Author's note: At last, the final chapter of year two. The Battle of the Chamber of Secrets and its consequences are progressively dying down and summer holidays are coming. Now more links if you want to support this story.
On P a treon: ww w. p a treon.c om Antony444
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And now let's end this arc of Alexandra Potter adventures, the blood of Basilisk and Slytherin has been shed, but new threats are waiting in the shadows...
Chapter 43
Second Year Ends
If there is one thing which you can rely on at Hogwarts, it is that any event involving more than two witches inside these walls will be known everyone by the time of dinner. There are ways to prevent this, namely Oaths, Memory Charms, and judicious blackmail, but they rarely prove sufficient against the extraordinary power of the Rumour Mill...
Extract from the Fall of Slytherin's Heir, Chapter 2, by Gilderoy Lockhart.
8 May 1993, Hogwarts, Scotland
Unlike the recent meetings, this one was not in full committee and certainly not happening in their study room. The abandoned classroom had been chosen at random, the two portraits of the place had been covered by black drapes, various privacy charms had been cast, and the only sources of light were provided by their wands.
It was possible their paranoia was a little excessive, but then some of the subjects they had discussed would have been of major interest to the Headmaster and his staff...and provided a huge amount of blackmail as well.
"Are you sure?" Alexandra whispered. The information Morag had found was difficult to believe.
"I am. There are not many organisations in Britain today keeping weapons on their sigil. Two black curved swords crossed on a red field is the official sigil of the Shadow Blades Coven. There's no room for error."
"Of course, it is." The green-eyed witch had the urge to cast a few spells on the garbage at the end of the room to relieve her frustration, but it would go against their goal of secrecy. "After all, after the Basilisks, trolls, dragons and the like, it was only a matter of time before the vampires made their grand entrance."
The Potter Heiress sighed dramatically for her red-haired friend's benefit.
"Next Dumbledore will hire a werewolf and the casting will be complete."
Morag smirked at her sarcastic tirade.
"Given the anti-werewolf laws the Light passed two years ago, I don't think a werewolf could teach at Hogwarts, Alex. Apart from the fact a lot of them are just murderous beasts and have no teaching skills whatsoever, many Light-aligned Houses would scream in horror and the parents would withdraw their children before the week was over."
"Well, that's a relief." Of course, the fact Dumbledore couldn't hire a werewolf didn't mean he wouldn't hire someone else who would be far worse. According to the gossipers, Professor Kettleburn of Care of Magical Creatures was retiring in June and there were also two new DADA teachers to hire. That left plenty of room for a new disaster. "But let's go back to the vampires. You told me this coven was allied with Voldemort?"
Morag grimaced, though her revulsion at the name of the last and unlamented Dark Lord was attenuated. Knowing Alexandra had eliminated a sixteen-year old version of this madman had helped.
"This isn't exactly that simple, Alex." The Heiress of House MacDougal glanced at the letter she had received from her parents. "The Shadow Blades vampires fought against the Ministry in the late seventies, but we don't know if they were really 'allied' with...the Dark Lord. Co-Belligerents may the best term to describe them."
"That's...not exactly encouraging, Morag."
The Ravenclaw pureblood nodded thoughtfully.
"You're right. It isn't. But then remember that of the six covens which existed in Britain before the war, five chose to fight against the Bagnold government and one for sure rallied to You-Know-Who fully."
"I suppose they had their reasons." The 'anti-creature laws' in Britain were ten times more severe than the ones existing on the other side of the Channel. Certain beings which were considered citizens in Magical France could be hunted for sport in England.
"Yes, they had." The Irish witch confirmed. "Now there are only two left, the Shadow Blades – they have absorbed the survivors of the four other covens – and the Soul Drinkers. The latter are the most powerful and have stayed completely neutral in the last decades."
There was no need to ask why the covens were gone. The Ministry might be willing to be paid in gold by the wealthy pure-bloods when the Dark Lord was defeated, but vampires were not authorised to bribe their way out of prison.
"What did it mean for the Shadow Blades?"
"Their most powerful Lord is currently imprisoned in Azkaban – I think he was arrested by Professor Dumbledore - and the anti-vampire laws have gotten less and less tolerant under the Fudge administration."
