Chapter 31
The Shadow of the Snake
3 December 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland
"My parents invite all of you for the Christmas Holidays at MacDougal Manor, you know. And you band of ungrateful brats are declining their so generous invitation."
"Sorry, Morag." Smiled Hermione. "But my parents are dentists and they work all year, so they've arranged a holiday in Switzerland for all family."
"And my father talked to one of his diplomats' friend to find us a place in the Caribbean for Christmas." Excused himself Nigel. "If it had been only me and my grandfather..." He grimaced. "I would have accepted."
"But you have Alexandra going with you, Morag." Insisted Hermione, with the look of someone trying to escape the vengeful and legendary wrath of the Irish girl. "I'm sure she will tell us everything as soon as we come back."
"Thanks a lot, band of traitors." Growled mockingly Alexandra.
"You're welcome." Curtsied Nigel, before taking more bacon.
Alexandra laughed a bit more before returning to the breakfast. Morag had had more motives to invite them all to MacDougal Manor for the winter holidays, but alas these weren't the reasons you gave in the middle of a hall filled with students and eager for gossips. The MacDougal Heiress had confessed she would have liked for all their group of four to participate in the Yule celebrations, as they included some basic rituals which were opened to even non-initiated people like Hermione and Nigel and would have helped them get more in tune with their magic. Alas, with them having their own familial plans for the holidays, it was impossible and the opportunity might not come again. Initiation rituals were rarely done after eleven years old, and almost never under thirteen. Alexandra wasn't sure she had all understood the principles and the methods ancient wizards and witches used for their calculus, but the issue was that a child's magic grew continuously from ten to eighteen years old. Beginning rituals without any preparation in childhood could have grave consequences; some of them had become so infamous that the Ministry of Magic had used them as justifications to forbid them.
"Do you have Quidditch training on Sunday morning?" Asked Nigel, completely changing the topic of the discussion.
"Yes." Replied Alexandra. "Under the condition it doesn't snow too much." Watching the large snowfalls falling at the very moment over their heads on the Enchanted Ceiling and outside on the grounds of Hogwarts, it was far from a done-deal.
"I don't see how you can like Flying in this cold." Affirmed Hermione, who had still a very negative reaction to anything which related to broomsticks.
"The cold isn't that bad. It's the rain and the snow that are the hardest to cope with at full speed on a broomstick." Alexandra rolled her shoulders. "It's not like Davies has given us the choice. With the defeat of Slytherin, our dear Captain wants us to double our efforts to conserve the Cup sitting in Flitwick's office."
Contrary to the fears of their little group many in the school nicknamed "the Exiled", there had been no attack during, before or after the Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw at the end of November. In a weather windless and sunny, a rare occasion for Scotland in the middle of winter, the two Quidditch teams had played a normal match. Okay, as normal as it was possible when one spoke about the noble sport of Quidditch. The Bludgers were still as painful as ever, the Golden Snitch was as elusive as ever, and the combinations between the players were still dolorous when something didn't work as expected. Apart from these minor details, the match had indeed been relatively uneventful. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were not the Slytherins or the Gryffindors, who relied on brutality and insane tactics to take the advantage no matter the weather or the opposition.
That was not to say there was no talent in these teams. The trio of Ravenclaw Chasers formed by Davies, Burrow and Stretton functioned well, and their Hufflepuff counterparts had been in difficulty for the entire length of the match, conceding twenty-six goals in two hours and a half. The only reason why the score wasn't higher was the presence of a new talent among the Hufflepuff. Formerly Chaser, now Seeker, fourth-year Cedric Diggory had impressed more than one League recruiter in the stadium. Unlike the three other titular Seekers at Hogwarts, Diggory was not thin and light-build. The Hufflepuff was an athlete with brown hair, grey eyes and powerful musculature, one Alexandra heard made a lot of girls following him after classes in the hope of becoming his girlfriend. One might think it would have been a drawback when the weathers conditions were clement, as his physic would make the 'normal' acrobatics more time-consuming and difficult to execute. One would have been wrong. Cedric Diggory, with his fair-play, his respect and his obsolete Cleansweep 6, had so much outclassed Cho Chang many of the most fanatic Hogwarts analysts on the subject doubted the chances of Neville Longbottom to equal him. According to the Hogwarts rumour mill, the recruiter of the Wimbourne Wasps had invited Cedric to their traditional summer camp for young talents. Only Oliver Wood, Keeper and Captain of the Gryffindor Team had received the same offer in the last two years.
