Mended Crown

(1992-1993 School Year)

Alexander felt sick to his stomach when he woke up. He reached for their room’s bin—afraid that something would come out—then placed it back when nothing came out. He coughed, and then leaned back against his pillow. The sun had begun to prance across their floors, and he sighed at how early he had awoken again. 

Early morning had become a normal for him, but for Amarra, she slept as if the days and the nights were one. He closed his eyes to rid himself of the agitation in his stomach, and replayed the images of his dreams in the dark space of his mind.

Salazar had begged for Flamel not to destroy the stone. Salazar was now in possession—the owner— of the stone, but what could a ghost do with an immortal elixir? 

For your future, I did this, Salazar’s words echoed in his head. If Salazar retrieved the stone for Alex, then what would the Former think when he found out the stone hadn’t been destroyed? Except, Alex knew that the Former would never find out, because Dumbledore had told the world that the Flamels had passed and the stone had been destroyed. 

His eyes opened when he heard the faint sound of the clock chime seven, and he rose before the final ding. He looked over to his sister’s bed, and smiled at the sight of her messy hair. He carefully pulled the book that hung from her hand away, and bookmarked it for her. He read the title, and immediately wished he hadn’t helped her. 

Gilderoy Lockhart’s Wandering with Werewolves was an unexceptional, disregard to all aspects of the bitten-species, and a bloody shamble to the writers of the Wizarding World, and yet Alex couldn’t see how anyone liked Lockhart’s books. Nor choose to have the bloke as the next Defense Professor. 

The vain man smiled at Alex through the book cover, and Alex shuddered at the sight of such a disgraceful man. Yet, he placed the book on the table and headed downstairs. He found his father in his study, and a copy of the Daily Prophet on a table in the living room. 

Alex made himself breakfast and sat outside while he read the paper. He could see his father at the window from the corner of his eye, but in the still air, he enjoyed the peace. That was until his neighbor came out, and told the boy off for Athena’s behavior. 

“He’s getting her confused with Hemlock again. Your owl would terrorize him.” Alex looked at his father when he came out, and then folded up the newspaper. “And Hemlock would do it again if he wished.” 

Snape, in his rarity, gave a small chuckle. Alex followed him inside, and they discussed the plans for the next few weeks. Alex had begun his summer work early, and had debated on asking his sister if he could borrow her book on Lockhart for the school year, but had ultimately decided that he wanted to stay alive. 

“I’ll convince your sister to let you use her books. There’s no reason why we should buy another set if we’ve already got one. I suspect that Lockhart as your professor will make the class extremely boring, and coming from a daft man, that should be easy.” Snape talked while Alex brewed his potions, and the boy often listened to his father’s rambles. 

“He’s a vainglorious man, Alexander. Your mother thought he was daft and dull. Even for a Ravenclaw, she believed that he was too big for his britches.” There was always a stillness in the air whenever they discussed his mother, and Alex prayed that the conversation divert to something else before Snape said more about Rebecca Wilts. 

“Well, if he’s not going to teach us, I guess I’ll come to you for advice.” Alex held his breath as he waited for his father’s response, and relaxed only slightly when he felt Snape’s hand on his shoulder. 

“That’s very kind of you, Alexander, but I’m sure you can handle your own.” 

Alex released the pent up air, and offered his father a smile. Snape stood to get more tea, but Alex looked at his potion before he waved his wand to restart a badly brewed creation. There were no instructions about the potion he was supposed to brew for class, but Snape had full confidence in his son, and knew that anything he had created would be good enough. 

Alex had spent his childhood in front of a cauldron with an array of ingredients around him. He knew the simplest ones and the most difficult, yet he wished to create one that hadn’t be invented before. His father had trusted him to brew the potions in Snape’s storeroom at the school, and so Alex begun to brew the ones that Snape had run out of. 

By the time, Amarra had awoken, Alex had finished his batch of Wiggenweld and began a batch he knew would take a month to brew—Polyjuice. Amarra watched him lug the heavy cauldron up the stairs, and Alex came to halt underneath the attic’s trapdoor. After he pulled the ladder down, he carefully walked up to attic and looked around the dusty place. 

Trunks had been filled with ingredients, charts had been strewn across the floor, and a small chalkboard sat near his potions mat—riddled with notes about what would go well with other ingredients. The dust bunnies watched him set the cauldron up against the window. Alex had tested and theorized how long Polyjuice could brew if it had access to the lunar being, and when he found out he didn’t need to wait the full lunar cycle, he was giddy with excitement. 

