Chapter 25
Second Year Trials
5th September 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland
To the consternation of Hogwarts half-sane student population, the rest of the week saw Gilderoy Lockhart continue to release in his class a certain number of magical creatures, almost if the Senior Professor of DADA tried to persuade himself the episode against the Cornish Pixies had been a fluke.
Unfortunately for him, if this had been his reasoning, it was a sounding failure. Penelope Clearwater, the sixth-year prefect of the Ravenclaws, took a certain success in describing in front of the whole House in the common room on Friday evening how Lockhart had been bitten by a sort of magical iguana in the rear. By the account of all witnesses, the backside of the Senior Defence Professor had been violet by the time the blonde-haired idiot reached Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing.
To sum up, Alexandra felt Lockhart had managed to do in three days what usually took teachers in the normal world decades: destroying his reputation in a most complete and total manner. Well, apart in the eyes of a few fan-girls like Hermione and Lavender Brown. Certain persons, in Alexandra's opinion, refused to acknowledge the truth no matter the number of proofs available.
By contrast, the rest of the week for the rest of the Ravenclaw second-years was almost uneventful. Almost. It was Hogwarts after all. They had their first courses of Charms and Transfiguration with Junior Professor Jeremy Dhillon and Junior Professor Brandon Porchester, who by a strange coincidence were respectively former alumni of House Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Still, the two men were competent, which was more you could tell about Binns and Tiroflan for the courses of History.
Professor Cuthbert Binns was still a ghost and boring like no one in the world managed to be. Goblin Rebellions here, Goblin Rebellions there...Goblin Rebellions forever! For the next month and a half the course was going to be about the Goblins Rebellions having occurred under the Roman Empire era. Blood and massacres, but with Binns sauce. Boring to death. Professor Tiroflan was still as lazy as ever. Professor Jeremy Dhillon, on the other hand, was a polite wizard in his forties whose only strange characteristics was his green hair, which he explained was the last reminder of a very nasty Quidditch after-match between Ireland and England. Apart from that, the man had many similarities with Professor Flitwick, although Alexandra still preferred the former Duellist Master. But perhaps she was a bit biased.
Professor Brandon Porchester, was more or less the same way compared to Professor McGonagall: very strict, demanding and not tolerating any kind of bullying or disorder in his class. The Junior Transfiguration Professor was not able to transform himself into an animal like the Head of Gryffindor, alas. The skill, which was called Animagus, was apparently terribly difficult to learn. And he was not fond of making a spectacular demonstration in the beginning of the class either. But this teacher was fond of punctuality, a fact Byron Vaisey and Theodore Nott learnt by arriving a minute late and losing ten points each for Slytherin.
Apart from that things had been relatively calm. Alexandra had discovered the long roll of parchment Flitwick had given her with her timetable was a list of spells her Head of House wished her to master "as soon as possible" in his own words. Given that there was over fifty of them, Alexandra expected a lot of work. Mastering the first one, the Disarming Charm, incantation Expelliarmus, promised to be difficult as her first efforts had not been limited to disappointing red sparks. According a Defence book she had borrowed in the Common Room, the origins of the spell were rather vague. The British authors pretended it had been invented by Merlin himself. More earth-to-earth historians proclaimed it had been discovered and used by African wizards in Madagascar in the eleventh century. So much for historical accuracy.
It was not why Alexandra had woken up early on this Saturday cloudy morning, however. After a very fast breakfast, she went to the library. After what had happened this summer, she wanted to know more about Summons and magical weapons.
The reason why the raven-haired young witch wanted to know about the first was kind of obvious. In the depths of the mountain, only running away quickly and a do-or-die teleportation had saved her life from the monster of flames and shadows. If she faced such a demon again, which with her chance wasn't impossible, Alexandra wanted to have a bit more options other than running away, running away...and teleporting a safe distance away.
For the magical weapons, it was a bit more complicated. The green-eyed witch wanted to know the powers and the name of the silver sword she had grabbed in the goblin vaults, the sword in question-rechristened Glamdring, being currently hidden in the last compartment of her trunk. But since the twelve-years old had also seen a full goblin armoury, she also wanted to know why wizards and witches didn't use said weapons instead of their wands. Alexandra had seen the sheer power of the warhammer carried by the goblin general Warfist. This was far, far more power than anything generated by the hydra-core wand the Potter Heiress owned.