In the end, Ravenclaw had won 260-210. Not so bad a performance for both teams, which given that the Slytherin seven players weren't so undefeatable, let them a good chance to write their name on the Quidditch Cup at the end of the year. The only bad moment for the female population in the stands had been when Diggory had consoled Cho Chang, holding her in his powerful arms and generating an intense movement of jealousy from half of the stadium. The beautiful Asian girl had a lot of rivals on her tail now it had been shown she wasn't averse to cry in the Hufflepuff Seeker's embrace.
"Well, that and Ravenclaw victory at the Quidditch Cup is giving us a good advance for the House Cup this year." Said Morag in a satisfied tone, grabbing two biscuits and swallowing one immediately.
Hermione huffed and began to caress a purring Crookshanks on her lap. Since the incident in November, the Gryffindor girl had refused to lock her cat in the girl dormitories. An action Alexandra supported wholeheartedly, when the other inhabitants of said dorm had proven so unreliable.
"Yeah. Yeah. We were saying the same thing last year, Morag." Smirked Alexandra, taking a pancake from a basket which had just magically appeared in front of her. "Just before Professor Dumbledore decided to play the Gryffindor favouritism and awarded them the Cup on a silver platter for their rule-breaking." She added in a whisper.
"Ah, but it was before Professor Snape awarded us two hundred points for saving the skin of the Snakes." Remarked Morag. "And that our dear Head of Slytherin removed five hundred points to Gryffindor. Points they didn't have by the way, which put them a lot more in the negative."
"I would find it more reassuring if five hundred points was the amount Snape removed on the day of the attack." Remarked Alexandra. "Unless my memory fails me, Snape wanted to remove a thousand House points, made them scrub the floors and the grounds from Hagrid's hut to the top of Ravenclaw tower, expulse them and charge them in front of a tribunal with criminal charges. And while I am not his greatest fan, I think Professor Snape was right in this case. The Golden Trio and all these Gryffindors should have been expulsed and face a tribunal for their actions."
"Impossible." Affirmed Nigel. "Did you really think the Headmaster would have expulsed the sons and daughters of his own allies?"
"No. No, I did not." Sighed Alexandra, cutting her pancake in four and eating it piece by piece. "Still, I hoped...never mind. If it had one of us four responsible for a stunt like that, I have no doubt we would have been tried by the entire Wizengamot."
"See the good side of things." Told Morag, emptying the plates on the Ravenclaw with the dignity of a pure-blood and the appetite of someone in deep hunger. "By intervening in this fight, you became popular with the Neutrals."
In her mind, Alexandra rather used the word 'respected' or something equivalent. With her parentage, being 'popular' was forbidden to her. But a lot of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws - who were never going to be Slytherin friends or show support to somebody belonging to a Dark House - had been the recipients in the last sixteen months of the pranks imagined by the Weasley Twins, the Golden Trio and Gryffindor House as a whole.
With the teachers turning a blind eye, many had despaired. Except Snape, few teachers had felt concerned enough to stop this bullying. Alexandra and Morag raising their wands against them had changed the situation: for several days afterwards the overwhelming majority of the Professors had punished the prankers and the students breaking the school rules. A bit too late in the green-eyed girl opinion, but at least now they acted.
Besides this sudden episode of the teaching staff doing their job, for an entire week the two Ravenclaw girls had received an owl's tempest of congratulations from a lot of families. A dozen or so included Houses known for their 'conservative' positions on blood-purity. According to Morag, these Lords and Ladies would have ignored a disgraced Half-Blood witch in normal circumstances. Realistically it was because they didn't like the Boy-Who-Lived, but the letters had been appreciated nonetheless. As had the thanks of the Greengrass sisters and the other Slytherin when they had got out of the infirmary.
"And unpopular with the Light, according to the Daily Prophet." Tempered Hermione.
"No one is perfect." Shrugged Alexandra.
