Mended Crown

March ended with a rush of excitement in the air, and students were confident that the Heir of Slytherin had run their course. By the end of April, the theory had been proven when no more attacks occurred and the mandrakes were nearly ready. With the beginning of May, students felt a sense of enthusiasm when it came to their classes for the next school year, and Blaise decided to take the piss out of Alex during said time. 

“I think you should take Potions next year, Alex.” Blaise smiled, but then winced when Alex reached across the table to smack him. 

“You think you’re so funny, Blaise Zabini,” Alex mocked. “You should take Charms and see if Flitwick can create you a new brain.”

Blaise mocked him, and then laughed. “Maybe you should sign them up for that class.” He nodded towards Crabbe and Goyle. 

Alex turned to see the two goons reading a book upside down, that was until Malfoy leaned across the table to turn it the right side up. “Yeah, total geniuses they are.” 

“I’m thinking about taking Divination. Mum was good at it y’know.” Amarra sat next to Blaise, and smiled at the boys. “Are you going to be basic, Blaise, and take the core classes?” 

Blaise looked offended, but after a second, he gave a grave nod. “I’ve sadly already been given my class by Mum, but I am sneaking Muggle Studies into my schedule.” 

“Yes, join us, Mr. Zabini. We would love to have some conscious Purebloods in our ranks,” Alex joked. For the first time since the Chamber had opened, a true smile had come to the boy’s face as did a little color. 

This time, however, Blaise reached over the table to smack Alex’s shoulder. And despite the pain that shot through his nerves, Alex kept the smile. “What classes are you taking snake boy?” 

“I’m adding Care for Magical Creatures as a core classes, but I’m interested in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.”

Numbers and old numbers, Amarra’s thought’s rang. “Yes, but Arithmancy is the study of magical properties of numbers, while Ancient Runes is just the study and translation of ancient runes, Amarra.” 

She stuck her tongue at him, and his smile grew. Blaise looked between the twins before he sighed. “I wish I had a twin, so I could read their minds.” 

“Think of something, Blaise. Anything.” 

The Ravenclaws are too smart for their own good, Blaise’s thoughts echoed. 

“You think the Ravenclaws are annoying, have you seen my brother?” 

Blaise was startled. How the bloody hell?

“We can read minds now, dummy. And now I know what Malfoy is thinking at all times,” Alex said. “And half of the time he just wants to curse Crabbe and Goyle, or catch Potter in the act.” 

“I hate this.” Blaise’s hand spasmed, and he moved away from Amarra. “Now you’re extra creepy.” 

Alex and his sister caught each other’s eyes, and they laughed at how scared their friend had become. “Oh relax, Blaise. I won’t do it to you all the time. It’s just good practice.” 

Amarra scoffed. “He might not, but I will. I’ll know everyone’s secrets by the time we graduate.” 

The first week of May held the third Quidditch match of the season: Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor. Amarra had gambled with the Weasley twins that Hufflepuffs would win, and their cousin, Cedric Diggory, would win the match. Although Alex had told her not to make bets with two Quidditch players, his sister proceeded to make a wager and made Blaise help her set up the bets box. 

So, that Saturday, while Amarra pleaded for Alex to join her and Blaise on the pitch, Alex had given her an excuse on why he was going to be late and he would join them just before the match began. 

He was on his way to the library when he heard the voices again. He followed the whispers and hisses as they got louder and louder with each step, and while he was sure he would find no one, he saw the outline of a black creature slide across a corridor. He slid his wand from his pocket and ran towards it. 

His books fell from his grasp, and both Ginny Weasley and the basilisk turned to greet him. He looked to the floor and found a trail of water, but he saw two petrified students on the floor behind Ginny. 

With fearful eyes, Ginny Weasley’s face became red and tears started to stream down her pale face. “It’s okay, Ginny. I’m not going to hurt you, or your friend.” He saw the basilisk slither behind the girl, and for the first time, he felt a wave of terror rush over his body. 

“Please… don’t tell anyone…please…Alex…” she broke into a sob. “He will kill you and I.” 

Alex’s eyes scanned over the two students, then back at the girl and her snake. The basilisk straightened itself and barred its teeth at the boy—in the same manner Alex had seen Serpentine stand when he felt threatened. Now he knew what it was like to be a mouse caught in a snake’s grasp. 

He made a little ‘x’ over his heart, and spoke, “I won’t say a word, Ginny. Cross my heart, hope to die.” He slid his wand back into his pocket, and slowly walked towards her. 

He could see her shake with every step he took, but when he thought he heard a rattle, he stopped. The snake let out a deep hiss, and Ginny whimpered at the sound. She yelped when the basilisk struck, and sunk its fangs into his arm. 

