Chapter 27

Problems start here

26th September 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland

"And you said to her 'you reek dark magic!'?"

"Shall I repeat one more time and scream for all Hogwarts to hear?" Asked Alexandra in a sarcastic tone.

Right now, she, Morag, Hermione and Nigel were gathered in an abandoned classroom on the fourth floor, far from any of the usual agitation made by the troublesome students Hogwarts. If the dusty banners fixed magically to the walls and the blackboard were any indication, this place had been once the gathering place of the "Tutshill Tornados Fan-Club". They were a lot of old photos with wizards and witches flying in sky blue robes and double-T on the chest and obsolete Quidditch gear in the room, but it was clear no one had entered this place in the last decade before the group composed of two Gryffindors and two Ravenclaws.

Initially, being here had been a means to find some tranquillity in order to finish their homework of the week, which had been particularly consequent in Potions, Transfiguration and Charms. The assignment given by Professor Whitehead on the Hearing Boost Potion Wednesday in particular had to be thirty inches long, and Alexandra was barely at the middle of the imposed length this morning. So far, Hermione had been the only one to finish this nasty homework which goal was undoubtedly to deter you from pronouncing 'ear' and 'potion' in the same sentence.

Unfortunately for Hermione and the rest of Gryffindor class, Professor Snape had given them two others essays to write for next Friday. Leo Black sending the skin of a Horned Cobra into Crabbe's cauldron had perhaps something to do with it. Hermione was dealing with this pile of homework with delight, but poor Nigel was literally crumbling under the assignments, and Alexandra had had to help him finish his third paragraph concerning the dissection of a Horned Cobra. Given that the month of September was not yet over, this avalanche of studying promised nothing good for the rest of the year.

But since a few minutes in this studying session, the conversation thanks to Morag was less about Potions and Transfiguration, and more about her memorable day at Black Cobra Manor.

"Sorry. But you have to admit it's bloody funny!" Laughed Morag.

"Language!"Protested Hermione. "And I don't see what is so funny anyway."

"Alexandra insulted in her own home one of the worst Dark Witches of Britain." Clarified Morag. "No one in the Ministry dared to do it, ever. My parents told me how frightened they were by her. Merlin's pants everyone feared her! Cassiopeia Black is renowned to be one of the worst practitioners of dark magic on the British Isles. The Death Eaters fled when she was in the vicinity in the last war!"

"Well I'm so glad you found it funny... because passing three or four hours in her manor was an unpleasant experience I don't wish to repeat." Affirmed Alexandra.

The whole event had not been as bad as what happened at Brise-Roc, but that left plenty of bad between. "But I've never read in any history book mentioning Lady Cassiopeia Black participated in any battle in the last conflict." The black-haired witch remarked.

"Neither did I." Added Hermione, who was the group's expert in the subject of 'official' History.

"Oh, she was Neutral in the war against You-Know-Who." Affirmed Morag. "It was in the war before this she earned her reputation."

Given that there had only been one major magical conflict ravaging Europe after the 1900s, it was not hard to guess which.

"Grindelwald?" Demanded Alexandra more for confirmation than anything else.

"Yes," said Nigel, raising his head from his Potions essay which progressed at a slug's pace. "Lady Cassiopeia was famous for being one of the rare witches and wizards to go on the continent fight the Dark Lord Grindelwald. My father always told me she became for a lot of people the symbol of using dark magic to fight dark magic. Her personal body count was rumoured to be near the triple digits when the war ended."

"Charming." Said Alexandra, thinking exactly the opposite.

Thank the Valar and whatever divinities exist in this world she was almost dying. At the peak of her power, this Black madwoman would have likely poisoned everyone and everything when we entered her manor...

"I don't understand." Admitted Hermione in a puzzled tone. "Why would a...Dark Witch fight against a Dark Wizard?"

"Oh, that's easy to explain." Told Morag, shaking her head in a move which made her red-hair reflect the weak sun of the Saturday afternoon. "The Blacks have always been big supporters of the Purist or the Conservative factions when they sat at the Wizengamot. Grindelwald, on the other hand, wanted to establish a Wizarding Empire where Muggles would be enslaved, but the wizarding social order was supposed to be a meritocracy. Of course, a meritocracy for Dark Wizards but a meritocracy of sorts."

