Chapter Forty-Six

The Beginning's End

Alex regretted not asking Madam Pomfrey for a diluted sleeping potion when she had the chance. The only ones she and her dormmates had were normal strength, which meant nothing could rouse you; you had to wake up naturally. She'd been made vulnerable enough for one day, thanks.

Fortunately, Spitfire rose with the sun, so she played with him in the common room until it was an acceptable time for her to move out and about. After an unreasonably long bath in the prefects' bathroom, wherein she tried not to think about all the knowledge Crouch Jr had of her and everyone in the school, Alex sought out the ghosts who had aided her the day before and thanked them profusely. The one in the chainmail patted her on the head, and Alex bore the icy touch with a warm smile.

This early in the morning, she was one of seven people down in the Great Hall for breakfast. Alex wondered if they were regular early birds, or if they were too preoccupied with their own thoughts to sleep easily.

By the time Alex had finished her breakfast, a dozen more people had filed in. Cedric was one of them and, after spotting her in the corner of his eye, made a beeline towards her instead of his table.

"Hi," she said as he sat down.

"Hi," he replied wearily. "Are you all right?"

Alex's shoulders slumped with relief. It seemed like everything was water under the bridge. "Not really," she admitted. "I got kidnapped last night."

Cedric's eyes almost fell out of their sockets in pure shock. "Wh…? But I saw you in the maze last night."

"Wasn't me. It was a Dark wizard named Barty Crouch Jr, who was posing as Moody the entire time."

"We were being taught Defence Against the Dark Arts by a Dark wizard?" he whispered, horrified.

"He's a Death Eater too."

Cedric stared blankly at his oatmeal. "I'm quite glad to be graduating next year."

Alex snorted. "Take me with you," she muttered.

He glanced at her sympathetically. "You'll only have a year after that."

Two years until graduation. Who knew what would change between now and then?

"So what happened?" he asked, turning his full attention to her.

Alex took a deep breath. It was a good thing they were both sitting down, because it was truly a long story. By the end of it, Cedric seemed deeply disturbed. He placed a hand on her arm, and Alex had to fight the instinctual twitch that overcame her limb.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," he told her.

The sincerity shining in his eyes made Alex glance away in discomfort. "It's all right. Better me than you," she said. Would Cedric have been taken by Moody? Or would he simply have died like he would in another world? Perhaps he didn't even make it to the Cup; he could've been immobilised early on during the third task.

"Don't say that," Cedric demanded of her, breaking Alex's train of thought. "Why do you think like that? Your life matters too."

"Well, of course it matters," said Alex, mildly taken aback by Cedric's fervent response. "But if I have the power to help someone, even if it means putting myself in harm's way, I'll probably do it."

Cedric cracked a smile. "Probably," he echoed.

Alex put her hands up in surrender, smirking. "Hey, I'm a snake, not a lion; self-preservation's gotta be my priority sometimes."

"All right," he laughed. "As long as you have some sense."

"Give me some credit," she scoffed. "I managed to save myself and Moody in the end."

Alex basically leapt out of her seat in realisation. "Oh, crap. I have to check on him."

"You don't have to," Cedric reminded her gently. "He's the school's responsibility; not yours."

"But I go to this school?"

Cedric appeared torn between smiling in amusement and frowning sternly. "I meant the adults' responsibility. Dumbledore, Pomfrey, McGonagall…"

Alex glanced at the empty teachers' table. "They have enough on their hands at the moment."

"Before you go," Cedric began hesitantly, "I think we should talk."

Stunned speechless, Alex could only stare at Cedric. He wasn't audacious enough to break up with her after everything she had been through in the last twenty-four hours, was he?

"It took me a while to realise it, but my behaviour was…inappropriate," he said, his cheeks turning pink with shame. "I shouldn't have lashed out at you for not helping Harry, and I definitely shouldn't have accused you of being careless. Just because you didn't react in a certain way isn't a reflection of what you're truly feeling. I see that now."

"Oh," Alex murmured, shocked for a different reason now. "That actually means a lot to me. I should've taken your point of view into consideration, too. I love you."

Shit.

Her brain stuttered to a halt. Then it revamped itself as she furiously tried to recall if she had ever told him those three momentous words before this instance.

