Chapter 30

Mandrakes and Unpaid Debts

14 November 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland

"Okay. What the bloody hell do we do know?" Asked Morag, twirling some strands of her red hair around her finger.

"Language!" Chided Hermione.

"That doesn't mean she hasn't a point." Alexandra remarked, raising her head over the Charms essay she had just passed the last half-hour on.

"Of course, she has. One adult, one cat and two children petrified, and none of the teachers have the least idea who's responsible in the first place." Enounced Hermione. "I think it's time we change our strategy and properly investigate."

Hermione, Morag, Nigel and Alexandra were once more assembled in the room formerly belonging to the decades-defunct Fan-Club of the Tutshill Tornados. The tables and the chairs had been repaired, the dust thrown out of the room and most of the rusty wardrobes moved into another abandoned piece. The old-fashioned banners had been given to other Quidditch fanatics, replaced by new ones where two eagles and two lions were quartered to form a single banner. The windows had been cleaned and repaired, giving an excellent view on the frozen Black Lake. It was beginning to be a comfortable place for the headquarters of their group for sure. Although with the last events how many months they would be able to use it remained an excellent question.

"The problem," said Morag while massaging her forehead, "is that the situation hasn't changed that much from before the Quidditch match. We have still no idea how the attacker petrified Colin Creevey and Riley Frazer. We have no idea how much time he needs to plan an attack."

"It's true, but I think we can make certain assumptions." Replied Alexandra. "First, I think we can all agree the culprit is targeting people who according to the purity of blood ideology have no place at Hogwarts: squibs, Muggle-borns and students having insufficient magical ancestry."

It was no great feat of logic. Colin Creevey and Riley Frazer had been two of the most high-profile Muggle-borns in first-year, due to their unfortunate tendency to annoy everyone with their flash-stunning photos. Any person espousing the blood ideology would have put them at the top of his or her target list.

"Agreed." Hermione said vehemently. The librarian-in-chief of their group had become even more distrustful of any ideology sprouting blood-purity of late. And her Ravenclaw friends didn't blame her at all.

"Secondly, the attacker is taking great care to petrify his victims at places where no portrait, no door guardian or anything which could give the alert is present." Alexandra passed her left hand in her black hair. "Given the circumstances, it implies the person who is behind all this has an excellent knowledge of the castle and its security system."

"Yes, and the third point?"

"Whoever and however it is done, the attacks are terrifyingly quick." Affirmed Alexandra in a tone where no sarcasm or irony was present. "In both cases when the alarms sounded, there was a Professor present less than five minutes near the victims. And there was no evidence save the victims on the crime scene."

"Sure," Morag's visage was showing an expression best qualified as dubitative. "But beating Filch and Mrs Norris isn't exactly difficult if you know a bit of offensive magic. Creevey and Frazer were first-years, so they weren't exactly difficult to defeat either. An advanced first-year who knows a few curses could have neutralised them in short order."

The black-haired young witch wanted to open her mouth and contradicted her fellow Ravenclaw but found that she couldn't. The two Gryffindors had constantly their cameras around their necks or in position of photographing something. It would hardly require a Duellist Master to squash them. So far as the Potter Heiress knew, there was nothing which indicated the two Lions had even tried to grab their wands.

Mrs Norris was a cat, the main defence the animal had was the litany of detentions any attacker would receive after the caretaker threatened them with torture sessions. Last and least, certifiable rumours had confirmed Filch was indeed a squib. A simple Petrificus Totalus was able to petrify him for hours; and no, Alexandra really didn't want to know how the Weasley Twins had made this discovery.

"So we are back to phase one?" Asked rhetorically Nigel with a glum face...

Alexandra was forced to nod positively. With most of the Professors fleeing in the other direction when anyone asked something which might be related to the Chamber of Secrets - Binns was the exception, as the ghost still refused its existence with all the strength of his ghostly spirit - any breakthrough was nearly impossible to accomplish.

"Yes...and no." Affirmed Morag pensively. "I may have obtained a few clues from the gossips."

"Do tell!" Ordered Hermione immediately, confirming unwillingly the bushy-haired girl had much in common with Lavender Brown the Gossips' Queen than she wanted to admit.

"Professor Sprout intends to use a good part of the Mandrake leaves to cure the petrifaction of Frazer and the others."

"I knew that." Huffed Hermione, apparently disappointed to have learnt nothing new to indulge her curiosity.