"Fudge is an idiot." Before this year, Alexandra would have been far more respectful, but she had seen the Minister of Magic in the last months. The man could give her all the awards he wanted, her opinion of this moron wouldn't change. Despite being twelve years old, she was fairly sure she would do a better job than him ruling the Ministry of Britain. This was not because she was competent, just because the bar was so easy to beat. "The question remains why a Gryffindor formerly associated with the Order of the Phoenix would work with them."
Albus Dumbledore had many faults but Alexandra really didn't think Peter Pettigrew actions would have been authorised by the man. Using the Killing Curse was not exactly Light spell-work, and associating with the 'Dark Creatures' was even less so.
"He's an Animagus," murmured her friend. "Animagus servants are really prized by vampires...an issue with how their blood changes when they first transform into an animal and their subterfuge skills, I believe."
"That explains why they would accept him working for them." The raven-haired girl said in a tired tone. "Not why he would accept working for them."
Vampires had many supernatural abilities, but they had nothing like the Imperius and their aptitudes would not last an entire decade.
"We are definitely missing something...I will have to search for answers myself."
Morag looked at her with a very anxious expression.
"Oh, don't look at me like that. I just want to go to Godric's Hollow and investigate. I want to see the place where my parents lived anyway."
Morag smile's returned. "I can relax, then. You are not to assault a fortress on your own this time..."
"Very funny," she drawled. Yes, in hindsight her decision to go to Brise-Roc hadn't been exactly inspired but how was she supposed to know the Exchequer was going to blow up the fortress? "Now what it is this about the Morrigan?"
Morag went deadly serious.
"You remember that book from a French admirer you gave me yesterday?"
"The one which was discussing a completely boring theory on Blood-Replenishing Potions?" The presents from her defeat of the Basilisk continued to arrive, though they were decreasing in numbers. Alexandra had offered several to her friends, but force was to admit she was going to have a large personal library by the time she celebrated her thirteenth birthday. This one had been in French however, and she hadn't yet learned the language.
"Yeah, that one." The book in question was seized out of the school bag and placed on a dusty table. "If you read it when there is no light...the content changes."
"Curious," but with magic, this was not exactly unexpected. Hogwarts library had books which could scream, sing, and try to slam on your head if you were sleeping next to them – and those were the least dangerous ones. "You think the one who sent it was aware of it?"
"Impossible to say...it was sent from France anonymously." That suggested a positive answer. Else the sender would have given his or her name. "I suppose it's best to stop our Lumos?"
Casting two 'Nox', the two Ravenclaws let their wands go dark and the room plunged into complete obscurity. Except it wasn't true obscurity. Under their eyes, the book changed. The title – which moments ago had been the Tri-arithmantic Secrets of the Blood-Replenishing Potions transformed in a whirlpool of silver and green magic. Seconds later, the new title on the cover was Secrets of the Dark Powers.
"That's a good trick," Alexandra observed impressed.
"Look at page twenty," was the reply from Morag. She obeyed and discovered the familiar figure of a being which at first glance looked like a majestic red-haired woman in a black robe and one raven on each shoulder.
This was just the first glance however. The painting reproduction was incredibly detailed and it was clear this was not the image of a human at all. The pointed ears, the eyes were not those of a human and she could almost see the aura of power surrounding her.
It was the Morrigan, Alexandra was sure of it.
And the text next to it confirmed it. Along with some of the suppositions she had made in the aftermath of the battle with the Basilisk.
"Goddess Morrigan of the Primary Aspect Death," Alexandra read the words trying to remain calm. "Dark Power of Battle and Tragedy, Bane of Heroes, Messenger of the Veil, the Raven Guardian, and Bringer of Tears and Lust," No way the person who had sent it didn't know how explosive this information was.
This was priceless information on the Old Powers of Magic. Oh yes, they were going to wisely use this work. So much information had disappeared from the annals of history once the Ministry had decided to forbid rituals and destroy everything of interest... it was extremely difficult to find the smallest clues about the Powers.
"Yes, that explains quite a few things." Like how on certain occasions she had survived while she should be by all rights dead. The Morrigan had protected her...although it raised more questions. Morag lighted her wand again and Alexandra imitated her. The book returned to its boring appearance.