The Light Houses sitting at the Wizengamot had proven very spiteful, and tried to eject House Potter from its seat at the next session after the incident. Frankly, Alexandra was surprised they had been so stupid to try. House Potter's seat and vote were held at the moment by their leader, Albus Dumbledore. If they had achieved their goal, they would have fractured their own power base. Fortunately or unfortunately for them, the Dark and Neutral Houses had vetoed this move, 87 voices for, 198 voices against.
It had been the last offensive action of the Light Party. House Greengrass and House Malfoy were now suing House Longbottom, House Black and all the Houses of the Gryffindor involved in the attack. Each new paper of the Daily Prophet now was covering the political chaos it caused. It was unimaginable when one paused to think about it, but the problem of the Heir of Slytherin had just unleashed a massive political crisis in Wizarding Britain's legislative body.
At Hogwarts, it translated in seeing more and more rarely Professor Dumbledore. They hadn't seen the old wizard this week for example and it was already Thursday. Numerous searches in the dormitories of House Slytherin and Gryffindor for illegal and dangerous items, and the member of the two aforementioned Houses looking at each other with looks of murder.
The loud hoots of incoming owls for courier interrupted the conversations in the Great Hall. Like at each breakfast, the noises made by the hundreds of owls arriving each morning were a spectacular sight.
"Is it me, or there are a lot of letters for the Gryffindors this morning?" Asked Morag.
"And why are the Slytherins looking so amused?" Added Nigel with a lot of worry in his voice.
There was no time to wonder what the Snakes had imagined for their long-awaited retaliation. It was happening in live.
In a hoot full of revenge, around one hundred and fifty owls threw each a red envelope on the Gryffindor table. Before any boy or girl sitting there had the reflex to open one of them, the Howlers all exploded in a simultaneity that was too perfect to be a coincidence.
BOUH!
The sheer volume of the sonic explosion which struck Ravenclaw table was incredible. And it hadn't been the epicentre of the blast. Most of the Lions who were taking their breakfast were so surprised they plunged their noses in what they were eating, fell from their stairs or succumbed to more basic and smellier instincts.
Just as the persons present were busy trying to cope with the massive prank which had been launched in front of their very eyes, a massive, single owl arrived from above and threw a heavy package just in front of Leo Black.
"DON'T OPEN IT LEO!" Screamed Ronald Weasley in front of him, his voice betraying how much his hearing had been damaged by the blast. "DON'T-"
Neither Leo Black nor Ronald Weasley or one of the Gryffindors had the reflex to do anything with the package the avian had deposed before it exploded, liberating a...snake?
AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!
The alarmed shouts of the Gryffindors were high-pitched and fabulous in their authenticity. Who knew so many corpulent boys two or three times Alexandra's musculature could shriek like little girls?
"Everyone keep their calm!" Spoke Percival Weasley, trying to use his Prefect rank to re-establish order. "Everyone keep their calm. This is only a grass snake. It's not venomous!"
It was the correct thing to say, although some students took their legs and got the hell out of the way from the new arrival at the meal. Precaution understandable: the snake was really large and long, maybe six feet in length, grey-black coloured and was hissing a lot. The grass snake may not be venomous, but it was playing its part of the dangerous animal at the perfection. Lee Jordan had brought a tarantula last September but this was way more scary and unexpected for the children, who did their best to evade the reptile crawling on the table, reputation of courage be damned.
In all this animation, Hermione and Alexandra glanced at each other before looking beyond their respective shoulders at the Slytherin places. Sure enough, in the middle of the guffawing teenagers, Astoria Greengrass and Lyre de Male-Foi were the image one awaited of pure-blood princesses. Perfect face, impeccable manners, but nothing could hide the vengeful light of satisfaction shining in their eyes.
"And that, Nigel, is why you don't humiliate a girl before having an accurate idea of their powers and capabilities." Said Morag who had noticed too their regards at the former victims of Longbottom and his band.
A massive hiss interrupted all manifestation of laughter, panic, joy and appeals to calm. Astonishingly, it did not come from the grass snake, which had raised its head directly in front of a paralysed Leo Black's eyes, but from Neville Longbottom, the Boy-Who-Lived himself.