Cedric's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back at her so warmly it sent a flush rising from Alex's neck to her ears. "I love you too."

Okay, yeah, her face was definitely on fire now.

"Gotta go," she squeaked out. She snagged a muffin and a napkin from the tabletop and basically ran all the way to the hospital wing.

By the time she got there, the rest of her body was just as warm as her face. She knocked on the door and took several calming breaths as Madam Pomfrey the entrance.

The mediwitch scrutinised her carefully before allowing her inside. "Mr Potter's still asleep," she warned her in a quiet voice. "His dog is by his side."

Alex spared a moment to wonder if she was aware of Sirius's disguise. "Oh, I'm not here for him," she told her. "I'm here for Moody."

Madam Pomfrey's shrewd gaze returned. "How considerate of you."

"Thank you?" Bemused, Alex walked past Madam Pomfrey and her odd expression so she could sit by Moody's side.

"Guess this is all real after all," said Moody when he spotted her. His empty socket was fortunately bandaged up; Alex wasn't keen on seeing that again any time soon. "Thought I hallucinated everything that happened last night."

She smiled tightly. "Unfortunately not. How are you feeling?"

Moody directed his gaze at the muffin she placed beside him. "Have had better days," he admitted wearily. "Have had worse days, too. You said your name was Fortescue, correct? As in, daughter of Julia and Florean Fortescue?"

"The one and only."

Moody cracked a smile. "Your mother saved me from losing my other eye a few years back. Guess it makes sense for her daughter to save me years down the road."

"Maybe I should be an auror," Alex remarked wryly.

"Only if you don't value your life."

She frowned. It sounded like a joke, but Moody's tone threw her off.

Before she could overthink things, Harry began to stir awake. Alex excused herself from Moody and made her way over to him. The first thing she noticed were the dark bags beneath his eyes, which only exacerbated the haunted look on his paradoxically young face.

"You know how my wand core is a phoenix feather?" he asked when she sat beside him. "It comes from Fawkes, Dumbledore's pet. So does Voldemort's."

A chill skittered down Alex's spine. "That's eerie."

Harry nodded, his gaze still faraway. "Dumbledore called them brother wands. They won't work properly against each other – that's why the Reverse Spell effect took place last night. All the people Voldemort killed most recently appeared while our wands were connected."

Alex sat back, her mind awhirl. "Too bad they didn't drag him back to other side with them."

Harry appeared as if he hadn't heard her. "I wonder why our wands are related. It's like—I don't know—fate or something."

Alex's mouth twisted as though she had just tasted a ketchup-flavoured Bertie. "Let's not say cursed shite like that."

"But how else will I summon my mates?" he wondered wryly as Ron and Hermione skittered into the infirmary.

With the help of Alex, Harry summarised once more what he had learned last night. The other two-thirds of his trio were suitably horrified, Ron more so than Hermione.

"I've got more bad news, mate," Ron admitted glumly. "The school thinks you've gone barmy – that you cracked under pressure in the maze."

"But one look at you will dismiss such accusations," Hermione interjected with a fierce amount of confidence.

Alex shrugged. "Dumbledore will probably make an announcement anyway."

Harry's eyes were wide. "You don't really think he'll tell the whole school that Voldemort's back?"

His incredulity gave Alex pause. True, Dumbledore wasn't exactly the most open person in the world, but surely he wouldn't keep his students in the dark all confused? Then again…

She turned to Moody, who wasn't even pretending not to eavesdrop. "What do you think?"

The Gryffindors collectively flinched as they registered his presence.

"He will," Moody assured her. "The more people acknowledge the threat, the more prepared they will be."

The thing was, the leader of their society wasn't too keen on spreading awareness of Voldemort's return. They learnt as much a handful of minutes later, when Fudge burst into the room and made a direct beeline to the still very much bedridden auror. Professor McGonagall rushed on in after him, her expression sour, followed by a contrite Snape and finally Dumbledore. They spared a glance for the teens in the room, but were a bit preoccupied to bother with them at the moment.

"Mad-Eye," greeted Fudge in a manner Alex wouldn't exactly describe as kind. "What in Merlin's name happened to you?"