That was two years prior. Before he had received Serpentine as a birthday present. Before he felt unwanted by his housemates. Before he had been accepted to Hogwarts. 

Now, he knew more than he had originally known. He pulled a makeshift curtain over the two windows, and in the complete darkness he lit the fire under his cauldron. He watched it sizzle and bubble, and he smiled at the dark space around him. In the darkness, he saw the dream he had just hours before, and he recounted what he saw once more. 

For a moment, he thought he saw the stone upon one of the trunks, but he knew Salazar would never leave such a valuable thing with him. He was just a boy after all. He saw the face of Nicolas Flamel in the dust, and he smiled thoughtfully at the older man who had seen the world change many times before his very eyes. 

He felt his skin sting, and with wild eyes in the darkness, he rolled up his sleeves. His fingers traced lightly over the scars—patchy and scaly—his skin prickled at the touch. Madam Pomfrey had told him that they would heal, but the scars would be permanent. To Alex, he saw these as scars similar to Potter’s, but even he knew that that felt like a stretch of his imagination. He would never be Potter. 

He would never be a chosen one, but he knew that there was more to his destiny than the Fates had let on. 

“Alex! Dinner!” He opened his eyes, and stared around the depths of the attic. He went down, and squinted at the light that induced a headache. He hadn’t been up there for more than hour, yet the sun had already set. He found that it was just him, Nanna, and Amarra for dinner that night, and while he enjoyed the company, he wanted to be alone. 

——

For the next few weeks, Alex was completely alone. He spent his time routinely inspecting his Polyjuice, and read lots of book. Amarra’s activity around the house was sparse with her friends becoming her highest priority. Snape kept to his study, and Nanna became so finicky about their school supplies that Alastor air had to leave work early most days to calm her down. Two weeks into August, and things had begun to calm down. 

Alex found himself inside Flourish and Blott’s one afternoon, surrounded by in-love witches (his sister and Nanna included) while in search for his books. Snape had argued and argued with Amarra about Lockhart’s books, and she had finally subsided to allowing her brother borrow her books for school. 

He had spotted the three lion cubs upon his arrival, and he smiled at Granger when he caught her eye. Before either Potter or Weasley could turn to yell at him, he had disappeared behind a large tower of books. Alex had his list of books for the year, and he moved around the bookstore in search of the two new books that were needed. 

He felt someone grab his arm, and he turned to see Malfoy. Their eyes met, and while Malfoy held a smile that was malicious, Alex kept his face straight. “What do you want, Malfoy?” 

“I just want to talk. You know, one Slytherin to another?” Alex felt Malfoy pull him along to the staircase, and while Alex thought they weren’t inconspicuous, Malfoy thought it was a good place to talk. “I’ve thought about your proposal, and well I think you don’t have any information on my father.” 

Alex raised his eyebrow. “You think I was lying to you?” 

Malfoy nodded. “It’s not the first time you’ve lied to me, remember? You don’t know anything about my father, but you think you do.” 

Alex looked to his hands. He wanted to tell Malfoy about his own mother, and how he remembered Lucius Malfoy’s face among the other silver’s masked Death Eaters. But the boy smiled, and said, “Your father plead not guilty to being a Death Eater, and stated that he had been placed under the Imperius Curse during the war. But so did many others who didn’t wish to tarnish their families’ reputations. When, in fact, he had joined right after graduation and rose through the ranks as an officer. Or do I have him confused with a different Lucius Malfoy II?” 

Malfoy nearly looked enraged, and he opened his mouth to retaliate, but someone else spoke over him. “You must be a friend of my son—Alexander, correct?” 

Alex reeled at the voice he knew so well. A cocky, entitled, greasy voice. He turned his head to the long-haired, blonde man whom he knew as Lucius Malfoy. “Alexander, yes. Alexander Prince.” 

Draco Malfoy opened his mouth to speak against this lie, but Alex gave him a warned look. Lucius Malfoy smiled and with a swift movement, his snake-headed cane landed on the boy’s sleeve. “Prince? I wasn’t aware that the Prince family still had suitable heirs, unless you’re related to that blood-traitor, Eileen?” 

Alex had heard that name very little times in his childhood, but he knew that was the name of his paternal grandmother. “A cousin, but still a Prince. May I have my arm, sir?”

“I assure you, boy. You don’t know anything about me, nor do I think it would be wise for you to tarnish your family’s reputation.” Lucius Malfoy didn’t raise his cane, and the emerald-eyed, silver snake flashed a wink at the boy before Alex could even think a command. Malfoy cried out into the bookstore when the snake-headed cane turned on its master, and the man covered the bite on his neck from his fellow shoppers. 

