Mended Crown

The only thing Alexander looked forward to before the holidays was his birthday, but even then, the day haunted him. 

He knew that the day meant more than he and Amarra’s birthday, more than the treats and the tricks, but something that was seen as a catalyst day for both him and another student. For his sister he would put on a happy face. 

They went through their classes that day, and they celebrated their birthday that evening as if they didn’t have homework due the next morning. It was their one day that they could be free before the world caught up with them again, and even still, Alex felt the weight on his shoulders. 

Presents had come the morning of, and Alex smiled at the gifts that Amarra had received from Nanna, Narcissa, and their cousin, Dora. Although he had put on a fake smile for her, he did throughly enjoy the presents that had been sent to him. While his sister wanted to show off her gifts throughout the day, the only other form of entertainment they had was the formidable threat of a troll. 

The following day Alex had heard that the troll had been stopped by three first years from Gryffindor, and he immediately knew which ones had taken down the large creature. Or as Snape had told it—in-between his story of how he had hurt his leg—Professor Quirrell had let a troll into the castle for a class, and the three buffoons had put a stop to it. 

After that, the castle fell quiet of professorial schemes and misbehaved children, until the first Quidditch match was called into place. Alex had been dragged to the game by his housemates, and they expected his full support. Except, when the lions won, he cheered them on just to spite the sore losers that were his own housemates. 

For his actions, Alex had been kicked again from the common room and found himself asleep in his father’s office for the rest of November. 

By Christmas, however, he was excited to be away from the boring drawls of Hogwarts and to be with family for the holidays. He had spent his days between classes in the library or in empty classroom—playing against Salazar in games of chess— with the rare chance of being of Blaise Zabini’s good side again. 

Alex had learned that Blaise’s had a similar fall birthday, but the other boy had urged Alex to keep it quiet. “I’ve known Malfoy for years, but he’s never been told when my birthday is. If you’re the first to know it, he’ll think that I’ve turned on him,” was Blaise’s excuse. They had grown close since the potions duel, but they had made a pact to lie to Malfoy as any given chances so their secrets were never shared with others. 

The evening before he left to visit his grandparents, Alex asked, “what do you plan to do for the holidays? See your mum?” 

Blaise shook his head and handed Alex a pair of rolled socks.  “No mum’s gone down to Italy again. She’s in search for a new prospect, the last one didn’t work out too much.”

“Is this first one, or has she done this before?” 

“The first, but no one knows what happened to my dad, so I think she’s done this before.” Blaise sat on his bed and watched Alex pack his trunk. “But I’ll get to have the whole room to myself. Malfoy and the rest of them are going home for the break, and I get to finally be as loud as I want.” 

“You could come with me if you’re that desperate,” Alex joked. “The Wilts’s are a little bit more rowdy than their more dignified counterparts.” 

Blaise waved his hand. “No offense, but I don’t want to be associated with you just yet. You’re the stain of the house, remember? I have a reputation to uphold.” 

Alex rolled his eyes, and then closed his trunk. “Don’t remind me, but one day you should join the dark side, my young Jedi.” 

The one thing that held Alex in a form of shock was that his housemates didn’t know a lot about Muggle cultures. He constantly made jokes that alienated him from his peers until he remembered that they didn’t grow up in combined world of Muggle and Wizardry influences. He had to explain to Blaise weeks priors about what a movie was, and that it was different than a picture in the Daily Prophet. 

“Remind me again what a Jedi is?” 

Alex sighed, and sat on his bed. He racked his brain on how to word his next few sentences correctly. “It’s a character, or a classification of a character from a famous movie franchise.” Even that threw Blaise off and a confused look resurfaced on the darkened skin of his friend. 

“You know what, never mind, okay? Do you think your mum will send you gifts?” 

Blaise shrugged, and then stood. “I hope so. I’ve been asking for a new dragon-hide book bag for a while, and seeing how she didn’t get me one for my birthday, I’m hoping she’ll remember about Christmas.” 

She, in fact, didn’t get Blaise a new book bag, but a book about Quidditch, a bag of sweets, and his cat, Erskine. 

However, the night had become full of terrors. Alex couldn’t sleep; he tossed and turned in his bed until even he couldn’t fall back asleep. As the grandfather clock in the common area chimed three, Alex entered the empty space. A silver and white-faded woman led him from the depths of the boys’ dormitories and up the staircase to the main hall. 