If Moody still had his magical eye, it probably would've been swivelling between Dumbledore's forcibly calm expression and Fudge's reddening face. "I was ambushed," he said gruffly. "Been held under lock and key for nearly a year now. By Crouch's own son, in fact. The little bastard wasn't dead, never had been in the first place."

Fudge shook his head despondently, but for the wrong reason. "You've gone through too much," he noted, his voice warbling. "Your head isn't right. If this continue, a trip to Mungo's should be the first thing on your agenda."

Alex stilled. Was that a threat? Was the Minister of Magic going to treat one of his best aurors like a nutcase if he continued saying things he disagreed with?

She suddenly realised what her dad meant when he said men like Fudge were dangerous.

"Like we said, Minister," Professor McGonagall all but hissed, "Barty Crouch Jr had been impersonating Alastor here for months for the sake of his goal to—"

"My dear woman," chuckled Fudge with forced levity. "You're surely still not trying to get me to believe that convoluted plan? And whose words do you base this off, hmm? Poor Mad-Eye here and a couple of confused teenagers?" he added, slanting a glance at where Alex and her friends were clustered.

"I think the only one confused here is you, Minister," Harry bit out.

Alex resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. Judging by the way Padfoot's tail was wagging, he had the opposite reaction.

Professor McGonagall was shooting him a warning glance. Snape rolled his eyes, exasperated but unsurprised. Dumbledore looked vaguely approving.

"Minister," the old headmaster began, drawing everyone's attention away from Harry and the way his hands were shaking, "is it really so preposterous to believe Lord Voldemort has returned? It has been no secret in the since years his fall that he was never really dead in the first place."

"Enough!" cried Fudge, his jowls aquiver. "You will not go around repeating these decades-old lies, Dumbledore. I won't have it. You'd have me buying this deranged child's tall tale? As if poor Barty hasn't been through enough as it is."

"Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore repeated, heedless of the Minister's warning. "If you accept that fact straightaway, Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors—"

"Oh, there it is," scoffed Fudge, taking half a step back. "You're a supporter of that convict Sirius Black and his agenda, aren't you? Remove the dementors and I'll kicked out of the office for good! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!"

"Ex-con," piped up Alex.

Fudge's crazed eyes found hers. "I beg your pardon?"

"Ex-con. Sirius Black. He's – well, technically he's acquitted. Found innocent of all his accused crimes. Why was he convicted again?" she asked no one in particular as a bitter taste flooded her mouth and seeped into her words. "Oh, right, because a panicked public was eager to shift the blame to whomever was most convenient, regardless of whether it was deserved or not. Good thing we as a society have learned from our past mistakes, hey?"

Professor McGonagall was doing her best to hide the smile blooming on her face while Snape glanced at the ceiling for divine intervention. Dumbledore merely peered at her speculatively.

Fudge was faintly trembling with indignation, now. It was one thing to be spoken back to by the greatest wizard in Britain and the Boy-Who-Lived, but a random student whom he couldn't even identify? It was almost too much for the coward.

"Unfathomable," murmured Fudge as he shook his head. "Lunatics and anarchists, the lot of you."

Anarchists. Alex quite liked the sound of that.

Snape took a step forward, finally having had enough. "If you need undeniable proof of the Dark Lord's return, look no further," he declared, thrusting his arm out to the Minister, who took another step back and appeared about three seconds away from running out of the room screaming at the top of his lungs.

From where she was sitting, Alex could barely see what had Fudge's knickers in a twist, but she could surmise from context that it was the Dark Mark – Voldemort's brand tattooed onto the forearms of his most loyal followers. It was one thing to know Snape was a former Death Eater, another to see tangible proof in the flesh.

Padfoot growled. Ron's freckles stood out as he paled. Hermione's mind was churning away judging by her expression, and Harry's eyes were close to falling out of his head as he ogled Snape's tattoo.

"Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord," drawled Snape as if he were discussing something mundane such as the weather and not the genocidal cult he had once joined. "It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year."

Fudge gawked at the Dark Mark, apparently having not heard a single word Snape had uttered. "I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore," he murmured, finally prying his gaze from Snape's arm, "but I have heard enough. I will be in touch with you tomorrow to discuss the running of this school. I must return to the Ministry at once."