He yelled at the pain, and fell to his knees. He could’ve backed away, he could’ve ran. But he knew that snake would catch him before he even turned the corner. His body tensed at the venom that seeped into his bloodstream, and his muscles spasmed as it coursed its way to his brain. Alex stood slowly—his body cursed at him—but Ginny and her snake had disappeared. 

He stumbled over to the two students, and blood fell from the bite to the floor. He heard it drip onto the puddles, and he fell to his knees next to Hermione. 

“I’m sorry, Hermione. If you can hear me, I’m sorry. You should’ve told Potter.” He admitted. He looked to the other student, a Ravenclaw prefect, and then rose to his feet. “I’m going to go get help.” 

He slowly walked back to the stairs, his body spasmed once more at the venom. His vision became blurry, and through the spots he thought he saw the green robes of McGonagall. “Professor! Professor?” 

He heard her voice—whether it was McGonagall’s or his mother’s—he heard someone speak to him. “Around the corner,” he began. “Granger and a Ravenclaw. Another attack.” 

Her grip on his shoulders didn’t pain him, instead the venom calmed the scars. Like aloe to a sunburn. “Go to Madam Pomfrey, Alexander. Get looked at!” 

He held his arm, and heard her run down the way he had just came. Through the blood spots, he found his way to the Hospital Wing and informed the matron of the attack. She handed him a towel and told him to find a bed, but the second she was gone, Alex left. 

He needed to get to Chamber. He could scream there. He could talk to Ginny there. But when he got to the common room, the wall to the passageway was sealed. Alex’s fist collided with the stone wall—over and over again—but nothing happened. It wouldn’t open. He tried the bookcase, but nothing. 

“Stupid wall. Fuck, Salazar,” he said desperately. “The one time I need you, and you’re not here!” 

The common room echoed with his voice, and in the stillness, he could hear the students enter the halls from the pitch. He wrapped the towel tightly around his arm, and winced. He sat on one of the sofas before the common room filled with disappointed students, and his father’s footfalls. 

“Settle down, settle down,” Snape said. 

Alex opened his eyes, the spots had disappeared, but his body started to shake. He found Blaise on one side of him, and Malfoy on the other. Blaise looked at the bloody towel, and then slid his cardigan from his shoulders and placed it over Alex. 

“There’s been another attack. This time, two students have been petrified—please let me finish, Mr. Flint.” 

Flint sat with a huff—still in his Quidditch uniform—and looked to his teammates. Malfoy, looked Alex, but Blaise rose a finger to his own lips. 

“All students are to return back to their common rooms by six o’clock every evening. You will be escorted to every class by a professor, and no student is allowed to use the bathrooms unless accompanied by a professor or as a group. All further Quidditch practices and matches are cancelled, and all extracurricular activities are also cancelled.

“If the culprit isn’t caught, then the school will have to close under the Minister’s orders. If you have any information, whatsoever, please report to me or the other professors.” 

There was a sudden uproar from Alex’s housemates, and while Snape refused to answer any of them, Alex could fee his father’s eyes on the back of his neck. Flint put up a tantrum about Quidditch, and Parkinson rallied a group of students to turn Potter in. 

All fell silent when Snape waltzed over to his son, and while Alex could see Blaise give a silent plea to Malfoy, the blonde-haired boy stood. Snape didn’t say a word, and grabbed his son by the other arm and dragged him. 

Alex could feel his body fall limp at the touch, but his legs worked with his father’s grasp and followed him. Blaise’s cardigan fell, and he could hear Blaise behind him. Before the other boy could slip out behind the father and son, the wall fell into place

“What happened?” Snape asked. Alex could hear the annoyance in his voice. He was frustrated. He looked at his father’s face—a thin lip and dark eyes were enough to get him to talk—but Alex felt a sense of defiance about him suddenly. 

“Tell me, Alexander!” 

Alex closed his eyes at the sound of fists against the wooden desk. He knew that anger. He had stopped wincing at it a year prior. 

“I-I found Granger and the other student after the attack. I saw the beast. I…I…” He opened his eyes, and looked to his arm. Snape unwrapped the towel from his arm, and looked at the bloody bite. “There was a lot of pain when it bit me, but after a while, the only thing I felt was muscle spasms.” 

Snape lifted the arm carefully, and examined the bite. It was a deep puncture into his left arm just below the elbow crease. Alex could see the start of the burn scars just above his elbow, and looked to his father. 

Snape’s brows furrowed, and rolled the sleeve up further. “I knew it was bad, but never thought they looked that bad.” His voice was calmer. Quiet and thoughtful. “Give me a second to clean it.” 

Alex watched his father clean the blood away. In all of his years, he had only ever seen him act this gentle and kind when it came to Amarra; and now, it felt weird. Some of the healing potions he had brewed had been used on him, and Alex watched the puncture wounds solidify into a faint scar. 