After one hour in the library, unfortunately, Alexandra hopes had been reduced to almost nothing. Using the magical index Madam Pince put at the disposition of every student making the demand, she had tried to search the term "Magical Summon", only to find Hogwarts library, celebrated as one of the best of the magical world, proposed in all...a single book on the subject. The work, Beings of Other Dimensions by a certain Percival Yaxley, was in many ways worse than useless. On the first page, the author reminded the reader in big, red and black letters the Summoning of an entity was an offence punishable by death in Magical Britain, without even the bothersome need to organise a trial. The law had been apparently adopted in 1369 and never been repealed. Not exactly a good sign. Then the same warning was repeated on the second page, the third page and every page from number 4 to 19, with gruesome gravures reminding, in the author own words "how Summoning is a Dark Art and must be erased at all costs from existence" and "the number of deaths it has caused against wizards and witches is too huge for our society to bear". The rest of the book was a mix of some rumours, grandmother tales and the advice that if you ran into a Summon, you had to warn immediately the Ministry of Magic to be properly interrogated. The last point being repeated no less than fifteen times in four pages. In Alexandra's opinion, the book was worthy of the title 'scrap material'. The Ravenclaw girl had learnt more in two minutes seeing the goblin expeditionary force getting roasted than in half an hour reading this waste of parchment.
No one apparently in the magical world had thought that knowing how to fight a Summon could have been useful information to have. You know, just in case a rogue Summoner went on a killing spree and wanted to conquer the world. Which given the power of the conjured Salamander was far from impossible.
The search on 'Magical Weapons' didn't go better. True, there were fifteen books on them against the sole Summon one, but all were virtually of the same worth. Null. First, every author warned the production of war magical weapons was banned as a result of the ICW convention of Vienna in 1812. Secondly, each author declared the knowledge of forging and developing said weapons was also banned thanks to a Wizengamot vote passed in March 1947. This was limited to Britain alone, the rest of Europe had been quite happy to keep their swords, staffs, sceptres and mighty artefacts. And third, the means to recognise and identify such weapons was forbidden to any common citizen, the only parties not concerned by the restriction being the wise and competent Ministry authorities, a decision voted by the Wizengamot in April 1947 after the ravages of the Grindelwald war became all too noticeable.
Interesting detail, the two last points were vigorously contested as a "mistake" by the less eloquent authors and a "stupidity" by the most vocals ones. In fact, fourteen of the fifteen books had about a third of their pages openly vilipending the Wizengamot laws which had utterly destroyed any possibility to forge, maintain or develop new magical weapons such as swords, axes, spears and everything which had a pointed end but which was not a wand.
Her curiosity titillated by the accusations, Alexandra ranged back the books on their rows and shelves, before marching to the section of Hogwarts library where the archives of the Daily Prophet were kept. Finding the 1947 year took only a couple of minutes. And the corresponding editions of the law were found after a few more seconds, before going back to her usual seat.
Not that it was exactly difficult to find. From March 1 1947 to March 27 1947, the title of the Daily Prophet was trumpeting more or less variations of the same headline. "WAR WEAPONS BANNED!", "CHIEF WARLOCK BANS WEAPONS!" or "OUR ENCHANTED WEAPONS ARE BANNED!". And under each big title, the photo of the man who had made the law pass. A man Alexandra and all the Hogwarts students saw every time when he was sitting on his seat at the Head Table. Albus Dumbledore. Of course.
The rest of the newspapers gave a bit more information, but little to the actual debate. The author had been more concerned by the fact the law had passed the needed majority by only three votes, and was openly criticising, journalist impartiality be damned, the families which had voted against such a decision. The name of a certain Lord Abraxas Malfoy was at the head of the list, by a strange coincidence. Crabbe, Goyle, Black, Lestrange, Travers, Mulciber and dozens of Houses having on this very day members in Slytherin had followed Malfoy's lead. But there were more interesting names following them. Bones. MacDougal. Longbottom. And almost at the very bottom of the list, Lord Charlus Potter. Alexandra's own paternal grandfather.
"Well, that's a surprise..." Whispered Alexandra. A quick search in the laws proposed by Albus Dumbledore and voted for the rest of the first 1947 semester showed her paternal grandfather had always voted against the actual Headmaster of Hogwarts. Strangely, most of the journalists chose to ignore completely the fact a House normally aligned with the so-called 'Light Party' voted with the 'Dark supporters'. Of course they neglected to speak about many of the 'Neutral Houses' political stances too...
"What is a surprise?" Asked a voice in front of her. Surprised as she had been busy reading, Alexandra left the newspaper fall on her lap, drawing her wand from the holster on her forearm and pointing it towards... Morag?
"Nice welcome." Said the red-haired Ravenclaw in a trembling voice, her face was considerably paler than usual, as Alexandra was pointing her wand directly between her eyes.
"Don't surprise me again like that!" Whispered Alexandra in a furious voice, posing her wand on the table right to the dispersed edition of the Daily Prophet.
"Well normal persons, you know, don't draw their wand until they're threatened! There's something called paranoia you know!" Whispered Morag in anger.