"You mean..." Said Hermione in a horrified tone, "she fought against Grindelwald because he would have forced her to consider Half-Bloods and Muggleborns her equals?"

"I think Grindelwald was planning to go a bit further than that, Hermione." As the bushy-haired Gryffindor turned her head in her direction, Alexandra added "Grindelwald was one of the worst Dark Lords. Ever. The man imperiused Nazi leaders like Hitler and Himmler, ravaged Europe with his Inferius hordes and unleashed countless calamities on magical and non-magical populations. He had the blood of millions people on his hands. If this psychopath had attacked Magical Britain, House Black would have been among the firsts targets to be exterminated. You can describe Lady Black's actions as...self-preservation, shall we say?"

"Well, I don't think that makes her a good person." Huffed Hermione. "And it was still Professor Dumbledore who vanquished Grindelwald!"

Alexandra and Morag exchanged looks that by the expression on their respective faces were thinking the very same thing. Everybody respected the Headmaster of Hogwarts to have brought down the most dangerous wizard conqueror of the twentieth century, yes. But people forgot very easily Albus Dumbledore sole and only act in said conflict had been this victory. During the nine years Grindelwald had launched his dark armies at the conquest of the world, Magical Britain, unlike their non-magical counterparts, had done their very best to imitate the species named ostriches and stay away from this conflict at all costs. If one had to make a comparison with Tolkien's works...well, Alexandra was unable to reveal one character to be put on the level of the 1940s British Ministry of Magic.

Grima Wormtongue, maybe?

There had been a few exceptions to this bigot approach, of course. Witches and wizards like Cassiopeia Black, James MacDougal, Henry and Charlus Potter, had fought in this conflict, and been churned when they returned because their fellow magical citizens felt this conflict was not their problem. And after Dumbledore's rise to prominence, the rest of the surviving war veterans had been progressively erased from the updating history books, as was the mention that Grindelwald's 'Empire' was reduced to Berlin and its surroundings when Dumbledore decided to intervene. The old and new versions present in the Hogwarts Library had really little in common. Assuming you managed to find the former, because they were located in the section reserved to the breeding of magical slugs. Somehow Alexandra didn't believe it was a coincidence.

"One thing I didn't understand why Percival Weasley was here. He did not look like he was at ease to be invited..."

The Heiress of House MacDougal was apparently aware of this reason because the answer was immediate.

"He has the black blood flowing in his veins like you Alex."

Alexandra passed back the image of the Weasley in her mind with the other persons invited at Black Cobra Manor. The Potter Heiress didn't find a lot of common points. Apparently her doubts had showed on her visage because the red-haired Ravenclaw added shortly after:

"Yes, he didn't inherit the black hairs. But he and the rest of the Weasley family are descended from Cedrella Black, who was their grandmother."

"How in the name of the darkness armies did a Weasley manage to marry a Black?"

Alexandra's was really sincere. Before the shattering event which saw her 'supposed godfather' being Sirius Black sorted in Gryffindor, House Black had always been one of the informal Slytherin 'dynasties' of the Wizarding World. The Weasleys on the other hand were known for their staunch refusal to honour the ancestral customs and the pitiful state of their finances. That the latter were due to the high number of children they had at each generation was of no importance. The Weasleys and the Blacks had been at the extreme opposite of the social rankings in wizarding society for centuries. Thanks to the friendship between Leo Black and Ronald Weasley and the relative fall from grace of House Black in the 1980s, the two Houses were closer than ever now. It did not mean a marriage between these two worlds would not have been the equivalent of an earthquake in politics.

"The normal way. You know a man and a woman walked to the altar, say the vows..."

The two Gryffindors and the raven-haired girl rolled their eyes at the pure-blood Heiress. Who made a pout of disappointment before consenting to explain.

"Fine. Major scandal. Cedrella Black was formally expulsed from House Black mere hours after the marriage."

Then a lone whisper that Lavender Brown the Gossip Queen would have been hard-pressed to beat.

