Quidditch in the Arena

Chapter 11

November 9th 1991, Hogwarts, Scotland

"Hurry Alexandra! We are going to be late to the match!"

Alexandra rolled her eyes at Hermione Granger next to her. The Gryffindor was literally skipping on her feet of enthusiasm.

"No we aren't. The match begins at eleven o'clock. Besides, is it not you who were supposed to hate Flying and everything related to Quidditch?"

Hermione emitted a groan of disappointment. Alexandra laughed.

"Where is Nigel, anyway? It's him we're waiting... oh never mind." Nigel Wolpert had just arrived, missing the last three steps of the stairs and gliding on his stomach in front of Hermione. Alexandra sighed. She had to admit the lack of self-confidence and the clumsiness of the boy had been funny in the firsts days of school, but Nigel's accidents had long since ceased to be amusing and were now simply sad and discomforting. Alexandra didn't know when the problem started and who was at the origin of it, but the shy Gryffindor had huge issues due to this emotional stunting.

Helping Nigel standing on his foot, she turned to Hermione.

"Now that everyone is here, we can go." She said in her best humorous tone.

Both girls providing support to Nigel who looked groggy from this last accident, their little group began a slow walk on the grounds of Hogwarts in the direction of the Quidditch pitch, following the tail of the crowd going to watch the match.

They were now nine days after that fateful Halloween evening, and the weather had turned terribly cold for Alexandra's taste. The mountains around the school were now grey, the Black Lake was showing signs of developing ice on its surface, and the ground was covered in frost. Winter had not completely supplanted Autumn, but it was only a matter of days. According to Professor Sinistra, the first snowfalls were waited in one week or two at Hogwarts. Marching outside the castle was less and less pleasant, forcing the trio to wear heavily-warmed robes and capes.

It was a weird feeling not to be alone for Alexandra. The ten years she had lived at the Dursleys had been a life of solitude and survival. She had never had any friends in the non-magical world, and truthfully after how the two first months had gone, Alexandra had been ready to accept the same scenario was going to repeat itself among their magical counterparts. With the notable exception of Professor Flitwick, who had given her a chance to shine in private duelling lessons, most of the students had been busy ignoring her, or hating the family she represented. The rest of the teaching staff had been a bit more involved, but none of the adults except her Head of House had been willing to break the glass existing between student and teacher for her. Especially not for her, last heiress of a family known as traitors in Magical England.

When she had entered the Great Hall, the morning after she vanquished, no, killed the troll; it had been the first day of school all over again: people looking at her like she was a nightmare, a Dark Lady about to go on rampage and conquering the world. To her great surprise, Albus Dumbledore had announced Alex Sykes had been seriously injured by the troll and been evacuated to the magical Hospital of Saint Mungo's for Magical Maladies and Injuries. This had been rather unbelievable for two reasons. First, Alexandra was pretty much sure no witch or wizard, no matter how powerful, could save the life of a person whose head had been crushed. Secondly, the vague allusions afterwards made by the Headmaster had absolutely not explained how long the recovery of the wounded boy was going to take. If she had to be honest, the black-haired Ravenclaw had to admit the event was particularly troubling from the common student's view. The troll was supposed to be in the dungeons, and yet an older boy was attacked far above the level of the ground? It was really disturbing, and Alexandra had good reasons to suspect the teaching staff had been ordered to give a censored version of the events to avoid draping the Great Hall in black banners of mourning. The angry gaze Flitwick and Snape had been sending all over the place indicated not everyone had agreed with this decision. Alexandra had considered releasing her version of the events. The black glares she continuously met had put an end to this plan.

Nevertheless, outlandish rumours were all over the place. One of the rare fact available to Hogwarts population had been the presence of Alexandra on the scene. As a result, boys and girls were running away when she approached. It was the whispers and the rumours from the start of the year all over again. For a day or two, she had taken the role of Sauron, Dark Lord of Middle Earth, and the Hogwarts students were the disorganised Hobbits in this comedy. Except Hermione Granger had refused to follow the rest of the students. The bushy-haired Gryffindor girl had defied custom and tradition to come sitting with her at the Ravenclaw table for breakfast and for all the next meals after. And after a day, Nigel Wolpert had followed.