"You don't seem very surprised," remarked the blue-eyed Ravenclaw.
"I killed people and the Morrigan thanked me for the deed, Morag." The Potter Heiress rolled her eyes. "Give me a little credit, I wasn't thinking the Goddess was a gentle and innocent power. But unless I have completely forgotten my family history, no Potter before me was Dark-aligned..."
Her ancestors had all been Light or without affiliation in century pasts if the records could be trusted. It left two possibilities: either the Potters had been secretly Dark Wizards all along, or someone had done a very powerful Dark Ritual on her to change her magic – and it had been done before she was one year old. Alexandra wasn't sure which explanation she preferred.
"At least you have a powerful deity on your side..."
"True, very true..."
13 May 1993, Hogwarts, Scotland
Lavender Brown was a Gossip Queen. Should she organise a vote in all four Houses of Hogwarts, Susan would be extremely surprised if a single student didn't know who she was and where her specialty laid.
The blonde-haired Gryffindor was not a genius student. Like a lot of her House, Lavender could not brew a Potion without causing some disaster – though the issue of having their Slytherin counterparts in the same room had never helped. Her performance in Charms and Astronomy was well below average, unless it had a rapport with hair-dressing or beauty treatments. She had had good marks under Professor Lockhart, but that fraud had just been interested in selling his false adventures and his perfect white teeth. Her performance in Herbology was not good since the pure-blood witch wasn't willing to dirty her well-manicured nails. History was a subject best avoided and in Transfiguration the friend of Parvati Patil was regularly failing to complete her magical assignments and other homework. When the exams of next week were completed, Susan knew Lavender would be somewhere between twenty-eight and thirty-five in the place rankings. Anything better would require the Heiress of the Noble House of Brown to study a bit before the last week. Merlin and Morgana forbid this tragedy.
But Lavender excelled in maintaining her own little information network. It must run in the family, Susan mused. Auntie Amelia had dozens of times in the last years come back home grumbling how Lady Brown was feeding countless rumours and dirty little secrets to journalists like Rita Skeeter and her 'journalist' friends. Lavender was following right in her mother's steps. If something had been uttered somewhere in the castle or its grounds before breakfast, odds were good Lavender would know it before the day's classes were over. And then it would be known in all four House Common Rooms before curfew.
Therefore the second-year girls met with Lavender regularly in one of the renovated tea rooms of the first floor. Hannah and she didn't go every day; that would be a clear sign of madness and when the Heir could attack, the sessions had stopped like the rest of the extra-curricular activities. But once every two weeks or so, the two Hufflepuffs went to participate in this 'gossip court'. That way you could stop the rumours painting you in a dark light before they ever began. Or creating new ones to make sure the people you didn't like were vilified by a large majority of the student body.
"...and my mother spoke with Lady Vane and Lady Pettus last week," said the Gossip Queen in the tone of a conspirator. It was not exactly convincing, as she didn't lower her voice for the little assembly listening to her. "The Department of Education has officially confirmed poor Professor Kettleburn is going to retire and they are interviewing applicants for the job."
"Who is the leading candidate for the position?" asked a fourth-year Ravenclaw girl.
"A woman named Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, she was one of the Care of Magical Creatures' teachers at Durmstrang two years ago," revealed Lavender.
Many boys and girls shivered at the Institute name. On British shores, Durmstrang had a not entirely underserved reputation for Dark Magic, brutality, unlimited ambition, and power. From her aunt, Susan knew this was just a reputation. The school was not producing Dark Wizards by the thousands – else the world would have been conquered long ago by hundreds of Dark Lords and Dark Ladies. But unlike Beauxbatons and several major schools of Europe, Durmstrang was the only one to advertise and boast of their Dark Arts curriculum.
"Did she study at Hogwarts?" Zacharias Smith asked. The underlying assumption in his voice was impossible to miss: if she did not, she had no place teaching them.
"She did," replied a tall Gryffindor sixth-year. "My cousin was with her in the sixties, Grubbly-Plank was a Hufflepuff." And one more victory for the House of the Badgers!