"There are interesting rumours Cedrella chose to marry the red-head because the alternative was a contract with a very repulsing Lestrange."

Silence came into the improvised studying room. Despite being all guests of the dark fortress named Azkaban, the Lestrange name still carried with him years of atrocities and slaughters.

Alexandra's most recent friend had not stopped searching for more enticing news.

"Has Lady Cassiopeia told who was going to have her fortune?"

"Morag. The woman was living in a manor dirty and ready to be demolished." The twelve-year old emitted a pompous smirk. "I was really surprised to not find any rats, by the way."

"Are you sure? There were rumours Lady Black made a fortune in blackmail and barely legal trade operations..."

Alexandra opened her hands in sign of ignorance.

"It's not like I've been named her confident...but thanks for the confirmation Lady Black is not a good person and never will be. Fortunately, she will soon be dead and we will all sleep better, me included." The green-eyed girl said in a pleased voice.

"It would be so much better however, if the Gryffindor-Slytherin war had not resumed thanks to her." Grumbled Nigel.

Both Ravenclaws and Hermione winced. The news of the humiliating 'poisoning' Lady Cassiopeia Black had engineered at Black Cobra Manor had been known to everyone in school by Thursday, and the result had not been pretty.

Whether the old woman had just wanted to play a nasty prank or no on unsuspecting children didn't matter. Neville Longbottom was the Heir Presumptive of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Longbottom, and would become the Lord of his House as soon as he became of age. There was no higher level of nobility, and treating an invitee like this was literally spitting on most wizarding traditions.

Coming back to Hogwarts, the Boy-Who-Lived had stormed through the Gryffindor dorms and roused the anger of the Lions in a vibrant speech where "slimy snakes" and "Dark Wizards who love to poison people" were coming back a lot according to Hermione and Nigel. House Gryffindor had already been feeling lately their peer's pressure: the Slytherin Quidditch team was booking the pitch as many times as they could to exhibit the prowess of their new Nimbus 2001. This last incident had been the last straw to make the anger explosion unavoidable. That Draco Malfoy had been involved too in the mad Black's dark joke had never been taken into consideration.

On Friday morning, all the Slytherins eating calmly their breakfast had suddenly began to vomit, farting or covering themselves in boils and buttons. Some of the unluckiest ones had been recovered with a sort of yellow mucus which seemed impossible to remove magically. To make the prank more provocative, a large red banner was unrolled on a wall, asking if "House Slytherin enjoyed this meal worthy of House Black". If the eyes of the Slytherin students could have launched deadly spells at that moment, all the Gryffindors would have perished where they stood.

Too predictably, Draco Malfoy had led twenty-plus Slytherin the same evening on the seventh floor, and ambushed several first-years Gryffindors, bringing them down by surprise under a massive magical barrage. The issue was that their planning had been a little bit too hasty and unprepared, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas being not far from the site of attack and rushing to the rescue. At two against twenty, the affair should have been one sided, but there had been no Slytherin over third-year in the group, while Finnigan was famous for unleashing explosions from his wand. When the professors had arrived, Draco Malfoy and his accomplices were long since gone, with Finnigan and Thomas having to be brought down to the infirmary... but Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson and five other first-years had been admitted to the Hospital Wing with quite severe burns and jinxes on their skins.

One should think that after such a fight in the corridors, a misdemeanour absolutely prohibited by Hogwarts own rules, the teaching staff would have shown a bit of eagerness in defusing the situation before things went too far. If one person thought like that, he was not an adult at Hogwarts, that was for sure. Neither Professor McGonagall nor Professor Snape who had arrived first on the scene had showed the slightest interest in making an effective inquiry, and so Malfoy and company had escaped detention or House points loss.

The Gryffindors had rashly answer today morning, wanting to ambush the ambushers, but in reality hitting the first Slytherins who had the bad luck to be the first leaving their own Common Room with a sort of paint explosive, drowning Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey (as well as the rest of the Slytherin Common Room Entrance and a whole corridor) in gold and red paint. It was also magically resistant to general counter-spells, certainly a new trick of the Weasley Twins.

Since then, Hogwarts was the scene of a series of pranks and magical skirmishes between the Snakes and Lions, with each side trading blow for blow.