"Ah, but did you know this year Professor Sprout bought a lot of no less than fifty mandrakes? Unlike the other years where she bought one or two per semester at most?"

Alexandra suddenly became pale and she wasn't the only one. Nigel's visage had also become livid. Only Hermione was fixing Morag with what seemed to be incomprehension.

"I don't understand..."

"What Morag seems to imply," Said Alexandra in a dark tone. "Is that the powers-that-be at Hogwarts knew that for one reason or another they would need a lot of Mandrakes this year. In other words that they knew the attacks were going to happen beforehand."

"That's insane!" Exclaimed Hermione.

"So is Hogwarts in general." Sighed Alexandra. "I suppose you have reliable sources to support this...extravagant theory?" She asked directly to Morag.

"Yes." Affirmed the red-haired Ravenclaw. "While House MacDougal doesn't make business with House Selwyn - they're the leaders in the market of the Potions ingredients," she added when Alexandra raised an eyebrow, "we are allied with House Slughorn who are their main competitors and monitor their main commands. And in August, Hogwarts passed an order to House Selwyn of fifty Mandrakes for their greenhouses."

"It might still be a complete coincidence." Grumbled Hermione Granger, passing her nerves on her poor owl quill. The writing instrument wasn't going to work well after such a treatment.

"Perhaps or perhaps not." Try as she might, the Potter Heiress didn't see anything in their courses which might require this expenditure. They had studied the Mandrakes in Herbology, and the Potions from first to seventh year using them required one or two leaves. A plant or two was explainable. A lot of fifty was not. "Professor Sprout told us several times this year and the last the greenhouse earns money for the school. Not only that, but it supplies freely around one-thirds of all the Potions supplies for an entire year. There are some seeds they need to command because of the novelties and the regulations, but that's all. How much is worth a Mandrake apiece? "

"At the price of the market, my parents told me it was around twenty-seven Galleons each." Replied the MacDougal Heiress, reading the information on a parchment looking like a familial letter.

Fifty Mandrakes by twenty-seven gave a total purchase of one thousand three hundred and fifty Galleons. A rapid mental calculus and the last free member of House Potter arrived to the impressive number of twenty-five thousand six hundred and fifty pounds. Watching the bushy-haired Gryffindor, the green-eyed witch knew she had arrived to the same result.

"Still believe it's a coincidence, Hermione?"

"Err..." The huge sum left for an instant the Gryffindor girl speechless.

"No, it's not a coincidence, Alexandra." Told Nigel in a voice which was different from his usual timid one. "And there's another thing you've not noticed. We are speaking about how mature Mandrakes are needed to bring back the petrified victims back to normal, right?

"Yes..." She said, not realising where Nigel wanted to go to.

"Then why aren't Professor Dumbledore and the teachers buying mature ones immediately? The potion to brew can't be that difficult for a Potions Master like Snape, isn't it? One month at worst, and the professors know who has attacked the students. The only reason why they wouldn't do it is... "

"They already know who is responsible for the attacks...or at least they have a strong suspicion." Finished Hermione in a weak voice.

For a moment, everyone around the table looked at each other, trying to digest the implications of that news. Finally, Alexandra chose to break the silence.

"You could be right, Nigel. On the other hand, ordering non-mature Mandrakes in August and not buying mature ones don't require a massive Professor conspiracy to exist."

"In that case why are the Professors not talking to us?"

"Because the Vows they took when they were hired prevent them to talk to us about such matters." Revealed Morag. "There's no need to be a massive conspiracy inside Hogwarts. You only need one person to do all this."

"The one who's sitting in the Headmaster seat?" Asked Nigel, with a resignation suggesting he knew already the answer.

"Yep. The one sitting in the Headmaster's seat when he's not busy running to the Wizengamot and the ICW meetings." The presence of Dumbledore at Hogwarts had not increased since last year. If anything, it seemed to have slightly decreased. Unsurprisingly, doing three jobs at the same time was time-consuming.

There was a new moment where no one dared speaking, Alexandra finishing her Charms homework, Hermione her Astronomy chart and Nigel working with Morag on Potions preparations. This time it was Morag who raised her head to start anew the conversation.

"Well at least we have a clue. To know Mandrakes cure the victims, there must have been an incident at Hogwarts in the past."

"Yes, but Hogwarts is a thousand years old." Complained Hermione.

"No need to go back that far." Said Morag, playing absently with her hair strands. "It must have happened while Dumbledore was present. But I'm not sure if he was student or Professor when it happened."