The grass snake hissed threateningly twice for an instant, before doing the equivalent of a snake's salute and going slack on the table.
"By Merlin's pants, Longbottom is a Parselmouth!" Whispered Morag in a stunned voice.
"A what?" Asked Hermione.
"A Parselmouth. He can speak the language of the snakes!"
"I suppose not everyone has this...err... magical skill?" Alexandra asked, conscious of the storm of murmurs and grumblings which were rising in the Great Hall. She certainly couldn't speak to snakes, but there was no reason to assume other witches and wizards couldn't. In the mean time, about half of the school were looking at Longbottom like he had just butchered a student in front of them.
"No, it's extremely rare." Affirmed Nigel. "And Parseltongue is considered Dark."
"Why?" Frowned Alexandra. "It's just talking to snakes. I admit it's a bit...weird...okay creepy, to hear someone talking to animals, but I don't see how it can be Dark!"
"Well, Parselmouth isn't Dark per se," Instructed Morag, "but a lot of Dark Wizards have had this skill in the past and it is an inherited magical ability. The most famous of them was Salazar Slytherin."
"Oh." Hermione's mouth was open so wide she could have swallowed flies. "So Neville could be..."
"The Heir of Slytherin?" Finished politely the red-haired Ravenclaw. "Yes, he could."
"If he is, he's an excellent actor." Said Alexandra. "Look at him!" The face of the Boy-Who-Lived was a representation of confusion, shock and horror. Unless the boy was a masterful actor, it was the first time he spoke with a snake.
The reaction on the opposite side of the room was also worth the sight. Furious and angered faces were now displayed. The students sorted in the House of Salazar Slytherin didn't appreciate the Boy-Who-Lived having the tiniest connection with their Founder.
"Doesn't matter." Whispered Nigel, a clearly unneeded precaution as no one focused their attention on them. The Gryffindor table had become anew the centre of the show, and the Ravenclaw second-year had the sick feeling it wasn't going to stop. "I bet you by dinner everyone will think Neville's the great-great-great-something of Salazar Slytherin."
"I still don't think he is the Heir." Alexandra elaborated, seeing the looks of her friends being quite interrogative. "Neville is too brash, no subtlety and no motive to act against the victims. His House is supposed to be a shield against the pure-blood bigotry and all of that, right?"
"Sure." Sighed Morag. "But you have to admit it's a big coincidence. One Parselmouth at Hogwarts the same year petrifactions are taking place..."
"If the skill is considered Dark, any student having it will not advertise it by screaming in Parseltongue at the top of Gryffindor Tower." Remarked the black-haired girl, finishing pushing her plate aside and seizing her school bag. The Parselmouth revelation had cut her hunger, and the tempest of murmurs unleashed in the wall was not improving her mood.
"No." Admitted Hermione. "But after a thousand years, Neville Longbottom or anyone from a long line of wizard and witches could very well descend from Salazar Slytherin..."
11 December 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland
"I'm sorry Alexandra, but we searched all the mentions of petrifactions and nowhere there is mention of an animal, the fabled 'Monster of Slytherin' of the fable, which can petrifies people at will and resides inside Hogwarts walls. We don't know what the fabled 'Monster of Slytherin' is." Declared Hermione.
"Really nothing?" Asked the Potter Heiress in a disappointed tone. They were back in the room which had become by default their meeting place, homework studies location and headquarters of their group of four. After several weeks of cleaning and other household Charms, the former room where the fan-club of the Tutshill Tornados had met once upon the time was now a very comfortable place, with a couch, a small library found in nearby abandoned classes and a good fire in the chimney. The last point had become quite needed, as the temperature on the other side of the windows was hellishly cold, and a fierce storm ejected massive quantities of snow everywhere. Quidditch sessions were now officially cancelled. Going to the Herbology greenhouses was a nightmare, and not only for the snowdrifts. Passing between a warm and very humid place to a freezing one made a very unpleasant shock of temperature.
"Well, there's the Gorgon." Admitted Hermione in an unconvinced tone. "But the animal is extremely weak when the temperatures are not hot and warm. A Scottish winter would kill a Gorgon in a matter of hours."