"Normal persons don't go to Hogwarts." Replied Alexandra in a trait of black humour. "And you should know you're only paranoiac if nobody is after your life. Otherwise, you're just prudent."
"I suppose it makes sense." Said grudgingly Morag. "But you know... not everyone is trying to kill you at Hogwarts."
"Not everyone." Alexandra rolled her eyes at this. "I'm sure a good quarter of the school has wanted my death at one point or another since I entered this school. And the three other quarters would in all certainty sell the tickets for my execution and buy the fireworks for the burial."
"That's not true!" Protested Morag a bit vehemently, before lowering her shoulders in defeat. "Okay, some Ravenclaw really wanted to hurt you. You're his daughter, after all!"
Alexandra winced at this. More than a year had passed, but she was still trying to avoid thinking about the fact her father had been condemned as a traitor. Although to be fair, the Potter Heiress cared far more about the issue the man had abandoned her mother and herself to the wizarding equivalent of pitches and torches.
"What changed?" She asked, closing her yes an instant and preferring to direct the conversation on far safer subjects.
"Are you kidding?" Morag asked. "You managed to defend yourself from twenty students on your very first day at school, defeated every student who tried to ambush you and ultimately killed a mountain troll and a Professor by yourself!" Morag seemed to have checked her sources since the Sorting. "Do you realise how rare that is?"
"Very, I suppose." Admitted Alexandra. "Else some students I know the name would have banded together and dealt with me. Permanently."
"That's...that's not a very nice outlook on life."
"No, it's not." Alexandra agreed, waving her right hand in a sign translating how powerless she was to change the situation. "Unfortunately, it's the life I have been dealt with."
Alexandra emitted a small smile. "Why are you here, Morag? Apart from giving me heart attacks?"
"Officially, I want you to tutor me in practical magic." Said the Ravenclaw, her blue eyes deadly serious.
"Tutor you?" Repeated Alexandra. "But you don't need tutoring! You were just behind me in the rankings of first-year!"
"Exactly."
"I must have missed a point somewhere. Care to explain?"
Morag nodded, making a tress of her red hair almost unconsciously.
"You and Hermione Granger have certainly realised all the pure-bloods who entered Hogwarts have already a basic magic education in theory."
"Sure. And Professor Flitwick said Neville Longbottom had an official dispense from the Wizengamot to begin a magical training earlier than usual."
"Yes, Neville is a special case." Said Morag with a nod of her head. "If the rumours about him are true, he received his first wand when he was nine years old."
Alexandra stared open-mouthed at that. The Boy-Who-Lived had received a wand two years before she was aware the Wizarding World existed?
"I thought every child could only buy a wand at Ollivanders when they were eleven years old."
"That's the law. In reality, any old wizarding family worth the name has a lot of ancient wands lying in its vaults, and it's rare none are tuned to your magic. If it's not the case, there are always foreign shops that have a lower age requirement. The Houses just never advertise it. I received my first wand on my tenth birthday. Do you see where I'm going with this?"
"Yes, I think I do." Alexandra sighed. "In one year, Hermione and I beat all of you, despite you and most of the pure-bloods having a good head-start on us, who come from having a non-magical education."
"Exactly."
"That doesn't make any sense in some ways, though." The twelve-years old girl remarked, caressing absently her quill. "If you have the possibility of being taught magic and practise it before Hogwarts, how come people like Crabbe, Goyle, Smith, Weasley and others have marks so low? They would have to..." Alexandra had a horrified understanding in her mind. "They are that bad AFTER having had a preliminary magical education?"
The girl in front of her grumbled something which sounded like "apes" and "idiots" before fixing Alexandra in the eyes again.
"Yeah, they're that bad. And the gap is only going to widen in the next years. There are only two months of summer holidays, don't forget, and all the Heirs and Heiresses have social obligations we must train for and participate. Balls. Courting. Business meetings." Enumerated the red-haired Ravenclaw.
"Fine. But why me?" Alexandra asked."Aren't they private professors willing to go to Hogwarts? Or older students wanting to teach the younger ones?"
"They are." Affirmed Morag MacDougal. "But you need the board of Governors and the Headmaster approval. Professor Dumbledore had refused every time since he became Headmaster to let a professor not paid by him enter the grounds." Her voice had turned rather frosty at the last sentence. Evidently, Morag and her family weren't the biggest admirers of the Headmaster.
"And older students are an option, but only at the beginning of the year. After, they have too little free time to spend it giving lessons. You, on the other hand, are already in the castle and you are much better than I am at the practical part of the classes. So yes, I want you to tutor me."
"Why should I accept? I refused already once somebody, and don't take it badly Morag, but before the Sorting Ceremony of Tuesday, I don't remember talking with you at all."