The world around Alex became a blur. He didn’t know where he was going nor where she wanted to lead him to, but he knew her. She whispered to him in his dreams, he had seen her since he was a toddler. 

Black hair now turned white. A sickly complexion that used to be so cheery and full of life, but even he could still see some tint in her cheeks. To him, he couldn’t see any imperfections; to him she was still as beautiful as the day she died. 

To him, she was still his mother. 

She led him to a classroom on the fourth floor, empty and voided by somber blue lights. Alex blinked rapidly at the new atmosphere, and when he turned to find this ghostly woman, she had long disappeared. 

In his pocket, he felt for his wand. Around his neck, he felt for the cold touch of Serpentine’s scales. 

But he found nothing but himself, alone in an empty room with nothing but a mirror. 

“What an odd place to keep such a thing,” he whispered. A chill ran up his spine, and he turned to find another ghost, but there was nothing. 

He stepped closer to the reflective glass until he could see himself. He felt like he was at the carnival. His figure stared back at him in the distorted and dusty glass, but it wasn’t a young boy who looked back at him. This one was older, more dignified and regal than the boy Alex knew himself to be. 

He saw a young man with the same green eyes as he. The same black hair and sallow skin, but he wore an a dark green suit, a brooch of a silver snake was pinned on his chest, and a black crown upon his head. In his hands was the same wand Alex itched to have, and when both he and the older boy opened their mouths, a deeper voice called to him.

“I am you, and you are me. We are not the Former, we are simply much more than what He desired.” 

“Such a strange occurrence that she would lead you here,” another voice spoke in the darkness. “She ought to know better than to lead you out into the open, don’t you think?” 

“Do you see what I see too, Salazar?” 

“If I were living, I don’t think I would be able to. But being dead has its perks, and you’re staring at what some would call a desire. That’s what the mirror does after all, shows you the thing you desire most and what you wish to achieve.” Salazar gilded to a halt beside the boy, and Alex could see his reflection in the glass beside the older boy. 

“The only thing I desire is to know my future, is this who I become?”

“Something like this, I reckon. But there is much in store for you to just see one glimpse of the future, there’s more to meet the eye, young Padawan.” 

For the first time, Alex looked away from the mirror and found the grey ghost with a smile on his see-through face. “How do you know those references when you’re just as pureblooded as my housemates?”

Salazar only smiled more. “I was there when you first watched those movies. I found them quite enjoyable too, you know.” 

Alex turned back to mirror, but noticed something had changed. Now, the other boy held a smile very similar to Salazar, but the canine teeth on one side were sharper than the other side. This time, however, a different version of Salazar stood behind the older boy with his head turned as if he was a father who admired his son. 

“I don’t know if I can achieve this kind of future for myself. What if I mess up?” Alex thought.

“Your cards have already been written out for you, whether you decide to take the routes that will lead you to this point or not are on you. But just know, I will be here to guide you on your way,” Salazar said. 

Alex stepped closer to the mirror, but neither the newer versions of himself or Salazar moved. He was surprised that he hadn’t seen his mother—the desire to have a full family wasn’t displayed on the mirror. Nor the desire to have a group of friends, or the desire that pulled the Former entirely out of the equation. Instead, he saw himself and what his future could’ve been, and for the first time in a long time, Alex felt scared. 

Scared of what he would become. 

——

And he reveled in that notion on the train ride back into London. While Amarra talked about her friends and what she wanted to do during the holidays, Alex stared at himself in the reflection of the glass window. Now he looked like a young boy again. Now he looked like himself. 

“Nanna said that we should catch the next train to Hampshire around five, and we should make it to the manor by eight. Alex? Are you listening, Alex?” 

He looked at her before she could snap in his face, and he nodded. “The train’ll leave at exact five o’clock, did she send you the tickets?”

She rummaged through her bag before she found two short-stemmed paper tickets. “We’ll get into King’s Cross at exactly four-thirty, which should give us enough time to get something small to eat before he catch the next train. Are you feeling okay? You look tired.” 

He looked back at the window as the Scottish landscapes rushed past them as they headed south. He caught a glimpse of his skin, how pale he had become in just a short few hours. “Yeah, I’m fine, listen we might not have time to get a snack before we board.” 

Amarra dismissed his comment with a small wave of her hand. “Nonsense, I’ll find a way.” 

By the time they had arrived in London, it took them nearly all of their short allotted time to even find the next platform and navigate through the crowds of rush hour with their trunks and pets (disguised as cat carriers) that Amarra wasn’t able to find a vendor before they heard the final departure announcement. 