Alex quickly paid for his books, and ran from the store while Malfoy called out to him. He could hear Nanna’s voice ring out into the alley, but the boy kept his pace. He didn’t care if he received a howler from Cissi; he didn’t care if it put more of a target on his back at school, he just knew he had to run. 

“What were you thinking!” Snape yelled at him the moment they returned home. Alex sat on the staircase, his head bowed in response while his father paced the sitting room. “You should be glad that Narcissa dissuaded Lucius from seeking legal actions, or going to the Ministry. Now, I’ll have to listen to this from both him and your housemates for the remainder of the school year!” 

“I mean, Malfoy did forget about five minutes later. He got into a fight with Mr. Weasley,” Amarra said. 

Snape didn’t look away from his son, and he pinched his nose with frustration. “You’re not helping, Amarra.” 

“Draco came to Alex looking for a fight, if anything that should pull the blame from him.” Snape turned to his daughter, and she only smiled at him. “Don’t worry, Batman, I doubt your reputation will be at stake. Alex used a different surname than Snape.” 

“What did you use?” 

“Prince. I’ve already used Wilts before and that didn’t work.” Alex looked to his father, then in the direction of the fireplace. “Hello, Alastor.”

The disheveled, one-eyed, and bow-legged man smiled at Alex, and put his thumb up in approval. “You might make a good Auror one day, kid. You did a better job nicking Lucius Malfoy than any of us have in the last twelve years!” 

Alex smiled, but his lips fell into a thin line when Snape looked back at him. “You’re grounded until the term starts. Go to your room, Alexander.”

Alex started up the stairs, but he stopped at the base of the attic’s ladder. He grabbed what he could from his room, and then headed into the attic. It was warm and stuffy from the summer air, but he found more comfort in this space than he would in his room for the next few weeks. 

Until they left for the train, Alex stayed in the attic and only came out to get food or to use the toilet. He watched his batch of Polyjuice carefully, and when the lunar cycle had ended, he bottled it up for his father. While they traveled into London, Alex had grown accustomed to the darkness of the attic that the light and airy atmosphere hurt his head immensely. 

They found Blaise on the platform, and Alex had spotted a new husband linked to Mrs. Zabini’s arm. She babied both her husband and her son, and while Alex had a new nickname to call the other boy, Blaise had told him to shut it. 

Amarra had spotted their cousin, Luna, on the platform and invited her to join them in the compartment. Luna rambled on and on about her summer; about her capture of many unknown cryptos and a pie recipe she had created from the Dirigible Plums. After her rant about her life, she fell silent and hummed occasionally as she listened to Amarra’s rambles. 

They had grown up with Luna. They treated her like a young sister, like how Dora and Cedric had were their older siblings. They had gone to her mother’s funeral a year prior. But Alex hated when Luna and Amarra were together, because it meant that their attempts to bully someone would be directed towards him. 

They pulled into Hogsmeade station hours laters and said their goodbyes to Luna. The feast was bland, and Alex grew quite bored before supper had ended. Upon his arrival into the common room, the space fell quiet and heads began to turn in synced as Alex walked to the boys’ dormitories. 

He could hear their whispers, he could hear the whispers from his wand. “I heard he attacked Malfoy’s father. I heard that it was someone else who looked like Snape. I heard…I heard…”

Alex entered the dormitories before the whispers became an absolute chatter, and he hoped that the second-years dormitory would be empty, but that wasn’t the case. Malfoy and his goons had pushed their bed to one side of the circular room, and only Blaise’s bed sat on the same side as Alex’s. 

“What’s this?” Blaise asked. He came up behind Alex, and peered into the room. “He’s not going to attack you, Draco.” 

“Not unless you want me to,” Alex muttered. He sat on his bed, and pulled Serpentine from his carrier. “Or is your daddy going to expel me from a school he doesn’t even control?” 

Malfoy’s pale face fumed. A red tint blushed the edges of his cheeks, and Alex as so sure if he was a cartoon character, steam would’ve poured out of Malfoy’s ears. “You forget that my father is one of the governors of the school, Snape! All I have to say is that your name isn’t Prince, and he’ll come down onto your father with violent hands.” 

Alex rolled his eyes. He watched Serpentine coil around his arms and slither up to his neck. “I’m sure he would. Your father has a certain respect for my father; he might scold him, but he would never harm my father. Don’t try to play it like your father has the intelligence to strike fear into others without being told what to do.” 