"Only a hundred years or so of Daily Prophet archives to search. Joy." Sarcastically commented Alexandra. "Oh, no need to make me the big eyes, Morag. I'll do it." The MacDougal Heiress had indeed begun to glance suggestively at her. "But it's going to take me a good time to find what we search. Assuming we're right, it could have happened anytime between the 1880s and the 1980s."

"Okay. In the mean time, I will search any artefact, spell or monster having the capacity to petrify its victims." Assured Hermione. "That's pretty...vague, when you think of it."

"Do what you can, Hermione. In any cases, if the Heir continues on the same attack schedule, there are going to be more victims before we manage to the clues we need."

"By Merlin I hope not." Whispered Morag. Louder, she added: "Have you seen how Hogwarts students react?"

The four second-years all grimaced as they ranged their essays, ink, quills and parchments. The attacks on Creevey and Frazer had sounded the opening phase of a true atmosphere of fear at Hogwarts. Muggle-borns and Half-Bloods students were now only travelling in pack, seeking safety in numbers. The air abounded with horror tales and suspicions of who was behind the attacks. When the teachers were nowhere in sight, older students sold items and talismans supposed to protect the younger from evil influences. Nigel had considered buying some during a class break, before Morag and Alexandra convinced him that an evil-smelling onion, no matter how disgusting and dirty, was unlikely to deter a force which attacked adults and children indifferently.

In this less than perfect autumn, the winners were undoubtedly the Gryffindors. The Lions had won the Quidditch game against Slytherin and took as a result a good option on the Cup, but they had also obtained an alibi for their famed Seeker Neville Longbottom. When Creevey and Frazer were attacked, the Boy-Who-Lived was in the infirmary and unconscious, courtesy of the fraud Gilderoy Lockhart who had vanished all the bones of his left arm. The others members of the Golden Trio were under the eyes of the whole Gryffindor House during the party in their tower. Longbottom, Black and Weasley, unless they had the skill to be at two different places at the same time, were not responsible for this aggression. Why would they have attacked two of their minions willing to take their word as gold by the way?

As the Gryffindors were under the radar of suspicion in the short-term, the Ravens, the Badgers and the Lions were progressively rallying to the opinion of influential teenagers like the Weasley Twins, Lee Jordan and by a strange coincidence, Neville Longbottom. In their opinion, the pure-blood bigots were accomplices of the Heir of Slytherin; or at the very least tolerated him and hid him in their ranks. The attack on two Muggle-born first-years was pure revenge for Slytherin having lost the Quidditch match, a sign House Slytherin would stop at nothing to punish any who dared opposing them in public. The Gryffindor theories were frankly full of holes and played on a lot of prejudices. But it was working. Slytherin had never been a House which had a Light reputation in the last months or years, and now they had just been handed an ultimatum in good and due form.

Alexandra was sure it had been a hard and difficult decision. First choice, letting a band of idiots and blood-purists like Draco Malfoy fall in the hands of the mob led by the infamous Weasley terrors and the renowned Golden Trio. Five students, who by a strange coincidence, held an astonishing record of attacking, vilipending, pranking and insulting everything the Slytherins valued, believed and worked for. Boys who had made no secret the contempt they felt for the traditions and the culture the Snakes were ready to defend. Second choice, make common front and force the Gryffindors to come to them, an attack against a member of Slytherin House being an attack against all the inhabitants of the dungeons. What a terrible dilemma. If the members of Slytherin House had hesitated for more than thirty seconds, Alexandra would have been deeply astonished.

"Do you think the Heir will strike again during the next Quidditch match at the end of the month?" Asked Hermione as they left their meeting room and went in the direction of the library to give back the borrowed books they had taken earlier in the morning.

"Maybe." Said pensively Morag. "It depends on the safety measures the teachers will have put in place, I suppose."

"I have not seen any of them placing spells or wards to do that!" Said worriedly Nigel.

"Like Morag said," joked Alexandra. "Depends on the-"

MEEEEOOOOOWWWWW!

A big ginger cat raced out a corridor on the group's right and jumped in Hermione's arms.

"I wonder why you chose to buy this cat for Hermione." Said Morag with a faint smile at the corner of her lips. "It certainly was not for his obedience to orders."

"Hey, I told him to stay in the dormitories of the girls!" Exclaimed Hermione.

"I'm sure you did." Replied Morag. The unsaid sentence of the red-haired Ravenclaw was left in the open: Crookshanks did everything he wanted with his mistress.

