Late Night Stroll
Alexander Bay
"What is done is done."
Alexander, for his part, could only agree.
"Should you and I really submit our names, though?" Amalia asked after a long moment of silence, nodding at him. "Hear me out," she quickly added. "Once we submit our names, that decision is out of our hands," Amalia said slowly after a long moment of silence, nodding at him. One does not get to just back out of a magical contract like that."
When Alexander raised an eyebrow, she sighed and continued. "It was a conversation we had before Maxwell began to qualify last spring. It is arguably one we should have again. Duelling," she said nodding at Maxwell, "-as we saw was dangerous enough when all participants are well-drilled professionals who presumably intend for all parties to go home afterward. What do they say? One out of every four participants in the Tournament meets their end. Sometimes more? It would be a travesty if one of us were to perish at some suicidal school event."
"Yes," Alexander agreed. "But do you really want to risk that a Hufflepuff gets selected? The fewer of us in for selection, the greater the chance."
Amalia rolled her eyes. "I am being serious," she pressed. "I would hate for you to come to harm in an ill-conceived trial. You know what happened last time...."
Alexander sighed and leaned back into the cushions of his chair.
"She has a point," Maxwell agreed after a moment of contemplative silence. "In the league, the Triwizard Tournament was referenced as an example of notoriously negligent event planning. From what I've heard, I can't say I disagree."
Alexander gazed at his brother for a long moment, the other's expression as reserved as ever.
"Even if I agreed with all your points, I think you and I should submit our names, regardless. Maxwell, I concede, you should probably sit this one out. But would you have Beauxbatons taking the cup home to France where there was a chance you could have stopped it? You know they are gunning for it after this summer," he said, nodding at his younger brother in appreciation. "Well done on that, by the way."
Maxwell took the compliment with a small nod.
"I am not saying we shouldn't do it. I am saying we could consider with due care before we commit to an endeavour like this," Amalia said. "For the record, I still fully intend to submit my name."
"Considerations have been made, can we suspend with a debate all three of us already know the conclusion of," Alexander replied, looking back and forth between his brother and girlfriend, hoping they did not know how much he enjoyed these arguments of theirs.
"Very well, Father would have a fit if I did not submit my name anyway," she replied and leaned back, conceding the debate.
"Ours too," Alexander agreed, imagining his father's expression if he learned he had passed such a chance at bringing glory to their family chronicles.
"How often must students be told to be quiet within the library?" A sharp voice suddenly addressed them.
They turned around and found an elderly woman with a pinched expression and hooked nose standing between the shelves. Her eyes were an indeterminable shade of brown, and blood vessels were visible through the skin, spreading out across her nose in a manner not unlike a decrepit spiderweb.
"Madam Prunett," Amalia greeted the woman in a cautiously neutral tone.
Madam Prunett narrowed her eyes at the trio, clearly unimpressed by the disturbance they had caused in her domain. The library, usually a haven of silence, had been breached by the animated conversation.
"Library rules apply to everyone, regardless of your house or intentions," she scolded, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. "I will not tolerate such disruptions. Now, lower your voices and return to your studies or leave the library."
Amalia exchanged a glance with Alexander and Maxwell before offering Madam Prunett a saccharine smile. "Of course, Madam. We'll be on our way."
"See that you are," the librarian replied curtly.
Still smiling, Amalia turned to the others. "Shall we?"
Maxwell sighed, closing his bag. "Very well, let's go."
As they made their way through the maze of bookshelves, Alexander felt the librarian's eyes boring into their backs. He was not sorry to step back into a nearly empty hallway.
"So, now what?" Amalia asked. "We still have a good bit till supper."
Alexander shrugged. "I don't have the faintest idea,... We could head out to the lake. It's a tad bit late to visit housemaid, I fear."
"I could use a Butterbeer," Amalia offered lightly. "But alas, I fear I will probably have to wait for the weekend."
Alexander only rolled his eyes.
As they made their way through the hallways, golden light flooded through the led glass windows, bathing the sandstone corridors with their medieval arches and armour suits in its glow. The trio made their way down the stone corridors, their footsteps echoing in the quiet halls.