"I know you refused Zabini's offer."Affirmed her fellow second-year Ravenclaw. "Oh, don't be so shocked," she said as Alexandra eyebrows rose. "Everything at Hogwarts is known by everyone in a matter of minutes, especially when there's Lions or Snakes around."
"Too true." Alexandra answered, though thinking inwardly she would have to be a bit more careful who was around when she spoke to someone she didn't trust.
"But unlike Zabini I can give you an alliance with House MacDougal. Many of your enemies will hesitate to attack you in the corridors if I'm here with you."
"And unofficially?"
"I want a friend."
Alexandra paused a moment to consider. Honestly, considering the numbers of students per ambush last year, she was really not that sure adding one more second-year girl would have a deterring effect. On the other hand, having one ally inside the walls of the school could only be a good thing given the madness reigning in the school. Chances of survival and all of that.
Morag had never been among the students whispering dark rumours on her in the corridors in her back. And the shared classes in Potions had showed the red-haired pure-blood was not the worst person to have to your side.
After a few more seconds, Alexandra made her Heiress ring flash on her hand. Morag made a similar move with her own ring on the other side of the table.
"I accept your offer of alliance and friendship, Heiress MacDougal." Alexandra affirmed, holding her hand out to Morag who took it. A minor shock of blue magic glowed around the two hands. "Know however that if you betray me I will hunt you to the end of the Earth and beyond to make you pay."
Morag emitted a chuckle of laughter. "Consider me warned. It's not liked I wanted to be the first girl to suffer the wrath of the Exiled Queen this year."
"Exiled Queen?" Alexandra laughed at that. "No one never called me that in public!"
Morag rolled her eyes. "Of course not. And you will hear no one call Daphne Greengrass 'the Ice Queen' or Neville Longbottom 'the Prankster-Who-Lived' to their faces."
Alexandra was unable to stop laughing at that, a sound which attracted a furious glare from Madam Pince, and forced the two Ravenclaw girls made a quick escape from the library.
It was nearly the hour for lunch now anyway, so Alexandra and Morag descended the stairs to make their way for the Great Hall. They were immediately joined by Nigel and Hermione, before marching to the Ravenclaw table and starting to eat in a relatively calm atmosphere.
Peace didn't last. Just as Nigel was demanding Morag to pass him the orange juice, the doors of the Hall, opened, letting the respective Quidditch teams of Gryffindor and Slytherin enter.
When she saw them, Alexandra's first thought was 'Did they just make a war?'. The red and gold robes of the Gryffindor were dirty and full of holes. The usually perfect green and silver clothes of the Slytherin were in tatters. On the arms, legs and the face, each player had marks Alexandra clearly recognised. The young Ravenclaw had seen the same on her skin last year, after rough sessions of taking spell-fire from Flitwick. One of the Gryffindor Chasers, Spinnet or Spennet, she didn't remember, was staggering like she had participated in a boxing contest, and was supported by the other girls. On the Slytherin side, two of the Chasers had one of their arms immobilised, and Draco Malfoy had his noise covered in blood.
One minute. Why did the arrogant blonde was wearing the silver and green of the Quidditch team? No captain of any House had had the time in three days to organise any try-outs!
Of course, that wasn't the only question swirling in Alexandra's head at the moment. There was also the issue of the seven brand-new brooms in the process of being displayed by their owners in the middle of the Snake House's table.
"How in the name of Merlin did the Slytherin team did manage to buy seven models of the new Nimbus 2001?" Exclaimed Nigel, looking at the Quidditch players wearing the green and silver.
"If I had to take a guess, I would say the answer to that question wears blond hair and is holding its bleeding nose at the moment." Said Alexandra.
"Malfoy." The name came out of four mouths like a curse and not the prestigious House it was supposed to be.
"Why should he do such a thing?" Asked Hermione, always a bit lost when it came to Quidditch issues.
"It's evident, no?" Answered Morag. "The little slimy pounce is bribing Flint and the whole team."
"A brand-new Nimbus 2001 for each player against his place on the Slytherin team as Seeker? That's..." Nigel couldn't find words to finish his sentence.
"That's stupid." Said Alexandra. "We are only students and there are only three matches per Quidditch team at Hogwarts each year. Paying more than one thousand Galleons per broom to win the School Cup can't be described as a good investment."
"In fact, the price is 1483 Galleons, once you've finished to pay for the complete kit and the accessories which go with it." Intervened Morag with a smug expression.
"That's...very precise." Noted Alexandra.
"Morag's family owns the Comet Trading Company." Nigel smiled. "She knows probably the price of every single broom on the market."
"Not all." Protested Morag. "Okay, I have a good idea of every product which is sold today." She added before the rising eyebrows of Nigel.