Maybe the cats are the true masters of this world...thought with amusement the witch who had offered said 'present'. The smile didn't last as the appearance of the out-of-bounds half-Kneazle was revealed.

"Look at Crookshanks fur." Said Alexandra. The enormous gingerer half-Kneazle had several dark traces on his pelage, and was now purring in relief in the arms of his mistress.

"These are..."

"Marks of spell fire. Yes." Said Alexandra in a sinister tone. "Looks like someone-" she pronounced the last word with a good dose of fury, "-thought it was funny to attack a cat."

"But how did they do it? It is impossible for boys to come in the girls dorms!"

"A girl was involved?" For a boy belonging not renowned for his wits, Nigel sometimes had a gift to jump to the most likely option.

Loud shouts and screams in the distance interrupted what promised to be an interesting debate on the morals of the girls belonging to Gryffindor House.

"What are you going to do?" Asked Morag in a concerned voice, watching Alexandra draw her wand from her holster and give her school robes to Nigel.

"What I should have done from the start." The Potter Heiress replied. "The Lions have been left to their own devices and let free to do everything they want in Hogwarts by the Professors, and now the punishments of Snape aren't enough to stop them."

"You know they are going to be a lot of them, right?" Asked Nigel clearly concerned.

"Yes." Alexandra winced. "But they will always outnumber us, unless you think we can convince all Ravenclaw House to follow us?" Morag grimaced, but didn't answer drawing her wand in turn. It was not worth it. Alexandra's reputation might not be anywhere near the abyss it was in first-year, it was still a fairly dark one. The chances of any sizeable number of house mates following her were close to non-existent. Morag however chose to give her school bag to Nigel and followed her. Then with a silent goodbye to the two other members of their group, Morag and Alexandra rushed in the corridor Crookshanks had come from.

Hermione and Nigel couldn't go, and the two Ravenclaw girls knew it. If it had been Slytherins who had attacked Crookshanks, all would have been simpler. The possibility of some Snakes girls fighting their way through the Common Room in Gryffindor tower sadly was ridiculous in the extreme. Gryffindors were most likely responsible for the sounds of fighting Alexandra were hearing, and giving an opportunity to the most extreme elements of the Lions to expulse Hermione and Nigel from their ranks would be bad.

They were almost to the stairs leading to a section of the sixth floor, when they came face to face with the persons charged to mount guard. Before any word could be spoken, the students in front of them passed to the attack, confirmation that whatever was producing the screams and noises they heard, it was definitely not something approved by the chart of Hogwarts.

"Furnunculus! Furnunculus!" Screamed a Gryffindor Alexandra recognised as Seamus Finnigan. What got out of his wand, alas for him, was not the double standard Pimple Jinx but a small explosion which left a dark trace on the wall and damaged a painting of a monk emptying barrels of wine, forcing its occupant to a precipitated retreat.

"Expelliarmus! Petrificus Totalus! Incarcerous!"Countered Alexandra. The sandy-haired boy watched with stupefaction his wand being torn from his grasp, before taking the Body-Bind straight in the face, falling on his back and ropes coming from nowhere to bind him.

The other boy, to his side, who Alexandra recognised as Dean Thomas, was more intelligent and tried to escape after having cast a "Cantis!" which missed...only to take a well-adjusted Petrificus Totalus in the back from Morag.

"Nice spell chain." Smiled Morag, as Alexandra picked up the wands of their defeated opponents.

"I practise a lot." Bowed Alexandra in a manner Flitwick had taught her to insult the quality of the adversaries just proposed. "Now let's see what going on..."

Turning the last corner between them and the screams, the two Heiresses emerged in the middle of a battlefield. There was no other word to describe the situation. There were traces of spell damage on the wall, the columns, the paintings, the armours which were the norm near an access to the stairs were showing signs of having endured a magical storm. Two of the armours had pieces of metal sprawled across the floor.

But the worst part were the bodies. All were students bearing the emblem of House Slytherin, and all looked like they had been cursed with gay abandon.

"Greengrass, Zabini, Davies, Baddock, Crabbe and Higgs." Said Morag in a clear voice. Too loud a voice apparently, as the noises and the screams ceased. They had been heard.