Finally, they descended a marble staircase and stepped through the wide open double doors and into the warm summer evening. The gentlest of breezes greeted them, carrying the scent of the Forbidden Forest and the distant murmur of the Black Lake. The grounds were as wide open as ever, and a small heard of dears was grazing at the edge of the forest.
A few other students apparently had the same idea and were taking full advantage of the good weather while it lasted, spending some leisure time outside. They found a secluded spot near the water's edge, hidden from most of the castle by a gnarled old oak tree and far from any other student.
"So, this is the famous lake," Amalia confirmed lightly and sat down at the water's edge. After a moment, the two brothers sat down on either side of her and Alexander took the liberty of taking Amalia's hand.
"This is going to be a long year," Maxwell finally announced.
"You think so?" Amalia asked. "With the tournament coming up in addition to clubs and Quidditch. I fear we will have our hands full, even without NEWTs, or in your case, OWLs."
Amalia then gave both of them a sideways glance before chucking a small rock into the water. For a long moment, they watched the rings spread out across the calm surface. "Is Merrythought running that duelling club again this year?"
Alexander shrugged, noticing Maxwell pause for a moment when the club was mentioned. "I do not know, but it should be posted on the board before the end of the Week."
"I fear," Maxwell said, "I am expressly banned to duel in Hogwarts and even if I could, I am not sure I should."
"Oh yeah, bugger," Amalia muttered. Privately Alexander agreed. He, too, would have liked to see Maxwell let loose on some of his fellow students. The part of him with a functioning brain though agreed with his brother. The last time his brother had raised his wand in anger, someone had died. It would send all the wrong kinds of messages, not that he believed for a moment that his brother's career was really over. But for the time being, his brother's wand would have to rest.
"So Max, how were classes?" Amalia finally asked, clearly eager to switch the topic.
Maxwell stayed silent for a long moment before glancing over at them. "Magic, it appears, works no different in Scotland than it does on Svalbard. If I had not witnessed it today, though, I would not have believed though that one could teach History in such an uninspired manner."
"Told you," Amalia said, somewhat smugly. "History in Hogwarts comes to die at the hands of Professor Binns. Live with the certainty that for the duration of your studies at Hogwarts you will need a new favourite subject."
Maxwell cracked a small smile. "I am man enough to admit when I was wrong, the two of you did not exaggerate."
Soon the sun had descended below the mountains, and within moments, the entire valley was cast in shadow. They watched birds circling in the still-bright sky for a few more minutes before finally descending to rest for the evening on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.
"Come on guys, supper is about to start and we have patrol until midnight," Alexander finally said.
They rose and slowly made their way across the lawn and joined the loose stream of students making their way back into the entrance hall. They hurried up with supper, and while Maxwell retired to the Ravenclaw common room, the two of them hurried towards the Staff Room where they unfortunately found two of the brand new fifth-year Hufflepuffs waiting.
"Ah, you are early. Excellent!" Professor Dumbledore greeted them when he rounded the corner and strolled toward them with his wide strides and star-spangled cloak flowing behind him. "Professor Dumbledore," Amalia greeted Gryffindor's head of the house.
"Ms Malfloy, how good to see you again so soon," Dumbledore greeted them brightly. "Ms Killian, Mr Barclay," he then greeted the two Hufflepuffs. "I had heard that you were selected as prefects. A good choice, if I say so myself."
Alexander exchanged a loaded glance with Amalia, confirming that she was keeping the same thoughts to herself that he was. "Alexander, Amalia, you two are already familiar with this from last year and I assume the two of you are content with each other's company?" Dumbledore asked, with eyes twinkling behind his spectacles.
"Yes, we are, Professor," Amalia replied and beamed over at Alexander.
"Excellent," Dumbledore said and clapped his hands, beaming back and forth between them. "Just as last year, you are to patrol the corridors. Should you find any students out of bed, or anything else that you deem worth reporting, come to me or another member of the faculty. Good, you two keep an eye on the north and west wing of the school."
