Mended Crown

Once Monday rolled around, Alex felt extremely tired. He knew that classes were only going to make him more tired, but he kept his head held high and carried on. At breakfast, he and Amarra swapped schedules and conferred on when they would have classes together. 

“Only on Mondays.” She pouted. “But it looks like you’ve got double potions on Friday with the Gryffindors.”

“Just my luck.” He watched the porridge slide over the side of his spoon and back into the bowl. “What’s your elective class?” 

“Muggle Music followed by History of Magic, though I hear that class is rather boring. And I think all of the first-years have Flying together.” 

Alex kept to himself during his lectures. His first Charms class, he gained some house points for using  the levitation charm correctly. He achieved more points in Transfiguration when he turned a matchbox into a needle. Despite them winning the house cup every year, Alex learned that his housemates didn’t like smart-asses. 

By Friday, Alex had taken a liking to the Ravenclaw table during breakfast and lunch, although Amarra’s housemates caused quite the commotion on allowing him to join. In the end, Alex stayed. Potions class was something else though entirely. Although Malfoy and his gang threw pieces of paper at Alex, who sat alone in the front, most of the focus was on Harry Potter. 

Professor Snape asked the famous boy many questions, all of which he got wrong. Until of course, after the humiliation of another Gryffindor, Severus called on his son. “Mr. Snape, please answer my questions in order.” 

Alexander closed his eyes for a moment, and while no one could see his face, his knees bounced rapidly. “To mix powdered asphodel root and wormwood would create the Draught of Living Death, a powerful sleeping potion. A bezoar stone can be found in the stomach of a goat and can be used to save people from poisons. And finally, sir, monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, which also goes by the name of an aconite.”

He drew in breath slowly, and opened his eyes to see his father beside him. Behind him, the sound of quills scratched against parchments, and for a second, he thought he saw his father smile. The other students were given a simple potion, while Alex had been given a draught of peace as his assignment for the day. 

At the end of the session, Alex felt more relaxed. Although Malfoy shoulder-checked him on the way out, Alex took a shine to his neatly brewed calming draught. Severus looked from his books to his son, and carefully took the vial. “I knew you would have the answers. I’ve given you ten points for your correctness.” 

Alex nodded, the feeling of anxiety had come back. There were whispers among the common room that both Malfoy’s gang and some of the older students were going to jump him once he was alone. His body was riddled with anxious nerves, but he knew he couldn’t stay in the common room all day. 

He sat at the Ravenclaw table for lunch, and ignored the glares from both Gryffindor and Slytherin houses. He listened to Amarra talk with her friends, and then headed back to the common room. He prayed that there weren’t others in the main room, afraid that he was going to get jumped on his way to and fro the common room. 

Instead, he found Blaise alone with his notes at one of the tables. “Malfoy’s looking for you,” he said. 

Alex ignored him and headed for the dorms. He came back out with Serpentine on one arm and a book under another. This time, Blaise had stood and made his way towards him. 

“Did you hear me? Malfoy’s looking for you.” 

“Why’s he care?” Alex asked. “It’s house points he’s after, but if I win them fairly, it’s not fun? I’m aware that the rest of our house wants to cheat and act like cry babies when they don’t get the points they want, but that’s life. Tell them I said that.” 

Blaise stepped out of the way, and Alex stormed up the stairs. He found Amarra already on the lawn. She tossed bits of bread to the golden eagle when he joined her—around them various groups of students sat along the hill-line and talked, or read, or enjoyed the sun. An hour into their outing, the lawn grew quiet and their spot grew dark. 

“We finally found you, Snape,” the voice of an older boy sounded above them. “We were beginning to suspect that you’d run home.” 

Alex looked at the boys around them. The other students grew still, they were eager to watch a fight. An unfair one at best. Crabbe tried to grab for Athena, but the bird flew off before he could get his pudgy hands out of his pockets. Instead, he tried to grab Amarra, who put up her own fight. 

Alex bookmarked his page and rose to his feet. “What can I do for you, Flint?” 

Serpentine slithered up the base of Alex’s shoulder, and held himself high to make eye contact with the other boys. If Alex was being threatened, then so was Serpentine. “This is between you and me, let my sister walk away unscathed.”

They tried to surround him, but the sight of the snake made them uneasy. Serpentine’s black and green scales gleamed in the sunlight, and he gave a warned hiss while Alex slipped his wand into his hands. The boys raised their wands. 