Gregory Goyle was sprawled on the first marches, unconscious. Below them in the lower part of the stairs, they were about twenty-plus Gryffindors, from first to fifth-years students. Leading them was of course the Golden Trio...pointing their wands in turn towards two first-years who were none other than Astoria Greengrass and Lyre de Male-Foi. And of course the rest of the Gryffindor were encircling the great, the magnificent, the Blonde Prince Draco Malfoy himself. By the looks of it, the younger Greengrass girl had tried to protect her fellow first-year and took the brunt of a minimum of several dozen hexes and jinxes. The platinum hair of the pure-blood, usually perfect like those of her older sister, were cursed and scorched, she was bleeding profusely from the nose and one of her arm. And her efforts had been vain, because the youngest Malfoy was in a state nearly approaching her last protector. Several gashes were bleeding from her face and forearms. The first-year Slytherin had let her wand fall, and was now curled up on the corner, waiting for the beating to end.

They were in a better state than Draco Malfoy. The pampered pure-blood so prompt to cry 'wait until my father hears of this' was on his knees in the centre of the crowd with deep gashes and plenty of curses symptoms. His hair had been turned brown-red, his forehead and cheeks were covered in pustules. Judging by the attitude of the Lions, this had been just the beginning of the punishment.

"What in the name of Sauron do you think you're doing, Longbottom?" Asked Alexandra in a cold voice. "Are you aware of a little thing called Article Nine of the Hogwarts Charter?"

Honestly, the Ravenclaw doubted the scion of the Most noble and Ancient House did. The neutrality and apolitical stance the elite of the Wizarding World was supposed to respect in the prestigious school had been badly compromised in the last two decades.

"Ah, Potter, MacDougal. Nice to meet you too." Said a muscled boy with blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Leave and let us deal with these slimy snakes!" Snarled the too-infamous voice of Ronald Weasley. "No one wants you here, Dark Spawn!"

Alexandra contemplated a moment the scene, which had become deathly silent, punctuated only by the cries of pain coming from Draco Malfoy, Astoria Greengrass and Lyre de Male-Foi. The Lions in the lower part of the stairs showed no visible remorse for their actions, that much was limpid from their faces. All had diverse aggressive postures, with one or two still pointing their wands towards the three Slytherins, in spite of the fact they represented no danger anymore. They were not students or teenagers in a school quarrel. They were a crowd ready to beat down their enemies.

"So that's what the name Gryffindor has become synonym to." Alexandra told dejectedly. "A band of courageous warriors so proud of their nobility and courage they attack disarmed students with an advantage of ten against one. Godric Gryffindor must roll in his grave."

"Shut up!" Shouted a black-haired Gryffindor, whose name totally escaped the second-year witch. "We know your father was a Death Eater! You want to help your snaky friends? You want to take the Dark Mark as soon as you graduate?"

"I will pretend I have not just heard the last sentences you just spoke." Said Alexandra.

"Why, because I said the truth?" Said the Gryffindor, looking very pleased with himself.

"Because else I would challenge you to an Honour Duel on the spot." Declared the Potter Heiress in a very ugly grimace.

"But Honour Duels are..." Said a livid third-year.

"To the death, yes." Finished Morag. "But the accusation that a Noble Heiress belongs to a terrorist organisation whose obvious goals are pure-blood supremacy and mass extermination of the Muggles is largely grounds to call for one."

"No need to go that far!" Shouted Neville Longbottom, who had until now stayed silent but was obviously the leader of this raid as the whispers and back-talks stopped instantly.

"Go to the library or your Common Room and forget it ever took place. I call for the debt House Potter owes to Longbottom." His voice had taken the authority and the persuasion of a high-ranked politician or administrator with a mellowing tone for good measure, and for a second Alexandra admitted Neville Longbottom knew how the game was played, though it raised an interesting question how he wasn't a member of House Slytherin.

"No."

"What, no?" Said with incredulity Longbottom. "House Potter..."

"...owes something to House Longbottom for the treason of Lord James Potter, I perfectly agree. But as Heiress of the Most Ancient House of Potter, I have the duty and the liberty to choose the time and place to repay this debt." Alexandra looked with disdain to the gathered Gryffindors. "Helping the soon-to-be Lord of House Longbottom and his band of joyous bullies to escape the consequences of their own actions when they brutalised two young girls is not how I will do it. I want to be able to see myself in a mirror tomorrow, thank you very much."

"You will not get away with this." Snarled the Boy-Who-Lived, all pleasantry evaporated from his face.

"Unless you manage to convince two-thirds of the Wizengamot of the contrary, I am going to get away with this." Affirmed Alexandra in a low tone she ended by a smirk. "Unless you think Lord Malfoy, Lord Greengrass, Lady Zabini and a few others are going to thanks you when they learn you have deliberately attacked their Heirs and Heiresses?"