"Yes, Professor Dumbledore," Alexander hastily said.
As the teacher then turned his attention to the two new Prefects, Alexander and Amalia pulled on their Prefects caps and hurried off to the moving staircase. On their way, they passed other students heading in the direction of their common rooms.
"Back to your common rooms, off with you," Amalia ordered a group of Gryffindors lingering at a corner, likely simply looking far too happy for her taste. They did as they were told, though not without scowling at the Slytherin behind her back.
"Why do they always look like they are up to no good," Amalia muttered to him under her breath.
"Probably because they are, there is a reason why Gryffindor serves as such a reliable rear-guard in the house cup," he reasoned lightly.
Amalia snorted and took his hand. Together they made their way through increasingly dark hallways. Soon they were far off from any paths that would be frequented at such a late hour. There were no common rooms down here, no teacher's offices, only empty classrooms and moonlit hallways with vaulted ceilings.
Dozing pictures glared at them as their passing woke them from their early slumber.
"Gentle sir!" one of the pictures, a medieval wizard with an impressive moustache and quite the tallest wizard's hat that Alexander had ever seen, demanded. "Must you cause such a ruckus at this ungodly hour?"
Not wishing to get into an argument with a bloody picture, they ignored the chastisement and continued on their way. When Alexander had first come to Hogwarts, he had got lost quite a few times. Back then, the castle had felt like a vast maze, and taking a wrong turn on his way to class had landed him in detention more than once.
Eventually, he had finally understood the logic behind a piece of architecture of idiosyncratic design further warped by the tempers of wild, untamed magic beyond his current understanding.
Alexander and Amalia continued their patrol, their footsteps echoing softly. The only light came from the occasional flickering torch and the luminescent glow of the moon streaming through the high windows.
"Remember our second year, sneaking around these corridors after curfew?" Amalia asked, a hint of nostalgia colouring her tone, her face appearing ghostly white in the pale light of her lit wand.
"How could I forget?" Alexander mused. "Or the first year."
Their path led them to a large, ornate window from where they could see the Quidditch pitch and the forbidden forest, its vast expanse bathed in silver moonlight. They paused, taking in the sight.
"Oh, I am so looking forward to getting back in the air," Amalia said wistfully.
"I can only second that, my fair lady," Alexander replied, adding a playful formality to his tone.
"Fair lady," Amalia demanded in mock outrage. "Do I strike you as some muggle strumped?"
Alexander smirked at the witch. "Certainly not a muggle. I have seen you handle a wand."
"Alex!" the pretty Slytherin complained, playfully slapping his shoulder. Though it was hard to tell in the pale arcane light, he was sure she was blushing. "Must you be so indiscreet? These walls have ears!" She even looked around as if to check for eavesdroppers. But apart from a few sleeping inhabitants of pictures, they seemed to be quite alone.
Alexander had long since come to understand that, under the cloak of night, Hogwarts transformed into a realm starkly different from its daytime guise. Beyond the cosy confines of the common rooms, where candles flickered and fireplaces crackled with unyielding warmth, the rest of the school was shrouded in a sombre, almost oppressive gloom. By day, Hogwarts was a tapestry of warmth and colour, its corridors lined with polished armour and rich wooden panelling, its windows a mosaic of vibrant stained glass. But at night, these hues were drained away, leaving the world monochrome under the school's towering, shadow-swathed ceilings.
With his spirits somewhat dimmed by the castle's nocturnal melancholy, Alexander withdrew his wand, its familiar weight a small comfort in the dark. In his mind, he recited the simple incantation "Lumos". Unfortunately his wand's tip remained stubbornly dark. A sigh escaped him, a soft echo in the silent corridor. With a more pronounced flick and a mutter of "Lumos," the wand tip finally burst into light, casting its reassuring glow in the enveloping darkness. They made a few more rounds through their assigned territory, their conversation held in hushed tones.
Finally, another pale light appeared at the end of the corridor. Even with their eyes accustomed to the darkness, it took them a long moment to make out Albus Dumbledore striding towards them through the long shadows.
"Nothing to report, sir," Alexander announced cheerfully.