"It is not a done-deal," warned Parvati Patil as the Hufflepuffs like her in the group were smiling and whispering their approval. "Three other witches and four other wizards have contacted Professor Dumbledore and the Ministry."
"And there still are many days until June," intervened an anonymous student behind her. "There will be more."
"At least for this one we will have a competent teacher," remarked Fay Dunbar of Gryffindor. "We can't say the same thing for the other vacant positions..."
A groan emerged from multiple mouths at the same time. They all knew the class Fay was talking about. It was the bane of uncountable careers and had transformed what should be an important part of their education into one of the greatest jokes.
It was named Defence Against the Dark Arts...but it was more commonly known these days by the question 'How long will this Professor last?'. The betting pool of the Weasley Twins – although for this one they were in all likelihood the inheritors, not the creators – was incredibly popular and even their Head of House had put in a Galleon or two this year. Perhaps because Professor Sprout hated Lockhart, but still. For the record, no one had guessed what would happen to Professor Reed and it had severely darkened the mood for several days.
For Lockhart, it was Lee Jordan who had won the prize, finding both the date and the reason he would be thrown out of Hogwarts. Susan wished they had had more details, but unfortunately few students really knew the blonde-haired narcissist wizard in the end. And those who may have been in contact with him during the Heir incident weren't speaking...
"Maybe the two old Hit-Wizards will continue for another year?" suggested Marietta Edgecombe. "They're far better than Lockhart and Reed..."
"Everybody is better than Lockhart and Reed," commented someone and the students present laughed.
"They're better but Professor Dumbledore insisted they were only here as an interim measure," Lavender said, effortlessly regaining the control of the debate. "And I never heard one of them say they were going to be back in September."
Lavender shook her head in regret.
"No, I think the Headmaster managed to convince them to teach until the end of the year and their contract will end in June. They're intelligent" – the words 'unlike Lockhart' weren't said but everyone heard them nonetheless – "and they must know of the curse. When they depart, Professor Dumbledore will have no choice but to seek new candidates for the DADA positions."
And what a joy it was going to be. Susan's aunt had never made secret of the difficulties Hogwarts had to hire someone for this ill-reputed job. Sure, some managed to get out alive without fatal injuries – Lockhart had proved it was possible. But between the reputations ruined, the deaths, the crippling wounds, the career-ending incidents and the myriad of disasters, there were very few wizards and witches willing to apply for this post. Reed had been one of the three Junior Professor candidates this year and the two others had been revealed since then to be a smuggler of dangerous XXXX-class creatures and a Russian politician-in-exile respectively. That the young American fan-girl had been the best of the three was particularly heartbreaking.
And Lockhart had been the only person to want the Senior Professor DADA's title with the results they knew.
"Now, who do you think will be the new Senior Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts next year? The bets are opened!"
Many hands were instantly raised and Lavender watched her court for several seconds before picking a name.
"Cho?"
The Seeker of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team stood, and Susan felt a bit jealous about how many of the boys were watching her with rapture.
"We had two basilisks killed this year, so I will bet five Galleons we get a member of a Monster-Hunter Guild next year."
"We have already the Exiled Queen, Cho!" chuckled a Ravenclaw in the crowd.
"Fay?"
"We had a pretty but useless teacher this year. The next one will be competent but absolutely ugly. He will be a Dark Wizard of Durmstrang whose secret goal is to overthrow Professor Dumbledore."
Fay's prediction would have been completely crazy if it was another class, but stranger things had happened with DADA before...
1 June 1993, Hogwarts, Scotland
The Quidditch Cup was an enormous trophy. Silver in colour, it had four handles, each designed to look like the animals of the four Hogwarts Houses. Traditionally, it was kept in the office of the reigning champion's Head of House.
For the rest of the year 1993, it would stay in Professor Flitwick's office. The blue and bronze ribbons would probably be removed at one point or another, since they had been drenched in Butterbeer and other substances and weren't charmed, unlike the Cup, to remain pristine.
This wasn't the original Quidditch Cup of Hogwarts, of course. No, that venerable relic was in the Hall of Trophies. Every new decade, the ancient Quidditch Cup was gifted to the House which had won the greatest number of victories out of ten possible and was placed in a trophy repository a few steps away from their Common Room. A new cup took its place – the teachers remained really mysterious who was creating these silver pieces of art – and the game continued. Never had a Quidditch Cup been prevented from reaching its final conclusion in Hogwarts history and this year was no exception. Basilisk or no Basilisk, war or no war, the game must continue. And so it had.