"And it's a dangerous and endangered species, whose reproduction, transport and breeding are carefully controlled by the Greek ministry." Developed Morag, sending an ink-dirtied parchment into the fire. "Another problem is their life expectancy, close to forty years. I don't know how somebody could make one enter Hogwarts and use it at an interval of several decades. And these beasts petrify everyone they see, no wizard handler is able to safely control them once they're adult."
"Wonderful." Alexandra closed her eyes before reopening them in lassitude. "I have studied the archives of the Daily Prophet from 1960 to 1990 in the last weeks. There is nothing in them referring to petrifaction attacks or anything concerning the Chamber of Secrets. If similar attacks really happened at Hogwarts, it happened before the sixties."
"Any other tracks we can follow?"
"There was this evil artefact created by the Dark Lord Ren in the 1350s." Said Hermione absently, opening a very dusty old book she was probably the first to leaf through in the twentieth century. "One of its properties allowed it to petrify living beings, but it was only temporary."
"How much temporary are we speaking about?"
"Fifteen to twenty-four hours." This was a disappointing answer, but then the bushy-haired Gryffindor added: "then the stone crumbled and they died."
"Filch and Mrs Norris have been petrified for over an entire month without dying, so I think we can assume this artefact is not responsible."
"And the persons who were outside the great Hall in Halloween? Have we managed to make a list of everyone who could have had the opportunity to lead the two attacks?"
"For the attack on Creevey and Frazer, I'm afraid I haven't a clue where to begin." Admitted Alexandra, followed by a nod of assent of the two other girls and the boy around the table. "The two Gryffindors met their aggressor at the very limit of curfew for younger years. Perhaps a few minutes before it."
"The Heir could have run to his Common Room in the time he had left?" Wondered Nigel.
"A Hufflepuff or a Slytherin, yes." Tempered Hermione. "But I know of no secret passages allowing a person to move to Gryffindor Tower so quickly."
"The same is true for Ravenclaw tower." Said Morag, beginning to write what promised to be a boring History essay. "On the other hand, a student having run to reach the dorms before a Professor noticed is hardly suspicious."
"For Halloween, it's simpler." Alexandra unrolled a parchment for her Astronomy homework. "Five persons that I know of were outside the Great Hall when the attack came. Argus Filch, Neville Longbottom, Leo Black, Ronald Weasley and a fifth-year Slytherin student named...Bolton Lloyd. Filch is out of the pool of candidates of potential suspects. I would like to be sure the Heir of Slytherin didn't activate a delayed magical trap, though."
"I agree with Alexandra." Spoke Nigel. "What do we know about Bolton Lloyd?"
"Fifth-year, pure-blood, comes from a relatively poor family, two of his family fought and died under You-Know-Who in the last war." Enounced Morag. "Quite dumb. Is in the process of failing his fifth-year, dead last of his class."
"Not exactly the kind of criminal mastermind we search." Sighed Alexandra. It had been worth a try, but it looked like the search was a dead-end on that point. "It's possible he's acting like an imbecile to throw off suspicions, but most likely Snape put him in detention in the hope his marks improved. I will keep him on the potential list of suspects, but..."
Alexandra didn't finish her sentence, simply rolling her shoulders to signify how much she believed in his culpability. If the fifth-year Slytherin was busy failing his OWLs in spite of his best efforts, him conspiring to create a climate of terror inside Hogwarts was not a scenario which figured in her most realistic estimations.
"That leaves Longbottom as the principal suspect in these attacks." Said Morag.
"Yes. Why the Professors did not ask him to swear a Truth Oath he's not behind this disaster? After the incident with the Slytherin where he was involved, I would have expected the Professors to treat him like any common suspect."
"In reality they can't ask him to do that." Affirmed Morag MacDougal. "Veritaserum, Truth Oaths and a few other magical methods to determine the culpability of someone are forbidden to use on a Lord or a Lady of the Wizengamot without an absolute majority. Article 17 paragraph 6."
By the way the Irish pure-blood recited it verbatim, Alexandra had a feeling this kind of argument had come back a lot in Wizengamot and pure-blood familial lessons.
"That's stupid!" Hermione didn't like this and did not try to hide it.