"A quiet evening it is then," Dumbledore replied evenly. "I have been meaning to ask: Professor Dippet is wondering if your little brother has enjoyed his first day at Hogwarts so far."
Alexander suppressed a skeptical snort. It was an unusually transparent ruse on his favourite teacher's part. Professor Dippet couldn't care less if Maxwell loved or hated the institution. It wasn't as if he could earn any points for the school from Maxwell's renown. The contrary was more likely, in fact. He could see some parents taking issue with their oh-so-perfect and innocent children sharing a classroom with a killer. "So far, I guess. It has only been his first day, though, so it is too early to tell."
"Very good," Dumbledore said.
Once they were safely out of earshot, Amalia glanced over at him. "Maxwell needs to keep his head down," she muttered under her breath. "They are watching him, and Dumbledore is certainly not going to be the only one."
"He knows that," Alexander replied, ignoring the hint of accusation seeping into her voice.
"Well, he better not forget it," Amalia hissed.
"Here I thought the walls had ears?" Alexander replied, more too simply end what was looking like it could become a rather uncomfortable conversation. It wasn't as if she was wrong. It simply was not a conversation he wanted to have again. The Slytherin hissed something unintelligible under her breath but did not press the matter any further, despite his obvious deflection. They walked in silence for a few rather uncomfortable moments, and he got the distinct suspicion that in Amalia's mind, the matter was not quite closed yet.
Just as they reached the moving staircase again, they heard a loud metallic clang echoing up to them from below. It sounded, he thought, suspiciously like...
"Is Peeves pushing over suits of armour again?" Amalia asked, raising her wand a bit higher to cast her wand's glow a bit further. In the twilight, gilded picture frames glinted in the distance.
"Maybe," Alexander replied, not convinced. When the poltergeist was up to his usual mischief, he usually announced his presence for all to hear. The lack of jeering and the following ruckus gave him a very different suspicion. "Let's check it out," he said.
Once an appropriate stairway had moved over to them with a deep thud, they hurried down the ever-shifting flights of stairs until they reached the ground floor. Sure enough, pieces of armour lay scattered around as if one had just knocked them over.
"See the direction it was knocked over into?" Amalia asked in a hushed voice, nodding over at the gap on the balustrade where a staircase would at times be. "-and the Kitchens are that way," she said, gesturing in the direction the pieces of armour had spilled towards.
"From Gryffindor tower," Alexander completed her train of thought. "A constable has been lost on you."
She grinned, clearly pleased at the chance of getting a go at her rival house.
"If they had any sense, they would head back to the common room after causing such a ruckus " Amalia said, looked back and forth down the dark hallways.
"Well, this is Gryffindor we are talking about,..." Alexander mused pointedly.
In the cold wand light, Amalia's smile was almost ghostly. "Not the brightest candles on the cake..." Amalia muttered in agreement.
They extinguished their wands and hurried in the direction of the kitchens. "Wait," Amalia exclaimed, and they came to an abrupt stop. "Lumos! Ah, there you are," she exclaimed when she spotted the poorly concealed second-years hiding behind a statue far too small for them. "Gryffindors out of bed, I see. Out you come!"
"Jason," he greeted the blond second-year among them, also the only one whose name he happened to remember because he was the younger brother of the Gryffindor team captain.
"And your name?" Amalia asked.
"Cillian Weave," the other, a slight, short kid with unremarkable brown hair, introduced himself.
"Kitchen?" Alexander asked, his voice lacking his girlfriends's venom. Alexander, having made the occasional nocturnal exertion himself in his earlier years at Hogwarts, felt that moral outrage would be the height of hypocrisy.
"Yes," Jason admitted sheepishly.
"Well, time to see what Dumbledore will think about this. Second night of term? Not sure there are too many points to take," Amalia purred, reminding Alexander a bit of a cat tormenting a cornered mouse.
He sighed, resigning himself to let Amalia take the lead. They headed through the castle in what could only be described as an uncomfortable silence. Finally, they reached the Staff Room's hallway where a sliver of light spilled forth through the crack of the not quite closed door.