Given the rules of ownership, the inscriptions on the silver surface were of incredible importance for the Quidditch fanatics of Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Gryffindor, and Ravenclaw. It was a reminiscent souvenir of glorious victories, endless partying, and the recompense of brutal training. Alas for the Badgers and the Lions, this decade's beginning wasn't exactly good for them. A quick glance could tell an ignorant observer why.
1989-1990: SLYTHERIN
1990-1991: SLYTHERIN
1991-1992: RAVENCLAW
1992-1993: RAVENCLAW
Two victories for the House of the Snakes and two for the Houses of the Ravens, this was the temporary result.
"Amazing sight, isn't it?" said the Ravenclaw Head of House. "Minerva was very upset this year she couldn't take it to her office."
"Well, she had the team to win the Cup this year," commented absently Alexandra. A little gasp of indignation mounted from Morag's throat but the raven-haired second-year ignored it. "Their bad luck was to play against Slytherin before their team imploded."
An implosion she might have a minor responsibility in, since it was a result of the entire Heir Conspiracy. Montague and Warrington suspended, Malfoy unable to catch a Golden Snitch to save his life, and an entire House with rocky morale had resulted in two humiliating defeats against Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, making Gryffindor's initial victory against the Snakes useless. Ravenclaw had crushed Slytherin 600-130 and during the last match Diggory had caught the Snitch, giving the Badgers their first victory of the year 210-190. Therefore, Gryffindor's victory yesterday against Ravenclaw had been too little too late.
The Lions had won 340-150 but Ravenclaw House had won the Cup largely. Gryffindor finished second, Hufflepuff at general's surprise taking third place, and House Slytherin relegated to dead last. According to the rumour mill, neither Snape nor McGonagall had been particularly pleased by the rankings of their House's teams.
"I quite agree with Miss Potter's judgement," affirmed Flitwick and Morag abandoned her contemplation of the Cup to throw a betrayed look at her Professor who chuckled lightly. "Ravenclaws must stay logical and objective, Miss MacDougal. I do not doubt the flying talents of my Ravens, but the academic priorities of my elder students are such that House Ravenclaw field, on an average year, less competitive teams than Gryffindor or Slytherin. Our principal triumphs usually come from exploiting their rivalries and maintaining a semi-official friendship with Hufflepuff." The half-goblin shrugged. "Under the circumstances, I am quite pleased to have the Quidditch Cup decorating my office for the next year and I hope the victories will continue since it is incredibly unlikely we will win the House Cup anytime soon."
Hermione gritted her teeth. Nigel held the quill in his hands like he was going to snap and break it in half at a moment's notice. Morag looked like someone, somewhere, was going to be her punching-ball and Alexandra grimaced. They had known any intervention against the 'Heir of Slytherin' would certainly cost them a lot of points, but no one had expected the Headmaster to give a thousand points to the Boy-Who-Lived and his friends...and the removal of one thousand points from the Ravenclaw counter had been a very unpleasant slap. House Slytherin had lost five thousand and some points – it had to be a new downfall record – and nothing Professor Snape could do would get them out last place this year. The Board of Governors' members were studying the complaints they had deposed, but for this year, the deed was done. Unless you were an idiot, you knew who was going to win the House Cup by a large margin and it wasn't Hufflepuff.
The only positive point was the realisation across the entire student body that the House Cup in its current form was a farce. Pranks and general rule-breaking had been on the rise for the last month and the teachers had been forced to assign countless detentions as the students no longer cared about gaining one or two points for their good conduct.
"But I did not invite you here to discuss of the Quidditch Cup," continued the Charms Master. "Your exam results were published last Friday and I wanted to have a meeting with your group as a whole since you all will be in Ravenclaw House next year."
The small retired Duelling Champion sized a large pile of folders under his desk and placed them on his right. Delicately, Flitwick placed the one which was on top of it – red-coloured with a large lion – in front of him.