Saying this had an interesting effect on the group of Gryffindors behind the Boy-Who-Lived. Three or four suddenly looked very hesitant, including Lavender Brown and a few other girls, as if they ultimately realised how far they had overstepped the limits...and how disastrous the political consequences were going to be. The others, largely the boys, tightened their fists around their wands and looked at her with expression of fury and hate. Like Brown, Dunbar and Holmes, they realised their acts were pretty damning but unlike the girls, they had arrived to the reasoning that if they were going to be punished, there was absolutely no reason to add two lone Ravenclaw to the list of casualties.

Typically, it was Ron Weasley who sounded the beginning of the carnage.

"Veru Limax!"

"Ventus!"

"Cantis!"

"Tarentellagra!"

"Ebublio!"

"Langlock!"

"Tempestas! Melofors!"

"Flipendo! Flipendo!

"Vermillious! Rictusempra!"

It went without saying neither Morag nor Alexandra stayed in place to take the torrent of spells rushing like an avalanche towards them. Alexandra casted an "Expelliarmus Tria!" as with the sheer mass of bodies downstairs, it was impossible to miss hitting someone and Morag added to her efforts a "Chiroptera Nauseam!" who struck Leo Black head-on and his bogeys turned into nasty green bats which crawled out of his nose. Berk.

The mass exchange of spells continued for half a minute. With the two Ravenclaw Heiresses occupying the high ground and only a single stair to reach them, the Gryffindors faced a very disadvantageous tactical situation. They did not made it better by rushing like bulls without coordination, or by standing where they were, dismissing evasion and dodging as beneath them. Two older students were holding blue, circular-shaped magical shields which protected them from the hexes, jinxes and charms Alexandra sent them, but it was not invincible, as Morag shattering the shields with a blue explosion when she casted "Expulso!" and sending them unconscious against a wall proved it.

That was not to say Morag and Alexandra were holding well against the onslaught. Despite having sent six or seven students out of the fight for the time being, they were still a dozen or so Lions sending a barrage of spells against them, and it was sadly evident their organisation was far more experienced than the one Alexandra had with Morag. The opposition was not Ravenclaws who passed their free time in the library on the other side this time. These were Gryffindors, a House whose tendency to draw their wands first and think of the problems it caused later. To make the matters worse, they knew an impressive array of spells, both conventional and non-conventional. Alexandra prided herself into knowing more than one hundred and forty offensive curses, jinxes and hexes to fight in a school battle like this one, but some of the ray of lights, the ball of fires, ice and thunder which she was targeted with, she had never heard or seen them before. Morag took a wound in her wand arm when the splinters of the railings exploded inches away from her, and Alexandra nearly took a sort of white beam which erupted mere seconds after in ice shards. An instant later, she felt a violent pain in her right arm. Launching her most powerful spells in close succession became increasingly taxing, and Alexandra felt she was moments away from collapsing when the spell inferno from downstairs stopped.

Approaching the now severely bombarded balustrade, Alexandra glanced below and the reason of the fight ending became obvious. Professor Snape was there, flanked by Marcus Flint and Graham Montague. In all her memories of over one year and a half, Alexandra couldn't remember having seen the Potions Master looking so enraged. Not even when Leo Black had called him "Snivellus" in front of the Great Hall. His black robes were not billowing this time, but the pure expression of murder and the dark aura which emanated from him felt like a wind of darkness and rage on Alexandra's skin. At the moment, he was looking at the dispersed Gryffindors like one regarded dragon dung under the boots. The Senior Potions Professor didn't speak one word, like he didn't trust himself what would leave his mouth when he would open it.

Helping Morag stand on her legs and walk, Alexandra put her wand on her holster and began her descent of the ruined stairs. Older Slytherin students were in the process of putting Draco Malfoy, Astoria Greengrass and Lyre de Male-Foi, all thankfully unconscious, on stretchers. Said hospital devices were levitated and went in the direction of the infirmary. Older students from Hufflepuff and Slytherin climbed the stairs to go help those who had been left unconscious there.

Once they had approached the Professor, Snape flickered his wand and the minor wounds on Morag and Alexandra began to heal and the pain went away. The two girls began to breathe easier and more regularly.

"Potter. MacDougal. Explain." The voice of Professor Snape was barely a murmur, but it was more than enough to understand a well of rage was just waiting to be unleashed.