“Draco tells me that you’re a complete smart-ass and a liar. We’re Slytherins, we don’t like liars nor smart-asses.” Flint raised his wand at eye level, and took a stance. 

“I know they don’t let first-years play Quidditch, but I think Malfoy should volunteer to play the golden snitch. He’d be perfect for the role.” 

The other students laughed, but the Slytherins weren’t impressed. Their seriousness only made Alex laughed louder. 

——

At the other end of the courtyard, a small group of Gryffindors entered the lawn. At the sight of a possible fight, the group of first-years made haste to the circle, among them was Harry Potter. However, behind them, a timid Hermione Granger, ran the other way to inform a professor. 

“Should I go get Da— Professor Snape, Alex?” Amarra questioned. Her own wand was stationed in her hands, but she wasn’t willing to put up a fight just yet. Alex shook his head. 

“Go get Professor Snape, I want him to see his son get his ass beat in a duel,” Flint said. 

Alex nearly dropped his hand. Not out of fear, but to roll up his sleeves. “Sure, Flint, but prepare to get your asses handed back to you. 

The boys created a circle around Alex and Flint, students gathered around to see if a first-year was really going to beat a fourth-year. Serpentine barred his teeth, and Alex gripped his wand. Flint shot first, “Expelliarmus,” he shouted. 

Alex blocked the spell, and from his wand a group of ropes flew and bounded Flint together. However, the older boy managed to escape. Flint fired the stunning charm, but Alex ducked and felt the stream flash past him. Behind him, a Slytherin boy fell.  

“Everte Statum,” he said. Flint flew backwards a couple of feet and fell onto his back just as McGonagall called out. 

“What is the meaning of this!” 

The group cleared out except for the Slytherin boys and the twins. Alex stood with his arm stretched out and breathed steadily, he fought to defend his sister and himself. No one else. 

Malfoy was the first to plead, and stated that they were attacked by the Alex. Neither Amarra nor Alex defended themselves; the eagle landed on her arm, and Serpentine looked rather pleased with the fight. Although Malfoy cried wolf, he and the other boys were forced to come with the twins to Snape’s office. Only Flint, McGonagall and Alex entered the office, and soon Snape entered with a fumed expression. 

The deputy headmistress explained the situation, and while Snape glared at both boys, Alex knew that he wasn’t going to be in serious trouble. Flint explained how he had been told that Alexander didn’t fit into the Slytherin’s ideal quota, but he never said who was willing to snitch against their fellow housemate. Alexander, on the other hand, explained to his father that he didn’t start the fight, but he sure did finish it. By the end, Flint had challenged Alexander to another duel: Flint and four others would compete in a potions duel; if they were to win, any and all points that Alex would lose during the year wouldn’t affect the house. If Alex won, Flint would get the other Slytherins to back off. 

——

The duel was to commence the coming Sunday. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape would be the judges, and the latter would decide which potions would be brewed. Snape and McGonagall asked for a complete silence from the boys, but when Alexander entered the Great Hall for dinner, the whispers started. When he tried to get into the common room, his fellow housemates blocked him from admittance. Instead, Alexander found himself on the stairs and the grand clock began to chime. 

“Mr. Snape,” a quiet voice prickled the drums of his ears. “Might I ask why you’re not in bed?” 

Alex inhaled. He fully expected to turn and see Filch behind him, but the old and humble headmaster came slowly down the stairs. “I’ve been exiled, sir.” 

“Exiled? I wasn’t aware that your father barred you from your own house.” Dumbledore sat beside the boy, his long hair was white and well-cared for. “Unless, of course, it was your own housemates who have sent you away?”

Alexander’s silence answered the headmaster’s question. “I wonder what Salazar will think of this, Mr. Snape. He has always spoken so highly of you, he believes that the Fates have many things in store for you. And you’ve proven to be a prudent match, your housemates fears are simplified, but you just want them to like you.” 

Alex had heard the headmaster’s words, but his brain had only processed certain words. His housemates weren’t fearful, they were jealous. He was cursed with bearing the Slytherin name—something that scared him entirely—destiny wasn’t on his side. He barely noticed the headmaster rise from the stairs, nor the hand that was extended to him, but by instinct he took the wrinkled hand. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Snape.” He heard Dumbledore’s footsteps retreat, and when he turned to watch the older man walk away, he saw that he stood in the common room. The lanterns were dim—the room nearly dark—the portrait watched Alex from the wall, careful and studious. 