"Don't worry, Nigel. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will stop this war as soon as he becomes aware of it at dinner. Hopefully before someone has to be sent to Saint Mungo's Hospital or to the cemetery."

It was not like it was the first time it had happened since September 1991 after all. Alexandra turned to Hermione.

"I'm more worried about this whole business with Crookshanks. What the hell happened for Weasley to threaten you this morning, Hermione?"

The Gryffindor girl's visage took a murderous expression, so threatening Morag pushed back a bit the chair she was sitting on.

"This red-haired git accused Crookshanks to eat his rat!" Erupted Hermione. "And he had the gall to look devastated, while two minutes before he was complaining that it was useless, old, had no magical power and he hadn't feed it for two days! But no! One remark of this Creevey boy that he saw a ginger cat pursuing a rat, and Mister Ronald Weasley comes to accuse me! Minutes later, he wanted me to pay him a new rat!"

A meow interrupted her tirade, and a lightning of ginger fur jumped on Hermione's knees. Hermione's anger disappeared, and she proceeded to caress the purring feline. Alexandra, not wanting to unleash another episode, chose not to mention she had effectively seen Crookshanks pursuing a rat too when she left for Black Cobra Manor.

It's too bad for Weasley, but I'm surprised it hasn't happened sooner. There are more than twenty cats in the castle...

"Did Weasley have the right to bring a rat to Hogwarts?" Alexandra asked to Morag. "The rules in our first-year letter for Hogwarts concerning animals were pretty specific, I mean."

"For first-years sure." Affirmed the red-haired Ravenclaw. "But as long as the animal isn't dangerous to earn at least two X by the Ministry of Magic classifications and a teacher doesn't catch you with it, you can pretty much bring everything you want at Hogwarts. One of my uncles told me he had brought a falcon when he was a student here, and he never had any problems. A rat, unless he's diseased, is not dangerous enough to be forbidden."

Gandalf only knows if they make diseases checking before we come for a new year...oh, who I'm kidding, it's Hogwarts. Of course they aren't checking.

"That was what I was afraid of." Not that it was a surprise, in a school where you could come face-to-face with a dragon or a troll by mistake. "Do you think there's a chance Weasley will retaliate against Hermione?" Alexandra continued in a low tone.

"I don't know." Morag touched her lower lip in uncertainty. "Weasley is completely unpredictable."

"Is it one of those moments where putting someone under your House's protection is recommended?" Asked Alexandra after a moment of silence, punctuated only by Crookshanks meows.

"No, definitely not." Said Morag with a vigorous negative nod of her to underline her point. "First, Weasley really doesn't care about House's traditions, assuming he even bothered to learn about them, which I really doubt. Secondly, you are the last member of your House, you aren't a Gryffindor and Weasley is friend with the Boy-Who-Lived. Giving House's protection to Hermione and Nigel would perhaps work against some Slytherins. Not against their own Housemates, when you are at the other side of the castle most of the week."

"So our best chance lies with Ronald Weasley taking the peaceful approach. Formidable." Alexandra did not mask the irony in her voice.

"Perhaps not." Smiled Morag. "With the Slytherin and Gryffindor at each other's throat, one word or two to an older Slytherin could force Weasley to deal with more pressing problems. I don't think it will be pleasant but..."

But it wasn't like the two Gryffindors had a pleasant stay in the Lion's kingdom, finished Alexandra in her thoughts.

"Your conversation is really interesting," said Nigel in a begging tone, "but could one of you help me understand Snape's homework? Otherwise I'm going to stay here until Monday morning..."

"Sure, Nigel." Said Alexandra, carrying her chair to move it to the left of the auburn-haired Gryffindor boy. "Now, let's start again..."

5th October 1992, Gringotts Bank, London

Every single goblin in every branch of Gringotts thorough the world, from the lowest clerk to the High King, knew that each fortress -pardon, bank- had a room where the most important clan heads could gather. Said room's location was a well-kept secret accessible only to those who participated in these meetings, was often several hundreds of feet below the level of the sea and protected by the best wards Gringotts could afford.