So saying, Fudge turned to flee, but at the last moment changed tracks and made a beeline for Harry. Alex tensed, wondering if the Minister was going to attempt murder right here and right now, but her paranoia was pointless, as he merely threw a sack of coins onto Harry's lap.

"Your winnings," he muttered, eyeing Padfoot warily. Fudge swept his gaze over the lot of them, and Alex met his glare with one of her own. He wasn't going to attack them-at least not presently-so why not take the initiative and pull the wool over his head first? Then all they needed to do was pluck a few of his grey hairs and impersonate him using polyjuice. The wizarding world would be saved.

Alex felt a pair of all-knowing eyes on her. As though he had read her mind, Dumbledore was peering at her with a look that couldn't be anything but disapproval.

Sighing, Alex forced herself to stand down. Well, it wasn't like she was actually going to go through with her impromptu plan. It wasn't so much as ethics holding her back as it was the fact she would be emulating Crouch Jr's tactic - the same one he'd unleashed on her less than twenty-four hours ago. She grimaced.

As soon as Fudge vacated the premises, Dumbledore got down to business. He ordered the Heads of Houses present to gather Flitwick and Sprout, as well as Hagrid and Madame Maxime. Before they left, though, Dumbledore made Sirius reveal himself, much to Professor McGonagall's indifference and Snape's shock.

"Him!" he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose expression reflected his disdain. "What is he doing here?"

"He is here at my invitation," said Dumbledore, looking between them, "as are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other."

Harry's scoff was all Alex needed to confirm her suspicions. Sirius and Snape looked ready to duel each other to the death, but with some coercion on Dumbledore's part, the two wizards eventually shook hands.

"Like toddlers," Alex remarked beneath her breath.

Ron and Harry appeared offended on Sirius' behalf, while Hermione seemed speculative.

The two professors soon departed to do Dumbledore's bidding. Meanwhile, the headmaster beckoned Sirius over to Moody's bedside so they could plot. He dismissed Harry's protest at being left out, and Alex privately agreed with his decision. Harry looked so spent; the last thing he needed now was even more stress.

Hermione whirled around to face them. "Okay, so," she began in a hushed voice, forcing them to all lean in so they could hear her, "you know how we've been wondering all year how Rita Skeeter has been spying on us?"

"Yes," the boys replied the same moment Alex said, "Not really." She kinda had other things on her mind, to be fair.

"I think I've found out how she keeps getting away with it," Hermione continued breathlessly. Her dark eyes were shining with excitement. The sight of her like this was both breathtaking and unnerving. "She's actually in this room right now."

Alex pursed her lips as the revelation sunk in. "She's been eavesdropping the entire time?" There was a lot of pertinent information being thrown around - if Skeeter had access to all of that, who knew what kind of damage she would cause? She needed to be dealt with immediately.

"I don't see her," Ron said slowly, eyes darting about the room. He yelped when Hermione slapped him on the arm.

"Don't look!" she hissed, heedless of the way Ron was rubbing his arm. "It'll set her off!"

"What's the plan, then?" Harry asked, frowning.

"You'll see," Hermione replied a tad ominously. She slipped something out of her bag and held it behind her back as she made a show of walking towards the window nearest the adults. Skeeter evidently wasn't there - that was what Alex's eyes told her, anyway. Fortunately, she had another sense that others often overlooked.

Inhaling deeply, Alex closed her eyes and focused on the bright, warm light of her magical core, then stretched out that sense to locate any similar signatures. There was a small cluster of them surrounding her, and if Alex had the time or wherewithal, she would've tried to decipher the nuances between Harry and Ron, but as it was, she quickly moved on, by passing the blinding magical signatures belonging to the adults in the room, before finally finding what she was searching for. It was decently sized, dwarfing Hermione's, so it couldn't have belonged to another student - unless they were a prodigious one. When Alex opened her eyes to peer at the owner of the aforementioned signature, though, there was no one there.

Invisibility cloak, she thought, tensing. Top quality ones like Harry's were hard to come by, but not impossible, especially if you were a well-connected and resourceful individual like Rita Skeeter.

