor Harris. We have let you think about what we've talk about concerning magical cores and I just want to touch on this a little more before we move on to more interesting things. What we've discussed so far will be on your first upcoming exam. I'll have a firm date on said exam at next class." Professor Delane said, to the moans of the class.

The reaction made her smile. The students were so typical. What was pleasant however, was that those same students weren't exactly unhappy, either. They appeared to be anticipating this exam, preparing for the opportunity to test themselves on this new and very interesting subject.

"To sum up our discussion, I use the term 'life core' as a general term for the cores that are found in every living creature. This term can include magical cores as defined by this class. The term 'magical core' will be used to define any living creature that has the ability to access magic in any form. Are there any questions before we continue?"

None of the students raised objections. A few said that they understood the terms.

"Good," Ceraine continued. "At my old research institute, we are still learning about life cores. What has been discovered is that our cores function in a variety of ways we are still learning about. This brings out my point. It's not magical or non-magical, not active or inactive cores, or how large that core is that matters. It is the amount of reserve and what type of energy reserve that the core stores. A small core can store a huge amount of magical reserves. Conversely, a so-called large sore may be incapable of storing huge amounts. We have also learned that everyone has some level of magical reserve.

"I repeat, every core uses magic in some way and at some level. Magic keeps every single person alive and to paraphrase a well-known author, 'Magic, like life, finds a way and one cannot exist without the other. So, one of my obvious question on the test will be is, are non-magical people really non-magical? I want you to argue for or against my supposition. Think carefully as you prepare your arguments or rush to judgement. The next question on the exam will be this. We obliviate non-magicals to make sure that memories of what they've seen of us and our magic is removed. They have no choice in the matter. I postulate that we are as much a danger to them as they are to us. As magicals, is this the correct way to proceed? Answer yes or no and then present your arguments accordingly. Also, just because that is my opinion doesn't make me right, so simply agreeing with me will not necessarily give you a high score."

"Yes," Professor Harris added. "We are giving you the questions before the exam. It is because we don't want you to parrot us. We want you to think and argue your points to us. You will be graded accordingly. Here are some rules. The answers must be written on the paper provided in your desks. You must use the ink pens provided not quills. All answers will be no less than one page and no more than a page and a half. We demand that your penmanship, or hand writing skills be at their best. We want legibility. Anything less will result in a student failing the exam."

The students were quiet. Some were already preparing their arguments for the exam.

Nearly all the students now understood and agreed about the danger and the methods used, but it seemed in the best interests for all involved. But now, some were questioning the frequency of use. They could need data to see just how many people were being obliviated.

We have no idea who many people have died from magical attacks or have been obliviated in order to protect the Secrecy Act. How many have been murdered by death-eaters? We'll never know because the Ministry doesn't keep records. Those people aren't important enough.

"Bonus question. Our people obliviate them with impunity. How can they have burned our people at the stake or killed magicals on a regular basis if they have no memory of magic in first place? Speaking of which, Mister Malfoy, how is your research coming along with the witch burning stats? What does this imply?"

The young man stood up. His face looked sour. "I am still working on it. So far, I have researched the Daily Prophet and although there are mentions of such acts, they do not have any reports to back them up."

"Keep searching," Alex told him. "Get help from a few students in the class as required. You may find that over time, people have changed, but how will we know unless you have the data to back you up? For all we know they might have accepted us a long time ago. On the other side of the equation, we may be at the beginnings of a war. Keep working on it and report what you find."

"Yes, Professor," the young blond muttered.

Yes, he'd been set up by the American muggle-loving professors and he knew it. He wouldn't give up and now he had permission to get help from his fellow Slytherins. There was no way he would lose this argument. He would prove his belief even if he had to ask his parents for assistance.

'Professors, I have a question," asked Sonia Newport a Ravenclaw. "Why are learning about magical cores? We were led to believe that this we would be studying the lives of non-magicals."

"A good question," responded Harris. "I'll answer it in this way for now, but we will come back to this later. "In order to know about the non-magical community, we have to know ourselves first. How can we compare our cultures and existences if we don't know of ourselves and what makes us, us?"

The girl looked confused as she thought about what the professor said. Suddenly her eyes lit up and then narrowed in contemplation.

"Okay, that is settled. Now, as you well know, this Wednesday will be the official announcement of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Two other schools will be joining us and I am sure that some of those students will be sitting in one some of our classes. Whether they will visit our class and discover the joys of non-magical studies, I don't know. That will be their professor's decisions." There was a slight pause. "For some reason, they didn't ask Livermony to attend since it is a registered school, but I guess this is a European thing," he alleged and smile widely as many of the students bristled at the perceived insult.

The fight was on.