"Let's begin with the formidable Miss Granger," Flitwick told them, rubbing his hands together. Hermione blushed heavily at the gentle remark.
"You have chosen for third year the Electives of Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes," it had been a long and arduous quest to convince Hermione not to take Divination and Muggle studies. Her bushy-haired friend could always take them in self-study later, a lot of Ravenclaws did it for their OWLS in order to gain bonus points. "And you are in third place for your year."
Hermione lowered her head, clearly disappointed. She had completely missed the practical exam of Herbology, lowering her total score by several points and letting Padma Patil claim the top spot.
"Your results are excellent overall, third in Transfiguration, second in Charms, second in Potions, seventh in DADA, fourth in History, third in Astronomy...and sixteenth in Herbology. There are a few points in practical magic you will have to correct, but this is well-done, Miss Granger. I will be happy to welcome you in Ravenclaw House next September."
"Thank you, Professor."
"Now let's speak of Miss Potter."
The green-eyed witch did her best to stay calm and not groan under the inquisitive gaze of her Head of House.
"Your electives for next year will be Arithmancy and Ancient Runes." Alexandra nodded. There had been older students who had advised her to take Care of Magical Creatures too, but Kettleburn's departure was not filling her with delight, since the new Professor would be a totally unknown quantity. And the homework load was also going to increase severely. Adding one session per week with the reserve of Quidditch, she was going to be busy.
Besides, she had already seen enough XXXXX-class creatures for a lifetime.
"Second place again this year, and if you had not practically insulted Cuthbert's methods and reasoning in your History essay, you would have taken the first place." Ah yes, this 'exam'...
"Respectfully, Professor, I don't know why there still is a History class. Binns is drooling about goblin rebellions the wizards supposedly won while we both know they did nothing of the sort. We know nothing about current frontiers, politics, recent modern conflicts, or the like. If we want to know the world we live in, it is by self-study and nothing else."
"And you lost the bet that Binns was unable to correct the exam copies he was handed," laughed Morag.
"And I lost the bet," the Potter Heiress agreed.
"Cuthbert Binns has a team of House Elves to directly interact with the exams and everything else," revealed Flitwick with a thin smile. "But I can agree, success or not in this History class will not define your career. The OWL of History is not recognised at the ICW-level unlike Charms, Potions, or Transfiguration."
The expression of their Head of House turned a bit more serious.
"So long as you remain serious on the other subjects, the congratulations will continue. You are second in transfiguration, first in Charms, fifth in Potions, second in DADA, fifth in Herbology, eighth in Astronomy...and twentieth in History. Your mother would be proud of you."
"Thank you, Professor." She was well aware her attempts to stop blushing failed miserably.
"Now for Miss MacDougal...your electives are Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies, you are in fifth place overall and you would not have Miss Bones before you if you had kept your nerves in the Astronomy practical exam."
"I was next to Ron Weasley and he insulted the honour of Ravenclaw, Professor." Really, Morag would be excellent in a political career. Her visage right now was an expression of offended virtue.
"Hmm..." Flitwick's frown told the four students the Charms Master was not accepting Morag's explanation readily. Well, technically he had good reasons since the loud-mouthed idiot had insulted the Exiled, not Ravenclaw, but it was the principle of the thing, no? "Honour or not, a telescope is not a mace, Miss MacDougal. Please remember it for next time."
"Yes, Professor. And as a totally unrelated subject, Professor, I want to know why the Gryffindors did not purchase the Weasley threat a new wand when it was evident he had shattered it at the beginning of the year."
This time both adult and children exchanged sombre looks. They had known there was something wrong with Ron Weasley's wand but a superficial Mending Charm had given it the outward appearance of a functional focus during most of second year. They could all have died either in the Chamber of Secret or in a classroom thanks to this broken piece of wood...
"I will make some inquiries," promised Flitwick, his shifting posture telling them he did not expect much to happen. The Weasley boys were viewed as heroes by many teachers and their own House right now...accusing Ron Weasley on this very issue would not be a short and tame investigation and he had new wand now. "Now let's return to Miss MacDougal. Apart from Astronomy where you took the thirtieth place, the grades you obtained are excellent: fourth in Transfiguration, fifth in Charms, eighth in Potions, sixth in DADA, seventh in Herbology and second in History. Continue the good work and don't smash more telescopes."