Rather than ripping off Skeeter's invisibility cloak, Hermione thrust a jar onto a colourful beetle crawling along the windowsill, grinning triumphantly despite the curious and concerned glances being thrown her way.

"You never told us you were into bug-catching," Harry remarked as Hermione skittered back towards them.

"Kinda seems hypocritical, given your stance on house-elf rights," mused Ron.

"This," said Hermione, holding out the jar for them to see, "is no ordinary beetle. It is, in fact, Rita Skeeter."

Alex was the first one to connect the dots. "Animagus?" she gasped, reeling.

"Unregistered, too," added Hermione with a tut. "I checked a few weeks back, when the idea first popped into my head-remember, Harry, when you said you thought she had you bugged? But that's impossible, because-"

"Because you can't use electronics in environments inundated with magic, I know," interrupted Harry with a roll of his eyes. "Yeah, you said that last time, too."

Ron whistled in amazement. "You can get into a lot of trouble with the Ministry as an unregistered animagus."

Alex gazed pointedly at Sirius, who had just transformed before Skeeter's very eyes. "Can she hear us through that?"

Hermione shook her head. "I soundproofed it as well."

She smiled fondly at her. "You thought of everything, huh?"

Hermione's cheeks darkened.

"What do you plan on doing with her?" wondered Harry.

Alex's brow furrowed at the question. "There's only one thing to do," she pointed out. "She's seen and heard too much in the last hour alone. With that sort of information on her hands, who knows what kind of havoc she could wreak?"

Ron paled. "You don't mean…?"

"Kill her?" She shrugged. "It'd be like squishing a bug. Gross, but doable."

"As much as I loathe the woman, I don't think murder is the right idea," said Hermione, frowning. "I was actually considering blackmail instead. She doesn't expose us and we don't expose her."

"And just let her live and continue destroying other people's lives?" scoffed Alex. "Do you have any idea how many people have committed suicide because of all the rumours she's helped spread? How many homicides she caused?"

"Is it a lot?" asked Harry, wide-eyed.

"Well, no. But a few is still too much. If anything, it'd be morally reprehensible for us not to kill her."

"This is a human being you're talking about!" yelled Ron shrilly. "An insufferable one, sure, but murder is murder regardless of reasons."

"Ron," Alex said solemnly, "what if we let her go and she snitches on us? Sells her information to the wrong people, endangering not only us but the whole anti-Voldemort movement Dumbledore is presently stirring? How fucked do you think we would be?"

"But these are all what-if scenarios. You can't just kill someone because you suspect they'll do something bad."

He…had a point there. Alex pursed her lips, irritated that Ron's argument was not only sensible but stronger than her own.

"Fine," she relented, scowling, "let her live. Blackmail her. But the moment she stabs us in the back, you can't stop me from getting rid of her for good."

Alex spared one last disgusted glare for the beetle before storming out of the medical wing. She had some friends she needed to warn.

"You quarrelled with the Minister," Katherine surmised flatly.

Alex frowned. That wasn't exactly the response she'd be hoping for. "I mean, I guess I spoke back to him. He was being annoying."

Katherine closed her eyes briefly as though she was staving off a headache. "You can't just— Agatha, explain to Alex what our House stands for again."

"Money and power?" ventured Agatha.

"No. Okay, yes, but also subtlety. It's well and good to be opposed to our inept leader, but not to his face. Your mother works for him, after all."

"Not really," Alex muttered petulantly. "Whatever. I don't regret a thing."

"Of course you don't," sighed Katherine.

Alex rolled her eyes, but the gesture was without any heat. She got up with the intention of speaking to her Ravenclaw friends to prepare them for the shitstorm that they were about to face.

After a quick scan of the lakeside and student lounge, Alex headed to the Ravenclaw common room. Along her way, she came across several students who felt the need to mock her for coming second in the tournament. None were more bitter than her Housemates, who were upset that she had been shown up by not only a Gryffindor, but the infamous Harry Potter himself. Always living in his shadow, one sixth-year had sneered. He then tripped over his own shoelaces, which may or may not have been Alex's doing.

So what if she hadn't won? That hadn't been her intention. No one had died, which she considered a success, but Harry had been kidnapped and used as the involuntary blood sacrifice for a Dark ritual in which the greatest threat to the wizarding world had been resurrected, so…

She grimaced. She needed to do better next time.