Serpentine came down the other side, and the touch of his scales against Alex’s robes caused a shiver of comfort to the boy. He smiled, and looked back to his flatmates. “It’s alright Blaise, if you wish to join them on that side. Serpe and I will be fine on this side.” 

He laid back against his pillow, and watched the snake move across his arm and down to his stomach. The snake rose with each breath the boy had, and he smiled at his best friend as if no one else was in the room was with them. He thought back to his tenth birthday; one of the happiest days of his lifetime. 

He had awoken to Amarra’s voice in his ear, and rushed downstairs to see what gifts they had received from their family. Instead, they found two cardboard boxes and notes for each one. Alex read his, and from the slight-of-hand cursive, he knew what it had to be. They opened their boxes at the same time, and they found two eggs of different sizes and statures. 

Nanna would always yell at him when they were late for school, and he would rush home everyday to see the progress on his new pet. Alex would spend his days in deep thought of what might be inside his egg, and when it started to crack, he kept a close eye on it. Athena and Serpentine hatched around the same time, and the twins were so excited about their new friends that even Nanna couldn’t get rid of the dangerous animals that now resided in the house. 

Serpentine was his baby. And even now, he couldn’t believe his buddy had only been with him for two years, when it felt like they had known each other for a lifetime. If Salazar had his snaky familiar, so would Alex. 

The first day of classes had put Alexander in such a foul mood about the Defense class that a rumor began to spread around the second-years. Alex had stopped a cage full of Cornish pixies from terrorizing the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, and called Lockhart a crude, egotistical, and daft professor to his face before he stormed away from. A rumor—created by Malfoy—had circulated across their peer group like flies to a pile of shit, in which Alex Snape was working with a character named Prince to overthrow the current tenure of professors for a better regiment. 

Not only had Draco Malfoy spread the rumor, but Lucius Malfoy had begun to call for action against a possible anarchist group (led by a student) within Hogwarts. However, both the Minister of Magic—Cornelius Fudge, and the Headmaster agreed no action will be taken against this Prince character until both Lucius and Draco had proof. 

Still, students cleared the way for Alex when he walked through the halls, and the whispers began to reappear after the first week of school. By the end of the month, the color in Alex’s cheeks had started to disappear, and he walked around like a ghost in a graveyard. Amarra had found ways to cheer her brother up during the month, and on a rather beautiful late-September day, she pulled him out to Quidditch pitch with her. 

Alex rested his head on her lap and twirled his wand between his fingers while she talked. They had come out to watch the Gryffindor team practice for the upcoming game, and he listened to her chatter and the rush of air as the brooms took off. 

“I told Macmillan that he’s got to shut up about the flying books and their safety cautions, but he just doesn’t listen. He reminds me a lot of you, but he hates when I compare anyone in our house to you, Al.” She could talk for hours, and he would just listen. “And Moon, you ought to see her, she’s absolutely in love with the ambiance of the tower. She— what the hell?” 

Her voice had turned from a soothe chatter to suddenly agitated, and Alex opened his eyes to see what was the problem. He turned his head to see the lions and the snakes in mid-brawl, and he rose to his feet quicker than his body had expected. With Amarra at his heels, he ran through the bleachers and down onto the pitch, but both teams were too into their fight to see him grab Malfoy. 

“Get off me, you blood-traitor!” Malfoy screeched. Alex had caught him just after the blonde-haired boy had called Granger a slur, and he threw his fellow housemate to the ground before Malfoy could get his wand. 

The others came to a halt in their fight, and while the Slytherins tried to pull Alex from Malfoy, Amarra pointed her wand at her brother’s housemates. “Not one move, gents.” 

The black-haired boy straddled Malfoy’s waist, and the blond-haired boy cowered under Alex’s body.  “I’m not going to let you up until you apologize.” 

“Or what, Snape?” Flint said from behind Amarra’s wand. “We’ll tell your father.” 

Alex slipped his wand from his pocket and pointed it under Malfoy’s chin. “Apologize!” 

“It’s alright, Snape.” Granger touched his shoulder, and for the moment, Alex felt relaxed. But the moment she pulled her hand away, he felt the anger swarm his body and his skin grew heated. 

His fist slammed against the tuft, and Malfoy let a whimper escape his lips. Alex whispered, “a reminder, Mr. Malfoy, if you attempt to cause anymore situations, I’ll be the lesser person and snitch.” 