A simple “I told you so” by Alex prompted her to smack him, and they sat in silence for most of the trip to Southampton. By the time they reached the station, night had fallen and the twins grew restless as they waited for someone to pick them up. Rodrick Wilts, their uncle, came to get them, and before they knew it, the twins could see the familiar silhouette of the Wilts manor in the distance. 

“I hate to tell you two this, but the Gytrash had pups a couple weeks ago, and they’re extremely active around this time. So, if you hear howls or gunshots, don’t be alarmed, okay?” Rodrick informed them as they grew closer to the ancient, three-story manor. Alex could see the faded red painted barn over the frost bitten windows, and his Aunts Fauna and Andy outside in the gated pasture. 

“Don’t worry, we’ve been Moony when it’s his time of the month, we can handle the howling,” Amarra chimed. “Is that Buckbeak out there with Aunt Fauna?” 

Even before they stepped out of the car, Alex could hear the Gytrash in the depths of the darkened woods. Their howls echoed and were pitched high enough that he was sure the neighborhood dogs could hear them. The empty area beside the main house was an excellent place that overlooked the village below the manor, and in the nights when the moon was behind a blanket of clouds, Alex could often see the Gytrash in these fields. 

“I have to help your aunts with the hippogriff, you two get inside before you freeze.” Rodrick hurried away from the car to help his wife and his cousin with the beasts, and Alex began to lug both his and Amarra’s trunks up to the house. 

The interior of the house had always had a warm and welcoming feel to it. Even during the war, the house always had a certain atmosphere to it that neither the deaths that followed the war nor the outcomes could overthrow the current reign. To Alex, the Wilts manor felt more like home to him than the Snape house, but even here he could see the darkness within. 

Serpentine’s head popped out of the hoodie’s pocket to examine the space he knew all too well before he ducked back inside the warmed pocket at the sound of quick-paced footsteps. “There you two are! We were worried sick!” 

Their cousin, Nymphadora, came around the corner of the dining room too quickly for Alex to even realize that she was coming his way. Although her face showed a serious expression, her tone was rather playful for her to ever be serious. “We thought you died, or worse were possessed by the dead!” 

She laughed as she hugged Amarra, and while Alex put his hand up to block her from doing the same, she hugged him too. “Tell me all about the dusty old castle, anything new?” 

“You graduated last year,” Alex grumbled. “Nothing’s changed since you left.” 

“You don’t know that!” She laughed. “Peeves could’ve finally done a number on the place, and you wouldn’t even tell me, Alexander!” 

“Don’t worry, Peeves is still the same,” Amarra said. “From all your stories, at least, Peeves is still wreaking havoc on the poor place.” 

“Believe me, Dora, Peeves will continue to tear that place apart until there is no more Hogwarts.” They looked away from the foyer to the large staircase ahead of them. Alex held his head high at the sight of his grandmother—in all her beauty— as she came to greet her grandchildren. “He was the same during my time, and he will continue to do that until the end of time. Hello, my lovelies.” 

She kissed both Alex and Amarra on their cheeks, and then smiled. “Dinner will be ready here soon. I’ve made up your mother’s room, please let me or Penny know if something’s wrong.” 

The thing about their mother’s room that had always put Alex on edge wasn’t the painted constellations that moved about the ceiling and walls, nor the reading nook that overlooked the graveyard, but the fact that the place remained a haunted hotspot. He always saw his mother in the corner of his eye, her silvery body that often smiled in the mirror or if she waltzed around the room, her silvery hair would follow after her in a rush. 

There were others too. A young man—in similar age to Alex’s older version—who always had seaweed in his hair or stood by the doorway in complete somber. Another woman with a faintest color of red and a smile that could light up the room also waltzed around, but she rarely stayed. Ghosts of Alex’s past—people he was told that he wouldn’t remember—he grew reminiscent of a life he could’ve had. Or could’ve been apart of. 

Amarra often said that she couldn’t see these ghosts, and she envied him because he could see their mother. He often told her that she should be happy that ghosts don’t haunt her, because they were a nuisance. 

Today, however, when she saw that her brother had become absent when they entered the room, she didn’t put up a fuss. Instead, she staked her claim to the bed and left it at that. Alex always slept in the reading nook, and loved the sights that it overlooked. The barn and all of its animals, beasts of different natures, and each one had a story they had been willing to tell Rodrick’s wife, Fauna.