In her cynical moments, and she had had plenty since she had set foot in the castle, Alexandra had thought Hermione was just taking advantage of an opportunity and grabbing a chance to leave the Gryffindor table. Ronald Weasley had, according to Hogwarts rumour mill, refused to go back on his Halloween insults, and Neville Longbottom had not made any move which showed Weasley was in the wrong. Seeing all the bridges being burnt in Gryffindor, it was somewhat logical the Muggle-born girl would try to follow her, to see if the grass was greener elsewhere.

But Hermione had surprised her. It had taken Hermione almost being killed by a mountain troll to do it, but the girl had had her confidence in the teachers severely affected, and was not so prompt anymore in quoting the rules and criticising those who do not conformed to them. Hermione was intelligent, read a lot of things including the Lord of the Rings by Tolkien , and Alexandra had not to be scared about the girl being near her to copy her essays or profit from her. In less than a week, the two were together every time they could, and Nigel had been included in the group three days after Halloween. The auburn-haired boy was timid, but he was good company once one got passed his clumsiness.

They had to be strange sight in the corridors, Alexandra was sure: her, the black hair, green eyed half-blood, Ravenclaw and Heiress Potter. Good student but unpopular due to her family's past. Hermione, a Gryffindor with her bushy hair, prominent teeth and brown eyes. No magical parents, an out-of-norms intelligence but a bossy temperament which had isolated the girl in the ranks of the Lions. Nigel, dark brown hair and black eyes, shy and not courageous at all, a pure-blood Gryffindor who wondered three times a day if he had been sent to the wrong House at the Sorting. Mocked and laughed by the boys that shared his dorms and the rest of the first-years. Not that Alexandra was interested a lot about the opinion of others.

Flitwick had congratulated her to break out of her isolation and make friends, although he had also demanded a complete and accurate recall of her adventure with the troll, and her Head of House approving her was more than she needed. Fortunately, these times the rumours of her future ascension as a Dark Lady and two Gryffindors joining her circle of friends had not lasted long. The next week-end was the date of the first Quidditch match of the year, Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

As Hermione had managed to obtain Quidditch through the Ages at the library on Wednesday, she was going to assist to her first match as a spectator knowing a bit about the rules. Alexandra had been really worried reading the book detailing the main rules, as the pictures had described an event which had nothing to be shamed against the events with the troll. An official Quidditch team had seven players: a Keeper, three Chasers, two Beaters and a Seeker. The Chasers had to throw a big red ball called the Quaffle through one hoop of to score a goal. Each goal was worth ten points. The role of the Keeper was to make sure the Chasers didn't score.

The insane role of the Beaters turned what could have been a funny magical basketball mounted on brooms into a bloody sport. The Beaters had to protect their side from the Bludgers, two black balls that were incredibly aggressive and had the speed to catch with the players. To make matters worse, the Beaters also had the right to kick out of the game their opponents with the Bludgers, and professional games were not rare where a team finished with all its members at the hospital. Lethal casualties had decreased since the invention of the sport, but more than one match had been finished with funerals at the local cemetery. Hogwarts: A History proudly proclaimed it had never happened in the Scottish school. Then again, neither supposedly had a troll attack. Last but not least, the player known as the Seeker was charged to catch the Golden Snitch, a tiny and little golden ball with wings. Catching the Golden Snitch awarded one hundred and fifty points and ended the match. Apparently, the magical swiftness, speed and small size of the Snitch was incredibly difficult. Oh, and the match did not end before the Snitch was caught, so the match could last in theory eternally.

To speak of the anecdotes, Alexandra had learnt that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert or in the Himalayan mountains. The flying brooms used by the players had to be from one of the homologated Broom Companies, of which they were six hundred and twenty-two worldwide.

To make things even spicier, a victory in a Quidditch match at Hogwarts got the victorious House one hundred points for the House Cup, which explained the popularity of the students participating. The teachers rarely gave more than twenty points maximum during a lesson for a single student, but the same thing was not true when it came to remove them. Quidditch was the key moment of the year to earn a maximum of points in a minimum amount of time.