"Alexandra is right, though. Malfoy is an idiot." Continued the red-haired Ravenclaw girl. "Bribing the captain with new brooms one week before the selections is neither a cunning nor a subtle move. It is against Quidditch tradition, and it's generally considered very bad form. He just proclaimed he was going to be the Seeker by throwing a lot of gold away, no matter his skill."
"And it wasn't cheap." Remarked Alexandra. "Paying seven brooms of 1483 Galleons each must have made a total price of ten thousand Galleons."
The last free member of House Potter shuddered at the sheer mass of money it represented. Her entire trust vault at the moment was around 11 600 Galleons worth, although she would have to wait her end of the month bank statement to have a firm confirmation. In one go, Draco Malfoy or someone of his family had just spent tenth-eleventh of this sum.
"Yeah." Morag looked like she was about to vomit as the heir of the Malfoy family made a spectacle of himself by parading with his new broom at his table, forgetting a moment his nose was covered in blood. "The main reason why Nimbus are so rare at Hogwarts is their price. Comet and Cleansweep models can be bought by an average student if their family is giving them a nice allowance or they're willing to save a lot of their pocket money, but Nimbus brooms are too expensive for players who are not professional. I know my parents are not giving me a thousand Galleons a year, and never it came in my mind to ask for this kind of sum. For one, they would laugh at me and for two, I have already a Comet 260."
"Look at the Snakes." Whispered Nigel. "There are some who aren't happy how Malfoy is acting."
Throwing a look behind her, Alexandra could see Nigel had a point. The entire Slytherin Quidditch team was attracting attention and people at the centre of their House table, but there were dozens of students from each year moving away from them and taking their lunch on the extremities. Some appeared a bit bothered, while others were downright furious.
The most interesting reaction though, was provided by Theodore Nott and an older boy Alexandra recognised as the Slytherin Seeker of last year, Terence Higgs. The two Slytherins had been seriously arguing with their Head of House, Professor Snape, moments ago, and were now coming back to the table launching betrayed looks to the Potions Master, then switching and glaring with pure hate in direction of Draco Malfoy.
"Higgs has certainly not enjoyed being ejected from the team without the formality of a try-out." Replied Alexandra in a low tone. "And I heard rumours last year Nott was thinking about challenging Malfoy for the Seeker position this season."
"I heard the same thing." Commented Morag, eating a piece of meat in her plate. "Apparently, Malfoy didn't want to face them in the pitch, so he convinced his daddy," her voice turned vitriolic, "to buy his way in the Quidditch team. Even with the most recent broom on the market, he didn't feel his victory was assured so he bribed Flint. What a loser."
"Well, Flint has never been known for his intelligence." Noted Hermione.
"Too true." There were reasons why a lot of Gryffindors pretended the Slytherin Captain had troll blood in the veins. Having met two mountain trolls and killed one, Alexandra had not overly been impressed by the species intelligence...
Seeing the Slytherin table, it was evident that Malfoy had acted too rashly. Of the second-year Slytherins, only Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson were surrounding him now. Byron Vaisey, the Carrow twins and Theodore Nott were at one extremity of the table, almost near the doors. No need to be a genius to know they weren't appreciated the self-aggrandising display of the seven Nimbus 2001. Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis were at the other side of the table, in front of the Professors. Only Millicent Bulstrode was staying near Pansy Parkinson, and the bulky girl appeared to have her doubts, judging by her conflicted expression.
"The first match of the season will be decisive for Malfoy." Continued Morag in a small smile, having apparently noticed the same divisions Alexandra had. "It's Gryffindor versus Slytherin, so Draco will play his reputation of Quidditch player and the influence he has in the Snake's Den at the same time.
If he wins, he will be probably retain his position as the unofficial leader of the Slytherin second-years. Maybe.
If he loses, Flint will throw him out the team and his power in Slytherin is going to be reduced to nothing. After that..." the pure-blood girl made a predatory smile, "...this is going to be a bloodbath. According to my sources, Draco Malfoy has stepped on too many toes not to pay the price sooner or later. It's not like Crabbe and Goyle will be able to protect him when wands are drawn."
"Can Neville beat Malfoy with an inferior broom?" Asked Nigel.
"Interesting question." Mused Alexandra. "Of course it assumes the Nimbus 2001 is superior to the 2000-model."
"What do you mean?" Asked Morag, in a very interested tone.
"Well, I'm far from a broom specialist," admitted Alexandra, "but according to Nigel here Nimbus is releasing a new competition broom every five years which thrashes the concurrence every time." Morag winced, but didn't dispute her point. "The Nimbus 2000, however, was released in June 1991 and the Nimbus 2001 in July 1992. The Nimbus designers must have rushed off the development of the broom to follow with a new model one year later."