The following morning, Alex and Amarra set out early to explore the innards of the barn with Dora—who was more than willing to cause trouble for her younger cousins. Each stall held a magical background fit for the likes of the species is held; the thestrals and unicorns had a forest as dark as coal and pond similar to Hogwarts’ lake, the bowtruckles had houses carved into fallen logs in a vast forest, the nifflers had a small tree and a pit full of shiny objects, and so many other species filled the expanded barn. 

For Alex, however, he had always loved the snake pit. Full of some rather precarious and dangerous reptilians, both Alex and Serpentine found the stall to be quite interesting. The snake-boy could walk freely among these beasts of magical and non-magical slithers of life, and he often found peace among the scaly beasts who bowed to him. 

An ashwinder found her way up Alex’s leg, an ancient Runespoor climbed the other, and while Serpentine nestled in the warmth of Alex’s hood, hissed warningly at the others. “It’s alright, bud. There’s enough of me to go around.” 

“To the three children in my barn, you have until Buckbeak squawks for his morning breakfast before I come in there myself to get you!” Alex heard Fauna yell, and seconds later he heard his sister and cousin run to her. “Alexander, get out of the snake tank, they might eat you!” 

He looked at the two snakes on his legs, and the third—an Horned Serpent—was on its way to his legs, before he tried to shoo them all off of him. “I don’t I can, I’m surrounded!” 

Behind him, he heard his aunt come up to the stall. The horned snake slithered away from the boy, and she slowly reached her hand out to grab the three-head snake. “Cornelius cubed, get off the poor boy. You too, Corny.” 

Alex stepped out of the pit minutes later, his aunt on his right as they walked out of the barn, but neither Amarra nor Dora were there. A house-elf now stood outside, their pointy ears and large eyes greeted the boy, and at the sight of the snake in the hood, the elf squeaked. 

“Gimli, this snake won’t hurt you like the others, you know that. Why don’t you go and feed the animals, and then come in for breakfast, okay?” Fauna spoke to the house-elf with the gentlest of voices, and the creature bowed to her. Alex watched the old-flannel wearing elf scurry away before he joined the rest of the family at the table for breakfast. 

A young girl brushed past his feet when Alex entered the kitchen, and he saw his other cousin, Aurora, run after another house-elf before her mother told her to stop. Fauna and Rodrick had a daughter five years priors, and although she loved having her only friends be her cousins and the family house-elves, Aurora often kept to herself. When Alex did see her, she always clung to her father’s legs or would sit with their grandmother at the piano. 

The Wilts curse is what their grandfather had called it. The children were either bubbly like Rebecca (or Amarra) or were seclusive like Theodore (or Alex) was. 

After breakfast, a group were to head off back into London for some last minute shopping, but Alex decided to stay behind to help his uncle, grandfather, and Alastor—who had arrived earlier—with the Gytrash problem. When the other group returned, more of their organized family had arrived from their jobs: including Snape and Dora’ father, Ted. 

By Christmas Day, Alex felt more rejuvenated than he had since he’d been told that they were to spend the holidays with family rather than the eerie likes of Hogwarts, but even still the image of the mirror found its way into the cracks of his mind. He came down that morning to a large collection of presents and the smell of pastries. 

An owl came when the family were to open their presents, and from the letter that was read aloud by their grandfather, Theodore, there was some excitement about the cousins from across the pond. When the picture of Robert’s family came into the clutches of the Snape family, Severus pointed out who everyone was. The discernible man with the Wilts’ feature was their uncle, Robert, while the woman was his wife. The two girls; one smaller and one larger were their cousins, Brianna and Brielle. Just from the picture alone, Alex could tell which one belonged to their respected houses. 

Amarra had always had a soft spot for the presents she received, and for every person who had gifted her something, she gave them a hug. Alex, on the other hand, expressed his gratitude with smiles. And after the day was nearly done, Alex went out to the graveyard behind the house and sat beside a gravestone. 

“Hullo, mum,” he said. A purple and yellow flower had been placed was slowly wilting away, but Alex gave a careless wave of his wand and lit the flower right up. “I received your old pens from Granddad, and I saw a picture of your nieces from Uncle Robert. They look pretty nice, but I doubt I’ll ever meet them.” 