"Of course, Professor," Since the new star-gazing object was more decorated and expensive than the previous one, maybe Morag had no intention to destroy it, though the reverse might also be true.
"And now Mister Wolpert, you are improving at an incredible rate! The Electives you chose are Care of Magical Creatures and Divination and you are taking the seventeenth place. If not for this Potions exam, I think you would have performed even better."
Nigel nodded with a piteous expression. Potions had been and stayed his glaring weakness. The proximity with Slytherins who enjoyed sabotaging him and Gryffindors who wanted to do nothing with him had not improved his grades, but there was no denying Potions was his huge weak point. Even Transfiguration, his second-least favourite subject, was not so bad when compared to Potions.
"You are twenty-fifth in Transfiguration, thirteenth in Charms, fortieth in Potions, a remarkable fifth in DADA, twelfth in Herbology, eleventh in Astronomy and fifteenth in History. You are in neat progress and Ravenclaw will be happy to welcome you into its ranks next year."
"Thanks Professor!"
"Now I understood you had some other concerns?"
"Yes," answered Hermione for all the Exiled. "We have a complete report on what the Heir and his supporters were up to this year..."
5 June 1993, Hogwarts Express
For a year which had started in an explosive fashion – the episode of the Flying Car had definitely entered the school's legend – and seen a grand battle with two Basilisks at its climax, the school year of 1992-1993 ended rather calmly.
The exams results had been published save for the OWLS and NEWTS of the older students, the Quidditch Cup had gone to Ravenclaw and the House Cup went to Gryffindor. The Exiled study room was tidied up and locked until next September. Old clothes were discarded as the boys and girls had outgrown them. Cats and the entire menagerie owned by the wizards were pursued all across Hogwarts to come back home. Owls like Atalanta flew southwards in large groups the last evenings, their stay in Scotland ended for a few months.
The last days were spent under a warm sun and hot temperatures. The sky was cloudless half of the time and Alexandra and her friends had enjoyed their time on the grass around the lake with hundreds of students. The Weasley Twins of course had profited from the occasion to play with the diverse creatures of the Black Lake and throwing water around like the true pranksters they were.
It was a calm end after the madness which had reigned before, and Alexandra found she rather liked the peace. She had no magical guardian anymore and it was not likely it would change soon: the goblins had buried the Ministry under tons of paperwork and deciding a guardianship for a young Heiress was not a big priority anymore for Fudge and his administration. If only Hogwarts could be like this more often. Funny tricks of magic to learn, no nasty prank wars, no bullying, and they were able to spend most of their time outdoors.
This was just a few days, though. The trunks were packed - at the great consternation of Crookshanks who had loved using Hermione's to take some naps – the Sorting Feast was celebrated – nobody except Gryffindors took great attention to the results of the House Cup – and Lockhart books received disturbing fates under the approving visages of the teaching staff. The homework for the summer had been given, the remaining Potion ingredients were destroyed or stashed away and one by one they descended the great marble stairs.
A short travel in a Thestral-drawn carriage and they arrived to the Hogwarts Express. The two former Gryffindors and the two Ravenclaws said goodbye to Lyre here: the Slytherin member of the Exiled was going to spend the summer "at my dear cousin Draco's Manor" per her own words pronounced in a dark, humorous tone. With her father still in a coma and the French cousins in turmoil, Lyre de Male-Foi was staying on the British Isles. Or wherever the Malfoys were travelling; apparently there was a holiday planned somewhere in the Caribbean Sea.
Not that the blonde-haired pureblood was the only one going elsewhere. Hermione's parents had organised something in Spain for their only daughter.
Morag and Nigel on the other hand were staying at home for the next weeks. For the auburn-haired boy, it was a relief, because his grandfather was going to see old friends in Hungary or somewhere in the vicinity. Nigel would enjoy a month with his father, but he would have to learn to cook because none of the members of the Wolpert family could use a kitchen to save their lives. Alexandra and Morag gave him a few tips; Hermione abstained as her performance with food unfortunately was abysmal.