Right now, there was a session happening. And if one could have posed his ear against the door without being electrocuted, carbonised and having his corpse thrown to the dragons as a snack, the furious voices of the participants would have made clear the occasion was not to celebrate the huge profits of the past month.

"Please remind me, Clarok. Why are we tolerating this vermin known as humans, again?" Asked one of the nine goblins gathered in the room.

"They are good for the affairs?" Replied another who had more an appearance of a clerk, until one saw his hands scarred beyond redemption from the multitude of duels he had to fight in his career.

"I do not share your enthusiasm." Grumbled another muscled goblin. "This is the sixth Will in the last two years their cursed Ministry is ordering us to put in stasis."

The word "ordering" had been spoken with a non-negligible amount of bitterness and rage. Goblins, by their very nature, were a proud race, which preferred death to submission. Obeying to the Ministry of Magic edicts, especially when the wand-wielders routinely violated every treaty signed during the last century, was...not well received or tolerated.

"How much will the blockage on Lady Cassiopeia Black's vaults last?" Asked a goblin, wearing a very expensive suit at the end of the long table.

"That's a good question, isn't it?" Snarled a goblin who hadn't opened his mouth until then. "Given that the two main beneficiaries aren't of age yet, I expect it to take a while."

"Not any means to...accelerate the process?" Enquired the clerk-looking like goblin.

"How I am supposed to do so?" Complained the muscular goblin. "I am running the Will and Inheritance Office of Gringotts, not the bloody Ministry!"

"We are speaking about a million Galleons for each beneficiary and there are three of them, Kurtrak! Use your imagination!" Sneered the goblin directly facing the one who had previously spoken.

"My assistants and I have already examined plenty of possibilities," said the aforementioned Kurtrak. From under the table, the massive goblin took a large pile of parchment he posed on the meeting table. "The problem is that they aren't any good options," he continued in a somewhat calmer tone. "We all know it was the pile of excrements known as Albus Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge who blocked the Will. As one is the bloody Chief Warlock and the other is the Minister of Magic, which closes pretty much all the solutions to pass by the Wizengamot and the other legal options.

I have taken the liberty to take contact with House Sverre's lawyers and barristers and they were not amused. Unfortunately, we all how bigoted the wizards of England are towards foreigners, any proceedings engaged are going to last years."

"And the Potter Heiress?" Asked the goblin with the expensive suit. "She is after all the other main beneficiary of the Will."

"The girl is not ready to fight against Albus Dumbledore, assuming she ever will." Grunted Kurtrak. "Moreover he's also her Headmaster and magical guardian. And I had a note of Senior Accountant Grimjaw last week the Heiress requested several procedures to ensure her mail is not intercepted by the Chief Warlock."

"That is...promising news." Said the clerk-type goblin.

"For Grimjaw, I assume." Said Kurtrak. "I know of several goblins who were considerably less happy at the idea of losing their jobs..."

Which meant, as all the goblins around the table very well knew, the goblins in question were also in the process of questioning their own mortality. For all the blood and casualties happening during a 'Goblin Rebellion', it was really nothing to the bloodshed unleashed at each economic crisis in the entrails of Gringotts.

14th October 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland

"And that, dear students, is how I managed to defeat the third werewolf who was treacherously trying to attack me from behind!" Pompously finished Gilderoy Lockhart in his usual grandiloquent tone.

There were very few applaud in the class to mark this presentation where arrogance and the gigantic ego of Lockhart had played a major role. Even Hermione, who had been Lockhart's chief supporter amongst the Gryffindor was progressively abandoning any enthusiasm she ever had concerning their Senior Professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

After the disaster that had been the release of the Cornish Pixies, Lockhart had not dared bring another potential magical creature for any class, but it did not mean his hours had become curriculum-related. Instead, the blonde teacher was now asking for volunteers each Wednesday to come read his books in front of the class, or just mimicking dangerous creatures Lockhart was supposedly had vanquished in his various travels. There was no tactics sessions, no knowledge concerning dangerous creatures, not a minor hex or jinx to learn. Lockhart's travels, his exploits, his smile, his lilac robes, his appearance and of course, Lockhart favourite subject of discussion...himself, were all the authorised subjects of conversation.