Throwing a glance to Morag, Alexandra gulped and started to explain how they had heard Crookshanks fleeing and followed the sounds of battle to arrive there, pausing to wait Morag to confirm it, which the red-haired Ravenclaw did. Both omitted to say Hermione and Nigel had been with them, and Alexandra also 'forgot' to tell Longbottom had tried to make her go away using a political manoeuvre, but what was left of their report was more than enough to establish a first idea of the incident.

"Very well." Said Professor Snape, in a tone which seemed too calm to be real. "Fifty points each to Ravenclaw for protecting fellow students in danger, Miss MacDougal and Potter. And fifty points each for having the courage to stand up to a group of older and more numerous students."

"Miss Farley, escort these two girls to the infirmary. They suffer from magical exhaustion and I want Madam Pomfrey to examine them."

"Of course, Professor." Said a sixth-year Slytherin girl with a Prefect insignia and long brown hair and black eyes. "I will accompany them." She took three steps back, letting the magical stretchers carrying Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle pass, before giving a sign of the hand to the two second-years to follow her.

"Should not we go to the infirmary too?" Complained the older blonde-hair and blue-eyed Gryffindor of later, who was busy vomiting slugs on the floor. Weird, Alexandra didn't remember having launched the infamous 'Slug Vomit' curse.

"McLaggen." Thundered Professor Snape. "If you weren't such a dunderhead, you would shut. Your. Mouth. NOW!" The Potion Masters ended with a roar. McLaggen immediately shut his mouth for two seconds...before vomiting a new batch of slugs on the floor.

"I am going to go directly to the Headmaster asking for your expulsion, all of you!" He continued in a tone which was so furious it could have frozen Hell over.

"Now let's begin. A thousand points from Gryffindor for a vicious and unprovoked attack on fellow students, detentions until the end of the year for all of you..."

"Maybe this will teach them a lesson." Said the Slytherin Prefect in a satisfied tone, as their little group marched in the direction of the infirmary.

"No, it won't." Replied Morag in a sad tone.

In the privacy of her mind, Alexandra agreed. Unless the Heir of Slytherin was found and all the Gryffindors having participated in the attack were expulsed, things had probably gone too far at Hogwarts. Maybe a bit of calm would be brought back. Maybe. But events had moved too close to full-scale warfare to avoid the problems.

What the castle needed was a man available to all the students and strictly impartial. The Leader of the Light Party, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, was not that man. The Professors, with one or two exceptions, were not these men and women, assuming they would be free to intervene. Much less as she wanted to assist to this, Alexandra wondered if these were the first stones announcing the imminent fall of an edifice.

15 November 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland

The sun had long set over the Forbidden Forest and the Scottish mountains. There were now only the small lights of the village of Hogsmeade in the distance visible from the Headmaster office. Inside the room, the only sources of lights came from the fire of the chimney, two candles, the silver instruments on the Headmaster's desk and the Phoenix Fawkes. It was giving a sort of solemn ambience, strangely appropriate considering the reasons of this meeting.

The four Head of Houses rarely met together with the Headmaster during a normal school year at Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore had obviously a very busy schedule, which could not be modified by every petty prank or minor disturbance. Once or twice a month, an issue required the Headmaster to meet with one of his main subordinates face-to-face. Sometimes to require some additional funding for their department. Other occasions included awful academic grades of a student, the need to demote a Prefect from his position or discussing possible Masteries and Apprenticeships for a promising teenager among others. Rarely, once per semester, it happened several Head of Houses were summoned at the same time to an exceptional meeting in private with the Headmaster of Hogwarts. But these meetings were just that: exceptional. Barring extraordinary circumstances, the only gatherings the Heads of House Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw officially discussed their grievances and supports together were at the beginning and end of the year in sessions which were planned long in advance. Otherwise, each of the four Senior Professors had in general very good latitude to deal with any problems which might arise in a building concentrating four hundred-plus children, teenager and young adults.

The issue, no matter what each of the participants was prepared to admit outside this room, was that these 'extraordinary' meetings had skyrocketed so much in frequency these last two years they were in the process of becoming a regular event. It wouldn't have bothered so much Filius Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw, former Duellist Champion and Charm Master, if the Headmaster was just willing to offer them sorbet lemons, tea and scones. Alas, the convocations were in each case to speak of events Filius Flitwick felt they should never have had to cope with in the first place. Placing an obstacle course and diverse traps in an entire wing of the castle came to mind. The hostilities occurring after each Quidditch match, the week-long prank wars causing bitter feuds between the Houses. This disturbing business with the Chamber of Secrets and the Heir of Slytherin was not far behind. And now Gryffindors taking upon themselves to impose their own rules over the rest of the students' population. Speaking of which...