Alexandra, Hermione and Nigel mounted to one of the Gryffindor stand, slightly on the edge of the rest of the Lions House, not that the members of Gryffindor deigned to throw them a look. Seeing the two teams were walking on to the pitch, the match was about to begin.

Even from the distance, you could tell the Slytherin team was not playing in subtlety: all its members were large and tall boys, chosen more for their muscles than their brains. Their chasers were Marcus Flint, Adrian Pucey and Cassius Warrington, the Beaters were Lucian Bole and Peregrine Derrick, the Keeper was Miles Bletchley and the Seeker was Terrence Higgs. In contrast, the Gryffindor team looked more equilibrated, with their Chasers being three girls: Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell. The Keeper was Wood, their captain. The Beaters were the Weasley twins Fred and George (or George and Fred, nobody had figured who was who ), infamously known as the Twins Terrors on the pitch. The Seeker was of course, rolls of drums, the great, the famous, the Boy-Who-Lived! Neville Longbottom in the flesh, riding a brand-new broom. For this match, Professor Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the pitch, waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

After a little speech given by the referee to the two captains, the two teams placed themselves in position and mounted their brooms. Professor Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle. Fifteen brooms rose up, soaring in the air like birds of prey after their meal. The match had begun.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too –"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The commentator was hardly going to be impartial in this match, Alexandra smiled to herself. The boy doing the commenting was Lee Jordan, the partner in mischief and pranks of the Weasley twins. If the whispers coming from the Gryffindor common room were accurate, Lee was involved in about ninety per-cent of the incidents where the prank masters used the Slytherins as guinea pigs. In a stand under the commentator and the professors, Alexandra saw a dozen or so of adults, which appeared to be taking notes and photographs. Certainly journalists or recruiters for a Quidditch team in search of new talents. The majority were paying no mind to the commentaries and were scrutinizing the participants with objects looking like a modified version of binoculars.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve – back to Johnson and – no, Slytherin have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes – Flint flying like an eagle up there – he's going to sc – no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and Gryffindor take the Quaffle – that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and – OUCH – that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger – Quaffle taken by Slytherin – that's Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goalposts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger – sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which – nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes – she's really flying – dodges a speeding Bludger – the goalposts are ahead – come on, now, Angelina – Keeper Bletchley dives – misses – GRYFFINDOR SCORE! GRYFFINDOR LEADS 10-0!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

For the moment, the match was a duel of chasers, with beaters and keepers taking second place. Longbottom and Higgs were circling over the other players, searching for any hint of the Golden Snitch. When Angelina Johnson had scored, Longbottom had done a couple of aerial acrobatics, but was soon back to staring around for the Snitch after a remonstrance of Oliver Wood. Longbottom narrowly avoided a Bludger, which was sent in the direction of Marcus Flint by one of the Weasley twins.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan said. "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys and Chaser Bell and speeds towards the – wait a moment – was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear. Evidently, it was the tiny gold ball, and the two Seekers had seen it too. Longbottom dived downwards after the streak of gold, closely followed by Terence Higgs. They were racing towards the Snitch shoulder to shoulder in mid-air. By Alexandra's judgement, Longbottom was better and faster than Higgs with his new broom, he gained a slight advance, raised his arm...

BLAM!

A roar of rage and anger rose from the Gryffindors on Alexandra's left. Marcus Flint had blocked Neville Longbottom on purpose and Neville's broom span off course, the Boy-Who-Lived holding on the handle for dear life, all will to hunt the Snitch forgotten on the instant.

"FOUL!" Screamed the Gryffindors like a single wizard, with a few others insulting Marcus Flint, his parentage and whether his House was sleeping with trolls. Professor Hooch spoke angrily to Flint and then ordered a free shot at the goalposts for Gryffindor. In all the confusion, of course, the Golden Snitch had disappeared from sight again.

Not far from Hermione, Dean Thomas was yelling, "Send him off, ref! Red card!"