After one month of this treatment, it went without saying most of the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws had abandoned any illusion they had left concerning the famous author. Now that it was October, any students were convinced the class was a waste of time, descending in the nullity even deeper than the now deceased Professor Quirell had gone. Alexandra in these occasions was profusely thanking in her mind Professor Flitwick to have given her a list of spells to learn. Her progress was slow, but she had managed to learn three useful offensive spells, the Disarming Charm Expelliarmus, the Throw-Out Charm Everte Statum and the Incarcerous Spell. The last one was really interesting, as it bound the target with ropes coming from nowhere. Expelliarmus was good on one-on-one duels, but it really sucked against multiple opponents. Hermione had discovered a modification of the spell in the library, but an incantation like Expelliarmus Tria, as seducing as the principle sounded in theory, was a dead weight in practise. The spell became awfully imprecise, and there was really no way to target one, let alone two or three opponents at the same time. Except counting on luck, of course, but Flitwick had taught her last year how a bad idea it was.

"Now I want another person to read Chapter 15 of Break With a Banshee. Volunteers, raise your hands!"

No Lion or Raven was stupid enough to do it, leaving Lockhart's with the burden to choose someone. His eyes were already fixed on Neville Longbottom when the bell signalling the end of the class rang. The Boy-Who-Lived breathed so loudly it was tantamount to an admission of relief, a fact which had apparently not escaped to their incompetent Defence Professor.

"I want five inches on the tactics I used to defend against the Werewolves in chapter 6 for next week!" Exclaimed the man who today had chosen to wear a robe silver-gold which was so embroidered with decorations it was indecent.

The twenty plus students of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor groaned in accord, and Nigel who had partnered with Alexandra whispered "Any idea where to begin?" as they passed the door.

"Not at all." The Potter Heiress replied once they were in the corridors. "But if there's one thing I've learnt with this Professor, it's that the content really doesn't matter. As long as you write with style, your mark will be at least an E."

"It would be good if the grade meant something." Nigel affirmed glumly. "First, Quirell and now Lockhart. If things continue like that, how are we going to pass the OWLS in Defence Against the Dark Arts?"

"Self-study, I suppose." Said Alexandra as Hermione and Morag caught up with them in the crowded corridor. "And you forgot Devkins and Reed in your list of useless Professors."

As Devkins had been unable to teach them anything of value last year, the tradition now continued with Professor Kaitlyn Reed. The woman seemed nice enough, but she had also alas the drawback of belonging in the category of women worshipping Gilderoy Lockhart. No, worshipping was too weak a word to describe this intensive veneration of the wizard a large majority of the Hogwarts population suspected to be an enormous fraud. Reed was the founder of the "Hogwarts Gilderoy Lockhart's Fan-club", leading a dozen or so brainwashed girls from Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw in a movement which could have been amusing if he did not have so many similarities with a sect.

"We should take a short-cut." Said Morag as more and more Gryffindors poured from a nearby corridor so fast the corridor and the stairs which came after became so crowded it was difficult to put one step behind the other without pushing or kicking another boy or girl.

"We are taking the short-cut." Remarked Alexandra. Making the matter worse was the fact they were just behind the Golden trio of Gryffindor and its infernal cohorts. Ronald Weasley was his usual self, shouting his love of the Quidditch and his dedication to the Chudley Cannons Quidditch team above all else. At least he had stopped bothering Hermione about Crookshanks. Most surprisingly, it had been Leo Black who had put him back in less antagonistic mood, going so far to buy him a curious red-orange rat-which had been unoriginally named Chudley-to retain some measure of peace.

"I'm sure the Cannons are going to break this run of bad luck. If they win against the Harpies next week-end..."

