Master Xander

Chapter Thirty-Three

Hogwarts

Professor Alex Harris' Office

All too soon, it was over. Alex allowed her to see just enough. The woman was flabbergasted. It took strength to let his hand go.

But she did. She was Dolores Umbridge, and she could do anything.

Still, the entire experience was nothing short of amazing. "I will admit, that was interesting," she said slowly. She couldn't look at him, not yet. The witch was still processing what she had seen and how to exploit it. "These memories of yours. Have you shown them to any others?"

"Not really," he responded. "These memories are privileged to be seen by a select few who are important to me."

The woman's eyes narrowed slightly as she probed a little for more information. But what the American had said hadn't escaped her notice. He implied that she was important to him, and she was secretly thrilled, although she didn't understand why. Nevertheless, the politician in her wanted clarification. Alex was gullible and if he was infatuated with her, (and she did understand why; all one had to do was to look at her), she could get some information from him. "So, you have shown these memories to the headmaster."

"Oh, no." Alex answered with mustered indignation. "He isn't someone who I would tell such secrets to."

"Not even Miss Skeeter?" she giggled.

Alex kept his smile to himself. She's about as subtle as a brick through a window. He answered her question directly. There was no point in pretending that Dolores wasn't doing research on him. That was okay, because he had a huge file on her.

Shaking his head vigorously, he said, "Oh, no. I mean, she and I went on dates a couple of times, but it's not really serious," he lied. They were getting closer, although he still kept her at arm's length. That was for her benefit as well as his. "Her reporter's instinct makes me think that she's interested in my story, not about me, if you know what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, I understand," Umbridge nodded in agreement.

"Besides, I think my interest is headed in a different direction," he said as he stared intensely into her eyes.

Immediately, the woman was on guard. "Professor Harris…" she growled.

Alex looked chastened. "I understand," he said. "You wouldn't be interested. I mean, you're a British pure-bred witch. You would not be interested in an American whose heritage is in question."

Her mouth dropped open. "What do you mean, unsure of your heritage?"

She asked while she attempted to slow down her pounding heart.

Was this man flirting with her?

"In Sunnydale, we had a powerful wizard, the mayor of the city," Alex began to explain. "He placed spells everywhere for his own nefarious purpose. This dark lord stripped every witch and wizard of their ancestral heritage of everyone in the town. This dark lord made sure that we would never find out who and what we were unless it was by mistake. That's why I never knew I was magical until I was in my late thirties because of him. And no, not even the goblins could trace my ancestry. I know, I checked. It was all erased."

He looked so sad. "The mayor was a cruel, cruel wizard. What happened to him?" She knew the town was destroyed. So, the mayor was either dead or had fled. It he was on the run; he could be a problem for the wizarding world in the future.

"He gathered enough power to turn himself into an eighty-foot demon-like snake. That was his animagus form, you see," he explained. "At maturity, he intended to rule the world, but we blew him up, along with my school."

She couldn't help but believe his story. "How horrible." The woman actually felt a bit sorry for him. He could be a pureblood and would never know it, and that struck an uncomfortable chord within her. He might be what she dreamed of being and would never be blessed with that status. "Your true heritage was lost."

Alex shrugged. "Where I lived, it didn't really matter. As you saw, we really had more important things to worry about. Plus, I'm American and even if I was royalty of any sort, no one would have cared."

"How barbaric," she muttered. Personally, she would have been enraged if that knowledge was taken away from her. To be a pure blood and not just pretend to be, was something she aspired to. To have it snatched away and never know was something repulsive. But this man, however, didn't need to know her true feelings. She was a member of the Ministry. Emotional outbursts were undignified.

"Well, I would have certainly cared," she announced with absolute seriousness. "But getting back to our initial discussion, the Ministry feels your classes are not properly servicing the need of young minds with…"

Minister Umbridge froze in mid-sentence.

She almost said false teaching about muggles. If what Alex showed her was true and she believed it was, then as much as she wanted to, she could not do it. Her mouth opened again.

What had he done to her?

He was not that bad, and he did freely reveal some very disturbing things to her, and those memories were true. She could feel it. The man also had knowledge that could be very useful in the future. She decided to modify her approach, and perhaps cultivate a useful tool. "Mister Harris-"

"You don't like me," Alex said as he cut her off. The comment threw her off guard. "I can tell," he added so softly that she barely heard him.

"That is not true!" she yelled. "Professor Harris, I really…"

Again, he cut her off. The two were still facing one another. His eyes widened. "Minister Umbridge, be careful! Your skirt! The way you moved. I can see your… too late."

"MISTER HARRIS!"

The woman turned beet-red. She didn't know what he saw, but her imagination was running wild. "You should not look. A respectable man would never stare at a young woman in that manner!"

"I'm not respectable," he countered, smirking at her while she continued blushing. "I am American, am American heathen, a Californian American heathen. Who knew that she would react so intensely because I caught a glimpse of her knees? I will have to tell Buffy and Faith. They'll crack up for days! Okay, round two.

"Don't worry. What I've seen will stay safe with me forever and ever." He smiled. "My eyes track automatically. In fact, they call me 'the one who sees'," he announced in his best James Bond voice.

The woman was doing her best to cover whatever she thought he had seen. Using her wand, she lengthened her skirt, just in case.

But did he like what he saw?

NO! This is official business!

"Professor Harris-"

"Call me Alex," he said, interrupting her yet again, and she didn't even complain. "You know, you remind me of a witch. They called her, the Witch of the West. Actually, she was more Midwest, but the name stuck. Very assertive, very powerful and sure of herself and her position. But she was very skinny and into green. The color was a turnoff. But you're not like her. You are into pink."

She tried not to giggle, she really tried. It just came out, and she cursed herself for it. "Did he like pink? She hoped so.

No, wait! It couldn't happen. Nothing could happen. Her mind was made up.

Her mind rebelled.

"Do you like pink?"

There! Her humiliation was complete. She had to get away from this, this man!

"Yes, I like pink," he answered. Now he looked dangerous, and her heart fluttered. "In California, we have a lot of beautiful women, but most of them are too skinny. I am older now, more mature. I think I am interested in a more full-bodied woman, one with meat on her bones."

It took everything he had not to wiggle his eyebrows.

"Mister Harris!" Dolores flushed. "Stay back or I will hex you!"

Alex never moved from his chair and neither had she. But she felt as if he were chasing her, running her down. This was so wrong. But her heart was racing. This was so exhilarating.

She had to get away. She had to think. Her whole purpose for speaking to him was ruined. Merlin's Blood! "We will have to continue this meeting at another time," she stuttered.

"When?"

"I will make arrangements," she responded Very politely. She stood up and shook his hot hand. It took strength to let it go. He was a tool, nothing more.

Right?

Alex watched her go. Dolores was dangerous. She had the same personality as Anya in the old days. The woman thought she was using him, but she was wrong. It was the reverse.

She would be the one to come after him and Ceraine. Now, however, he was beginning to cultivate a contact in the Ministry.

But as was pounded into his brain time, and time again when he was young, playing with one's emotions was always the most dangerous game. He was older now, and very used to playing with monsters.