His hands brushed the snow from the stone, and he smiled wryly at the sight of his mother’s gravestone. “Dad’s alright, he’s having to deal with my housemates disapproval of me and my sister. Mara is still wreaking havoc on whatever gets in her way. Nanna and Alastor might be getting married soon, so that’s exciting. But I’m sure you know all about what’s been going on with me, I can see you every once in a while after all.” 

He sighed, and stood. Alex smiled again, and then kissed the top of the stone. “I love you, and I miss you. Happy belated birthday, and a Merry Christmas, Mum.” 

——

Holiday break ended quickly at the start of the new term, and the first five months flew by before Alex could even comprehend what had happened. With exams quickly around the corner, Alex was so sure that he would die of stress before the term even came to an end. However, every time he tried to fall asleep, something would wake him back up. 

In the most boring of lectures from Professor Binns, while his fellow students fell asleep, Alex was plagued by the voices of old in his head. If he closed his eyes, obscene images would appear in the darkness of his eyelids. If he continued to be the most studious of students, a faint tick and whisper would cloud his mind until he couldn’t even write anymore. 

In Professor Quirrell’s classes, the voices only grew louder. The whispers would subside if Alex left the class, but a headache always formed the second he was in the presence of the timid professor. 

Then one day, as Alex walked with his housemates to lunch, he collided directly with the Defense professor. They both went to collect the other’s books, and Alex spoke to the frightful professor, “I’m so sorry, sir. I’ve been so out of it—”

Quirrell yelped at the direct eye connect, and with one look in his eyes, Alex felt a surge of pain. He held in his scream, and saw a terrible scene in his head. A man, much similar to Quirrell’s stature, who had fought tirelessly with a deformed creature before the latter defeated the other in battle. Before the man could apparate away, the creature latched onto him, and looked to have sucked the life out of the man before the man collapsed. 

Then a series of scenes flashed across Alex’s eyes. Each one related back to the professor, each one dealt with parasite on his head and each one was more graphic than the last, when finally, Alex saw an empty cavern. A black cape floated in the air around him, and he thought he saw a face or maybe some red slitted eyes before Alex scurried away from the professor. 

Something clicked in boy’s head, and he stared at the professor in complete fear, but the professor held the same expression. In a hall full of students, no one seemed to care about the interaction, no one found it pellicular or strange. 

“The boy, Quirrell… who issss he?” Alex felt sick just by the sound of this new voice. So much unlike the professor’s stutter, or the quiver often found in his voice, this one was strong and raspy. 

Known and uncertain. 

Alex looked at the rush of students that went past, each one was a blur before his very eyes and none cared. When he looked back, the professor was mere inches from his face. The smell of his breath was onion-y and awful, like rotten fish or fresh blood, and his eyes had become a distorted color of black. 

Alex looked for his books, but found nothing but the sight of this creepy man. The voice returned, and it droned out its ’s’es in long drawls of hate and avarice. And in the moment, Alex put his hands out to touch the professor’s shoulders. 

Some instinct told him was to do, and he took it. The professor started to shudder and yell, and for the first time, students started to look. Alex scrambled to his feet, a sudden pain shot through his body and he took his books in his hands to ease the yell that wanted to escape him. 

Quirrell screamed in pain, and touched the spot of his shoulders before he looked back at Alex. Alex could feel the same pain in his shoulder, and then looked around wildly at the students who gaped and whispered behind his back. Quirrell writhed and stood quickly before he bolted down the hall. 

Alex looked at all of the faces around him, each one looked at him in a mixture of expressions and the whispers continued. “He attacked a professor!” He turned to see a fellow Slytherin, Parkinson, yell into the hall and all faces turned to her. In the blink of an eye, she ran down the other end of the hall and Alex knew he had to be free of these rumored faces. 

Before he knew it, he ran in the same direction as Quirrell and through the crowds of watchful students. Behind him, he could hear the clamor of footsteps, and McGonagall’s voice after him, but Alex knew he had to escape. 

To run. To be free. 

He ran through the crowded halls, and pushed through the groups of students who just wanted lunch. He found himself in the girls’ lavatory on the second floor, and the pain had seared itself deep into the depths of his skin.

He threw his books to the ground, and let out a small wheeze of a scream before he pulled off all the layers that heated the pain. When he looked in the bathroom mirror he found a small print of red, raw skin. 

“Mister Snape!” He turned his head at the door, and fully expected to see McGonagall burst through the door, but instead he heard her voice again. Softer. “Alexander, open this door, please. It’s just me and no one else.” 