They finally halted at the door and Alexander knocked thrice. "Come in," the all too familiar voice greeted them.
Alexander pushed the door open to find a large comfortable room with a long table spanning its length. Heavy bookshelves, bursting with thick old volumes, stood along the walls, and multiple doors led off to other rooms.
Albus Dumbledore sat in one of the chairs, where he had been hovering over some spell book. The wizard rose to meet them. "Professor, we found students out of bed," Amalia proclaimed with poorly contained glee.
Dumbledore smiled patiently at Amalia and then turned his twinkling eyes to Jason and Castor. "Mr Aston, Mr Weave. I am sure the two of you have a gripping story to tell, and it is a tale I am eager to hear. Nothing else would excuse being out of bed at this hour."
Perhaps noticing Amalia's undue eagerness, he leaned back and neatly pressed his palms together and laced his fingers. "Your shifts are just about over. Mr Bay, Ms Malfoy, why don't the two of you not call it a night and turn in?"
Personally, Alexander thought, they likely couldn't care less. When noticed his girlfriend seemingly deflate next to him at being robbed of her chance to gloat over Gryffindor's misfortune some more, he gently touched her by the elbow.
"Well Professor, good night then," Alexander replied, recognising the dismissal of what it was. Knowing Amalia as well as he did, he took her hand to make sure the Slytherin followed him back to the still-open door.
"Sometimes I think you take this Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry way too seriously," Alexander muttered once safely out of earshot from the office. Amalia did not dignify the comment with a response.
Once they reached the next junction between two corridors, she kissed him on the cheek, and they bid each other good night. Before she could step out of reach, he pulled her back for one long kiss on the lips. On the way back to his common Alexander found his thoughts wandering back to the summer's break, at a contest that had gone so fatefully wrong. Even weeks later, his heart rate picked up at the memory. Fortunately, it was then that he reached his common room.
Alexander found the common room nearly empty. He wasn't surprised, though, to find Maxwell was among the few still up.
"Little brother," Alexander greeted him and dropped down in the chair next to his. After taking a long moment to finish his sentence and set aside his quill, Maxwell finally looked up and raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"You know you don't have to finish all your homework assignments today," Alexander pointed out and yawned deeply.
"There is also no reason not to," Maxwell replied evenly. "Besides, I am almost finished."
"Suit yourself," Alexander replied and rose to his feet again. "I will see you tomorrow then."
He rose with a dramatic sigh and began to make his way over to the dormitories, but found himself pausing at the bulletin board. "Did you hang this up?" Alexander asked, staring at the cut-out portion of the daily prophet.
"Max, did you put this up?" he asked again when he got no reply.
"Put what up?" Maxwell asked, looking up from his scroll with obvious reluctance.
Alexander nodded at the pinned article. "I thought not," Alexander said, fighting back a smile.
His curiosity peaked. Maxwell rose as well and briskly walked over to them and stared at the article. His eyebrows rose when he read the title. "Young English Wizard Wins Glory For Britain!" Underneath was a picture of Maxwell standing on the top of a podium in a simple duelling outfit, golden laurels resting on his head. Next to him, on the third step, stood a quite stunning young woman with the French flag draped over her shoulders. Her long white-blond hair was tied up in a strict high bun. The second place step however was gapingly empty. The two wizards stood on the podium, their wands drawn, and bathed in a storm of camera flashes.
"You know, I thought she would beat you," Alexander admitted, his gaze flickering to the imagine of the enchanting witch as Maxwell came over to join him. "Amazing duellist, the way she took apart Rajesh in the first knockout round." For a brief moment, he remembered his heart racing as he watched Maxwell facing off against her from the very edge of his seat.
"So did I," Maxwell admitted, his lips curling into a sardonic grin.
Alexander glanced over at his little brother, who was reading the article. "Are you still in contact with anyone from the league?" Alexander had noted that Maxwell had been something of an outsider and a loner, even within the league. Even so, he knew his brother had made some friends among his fellow duelists.
"No," Maxwell said firmly after a moment of hesitation and then snorted.