Morag laughed at that, a noise fortunately covered by the bedlam of the dozens of students surrounding them. The Chudley Cannons were currently on a series of twenty-eight defeats, most of them with a minimum of three hundred points margin. Three managers and seventeen players had been hired and fired since September, Quidditch Kingdom and Seeker World, the two most respectable magazines on the subject were unanimous it would take a new whole team and the hiring of dozens curse-breakers to stop the string of humiliations. One or two photos which had been published in the sport section of the Daily Prophet gave the idea hiring one of the Hogwarts Quidditch team would actually be an improvement. No, the Chudley Cannons were not unlucky. 'Unlucky' was too weak for a proper assessment. A Bulgarian retired player had described it as 'a rotten luck turning good players into clowns'. End of the quote. Firing all the team, changing the name, buying luck potions and heirlooms and recruiting a competent manager were the actions the circumstances required.

The good atmosphere of laughing discreetly at the Cannons misfortunes stopped abruptly when at the end of the stairs their progression and those of the Gryffindor before them was stopped.

"Oh, no."Moaned Hermione. "Not again!"

Pushing on her tiptoes behind the bushy-haired Gryffindor, Alexandra saw the blonde hair announcing a Malfoy was present. To her side, Nigel groaned.

"What is this imbecile doing?" Asked Morag in a murmur to her side. "If he provokes another prank war, the Professors are going to have him in detentions until the end of the year..."

In her mind, Alexandra was not sure Draco Malfoy would be punished that badly. Nearly every time the Slytherin pure-blood Slytherin was forced to pass in detention, it was with Professor Snape, who never made this spoilt aristocrat's son scour the cauldrons, clean the classroom or prepare disgusting ingredients for the upcoming classes. The punishment always ended quickly anyway. It had been two weeks since the conflict born due to the incident at Black Cobra Manor, but Draco Malfoy had his evenings free again despite having attacked several Gryffindors with plenty of witnesses testifying he was the guilty party.

But to everyone's stupefaction, Malfoy contented himself to throw a newspaper at the head of Leo Black, which missed and was caught by Dean Thomas, sneering "Prepare for your defeat on the Quidditch Pitch, Longbottom" and strayed from the mob forming at the back of the stairs, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and Bulstrode on his heels.

"What did he want?" Asked Hermione. "This didn't sound like Malfoy at all!"

Alexandra had to admit Hermione was right. Draco was insulting to any Gryffindor younger than him who crossed his way, but him fleeing the scene before the first exchange of words was extremely unusual.

Unless he had the same courier I had this morning, realised Alexandra. The courier of Gringotts informing her the Will of Lady Cassiopeia Black had been "unfortunately put into stasis due to certain irregularities observed" had arrived in the early hours. Alexandra and Malfoy had not taken breakfast at the same time, thus she had not noticed if he had received a Gringotts official letter. Honestly she didn't see why he was so disappointed. If Black Cobra Manor was any judge, the possessions of Lady Black had not to meet anyone's definition of 'wealthy'. Maybe it was just for the principle of the thing, or was there anything of sentimental value he had hoped to receive?

"I don't know, but that doesn't look good at all for the Gryffindor Quidditch team." Said Morag, as they passed most of the Gryffindor horde Longbottom was always dragging along in his trail. Most were the same giggling girls following the Boy-Who-Lived everywhere they could. Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Thelma Holmes, Fay Dunbar to list just the second-year Lions. In the rear of the crowd, however, Alexandra watched a young red-haired girl looking at the Golden trio with attention and an emotion on her face which looked like jealousy, before she disappeared in the mass of students.

Coming back to the discussion which had now the Potions homework the Ravenclaw and the Hufflepuff had received on the morning, Alexandra tried to dismiss the bad vibes she had felt in the corridor. Malfoy acting weirdly, fan-girls to the pursuit of Neville Longbottom...why did life at Hogwarts feel like an organised chaos?

17th October 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland

Ginny Weasley was not furious. She was enraged as hell.

All this week and the previous ones, the only girl of the new Weasley generation had tried to attract the Boy-Who-Lived attention, whether by speaking about Quidditch in his presence, complimenting him on his looks, denigrating Professor Snape or discussing whatever rumours had spread into the castle this week. And for exactly what? Nothing. Nothing! For all her efforts, Neville Longbottom refused to acknowledge her as a person, except once where he had called her "Ron's little sister". By Morgana she wasn't even sure he knew her real name!