"This isn't football, Dean," Ron Weasley reminded him. "You can't send people off in Quidditch – and what's a red card?"

In her mind, Alexandra approved with Dean. Given how Quidditch was violent, if red cards were given, Slytherin wouldn't last half an hour before having all their players out of the game. Alas, there were no expulsions in Quidditch. What a pity. Lee Jordan as commentator had apparently abandoned his supposed position of partiality and was busy massacring the captain of Slytherin metaphorically. Professor McGonagall next to him was finding very difficult to moderate his sentences.

"So – after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating –"

"Jordan!" Growled Professor McGonagall.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul –"

"Jordan, I'm warning you –"

"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who marks it, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

The score was now twenty to zero in favour of Gryffindor, and the Slytherins stopped caring about the rules, furious the Lions had taken an early advance unopposed. The Slytherin Beaters Bole and Derrick were now throwing the Bludgers with the speed of missiles towards the Gryffindors Chasers. Alicia Spinnet saw her head missed from a hair by a Bludger sent by Bole, and Fred Weasley (or was it George?) replied by returning it in the stomach of Derrick, who maintained himself with difficulty on his broom with his two hands, breathing hard.

Lee was still commentating.

"Slytherin in possession – Flint with the Quaffle – passes Spinnet – passes Bell – hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose – only joking, Professor – Slytherin score – oh no …"

The Slytherins were cheering, moving in a green and silver wave-manner. Twenty to ten for Gryffindor.

At this moment, Alexandra realised like the entire audience something was dreadfully wrong with Neville Longbottom and his broom. Instead of searching the Snitch, the first-year Gryffindor was doing zig-zags and violent movements who were on the verge of unseating him.

Hermione had noticed it too.

"What is he doing?"

"It looks like he's losing control of his own broom." Replied Alexandra worried. As arrogant and an pompous that Neville was, Alexandra did not want to see Longbottom fall from his broom. Seeing Alex Sykes die last week had given her a very bad view how horrible a death could be."Maybe something broke when Flint slammed in it?" She asked Hermione. Many professors and older students all around the Pitch were drawing their wands, in the likely case they needed to save the Gryffindor Seeker if he fell.

"Is it possible? I mean the brooms are protected by a lot of enchantments. They are always locked away in the dormitories, so I can't be sure but..."

Alexandra touched Hermione's arm, interrupting her and showed her the teachers stands."Don't bother." Sure enough, not one but two teachers, Senior Professors Snape and Quirell no less, were muttering something under their breath. At this distance, Alexandra couldn't hear anything, but she was ready to bet the source of Longbottom problems was there.

"The question is," Alexandra told Hermione "Who is cursing the broom and who is trying to save Longbottom's skin."

"What should we do?" Asked Hermione, looking more and more agitated by the second.

"Nothing. Look." Said Alexandra, showing Hermione Leo Black running towards the teachers stands, the Black Heir having reached the same conclusion as her with far more alacrity.

Before she could say another word, the whole population of Hogwarts was on their feet, watching, terrified, as the Weasleys flew up to try and pull Longbottom safely on to one of their brooms, but it was no good – every time they got near him, the broom would jump higher still. A few seconds of futile efforts later, the two Gryffindor Beaters dropped lower and circled beneath him, obviously hoping to catch him if he fell.

Marcus Flint, in good Slytherin, profited from the fact no one had any attention left for the match to seize the Quaffle and scored six times without Wood moving to stop him.

"Come on, Leo," Alexandra heard Ron Weasley grumbled desperately.

As Alexandra watched the teacher stand, she stood corrected. Leo Black had not reached the same conclusion as her. The black-haired Gryffindor had ran his way across the teacher stand and did not bat an eye when he knocked a muttering Professor Quirell headfirst. Reaching Snape, he crouched down and threw a sort of acid spell on the Potion Masters robes.

It took less than ten seconds for Flitwick next to Snape to realise the Potions Master was in danger, and the shout of the Charms Master broke Snape attention from the game.