He stood, and brushed grass from his knees. He turned to his sister, and then walked away. He stopped when he heard a curse backfire from Weasley’s wand, and the ginger-haired boy began to vomit slugs. Amarra slipped her arm across his, and they walked back to the castle in hopes that there was little repercussions. 

——

As the weeks progressed, the color in Alex’s cheeks had disappeared fully, and he felt immensely sick every time he passed through the second-floor corridors. On the evenings that Alex spent in the library, Blaise would accompany him. They would study and complete their homework together, and oftentimes, they would gossip about what Malfoy had done with the other side of the dormitory. Sometimes, Amarra would join them. 

By Halloween, a little bit of tint had come back to Alex’s face, but the pale boy still walked the halls as if he was one of the Hogwarts’ ghosts. He walked past the second-floor girls’ lavatory almost everyday, and each time he passed, a series of hisses and screeches echoed throughout his head. In the rush of class change, he would push his way through the crowds to get away from the sounds and find an empty classroom where he could feel at ease. 

But the thing he had learned over the past couple of months was that neither Salazar nor his mother had spoken with him since the dream about Flamel. Instead, he began to see a different ghost who reminded Alex of the older version he had seen in the mirror nearly a year prior. 

Without the snake-like modifications, Alex thought him to be quite handsome. His black hair had been cut short and styled, and his dark brown eyes were both dominant and calm. Alex felt a sense of authority and dread in this ghost’s aura, but he felt so familiar too. 

No one would give him answers on who this ghost was, but Alex’s answers would too come to him. On Halloween night, Alex had left the Great Hall with Amarra and headed to the Ravenclaw Tower for their yearly gift exchange. They had reached the second-floor corridor, but when they went by the girls’ lavatory, all was silent. 

When they reached the corridor that led back to the staircase, the sound of hisses came back to him in low hums and grew louder the more they walked. 

“What?” Amarra asked. Alex had covered his ears, and his face contorted in a twisted sight of pain. She put her hands on his shoulder, and he felt his scars prickle with the same searing feeling from the year prior. “Do we need to go to the infirmary?” 

He shook his head, and kept his pace toward the corridor’s entrance way. He stopped at the sight of red hair, and before he could call out to the girl ahead of him, she ran. Amarra called to him as he ran after the other girl, but he came to a stop when the voices became unbearably loud. He fell to his knees, his hands clasped over his ears to make the sounds stop, but it became a high-pitched screech in his head. 

“Alex!” His sister yelled, but he couldn’t hear her over the harsh voices. 

He closed his eyes to try to calm his nerves, but the sound intensified and he felt utterly sick. The unknown ghost, a boy no older than seventeen, stared at him from his closed eyelids, smiled at Alex. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. I get these vibrations too.” 

Alex felt a hand touch his shoulder, and he shrugged it away because the sear in his shoulder became excruciatingly agitated. If he had screamed, he wasn’t sure he could hear himself over the wails. 

“Do you know what I do when I hear them? Hmm?” The other boy, his voice was calm yet rough. “I count backwards from ten. By one, they’re not completely gone, but they’ve subsided to a simmer. Try it.” 

Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three… two… one… by the final digit, the voices became quiet, but they bounced in frequencies against the walls of his brain. 

“See? I told you it works.” 

Alex opened his eyes, and found Amarra’s face close to him. A look of fear deadened in her eyes, and when his green eyes scanned hers, she relaxed. She pulled his hands from his ears slowly, and smiled at him sweetly. “What happened?” 

He couldn’t explain it. When he opened his mouth, he heard other voices call out to them. Angry and distracted. They both look away from one another as Granger, Potter, and Weasley rounded the corner, and Amarra stood to defend her brother. While her and Weasley argued, Alex noticed the distant look on Potter’s face. 

They had both heard a familiar voice, but Potter looked completely focused on something written on the walls. Alex rose slowly, and walked to the lion-boy. He looked at the bloody stain that held the message: The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened. Enemies of the Heir Beware.

Alex stepped closer, but the sound of water stopped him in his tracks, and he looked at the puddle below his feet. Granger gave a gasp, and he followed her pointed fingers at the petrified cat. Before Alex could react, he heard a rush of voices and footsteps from one direction, and then a shriek came from another student before he could move away. 

What came next, Alex wasn’t sure. Filch came and accused both Alex and Potter of the death of his cat; Malfoy warned the Muggle-borns of their fate, and Dumbledore told Filch that an investigation would be underway if everyone cooperated fairly. Lockhart offered his office for an interrogation process, and while McGonagall urged against it, the pearly-white teethed bloke insisted. 