Alex was almost at Ravenclaw tower when Benjamin Carlson stumbled out of an alcove, looking high as a kite. "Oh, it's you," he murmured, his eyes bloodshot. "Just the witch I wanted to see."

"Ugh. What, Carlson? I'm busy."

"You don't remember our deal? I supply you with gillyweed, you win the tournament. And guess what? You lost."

What remained of her patience fizzled out completely. "Sucks to be you."

"No, actually, it sucks to be you." He held out his hand. "My five hundred galleons, please."

Dear Merlin, he was actually serious about that. "Fuck you," she told him even as she withdrew a small sack of coins from her robes.

He arched an eyebrow, not at her comment but at the bag she threw at him. "You came prepared."

Actually, the only reason she had five hundred galleons on her in the first place was because it was exactly half the winnings of the Triwizard Tournament Harry had received from Fudge earlier. Having no need or desire for it, Alex convinced him to keep it and use it as donation money. Aware she was a donor of Mungo's, Harry gave her half for her continued donations.

"That money could've gone to the sick and bedridden," she drawled as Carlson inspected a coin.

"Who says I'm not ill?" he wondered with equal dryness. Weren't potheads supposed to be mellow?

Shaking her head, Alex ignored Carlson's parting quip and made her way to the Ravenclaw common room undisturbed. It sat on the fifth floor atop a spiral staircase, and the entrance was an innocuous wooden door without any visible means of use aside from a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle. Recalling her friends' descriptions, Alex knocked once.

Despite having expected it, she still flinched the eagle came to life and began speaking.

"I'm tall when I'm young and short when I'm old. What am I?" it asked.

Alex blinked. "A human," she said immediately.

The eagle became inanimate once more, and after a short pause, the door creaked open. Alex inhaled deeply. Now came the hard part. She was so used to making her presence known that it took her awhile to figure out how to hide herself and blend in with the background. After spending several hours studying some of the wallflowers in the school, Alex managed to emulate their behaviour by shrinking in on herself, but she had to be careful; going overboard would draw a different kind of attention to her, the kind that turned you into prey defending yourself against predator.

Alex lowered her gaze but not her head, walked at a relaxed speed and stuck to the walls of the spacious common room as she scanned it for any sight of her friends. Nothing on her person indicated she was a Slytherin, and as much as she wanted to stop and gawk at the airiest common room of the four (and the most tastefully decorated), she didn't want her cover blown.

Fortunately, Duncan, Grant and Luna were clustered together in the corner of the room beneath a portrait of Rowena Ravenclaw and her daughter. They were in the midst of a game of muggle checkers when Alex sidled up to them, interrupting Duncan before he could make his next move.

Grant flinched when he saw her. "You're not meant to be here," he hissed, glancing around the room surreptitiously.

Alex lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "No one noticed. And I answered the riddle. So if you ask me, I definitely have the right to be here."

"Oh, which one did the eagle give you?" asked Luna, eyes alert with interest.

Alex dutifully recited it for them.

"Candle," the boys answered immediately.

"Huh," she murmured. "That…makes more sense."

"What did you say?" asked Duncan, amused.

"Human. I was thinking about old ladies in particular. Have you ever seen a tall grandmother? Because I sure haven't."

Luna nodded sagely. "Wise answer."

"You're so dumb," sighed Grant.

"Not true. I'm here, aren't I?" Alex replied with a shit-eating grin.

Luna's observant eyes peered up at Alex for a long moment. "Something's wrong," she deduced.

Grant grew visibly concerned when Alex's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Why are you really here?"

"Let's go somewhere else," she replied, dropping her voice to a low murmur.

He nodded. "Our dorm, then. Our roommates are in the library."

As they climbed the stairs on the right side of the bust of Rowena Ravenclaw, Luna said, "Fun fact: Gryffindor is the only House where male students can't access the female dorms even though the opposite is possible. Hufflepuff doesn't let either, while Ravenclaw and Slytherin allow both."

"That is so bizarre," commented Alex. "And annoyingly inconsistent."

"The Founders weren't exactly the most united group," Duncan remarked cheerfully. "It's a wonder this castle was even built in the first place."