“Listen,” he started to speak, “I know I’ve been putting this off, but can we wait a little longer? The thought of you lingering over my shoulder during the duel will just make me more anxious. Just name a time and a place, and I’ll be there, okay?” 

He felt so stupid. Alone in the common room, his words echoed off the walls as he spoke to a portrait, and yet he felt like a complete fool. Alex didn’t wait for an answer. He went straight to bed. He found a letter on his bed the following morning, the slight-of-hand cursive strained his eyes so early in the day that he could barely make out what it said. 

Second-floor girls’ lavatory. Tomorrow at dinner. Good luck. 

Alex read the letter over and over again, but couldn’t quite comprehend how a portrait had written him a letter. When he questioned Bloody Baron about this at breakfast, the ghost merely shrugged. His answer: magic. Alex felt mildly annoyed by the answer, and kept himself barred away in an empty cubicle in the library all day. He had to study; and although potions was his strong suit, he didn’t mind the refresher. 

“I heard about your potions match,” a timid voice called to him from the desk across from him. When he looked to the source, he found the fluffy-haired Gryffindor with her nose in a book. “It doesn’t feel like a fair match, in my opinion.” 

“It’s not,” he said. The quill in his hand shook slightly from how hard he had written, the black-green journal was covered in little notes about advanced potions. “But that’s Slytherins for you; they cry about not winning and are prideful in their work.” 

She put her book on the desk, and watched him with curious brown eyes. “What’re you writing?” 

“Potion notes, I suspect the match will have fifth and sixth year potions. I’m writing down the ones I can remember and their ingredients. Why are you up here?” 

She raised the large book for him to see, then set it back against the desk. “Binns’ paper on the Gargoyle Strike. Are you scared?” She asked.

He looked at her, and saw himself. The two so-called know-it-alls, who sat alone in the library on a perfectly cool September day. “I want to say that I’m not, but I know that’s a lie. I want my housemates to like me, but I think I’ve ruined all my chances at gaining friends.” 

“I’m in the same boat,” she whispered. “My housemates find me insufferable. There’s no love in this world for us, and when we try to act nice or show our colors, they push us away. Why is that, Snape?” 

“I don’t know, Granger. I wish I knew why I wasn’t placed in Ravenclaw, the one place where we can be accepted for being this intelligent.” He took up his belongings and walked to her. “May I sit and keep you company?” 

Her eyes shimmered with a glossy curiosity, but thanked him for being so kind. She motioned to the desk beside her, and watched him sit. They fell quiet after that; his quill scratched against his journal, the pages rustled by her hand, and the sound of their nearly silent breaths kept them company. Alex wasn’t sure if he made a friend that day, but he did enjoy being around someone who felt the same as him, and when they said goodbye, he held onto that silent but joyful spirit. 

That was the last time he really talked with Hermione Granger until the end of the school year. She found solace with Potter and Weasley for the rest of the year, and he found solace in the wake of her presence. 

——

The hour of the duel was upon him. Alex kept to the library cubicle for all of Sunday, his eyes read over his notes until it was time. He had ignored all whispers about him for the past two days—he didn’t even know who his opponents would be—but he knew that they weren’t timely. He found the potions classroom to have the three judges, and the ingredients laid out before him on the tables. He scanned over each of them, and noted which potions he was to do within the respected timed challenge. Wiggenweld and Draught of Living Death—concoctions made specifically for one another, and given to first and sixth year students to brew. 

Alex had began to sort the ingredients when the door opened and his five opponents entered the classroom. The whole of Slytherin house stood outside, to them this was a simple show that they wouldn’t be able to see, but they chose most of the Quidditch team to act as their champions. Flint, Montague, Pucey, Warrington, and Malfoy sat with arrogant smiles, but Alex ignored them. Snape introduced the recipes and explained that each team will have two rounds, an hour each to produce their brews. 

The race begun. Alex took his time with the Wiggenweld potion, and knew that if rushed, he would mess it up entirely. The other team began to work as quickly as five pair of hands would let them, but by the half-hour mark, they had to restart entirely. Alex kept an eye on how long he let his cauldron heat up and allow the liquid to brew; he made sure to measure according to the recipe, and his mind wracked itself on the correct ways he had been taught to brew the right potion. 

Five minutes before the end of the hour, Alex threw his hand up and watched the turquoise color change to a more soft green in the cooled cauldron. He poured the brew into the vials that were spared for the match, and cleared out the contents of the cauldron for the next round. All the while, the other team didn’t finished within the allotted time and the round went to Alex. Then the final round began, and Alex knew that this brew would be a lot harder for them to finish within the hour. 