"And if they rushed the development and the tests they could have missed a lot of design flaws." Morag widened her blue eyes and stared with her mouth open for a moment. "By the beard of Merlin you're right! And the League teams are buying this broom by the sevens for their star players..."
"But why the precipitation?" Asked Hermione. "They could make a lot of their clients furious if they sell a half-serviceable broom!"
"I don't know." Admitted Morag. "The Quidditch World Cup Finals will be played in England the next time, but the preliminaries will not begin until March 1993 and the Finals are in July 1994. Plenty of time still to create or perfect a new broom, England is qualified directly for the Finals as the Host country." Morag paused for a moment. "I will send a letter to my family. Maybe they will have some answers. Not sure they will tell me. Broom development secrets are worth they weight in gold."
Alexandra nodded. If the salary of a Quidditch player and the price of the brand-new competitions broom was any indication, the Quidditch market was literally a gold mine of thousands of Galleons for the families involved.
"Enough speaking of the little blonde brat." And the smile of Morag returned wider. "Some students saw you Alexandra buying a broom at Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley. Mind participating at the try-outs tomorrow?"
Alexandra could not stop a groan of despair.
6 September 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland
The sky was clear on Sunday morning when Morag and Alexandra descended the large marble stairs of Hogwarts to march towards the Quidditch pitch. Despite the northern location of their magical school, this day promised to rather warm and sunny, no doubt one of the beautiful days of September all the inhabitants of Hogwarts regretted when the cold winds and the rain arrived on October.
In her new blue and bronze Quidditch robes, Alexandra fell strangely out of place, in spite of Morag assuring the contrary. She had never flown before a large public last year in the Flying lessons, so the fifty or so students already filling the stands and the noise they made was not boosting her confidence. On the ground, Alexandra was completely sure of her magical capabilities. In the air, relatively less so, especially with other aggressive players and Bludgers coming into factor. Sure, she had been complimented as a 'natural flyer' or something like that by Professor Hooch during the Flying Lessons, but the most difficult exercise they had been given was circling the Quidditch Pitch at a slow speed. The try-outs promised to be a lot more difficult.
Morag, by contrast, was looking like these try-outs were a pleasant hobby to pass her Sunday morning, and not like they were going to begin a game with a high possibility of a direct travel to the Hospital Wing. Her red-hair looking like a flashy corona in the light of the sun, the Ravenclaw pure-blood was smiling to several boys with her left hand, her right holding firmly a broom called the Comet 260.
Slowly but surely, they arrived at the centre of the Quidditch pitch, where close to three dozen Ravenclaw students were always waiting for. What Alexandra saw did not make her more confident. As far as she could see, Morag and she were the only second-year Ravenclaws having dared come to the try-outs as participants and not as spectators. To be accurate, they were two out of four girls, with a rather pretty Asian third-year and a muscled fifth-year representing the rest of the feminine population of the Ravens. The rest of the Ravenclaw students waiting with their brooms in hand were all bigger, taller and muscled boys from fourth-year and above. These try-outs promised...not to be fair.
Then a rather tall black-haired boy wearing the Quidditch Captain insignia walked in front of them, and the noise decreased briefly after.
"Good morning, all of you!" Said the older Ravenclaw in a loud voice. "For those who don't know me, my name is Roger Davies and I am the Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team."
"To my left," he waved his hand in the direction of a group of Ravenclaw students not in line with the others, "are Chaser Randolph Burrow, Beater Jason Samuels, Beater Duncan Inglebes and Keeper Grant Page."
Each of the boys called raised his hand and saluted when his name was called. Looking at each boy and girl waiting for the try-outs, Alexandra noticed a lot of unease. Everybody knew the players of last year kept their place, but knowing five places out of seven were already filled was not a morale booster.
"For those of you who know the basic rules of Quidditch," continued Roger Davies, "you know we are holding the try-outs for the posts of third Chaser and the Seeker. The team is also searching for four players in the reserve: a Chaser, a Keeper, a Beater and a Seeker.
Try-outs for the Chaser and Seeker positions are going to take place today. For the reserves positions of Keeper and Beater, the planning will be posted on the board of the Common Room next week."
The voice of the Ravenclaw Captain then turned humorous.
"As usual, it's the Captain's role to warn you that a place in the Quidditch team is not a ticket for a life where you sleep on a mountain of Galleons. If you let your grades slip during the year, Professor Flitwick will be warned and you will lose your position, no matter your performances on the Pitch. If you break too many rules and pass your time in detention, you will be thrown out of the team. Not going to the trainings which are twice per week is equally a source of dismissal. Being in the Quidditch team is an honour and a privilege. With a lot of skill and luck, some of you may be recruited when you leave Hogwarts to play at a professional level. Don't let this opportunity disappear because you feel a manager or a coach will take you no matter your grades.