"That's a major advantage for the powerful." Corrected Alexandra, not throwing a stone at it...she might benefit from this measure in several years and one never knew when it would become useful. "But I was not aware Neville Longbottom was already a Lord?"
"Technically he's not." Grimaced Morag. "A wizard or a witch is not authorised to sit on the Wizengamot, no matter his or her age and situation, until he or she is fifteen years old or has successfully passed four OWLS. But to be properly considered a Lord or a Lady, you have to validate the two conditions plus satisfy a formal vote of the Wizengamot for your ascension."
Raising her quill to imitate a venerable judge of said assembly, the red-haired girl continued.
"Longbottom will officially be a Lord when he takes his OWLS at the end of fifth-year. Until then, it's his grandmother who is Regent for the Most Noble and Ancient House of Longbottom. However, asking him to take Veritaserum or a Truth Oath now for a Hogwarts issue could lead to political huge problems in a few years. The Wizengamot is already in turmoil, no one is going to accuse the Boy-Who-Lived and make the situation worse."
"They can't ask him questions because he's a noble? And what will happen if Neville is the Heir?" Hermione's voice has mounted several levels and was now completely indignant.
"Calmly, Hermione." Said Alexandra in a conciliatory tone. "To begin with, we have only suspicions, not facts. Nothing proves Neville is the Heir. Being a Parselmouth doesn't mean he's the Heir of Slytherin. Assuming being the Heir gives you the power to petrify people...I still have my doubts on that theory."
Especially as this so-called 'theory' was well-spread in the Slytherin and Gryffindor ranks. Anything coming from those hubs of agitation and self-righteousness could hardly be considered reliable.
"And if you're wrong?" Asked Hermione.
"If I'm wrong and there are more attacks where Neville Longbottom is involved, then he will be tried by the Wizengamot. Truth Oaths or no, the Ministry will act. Let's just hope they catch the culprit and not an innocent."
Of course it assumed the Ministry would bother with a trial, a point they were not required to satisfy with the anti-Death Eater laws voted in 1981 by the Bagnold government and never repealed since.
For a few minutes, no one spoke. The two Ravenclaw girls and the two Gryffindors went over their essays and other homework for the next week of school before the winter holidays. At short intervals, one or the other would look at the windows. The snow storm was now redoubling in violence and intensity. Everything was white outside. No one alive was visible. Even the giant Hagrid was inside the castle most of the time in this season. The Thestrals dragging the carriage were not going to have an easy task when the students would have to be transported to the station of Hogsmeade.
Then in the silence which was only troubled by the moans of the wind, someone knocked at the door.
"Were we waiting for someone?" Asked Nigel.
"Not that I'm aware of." Shrugged Alexandra, drawing her wand and standing up. She marched to the door, unlocked it with a quick "Alohomora!" and opened it in one swing. The four persons in front of her were known to Alexandra. Although what they were doing here, she had no idea.
"Heiress Greengrass. Heir Zabini. Heiress Davis. Heiress De Male-Foi." A nod of approval came from Morag, confirming she had put the names in the correct order. Granted the French name ending it because it was foreign looked like particularly petty but it was apparently a result of the endless English-French wars. "I was not aware we were organising a study group with House Slytherin today."
"Very funny, Potter. Very funny." Said Zabini in the same bored voice which was his trademark." Do you invite us in or should we talk in the entrance?"
"If you have made the effort to come here, I suppose it is important for you." Alexandra sighed, putting herself on the side and giving enough for the newcomers to enter. "Please enter and tell us what bring four members of the sadly infamous Slytherin House in our respectable meeting place. I'm sure the conversation is going to be fascinating."
Going back to the chair she had sat upon on the last hour, Alexandra examined with an interested eye the four Snakes who had just barged in their private gathering. Zabini was projecting the same image as ever, those of a dark-skinned boy with very expensive clothes and a continuously bored expression. Daphne Greengrass had not much changed too since her first meeting at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Platinum-haired, a visage with a complexion of porcelain and so perfect it was unreal. Pale lip and cold eyes. Witch robes and jewellery so pricey Alexandra knew the Potter vault wouldn't be able to cover such spending for a decade if she bought clothes like this every day. At twelve years old, the Greengrass Heiress was very much a potential top-model for the future. Assuming she ceased to harbour this icy expression permanently. Alexandra didn't know much about wizarding courting traditions, but a girl who never smiled wasn't going to attract any prince charming.