“I just want you to get to the mark, and the way we will test to see who followed their instructions is by dropping a leaf into the potion,” Snape explained, then let the teams begin. Pucey started to watch Alex for better directions, and while the younger boy prepared himself to crush the sopophorous bean, the older one cut directly into it. Alex ducked as the bean bounced around them—a smile on his lips as he continued to crush it and pour it into the cauldron. 

By the point he had reached the stirs, Alex began to talk with his opponents. “Let me ask you something, lads. Have you ever made soup?”

“Soup? What are you getting at Snape?” Malfoy with his snide high pitched-voice asked. 

Alex started to stir counterclockwise, and counted each one as he continued to speak. “It’s a broth, watery food where you keep adding vegetables and spices to make it better. You know, soup,” he explained to them like they were incompetent. His potion turned to a pale lilac at the seventh stir. 

“Well, potions is a lot like making soup. You ought to try making soup before you try your hand at brewing, because well, I’m finished.” He stepped away from the table, and allowed McGonagall to drop a leaf inside the steamed cauldron. From lilac to clear, the potion had reached its final stage and so had the challenge. 

Flint and his group exited the classroom in a fury. McGonagall awarded Alex with a promise of if Alex (or Amarra) were to break the rules, the only people who could deduct points were the prefects/head-students.

——

Alex found himself outside of the girls’ lavatory, the brightly painted Out of Order sign stared at him, and he contemplated on going in. The emerald eyes of the snakes on his wands gleamed at him when he rose it, and he slowly entered the lavatory. It was a gloomy bathroom; the stained glass windows were distorted, the sinks were chipped under a cracked mirror, and the more Alex walked inside, the more he felt like he was being watched. 

Out of the last stall, the toilet erupted and a squat girl—no older than he— came out in her ghost-like maneuvers. She peered at him with cold eyes behind round spectacles. “Tut, tut. Such a fierce little boy. You remind me of someone. I can’t quite put my finger on it.” 

Her voice irked him. High-pitched and mellow, wispy and grey. Her face was mere inched from his, and he pulled his head away from her dead eyes. 

“Myrtle! Leave the poor boy alone, he’s got better intention than who you think he is.” Alex turned to find a middle-aged ghostly man beside him—his green robes swayed to a stop. He jutted his head upwards, and glared at the faint grey girl. “Leave us.” 

She blew a raspberry and glided back to her toilet. The snake on his wand whispered to him, and Alex looked to the wand for faint words. The girl’s got guts to make snide comments.

The ghostly man glided around him, and Alex held his head high. Unafraid and dignified. 

“Alexander Salazar, correct?” 

“You’ve been around, so you ought to know.” 

  Salazar chuckled. “Your mother’s attitude has transferred over to you I see. And her need for competition has also been proven; congratulations on your recent victory. Pureblooded heirs are raised to be cocky and arrogant, they’ve been fed the same bullshit as their forefathers.” 

Alex’s face contorted with confusion. “Aren’t you the one who started this pureblood bullshit? Blood purity means more to you than anyone, that’s why you left Hogwarts.” 

The ghost sighed. “I regret a lot of what I said during those dark years. A lot of what I said now, I regret. Your predecessor took my words and began to preach about it. With you, I want to change all that. I want to help you, and you help me. These past few days, I have seen more from you than him. You’re my true heir—not him—not anymore.” 

Alex’s face twisted again. “You want me to be your messiah? I don’t want to be a preacher-man, I don’t want to die for your sins and words. If you’ve changed your ideology to being more pro-muggle, then yes, we share beliefs. But if he comes back, I don’t want to be at fault for your new life’s mission. I’m doing this my way; you can coach me on the sidelines, but I will not turn out like him nor you.” 

Alex fully expected Salazar to glide away, but he found the ghost still by his side. “I fully support your decision, Alex. I will be by your side when you need me—only you, your sister, and your father can see me. This bathroom is available to both you and your sister if you need a quiet place, your secrets are safe within these walls. I trust you.” 

Salazar clasped Alex’s shoulder, and the boy walked out of the bathroom. The wand’s snake whispered, the All-Father was kind to you, you’ve been proven worthy. 

“Yes, as worthy as I might be, failure is still in my cards,” Alex said back. “My fate has yet to be revealed, but I’m sure I will learn soon enough.”