"Welcome to our room," Grant said with the enthusiasm of a deflated quaffle as he opened the door for them. "Please ignore the mess."

"That's a tall order," Alex scoffed as she navigated the minefield of discarded clothing on the floor. "You guys really enjoy making the house-elves struggle, huh?"

"Whatever," Grant muttered with a roll of his eyes. He sat on his bed so that he was facing Duncan, who was sitting on his own right next to his boyfriend's. "Now tell us what's up."

Alex took a deep breath as she sat on the edge of Duncan's bed. "I was kidnapped last night," she sighed, avoiding their eyes.

"What?" exploded Duncan, scowling. His typically jovial face was twisted with a fierce scowl. He rarely grew angry, but when he did, it made for a terrifying sight. "By who? And why? What happened to them? Did you kill them?"

Bemused, Alex answered most of Duncan's questions, and then some. By the time she was done recalling all the significant events that had taken place within the past 48 hours, her friends had gravitated towards her. Grant had thrown his arm around her shoulders as he frowned listlessly at the floor. Duncan was sitting on her other side, his head resting on her shoulder with Grant's palm brushing his cheek. Luna's feet were dangling off the end of the bed and she stretched across it, her head in Alex's lap.

No one said anything for a long while as they struggled to collect their thoughts. Grant broke the silence with a horrible question.

"Do you still think he has some of your DNA?" he asked, grimacing.

Alex's stomach lurched. "I hope not. Can he still transform into me? Does the DNA have to be...fresh?"

"Not exactly," Duncan replied with a wince. "If he still uses whatever he has left of you, the polyjuice will shape him into what you looked like at the time your DNA was taken. So, as you are now."

Her response had Grant covering Luna's ears and hissing, "Language!"

"I swear too, sometimes," volunteered Luna.

Grant shot Alex a dirty look. "I blame you for this."

She waved him off dismissively. "Back to the matter at hand. I have to change my appearance to throw Crouch Jr off?"

"You should dye your hair," Luna said brightly. "Maybe blonde? Then we could be twins."

"But how we will tell who's who?" drawled Grant.

Duncan elbowed him in the side. "You could get a haircut; your hair's getting a bit long anyway. Or maybe some piercings? A tattoo even?"

"All right, settle," laughed Alex as Duncan and Luna peered at her with too much excitement for her liking. "A haircut sounds good."

Grant leaned over to withdraw some nail clippers from his bedside drawer. "As you all know, my aunt's a hairdresser, so I know my stuff," he said as he transfigured the clippers into scissors in one fluid motion. Alex tried not to stare at the casual display of magic too enviously. "And there's no better time than the present."

"You're a bit too eager," she noted warily.

"I'm gonna be real with you," he said seriously. "I've been wanting to cut your hair for ages. Do you know how many times it's smacked me in the face? That's one of the main reasons we gave you a hairtie in the first place!"

"You're a cunt," she informed him. "Now shut up and chop half of it off."

"Every guest in this hall," said Dumbledore, sweeping his gaze around the Great Hall, "will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again — in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open."

Of his entire speech, that was the part that resonated with Alex the most. The Leaving Feast this year had been the darkest one yet, what Dumbledore feeling that it was in everyone's best interest to learn of Voldemort's attempt on Harry's life and his subsequent revival.

Most people reacted predictably, but Alex kept a close eye on the Slytherin table as Dumbledore continued his speech, artfully glorifying Harry's sacrifice as well as sowing the seeds of discontent towards the Ministry and their lacklustre reaction. While most of her Housemates were dismayed by the confirmation of Voldemort's resurrection, a fair few remained apathetic or even smug.

The same few refused to get up and raise their goblets in Harry's honour along with the rest of the school. The Gryffindors shot out of their seats first, their goblets raised, with the other tables quick to follow. The Slytherins were reluctant to hail the epitome of everything they despised, but when Alex did so, as well as her friends, most of them got up - save for Draco and other scions of Voldemort's inner circle. Alex made sure to commit each of their faces to memory.

Now, on the train ride home, she couldn't help but feel like a sitting duck, or a fish in a train-sized barrel. The world was about to experience its second wizarding war, and here she was, watching her friends play Exploding Snap.