Lyre de Male-Foi came next. The first-year Slytherin was looking more approachable than the Greengrass Heiress – though honestly it would have been hard to appear less – and had expensive clothes but the style and the manner they were worn revealed her foreign origins. The French witch had not the impeccable mask of the second-years; Alexandra almost could see the schemes and plots swirling in them.
The fourth member of the Slytherin group was more expressive, and was behaving significantly differently from the other three Slytherins. Brown-haired, brown eyes, unremarkable hairstyle reaching her shoulders and good but not onerous clothes: Tracey Davis, heiress of the Noble House of Davis was not a typical Slytherin. In allure, fashion and manners, she was something of a weird mix between Morag MacDougal and Hermione Granger; the social position of the Ravenclaw but the disdain of the system who had been shared by the Gryffindor. It was her unsurprisingly who broke the period of observation between the two groups.
"Nice to meet you everyone!" Said the brown-haired Slytherin. "You shouldn't stare like that Granger. Some people might believe you don't like them."
"Well we didn't exactly invite you here!" Barked the bushy-haired Gryffindor.
"The invitation got lost somewhere between here and the Owlery I'm sure." Retorted unfazed the brown-haired Slytherin.
"Why are you here Davis?" Asked Alexandra in a mildly threatening voice, hoping this conversation wasn't going to end with her being forced to separate the Gryffindor and Slytherin girls at the point of her wand.
"No first names, Potter? That's cold. Call me Tracey. Even the Ice Queen behind me is using my first name!"
A threatening growl came out the lungs of Daphne Greengrass and her cold blue eyes threw metaphorical lightning at her Slytherin housemate. The Davies Heiress ignored this manifestation of anger, her attention fixed on Alexandra.
"Tracey." Spoke Alexandra with a bittersweet smile. "Say what you have to say and then get out. I don't wish to find another carpet for this room because I soiled this one with your blood."
"Ohhh..." The simulacrum of fear in the voice of the brown-haired girl was completely faked. "Is the Dark Lady showing her fangs? Or is it the Exiled Queen these days?"
"Tracey." Blaise Zabini's voice had taken a hint of frustration, unless it was consternation? "You are not supposed to unpack every nickname a person has in front of them."
"Why not?" Tracey's face was showing a distinct smirk.
"Because one day, someone will draw his wand and curse you into oblivion?" Asked Alexandra with a good dose of sarcasm.
"You're no fun." Pouted the Slytherin girl. "But fine. We have come discuss for an alliance."
"No." The answer had been immediate, definitive. Without surprise, Alexandra noticed it had been Hermione who had spoken.
"Is your...Mud-, Muggle-Born speaking for all of you?" Demanded the Davis Heiress.
"Why not?" Answered Alexandra.
"You helped us against Longbottom and his cronies." Recalled Blaise.
"No. We, " Alexandra insisted deeply on the 'we' word, " helped young girls in numerical inferiority who were brutalised by a band of bullies. They were not able to protect themselves so we decided to intervene. I would have done the same thing no matter the House."
"You're a strange person." Remarked Tracey.
"That's called human decency, Davies." Intervened Morag showing a displeased expression. "That's why I think an alliance with you would be a very bad idea."
"Why? Because we're from Dark Houses? Or because they're an heir of Slytherin roaming in the corridors?"
"Please." Smiled Morag with a nasty expression. "Zabini family is far darker than yours, and he's officially Neutral."
"I can't speak for the others in our group," Alexandra affirmed, " but personally I can't associate with persons who prone genocide on a part of the human race. I may not be a good person or follow the so-called 'Light', but I draw the limits at murder, rape, assassination and supremacist ideology."
The Potter Heiress wished she was kidding, but alas it was not the case. Since the Slytherin team had showed off its new Nimbus 2001 on early September, the language of Slytherin House as a whole had become progressively more intolerant, racist and obscene towards persons of non-magical origins. After the first attacks of the so-called "Heir of Slytherin", it had become worse. There was a reason why Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff chose not to support the inhabitants of the dungeons, despite not enjoying in the least the ruthless pranking tactics of the Gryffindors.