"And Miss Greengrass will need to pass the next two weeks in the infirmary." Finished Professor Sprout. "Thankfully, she was not subjected to the same curses as Mister Higgs, who will need to stay a bit at Saint Mungo's. Poppy has done her best, but the number of students wounded and hurt in this whole incident has just emptied half of her available curative potions."

The jovial Head of House Hufflepuff had been asked to gather all the evidence about the attack of yesterday. This was not because she was a gifted investigator, but rather because with no Hufflepuffs involved in what promised to be from the very beginning a thorn in Hogwarts Professors backsides, she was the closest thing the four Head of Houses had of an impartial member.

"And your opinion on the punishments?" Asked Albus Dumbledore in the grandfather voice Filius Flitwick and the three others knew so well.

"Immediate expulsion for all the Gryffindors involved." Affirmed Professor Sprout.

"Surely we can find a less radical outcome." Protested Dumbledore, grandfather voice still present, though the coldness in his eyes was growing. "I'm sure this was all a misunderstanding-"

"Damn it Albus!" Filius Flitwick could not stop bursting in anger." This is not a misunderstanding or a prank gone too far this time! Young Mr Longbottom and his friends have ambushed a group of Slytherins, and when the students of my House arrived on the scene they were busy beating one disarmed second-year for fun! I dread to think what would have happened if they were left to their own devices!"

"I'm sure..." Dumbledore had not the time to finish, as it was Severus Snape of all people who interrupted the venerable Chief Warlock.

"Filius is right, Albus. I may not like all the pranks a lot of students do on a weekly basis -" an understatement if there was ever one, "- but I understand if one or two teenagers want to colour the hair of a fellow student differently or making him singing a funny hymn. This however, was no prank. I had half of the Wizengamot Lords screaming at me by the Floo network so bad I had to disable my fireplace, I received Howlers by handfuls, and I have half of my students in the dungeons plotting their counter-strike against the Gryffindors. I had to confiscate temporary a lot of their supplies and heirlooms today to avert a catastrophic retaliation, but I'm afraid that if we don't take serious measures, this is going to get out of our hands." A note was present in Snape's voice which had never been before. Something which strangely sounded like fear or anxiety.

Filius Flitwick felt suddenly very grateful he wasn't in this Den of Vipers or charged to keep an eye on the Snakes. The Charms Master was really not sure he would be able to accomplish the task without hexing his way through their Common Room. On the other hand, Severus Snape had a point. Several very good ones, in fact. With so many children of powerful member of the Wizengamot involved, the political crisis which had just been created was a shit storm of unimaginable proportions. The Dark Houses were going to scream murder and demand the expulsion of the culprits. The Light Houses were going to protect the members of their families involved in this mess. Merlin and Morgana only knew the side the Neutral Houses were going to jump into, though the attack on the Zabini Heir was a very bad indication how...less than optimal the situation could develop.

"I am going to formulate an answer." Said Dumbledore in a tone tolerating no discussion. "I will communicate it to you when it will be ready. Is there more to discuss?"

"Yes, Albus." Said Pomona Spout. "I know that Gilderoy and Filius wanted to reopen the Duelling Club, but given the circumstances I don't feel it will be prudent."

"I approve." Said Flitwick, although his heart ached in pain at the fact once more time he was forced by internal violence to remise in the luggage his Duelling Projects. Britain had become a joke in the last years on both the teenager and adult Duelling Circuit, and it looked like the renewal would not be anytime soon.

"Very well." Approved Dumbledore a bit too quickly. "The Duelling Club is cancelled."

"And what about the Heir of Slytherin?" Asked Snape. "Have we any idea who is behind this?"

"Alas, there has been no further information since what I shared with all of you on Halloween." Sighed Dumbledore in a pained expression Filius knew enough to know it was not a genuine one.

Minutes passed, and soon the Heads of Houses left the office hidden behind the large gargoyle. Three of the participants did not miss to note that of all the Professors presents, only one of them had not spoken a single word to contradict the Headmaster.

House loyalty indeed, thought Filius Flitwick. The failure of Minerva McGonagall to control her House was looking each day more evident.