"You sure you don't want a turn?" Ron asked, misinterpreting her glare for envy.

Alex huffed in amusement. "I'm good. Gonna go for a walk, actually."

One of the Weasley twins shook his head. "Prefects," he jeered.

"Gamblers," she shot back levelly.

The twins sulked. After some pestering from Ron, they confessed they had been blackmailing Ludo Bagman after he scammed them out of a bet they had made all the way back at the beginning of the year during the World Cup. It turned out Bagman had something of a gambling addiction, and owed money to a list of people longer than the registry of witches and wizards in magical Britain. He won a great deal when Harry, his shooting star, won the Triwizard Tournament, but still refused to pay up, claiming the twins were too young to gamble. Personally, Alex thought he was a greedy niffler.

Harry thought so too. He took pity on the twins, which was why he handed them what was left of his winnings. The twins tried to protest, but Harry wanted nothing to do with the money considering its context.

The twins responded to her insult by sticking their tongues out her like the juveniles they were. Alex rolled her eyes fondly and mirrored their expressions.

Although it wasn't her turn to patrol, she knew the end-of-year train ride was when prefects liked to slack off, and consequently when most of the fights broke out. Pack a bunch of hormonal teenagers into a small space with no adult supervision and that's what you got. She started from the first carriage and made her way down, knocking on each door and peering into the compartments when it was okay to do so. Most people assumed she was the snack-cart lady, which lead to a lot of disappointment on their parts when they realised it was just her. By the time she was halfway through the train, she had broken up three fights and interrupted four different couples in compromising positions. Her eyes required bleaching as soon as she got home, but it was still better than walking in on those first-years who attempted to tattoo themselves and ended up bleeding all over their compartment.

Alex took a quick bathroom break and was about to leave her stall when a flurry of activity gave her pause. She peered through the crack above the door hinges and watched, wide-eyed, as a gang of second-year Ravenclaw girls shoved of their own against the sink.

"What do you think you're playing at?" asked the girl who appeared to be their ringleader. Her green eyes crackled with anger.

"I'm not playing at anything," the one against the sink said. She looked and sounded close to tears.

"Wow," scoffed a girl with pigtails. "A liar and a slut."

Alex felt her cheeks flush with indignation. It was bad enough when blokes used that word, but to hear other girls emulating them so callously was outright shameful.

The one closest to the door threw her head back and laughed. "Well, what do you expect?" she asked, a cruel smile cutting across her pale face. "She's a mudblood after all."

The second-years let out an ear-piercing shriek as the stall door flew open of its own accord. Before it had even finished slamming against wooden panel, Alex had marched towards the pale girl and grabbed a fistful of the front of her robes.

"What," she hissed, her blood boiling, "did you just say?"

Their faces were so close Alex could see the near-imperceptible quiver of the girl's upper lip. "N-Nothing," she squeaked.

"Good." Disgusted, Alex released her none-too-gently and flicked her gaze to each of the other bullies. "Talk shit about muggleborns again and I'll rip your heads off."

They whimpered out an affirmative and hastily scrambled out of the bathroom. Alex turned to the muggleborn, who was valiantly trying not to cry.

"What's your name?" Alex asked softly.

"Rebecca Wilson," she sniffed.

"And the name of the others?" Alex nodded as Rebecca described the girls and listed their names. She filed that information for later and patted the smaller girl on the head. "If they mess with you again, tell me."

Rebecca threw her arms around Alex in a sudden hug. "Thank you."

"Uh, you're welcome." Alex wriggled out of her grip and inched towards the exit. "Have a nice break, Rebecca."

She left the bathroom and, after glancing over her shoulder to confirm Rebecca hadn't followed her, dove into the next empty compartment and crouched on the ground. Alex balled up a hand into a fist and shoved as much of it into her mouth as possible to stifle the scream that threatened to break free.

Was this normal? Were Ravenclaws really so bigoted? Thirteen-year-old ones to boot. Or was this a by-product of recent events? Whatever the answer, the future looked bleak.

But she would be ready for it; she wasn't going to go down without a fight. Neither would her friends if she could help it.

Alex lowered her fist and rose from her crouch. It was time to start preparing.