Looking back to the game, Alexandra saw Neville Longbottom clamber back on his broom. So Snape or Quirell had definitely been cursing the broom of the Boy-Who-Lived, Alexandra mused. One more assassination attempt at Hogwarts, and they were not even to December. Ron Weasley, as subtle as ever, was shouting "YES!YES!" with the same terrifying enthusiasm he ate his food at dinner. With the agitation in the stand of the professors, Leo Black had profited from the occasion to discreetly escape, although by the anger showed by the different professors who had been in the middle of the acid spell, the Heir of the Black Family was going to receive a few more detentions if the teachers realised he was the culprit.

Neville Longbottom was now speeding towards the ground with his Nimbus 2000, and Alexandra watched him, wondering why the Boy-Who-Lived had his hand to his mouth like he was about to vomit. Air sick maybe? Anyway, Longbottom hit the pitch on all fours, his speed having fortunately diminished and the ground being enchanted with Cushioning Charms. On his knees, the Gryffindor Seeker coughed, coughed again, and something gold fell from his mouth into his hands.

"I've got the Snitch!" Neville Longbottom shouted, waving it above his head like a trophy. "I've got the Snitch!"

All the Gryffindors in the stands rose like one person and began to shout, cheer, applaud and threw red sparks with their wands, creating a monstrous cacophony able to wake up every person in a circle of several miles.

"Neville Longbottom has caught the Snitch!" Screamed Lee Jordan, who had apparently been as stunned as everyone by the turn taken by the match."One hundred and fifty points for Gryffindor! GRYFFINDOR WINS!"

Looking at the score panel, Alexandra saw: GRYFFINDOR: 170. SLYTHERIN: 70.

Alexandra groaned and almost took her head into her hands, before remembering she was in a Gryffindor stand and thinking it would not be a good way to antagonise the Lions. Still, the astounding capture of the Snitch had pulled off was unlikely to teach him humility and safety. Next to her, Hermione and Nigel looked happy but without looking truly delirious: both of them, for not the same reasons, did not really put their life and sanity in the balance of this Quidditch match. Unlike Ron Weasley, who on the opposite side of the stand, was showing tears of joy and jumping in place with a large banner of Gryffindor shouting "WE WON! WE WON!"

The rest of his year-mates looked like they had also lost a few brain cells in this event. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were singing a drinking hymn with a red and gold lion mascot in their arms. Lavender Brown was crying in one of the Gryffindor banners. The rest of the Lions were even more demonstrative.

"Well, that was an interesting match" The Potter Heiress said to Hermione with an ironic smirk." Who do you think was trying to kill Longbottom? Snape or Quirell?"

"Difficult to say." Replied the bushy-haired girl. "Normally, I would have said Snape, he appears really dangerous, not like Quirell, but..." Hermione touched her lips, lost in contemplation , while they left the stadium before the herd of triumphant Gryffindors was getting out. Alexandra had no intention to be caught in a tsunami of red and gold. A sea of red and gold having horrible taste in music, if the screams mounting from the stands were any indication.

"My fa-father says Snape know a lot about Dark Arts." Intervened shyly Nigel."He was accu-accused to be a Death Eater in the la-last war."

"For all we know about him," Said grimly Alexandra "Quirell might be more powerful than him. We all believed him to be a coward and a disaster as a teacher. But what if it was all an act?"

Silence fell between the two girls and the boy, all thinking about what had just happened.

"It would be an astounding performance." Said weakly Hermione. "Worthy of a Slytherin. Perhaps more. If he was really able to deceive everyone..."

"Not everyone." Alexandra smiled."After all, whether Professor Snape or Quirell wanted Longbottom dead, it's clear the other wanted to protect him. So at least one Professor wasn't fooled by Quirell act. Assuming he's the culprit, of course."

As the match had lasted less than an hour, Alexandra, Nigel and Hermione arrived at the right time for lunch. Unfortunately, having calm and silence for this meal was the next best thing to impossible, as more than a hundred-plus Gryffindors surged in the castle, shouting songs where the Slytherins and every variant of snake was routinely insulted at least a dozen of times, proclaiming the Lions were the best and the Quidditch Cup belonged to them and so on.