"Alexandra's right." Told in his hesitating voice Nigel. "Since Filch and Mrs Norris have been petrified, you haven't stopped talking about purging Muggle-borns and the other undesirables from Hogwarts."
"We haven't a choice!" Snarled Tracey Davies. "Do you know how it is in House Slytherin right now? The seventh-years and some of the worst of our housemates are in control! Half-Bloods like me are beaten if we dare open our mouth to protest! Disunity is not tolerated in public! What makes you smile, Potter?"
"Oh, just remembering the words of the Sorting Hat." It was true Alexandra had smirked, but it was not for the reasons the Davis Heiress thought. "It told me it couldn't send me in Slytherin without having a bloodbath on the conscience. I'm beginning to think the Hat was right."
"Not everyone is as insane as you, Potter. We don't challenge half our House on the very day of our Sorting to come and try to murder us." Said tranquilly Lyre de Male-Foi, leaning against the wall. For her first intervention, the voice of the French Malfoy witch was cultured but heavily betraying English was not her first language.
"For the record, I didn't challenge them." Affirmed Alexandra. "Sykes and a few others had murder in their eyes as soon as my name was called for the Sorting Hat. I just forced them to accelerate their plans and strike when they weren't ready."
"Nice perspective, worthy of a Slytherin." Replied Tracey Davis in a bitter voice. "But it doesn't change anything. We won't defy Slytherin House for you, Potter, if that what you asks. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw have tolerated the members of your group living in exile as long as you don't give them too much problem. Slytherin has more different and efficient methods to deal with outcast groups like yours. And my parents won't support an alliance with you if it means breaking all their ancestral alliances on the Wizengamot and the rest of society."
"Understandable." Nodded Morag.
"I agree with the principle." Said Alexandra, pausing a moment before delivering a new blow. "And yet your so-reasonable choice is a damning one. After all, if you don't rise today against the darker elements of your House when their bigotry is at its peak, there is a high probability you will never do it no matter the events and the circumstances. Soon, your housemates will lead you with the others in the darkness and the name of Slytherin House will be forever tarnished."
"I disagree with the vision you have of Slytherin's future." Told Blaise Zabini, in a tone where exceptionally there was no apathy or disinterest. The dark-skinned pure-blood showed a mask where no emotion was shown, and his voice had taken a mechanical tone. "There is largely enough time for us to finish our time at Hogwarts, graduate and pick our side in politics. For the moment, the Headmaster controls your seat on the Wizengamot and you have only House MacDougal to stand by your side. When you have gathered enough influence, I will maybe change my opinion but until then, an alliance with you at your conditions would only be a hindrance to my plans."
Neither Alexandra nor Morag or Hermione had the time to retort anything. A long piercing scream echoed in the castle, followed by the screams off Peeves the poltergeist. But this time, this wasn't to announce his latest prank.
"ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!" Screamed Peeves.
The face of everybody paled at this announcement and the group of two Ravenclaw and two Gryffindors began to gather around their affairs.
"Looks like the time you were speaking of has just become a whole lot shorter, Zabini." Remarked Alexandra with a full dose of irony.
"You speak like we were going to be at war!"Snorted Tracey Davis.
"Unless we have totally different conceptions of warfare, Davis," Said Alexandra, standing up and stacking her essays and assignments in her schoolbag, "I fear we are already seeing the premises of a new conflict. Or the renewal an old one."
"A few attacks on some Muggle-borns students are not enough to begin a war." Affirmed Daphne Greengrass in her habitual frozen tone. Firmly suggested was the fact a hundred or a thousand persons of so insignificant standing would never dare against her noble blood.
"Not today." Amended Alexandra. But she had the ugly certainty the hostilities would begin much sooner than the end of her seventh-year. Taking her cape and her schoolbag, she made a motion to the other students to leave the room, locking it behind her with a third-year magical lock.
Immediately after that the eight students rushed towards the booming shouts of Peeves. Who was the new victim of the Heir of Slytherin?