Alex sat outside the office with Amarra while the three lion-cubs were questioned by Dumbledore, Lockhart, McGonagall, and Snape. Amarra didn’t talk to her brother, and while Alex was grateful, he didn’t want his first words of the night to be in an interrogation. 

When the lions had finished, Lockhart was instructed to escort both Amarra and the lions back to their common rooms. Alex felt uneasy, and knew he was either to be scolded or expelled. Amarra had protested, but Alex offered her a smile before he followed his father and other the professors to Dumbledore’s office. 

“Alexander, do you understand what the precedent of the matter at hand is?” Dumbledore asked. He offered Alex a licorice twist, but when the boy refused, the headmaster sat at his desk. “Mr. Weasley stated that you and your sister were in that corridor before they were. Please, inform us why you were there?” 

He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder, and the pain returned momentarily. “It’s our birthday, sir. My sister and I had left the feast early to exchange gifts. When we passed through the second-floor corridor, I heard a series of sharp and loud voices that led me to that wall, sir. Those three Gryffindors showed up a moment later, and that’s when we saw the message.” 

He felt his skin grown immensely hot, then everything felt cold. He looked to his right and saw McGonagall beside Dumbledore, and to his left was the very ghost who had spoken to him. The boy smiled at him, and motioned for him to say more, but Alex couldn’t tell them the whole truth. 

Who he saw before he fell to his knees, he wasn’t sure they would believe him if he said he saw the Weasley girl. Nor if he told them about the hisses and screeches that came from the girls’ lavatory for weeks. 

Before he could say anything else, Dumbledore asked another question. “Did you open the Chamber of Secrets? Did you write the message on the wall? Did you plan to kill Mrs. Norris?” The headmaster leaned across the desk to hear the boy’s answer. 

His father’s grip grew tighter. The eyes of the portraits and the professors became hawk-like and pierced through his soul. He could feel hot tears stream down his face and he looked to hands as they shook uncontrollably. 

He looked back at McGonagall and Dumbledore, their faces were distorted and had become like angry masks he had seen at the theatre. “Did you open the Chamber of Secrets? Did you and your snake petrify Mrs. Norris? Answer me, Alexander!” Dumbledore’s voice was so loud, it penetrated the depths of the boy’s mind, and the frequency started to bounce violently in his head again. 

He looked to his father for guidance, but the black eyes on Snape’s face had become slitted and hauntingly narrowed. The grip grew tighter, and Alex thought he could hear his bones snap from the weight. 

Dumbledore slammed his fists on the desk, and the portraits began to laugh. “Are you not the heir, Alexander? As your birthright, you didn’t open the Chamber of Secrets? Salazar would be disgusted with you!” The portraits got louder and louder, and Alex could feel his brain shake inside his head. 

He looked to the ghostly boy, who waved his wand through the air, and spoke softly to Alex. “Count back from ten, go on.” 

Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four… three… two… one…

Alex opened his eyes, and suddenly the air felt so much different. The hostile nature had subsided to a cool and airy touch upon his skin, and his father’s hand gently squeezed him. 

“Alexander? I asked you a question: did you open the Chamber of Secrets?” Dumbledore asked calmly. 

Alex looked to his left and no longer saw the older boy. He took a deep breath, and then said, “no, sir. I didn’t open the Chamber, nor write the messages. My sister and I found the cat like that.”

The professors exchanged looks, and then Dumbledore smiled. “Well that settles it. Severus, please keep an eye on your son. You may leave, Alexander.” 

Alex stood, and walked out the door. He took the steps two at a time, and ran through the halls towards the stairs. Once he reached the girls’ lavatory, he held out his wand and entered the slippery room where he found the ghostly boy. He smiled at Alex, and then raised his finger to his lips. 

Alex felt something grab his arm, and his stomach lurched at the sudden force that pulled him from the lavatory. He bent over to rid himself of the sickness, and when he straightened himself upwards, he found himself in a vast cylindrical chamber with various tunnels that led to it. 

The forest green and black tiles led him to a statue of Salazar, and he looked at mouth-like fireplace where a beast slept inside. He noticed that each of the tunnels were shaped like snake with their mouths wide open. Large pillars spanned ten feet tall, and were as thick as an oak’s trunk. The floor was as wet as Myrtle’s bathroom, and he could hear a rush of water from the lake above them. He felt something pass through him, and when he turned, Salazar stared at him. 

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this, my boy. It wasn’t my intentions, but I’ll explain it all to you in due course. Goodnight,  Alex…”