He looked back at the mirror. His eyes focused on the patch of raw skin, it seethed and stung on his body. He looked at it himself, then his hands while his eyes moved back and forth in their sockets for answer. Any answer. “It’s unlocked.” 

The older professor came in, and closed the door behind her before another student could see either of them inside. “Inform me carefully of what happened—” he could feel her eyes on him, and when he turned, her cat-like eyes bore down on the wound. “How did that happen, Alexander?” 

He told her of what happened while she carefully cleaned the fiery wound. She listened while he spoke, and as she had promised many months ago, she told him that she wouldn’t deduct house points from him. She gave him a warning and walked with him to the hospital wing, but neither of them spoke about how he had received such a wound. 

“This will be our secret, yes?” She told him. She had said that she would inform Professor Flitwick that Alex wouldn’t be in class, and urged the boy to take the rest of the afternoon off, but even after she left him alone in the common room, Alex felt anxious. 

Although his shoulder screamed at him, he continued to study and write as many notes as possible. When Blaise came in to drop off his school bag and handed Alex class’s notes, Alex stayed in his corner of the common room and wrote. He didn’t attended dinner, and before the others could join him, he retired early. 

“I don’t need their remarks nor their hateful glances, not today not ever,” he told him as he climbed into bed. Serpentine balled himself up on Alex’s chest, and they both tried to sleep the night away. 

However, things don’t come easily for Alexander Snape, and just hours later in the prime minutes of the witching hour, he was awake. He had seen her again, his mother clouded the innards of his mind and beckoned him to join her. 

He followed her through the castle’s halls, and every once in a while, he heard a faint scream in the darkness of the night. He deduced that when she disappeared that the screams were hers—to let him know which way he and Serpentine had to go. Alex felt like he had been sent on a wild goose chase, until he came to a rather suspiciously locked door. 

“This is third floor corridor,” he whispered. “We’re not supposed to be here, mum.” 

But the ghost flew straight through the door, and when he didn’t follow, a white hand appeared through the wood. Alex inhaled a breath of confidence, and then lifted his wand. “Alohomora.”

The door stumbled open, and walked slowly inside the small yet darkened room. With strained eyes, Alex looked around, but when he found nothing he turned to leave before another wispy hand touched his. He found Rowena, instead, who looked at him with complete interest and suspicion. 

“Why are you in here?” She asked. 

“I was, uhm…” he had always thought that Amarra looked like Rowena, but the ghost was more stern and less talkative than his twin sister. “Did anyone ever tell you how pretty you look?” 

She crossed her arms over her chest, and gave him an unamused look. “Don’t play dumb, Alexander. Did she lead you into another forbidden place?” 

Alex looked at the room around him. He tilted his head at the sight of a trapdoor in the floor, and then questioned the more stern ghost. “What’s that?” 

“Your mother and I going to have some real issues here soon,” she muttered before she gilded to the space in front of him. “Don’t look at that and answer my question.”

“Mine first since you already know the answer to yours.” He chided and a smile appeared on his face. “Or shall I go ask Salazar?” 

Her face distorted into something similar to angry, but it looked more like frustration before she sighed. “It’s to hide something from the likes of children, now out!” 

Before he could walk to the door, something snapped behind him and both he and Rowena turned to the source. A large dog appeared from the darkness and with three heads it snapped in Alex’s direction, and backed him against one wall. Serpentine hissed at the dog, and while the snake tried to snap at the beast, Alex grabbed him. 

“Let’s not piss him off more, we don’t who he belongs to.” 

Rowena, in a panic, whistled and the dog followed her high-pitched sound. Alex ducked out before the dog could realize that he had made a break for it, and the door slammed behind him. He panted, and then spoke, “now can you tell what is behind that trapdoor?” 

Rowena told him all about the Philosopher Stone on the way back to the common room. She told him about its creator, and why Dumbledore had it. She told him that the Former was in search of the stone and that Quirrell was the new host of the parasitical bastard, and that both Quirrell and the Former had grown restless. “You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and now both the host and the parasite are fearful of you. Please be careful, Alexander.” 

Alex played all the information through the circuits of his mind after she dropped him off in the Slytherin common room. He tried to sleep again, but he found himself awake in his bed once more, and with every chime of the clock, he could see the pale shadows of ghosts bounce around his head. Around six, the images of Quirrell and the Former danced around his eyes until at last he fell into a soundless slumber.