Now let's begin the try-outs. Those who want to be Chasers, on my left. Those who are here for Seeker, on my right."
The group of Quidditch aspirants divided itself in two, Morag going with the potential Chasers while Alexandra went with the Seekers. After much deliberation and debate last evening with Nigel and Hermione when they got over their homework, the raven-haired witch had decided to give a try at the Seeker position. True, Seekers were sometimes, well no, always the favourite targets of the other team's Beaters, but simple logic told the green-eyed girl she had not the strength in the arms or the musculature to survive at a Chaser post more than a few seconds. A Seeker could always dodge the Bludgers in time, not being involved in the core of the action with the Quaffle. A Chaser had not this opportunity.
Clearly, she had not been the only one to think like that. There were only five more applicant Seekers, four boys who looked less muscled than the rest and the Asian third-year girl. All the other players, something between twenty-five and thirty older students, were going to try their chance for the post of Chaser. Morag, in the middle of these tall and sturdy boys, looked nimble and frail, despite the Ravenclaw boys being far from the corpulence of the gorillas the Slytherins aligned in their team.
"All right! First the Seekers!" Shouted Davies. "I am going to release seven training Snitchs! By the end of the session, the one who will have caught the greatest number will be the new Seeker!" His voice turned more enthusiastic. "Oh, and by the way, the Beaters have received the task to prevent you from catching one! And they have the real Bludgers! Good luck!"
Davies opened a small box, and instantly five small gold balls with wings escaped before disappearing out of view.
"Go!" Shouted Davies, and the six Seeker candidates jumped in the air on their brooms.
Once at several feet over the ground, Alexandra began to forget her earlier apprehensions. The air rushing in her face, the sensations of broom-riding and liberty, the sheer speed of her Nimbus 1500 compared to the obsolete school brooms she had been forced to use until there, all of it came back in a flow and she realised after a brief period of thoughtless elation she genuinely loved Flying. A lot.
Avoiding a Bludger sent by Samuels on her right, Alexandra dived quickly and began her search of a Golden Snitch.
It revealed not to be an easy task. Alexandra understood rapidly why Seekers took so much time in a Quidditch match to catch the little ball, and it wasn't because they were lazy. The gold targets were incredibly fast, swift, nimble and manoeuvred frankly well better than the better broom available in the shops selling Quidditch supplies. The Beaters were also not helping, Alexandra had been forced several times to abort the hunt of one Snitch to evade just in time a well-adjusted Bludger which would have sent her straight to the tender care of Madam Pomfrey.
The second-year Ravenclaw had not taken her watch with her this morning, but she was accurately aware the time was passing fast. The sun had risen a long time ago, and would soon reach its zenith.
At last, Alexandra saw a Golden Snitch flying near the posts and after a very long chase which saw her evade Bludgers three times and Chasers shooting penalties twice, she finally managed to catch the Snitch. Decreasing noticeably her speed, she passed near Davies and gave him the Snitch.
"Good job, Potter!" Shouted the older Ravenclaw. "Now try to catch another!"
Alexandra accelerated again, really intending to do so. But it was even more difficult now. Two of the boys in concurrence with her for the Seeker place had noticed her success, and were now sticking to her like glue. In the first seconds, the Potter Heiress thought it was somewhat flattering. It turned rapidly to annoying, as the Beaters could not honestly miss such a large group and were now sending Bludgers in their direction with an alarming regularity.
Finally, after one of the fourth-years boys tried to ram her when she had her back turned, Alexandra decided fair play was only useful if all parties agreed to it. Feigning to have noticed the Snitch, she dived at full speed towards the back of the stand, before at the last second climbing up vertically and avoiding a spectacular collision with the wooden wall.
CRASH! CRRRAAASSSH!
The loud noise of wood shattering behind her confirmed the two Ravenclaw boys had not managed to brake in time. Now ridden of her competition, the Potter Heiress used the full speed of her broom and soon was able to catch another Snitch. Five seconds after she did, a loud trill sounded and the magically amplified voice of Roger Davies resonated in the stadium.
"TRY-OUTS ARE OVER! GATHER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PITCH!"
Throwing a glance which was absolutely not sorry at the two aspirants Seekers who now were walked on levitating tenders to the Hospital Wing after their smash against the base of the stands, Alexandra lost altitude and descended from her broom near Morag in the middle of the pitch.
"I see your trial went better than mine." Smiled the red-haired Ravenclaw. "I only scored five goals in the free shots and none in the free-for all."
"Caught two Snitchs and sent two guys to the infirmary." Replied Alexandra, in a light tone. "Any idea what the others did?"