The hours of passed fast in conversation for the holidays, completely immature ways for Alexandra to spend the money she had gained by slaying the Basilisks, conspiracies to regain first place from Padma Patil and a thunderous visit from Fred and George – unless it was George and Fred? – to acclaim their 'favourite Dark Lady'. Percy Weasley was in a kissing session with Penelope Clearwater and it was decided to leave the two Prefects alone. Nigel and Morag had hoped to convince Luna Lovegood to sit with them, but the first-year Ravenclaw had apparently decided there was a 'nargle invasion' near the end of the train and that the 'heliopaths masterminds were afraid of the Rule of One'.
Yeah, neither Alexandra nor the three other students had understood at all what she was trying to say. Luna was an enigma and would stay that way for the future. At least she had promised to contact her father when they had asked for help in creating a school newspaper.
They abandoned the wilderness of the British countryside for the great towns and within an hour they were at King's Cross. They abandoned their compartment and let the Charms they had cast collapse on their own.
The crowd on the quay was properly infernal and Alexandra rapidly lost view of Nigel and Morag as they weren't marching towards the magical barrier. And after the crossing into the non-magical world, the last of her friends went with her parents.
There was only a little problem.
The Dursleys weren't there.
Cursing under her breath, Alexandra waited for a few minutes but no trace of her walrus of uncle or her elephant-large cousin. Damn it, she had sent Atalanta a month ago to tell them the date of her return! They had not answered directly of course – last year too they had refused to reply to something as unnatural and 'freakish' as a snow owl – but Atalanta had given them her letter. The green-eyed witch waited half an hour, but it was a lost cause.
Well, that was inconvenient but that was not going to stop her. Marching to a less crowded part of the train station, Alexandra hid behind a pillar and teleported away. She had the licence, right? The Ministry officials had never been exactly straight if they could track her like this and this was the best opportunity to verify it. That way, she had an excuse and her precautions were largely sufficient for her not to break the Statute of Secrecy.
Compared to trunks holding far too much in a magical fashion and big owls, disappearing once hidden was no big deal really.
She was getting more powerful, that was for sure. Last year, this travel to Privet Drive would have taken her a dozen teleportation – or Apparition as the wizards were so fond of calling it - jumps. Today, she only needed two and she didn't feel any exhaustion when she landed in front of the abandoned house where she had hidden some of her possessions. Not that they would stay there eternally. Once she went to MacDougal Manor, the affairs would be evacuated in short order to Ireland.
Her trunk was dissimulated and she gave a few owl treats to Atalanta before walking to the Dursley's home. For their sake, she hoped the explanations were going to be convincing. It wasn't like these sad excuses for relatives had a lot of duties towards her with Alexandra at Hogwarts nine months out of twelve.
"What in the name of the Basilisk..." The Ravenclaw girl muttered when she saw the fourth of Privet Drive.
The Dursley's home was completely closed and the garden was in a state which should have given Petunia a heart attack had she been aware of it. Another large clue was the huge sign with 'ON SALE' in bright red letters giving the phone number of an estate agency.
Wow, they had moved to another house without bothering to inform her?
She was nearly before the door when she realised there was someone observing on the other side of the street. She turned around and discovered Piers Polkiss sprinting towards her before halting a few steps away.
But there was something wrong with his rat-like face. He was happy. He was happy to see her.
There was something wrong.
By the Morrigan, he was happy to see her.
"Alexandra, thank God you're here!"
"Piers," Alexandra replied in an angry tone that she did not have to fake. "What the hell is happening? There was nothing to welcome me back at King's Cross and I had to pay for a taxi!"
"You don't know?" The second of Dudley's gang seemed genuinely dismayed. "Your Uncle and Aunt are in prison! And Dudley has disappeared!"
Alexandra stood open-mouthed as she tried to process the words. Once she did though, she instantly burst into laughter.
"Look who's the criminal now," the Basilisk-Slayer managed to gasp between two roars of laughter. "No matter the challenges and the monsters...in the end, I won. I won and you lost, Petunia."
And under the warm sun of June, Alexandra laughed again.
The End?
Here Book 2 of The Odds were never in my favour, Alexandra Potter and the Blood of Slytherin, ends.
The story will continue in Book 3, Alexandra Potter and the Wars of Future Pasts.