"Is it like this for every match?" Alexandra asked a sixth-year Prefect who was passing near where she was sitting in a semi-exasperated tone.

"Afraid so." Replied the older student, relishing in her discomfiture. "There's only six matches in the year, so at each of them, the winners throw a big feast and celebrations in their Common Room all the week-end."

" Why do they party so hard?" Asked Hermione."It's just a game!"

The face of the prefect grew pale as a moment, as if Hermione had suddenly sprouted magic didn't exist or murdered a puppy under his very eyes. Seeing the first-year Gryffindor was serious, the teenager boy explained.

" This game is the most popular sport in every country save North America. Quidditch is one of the only moment of the year the students can forget a bit their studies and celebrate without risking the wrath of their Head of House and the rest of the staff. It also gives a lot of points for the House Cup. Moreover, students who excel at Quidditch can be recruited in League teams if they perform exceptionally well in a match. Some victories at Hogwarts can launch a professional career on the national stage."

" And defeats can crush a career before it had begun, I suppose?" asked Alexandra.

"Exactly." Nodded the Prefect. "Was there anything you wanted to ask?"

"How much does a professional player earns in a year?"

"For the standard player, around four thousand galleons. Star players can have a salary twice or three times that, victory primes included. Rubbish teams like the Chudley Cannons have players earning two or two thousand and five hundred galleons per year."

"As you see," the boy said, smirking before her gob-smacked expression."Quidditch is a sport where the participants live their life very well." And he left the Hall, leaving Alexandra to her dreams of gold.

"Please tell me you aren't considering playing Quidditch!" Whispered Hermione, who had seen the expression on her face.

Alexandra opened her mouth to answer, but was brutally interrupted when the double doors opened again, and the Slytherin Quidditch Team arrived in the Great Hall, followed by the rest of Slytherin House, who all looked like if someone had told them the end of the world was today, advancing in a silence of death.

The contrast was stunning with the breakfast, when she had seen all the House present smirking and presenting haughty faces, with the players openly displaying bravado and arrogance. Now, most of them were displaying livid, haunted faces. Terence Higgs was looking like he was about to burst in tears. Bole and Derrick had uncomprehending expressions. The captain of the Quidditch Slytherin team, Marcus Flint himself, was whispering to himself in a state of shock "He didn't catch it, he swallowed it."

Draco Malfoy looked like someone who had just been told the pure-blood superiority was a myth. His year-mates were varying in their reaction from red of anger to mentally defeated. All in all, the only Snakes not looking annihilated by the reverse were Crabbe and Goyle, who had already begun to masticate the content of their plates with their usual gluttonous appetite. But these two gorillas had not two cells to create an idea in their skulls and they were definitely the exception.

Looking back at the Gryffindor table, Alexandra saw Neville Longbottom being carried in the direction of his Common Room by several fifth-years. Black, Weasley and the other first-years looking at the Boy-Who-Lived with plenty of veneration in their eyes.

"We only lack the laurels and the chariot..." Alexandra told Nigel and Hermione. If Nigel, being a pure-blood, didn't seem to have the non-magical knowledge to understand her remark, Alexandra saw Hermione's eyes widen and saw the girl was observing the Gryffindors from a new angle. Because indeed, when you thought about it, the resemblance was here. In their crimson-red wizard robes, the Gryffindor players led by Wood and Longbottom had clothes which could pass for a light purple in the late autumn's light. And purple had been the colour reserved for victorious generals on days of triumph in the Republic of Rome's era, or later for the Imperial Family when Rome became an Empire.

"Ave Imperator!" Alexandra whispered, raising her goblet.

"Morituri te salutant." Finished Hermione in a murmur.

And let's pray Longbottom will keep some humility and modesty inside him after this day, Alexandra thought. But with no slave or member of the defeated party in proximity to remind him of his mortality, the odds were good the Boy-Who-Lived would have a bigger head tomorrow.

At least now the black-haired Ravenclaw had reduced the list of the potential culprits for the troll incident to two. It was a progress. Of sorts.