"I think Chang caught two too." Admitted Morag.
There was not a need to pursue the conversation.
Roger Davies descended from his broom in front of the assembled players to communicate them.
"All right! It was a nice session of try-outs, though I remind you it was only that: try-outs. Potter, making a Wronski Feint is authorised by the rules, but try not to send other players crashing next time. Or I will have to explain to Madam Pomfrey why so many of our players are in the infirmary."
Alexandra felt her face redden, as the crowd and the other players assembled laughed.
"Our new Chaser for the season is Jeremy Stretton, who marked ten out of ten free shots and scored five more goals in the free-for all. The Seeker will be Cho Chang, who caught three Snitchs in the time allowed."
Alexandra felt a point of disappointment, as the rather attractive third-year girl rose her hands in triumph. Still, there was nothing to say. She had been beaten fair and square. Once the acclamations for the two new players had lowered a bit, the Ravenclaw Captain continued.
"The reserve Chaser will be Raymond Bradley. For Second Keeper and Third Beater, Elliot Denald and Kurt Waltford. The Reserve Seeker will be Alexandra Potter. Next training for the titular team will be on Wednesday. The reserves will join us on Saturday afternoon. Thanks for your presence and your support!"
The last sentence did seem more to be addressed to the members of Ravenclaw House who had come in mass in the stands. Watching them for a moment as she left the pitch with Morag by her side, Alexandra estimated nearly three-quarters of Ravenclaw had come to see the try-outs, and there were many Hufflepuff and Gryffindor too present.
"Is it usual to have so many spectators for our try-outs?" She asked Morag.
"Not really, no." Replied the other girl, who seemed to have had the same reflexions, as her blue eyes were calculatingly evaluating the mass of cheering students. "But neither Gryffindor nor Slytherin have organised try-outs this year, so it is somewhat understandable."
"Well, now this over." Alexandra said with a relieved breath.
"Only if Chang manages to stay unharmed for each match of the season." Noted Morag. "Otherwise it's you who will be the Seeker."
"Oh come, on..." Alexandra's luck wasn't that bad. No?
7th December 1992, Hogwarts Scotland
At a time where most diurnal beings, and in particularly humans, were soundly asleep, quite a few magical entities would have manifested a fair amount of surprise at the lights illuminating the working office of the Senior DADA Professor.
The masculine portion would have insinuated the deplorable low amount of intelligence did not allow Professor Gilderoy Lockhart to remain awake long in the evenings. The feminine representatives would have exclaimed their teacher needed his beauty sleep.
Both sides were completely wrong.
Wearing a robe that was neither ostentatious nor remarkable, the wizard pretending to be the most incapable wand-wielder since immemorial times was drinking a cup of tea while reading the masterworks of the papers he had posed in the last week.
It had been a very amusing affair, and the burst of laughter grasping him at frequent intervals had forced him to pass this hobby once there was no one in this wing, the fun being not worth breaking his cover of shining buffoon.
Finishing his drink after a wonderful example of sarcasm and not-so veiled insults had brought tears to his eyes, the American spy thought how to answer this humorous piece of parchment. After mere seconds, the Defence teacher sighed to himself.
What was the risk after all? Once the marks would enter the student formal record, Gilderoy Lockhart intended to be very far from this castle. It was not like he had intended to return the papers with unacceptable grades...too many complaints from angry parents demanding explanations.
The blonde-haired wizard took the majestic quill taken from a grey-brown owl and wrote in bright red ink the final grade in the records for the second-years students.
Alexandra Potter-Outstanding.
9 September 1992, Black Cobra Manor, England
For a while, all the old woman felt was pain. Endless pain. Finally, the agony receded and her thoughts came back, one by one, scattered and dispersed.
"You are lucky to be alive, you know!" Growled the voice of the Healer she had personally hired to take care of her five years ago. "Practising such Dark Magic in your condition is asking for death!"
"I wanted...wanted..." The voice of the woman faltered, not managing to enounce more than a few words.
"You wanted to die? Because if it was what you wanted, I'm pleased to tell you you've perfectly achieved your goal." The Healer said, clearly in a bad mood.
"How...long?" The question came out like a croak.
"One month. Maybe two." Admitted the Healer. "Normally, your magic would have managed to heal most of the damage, but..." He didn't finish the sentence. His interlocutor knew very well why her body was in such a state, after all.
"Very well." The voice of the old woman came back with a bit of strength behind it this time. "I suppose I will have to make my preparations sooner than expected."
"Yes." Agreed the Healer. "And if you want to last that long, please refrain to practise anymore this kind of rituals. You will not survive another attempt!"
"I know." The woman said. "But I had to make the attempt. Toujours Pur."