Crumpling in her bed of the Gryffindor girl rooms, Ginny fumed in anger. Her mother had insisted over and over she had to conquer the Boy-Who-Lived for herself thorough her childhood, giving her all the collection of books bearing the same name, constantly repeating how Neville Longbottom was brave, gallant, the perfect pure-blood heir gracing Hogwarts from his presence. With her older brother Ron making a friendship with Neville last year, the Weasley matriarch had stepped up her efforts, berating Ginny when participated in any other activity than cooking and doing the chores. Ginny had always been forbidden to play on the family broomsticks, not that it had hampered her as she regularly flew on her brother's broom on the sly, but now anything her mother deemed 'un-girly' was prohibited.

The reality had been far less rosy once they went to Diagon Alley. With her hand-down robes too great for her, a cauldron so rusted and counting dents by the dozens, Neville Longbottom had not demanded her in marriage the first time he had seen her. He had looked at her, and then looked elsewhere. And why wouldn't he? Ginny was poor. Ginny had nothing compared to girls like Lavender Brown or Parvati Patil, who were wearing brand-new robes, bought expensive perfumes or shampoos or spent hours in every shop of Diagon Alley. The last child of the Weasley family, on the other hand, had not been able to buy her own magical wand at Mr Ollivander shop. She was currently using her paternal grandmother's, thirteen inches of cedar wood and a core of dragon heartstring. It worked alright, but something was amiss, a sensation signifying the wand was not hers. As she had not a Sickle to spare, never mind the few Galleons a new wand would require, it would have to do.

Ginny breathed louder on her bed. She had known her parents were poor, but the reality had still struck her hard. Even the only girl she knew from her childhood, Luna Lovegood, had had the money to buy normal robes. Not Ginny. No girl in Gryffindor had told her anything directly the night of her Sorting or the days after, but she had seen the looks of pity, the whispers in the hall. It had been one more disillusionment after the rest passed this point. Neville Longbottom, the Boy-Who-Lived and the leader of the Golden trio of Gryffindor, was not the perfect Prince she had dreamt of. Ginny had imagined a popular boy, calm and gentle, helping his fellow housemates to finish their homework, playing a prank or two and humble about his fame. This vision had rapidly been shattered. Neville Longbottom was popular all right, but he had nothing peaceful in him. His hobby was playing cruel pranks on unsuspecting Slytherin and whoever had irritated him during the week. Helping someone with homework could not be further down his preoccupations. Merlin's beard, doing his own homework was a point not figuring in his top hundred list of things to do for the week!

But with this realisation had come something worse: fear. Ginny was in good terms with the rest of the girls in her year, particularly Jade Angela and Rosalyn Ewhirst. But she had not missed the looks which came with those who were prompt to criticise the Boy-Who-Lived in third-year and below. The second-years Hermione Granger and Nigel Wolpert had literally been driven out of the House because they didn't take Neville's word as a rule, and were now openly mocked as "the Exiled". The two Lions were now only passing time in Gryffindor Tower after curfew, and even then they were isolated, surrounded by distrustful looks. Professor McGonagall was never here to remedy to the situation, and the Prefects never said anything against the Boy-Who-Lived. Ginny didn't want to become an exile like Granger and Wolpert, though sometimes she burnt to denounce their tormentors of the Golden Trio as bullies and petty tyrants, and yes it included her brother Ron.

Breathing a bit slower, Ginny rose from her bed and took out from her trunk her leather journal. She had found it in her Transfiguration book when everybody came back to the Burrow after her father fought with Lucius Malfoy in Flourish and Blotts, perhaps a present from the vendor who felt that with a family so poor she needed something for school. Once the dust had been cleaned off, the diary had revealed itself surprisingly virgin. Perfect to write down at the Burrow her dreams and hopes, particularly as the journal was made of a paper that absorbed all the ink! Since her arrival at Hogwarts, she used it more and more to unleash her frustration and her anger. It did not satisfy her as much as a full Bat-Bogey Hex in the face of the Boy-Who-Lived would, but it would have to do. Taking an old quill having formerly belonged to her brother Charlie, Ginny started to write how a miserable day she had been forced to endure.

Her surprise was total, when after the first paragraph, the diary began to answer.