The more the merrier, he thought. His father shot him a look. 

“I have to go on patrol now. I will bring Blaise and Serpentine to you. But you promised me, Alexander, that you wouldn’t get involved in this business. Minerva has told him that you and Blaise found the previous two petrified, and now this has happened. You know more than you’re letting on, and I want this to stop.” 

Alex watched him leave, and before he could even think about the Chamber, Snape returned with Blaise and Serpentine. Blaise brought his chess set, but Alex was in no mood for chess.

Snape came back hours later—unhappy and agitated— with news of Dumbledore and Hagrid. “The governors, Lucius Malfoy included, forced Dumbledore to resign. Hagrid is also gone; Minister Fudge and Malfoy believe that Hagrid opened the Chamber once more, and they’ve sent him to Azkaban. As of right now, McGonagall is acting as Headmistress, and has put a special watch on you. 

“Lucius has called for a full investigation into Prince once again, and Fudge has deeply considered it. You, or Prince, are now a suspect. Until the real culprit is caught, all eyes will be on you or Potter.” 

——

Blaise took it as a warning. Amarra thought it was a sign, but Alexander looked more determined to talk Ginny out of doing what Riddle wanted. 

Draco Malfoy had become hellbent on making it everyone’s problem that his father forced Dumbledore into an early retirement, and sent Hagrid to Azkaban. He was restless—no relentless—when it came to who he targeted with his rants, and most of the time it was appraisals for the Ministry’s current ban on werewolves being able to find jobs and other half-breeds.

Nonetheless, Alex tuned all of Malfoy’s word out, and focused on Ginny—specifically to help her escape. He, per usual, spent his time in the library. He searched through all the books and counted the days until the mandrakes were ready. 

Then McGonagall announced that the mandrakes were to be harvested and brewed, and he felt a wave of thankfulness. While the Great Hall erupted into chatter and happiness, Alex locked eyes with the timid Ginny Weasley. He stood, and walked to the Gryffindor table. Despite all the pleas from Weasley to leave, she whispered. 

“He’s making me do bad things. I can’t take it anymore, Alex.” 

He leaned in close. “Like what? Snake things?” 

She nodded, and looked him in the eyes. “Make him stop, please.” 

He has one more victim he wants to try to kill, and I’m afraid I know who it is, her thoughts echoed in his head. He squeezed her hand, and offered her a smile. 

He stood, and walked cooly back to his sister and Blaise. “Meet me in Dad’s office in five minutes.” 

He walked—no ran— out of the Great Hall and took the stairs two at a time. This time, the wall under Salazar’s portrait opened, and he found himself in the humid Chamber. “Okay, think dummy.” He spoke into the open air. 

“Hermione talked about a diary—Riddle’s— except they didn’t find anything in it originally that hasn’t already been said. Knowing Riddle, he would’ve found a way to draw Potter in, or to draw Ginny in. Unless…” He thought back to that day in the bookstore. Amarra had told him she thought she saw Lucius Malfoy slip something into Ginny’s belongings, and his eyes lit up. 

He looked to his watch. Two minutes. 

“Okay, the running theory: Lucius Malfoy had something of his master’s to give to Potter, but instead Ginny used the diary and now Riddle is controlling her. And it would make sense, because like the Malfoys, the Weasley’s are always placed into Gryffindor. Therefore, this would give Riddle the upper hand at getting to Potter, because Potter would never suspect his own housemates to turn against him.” 

One minute. 

“Thus, if Riddle wants Potter, he’ll do anything in his ghostly power to get his hands on the boy. That includes putting Ginny at risk. She’s the next victim!” 

He looked to his watch, and then ran for the passageway back to Slytherin house. He opened the trapdoor in his father’s office, and watched both Amarra and Blaise jump at the sight of him. “C’mon, we have ten minutes till first period.”

The trapdoor swung open, and he climbed down to let them come with. They were amazed by the sheer sight of the Chamber, and asked if this was what the fuss was about. 

“Yes, but we’re not here to explore. I’m being watched by McGonagall and Dad, so I need a place to say all of this without ears.” Alex could feel his face fluster with heat, and he set his watch for ten minutes, before he started to voice his opinions. 

“Okay, just going to get this out of the way: the Chamber has been opened by Ginny Weasley and the beast is a basilisk. Riddle, aka the Dark Lord, originally opened the Chamber in 1943 and it killed one student, Moaning Myrtle, but he blamed the attack on Hagrid.” 

“Why blame it on someone else?” 

“Riddle loved the school. He saw it as his home, and he was afraid that the school would close permanently. So, he turned in Hagrid for having a dangerous beast, but it wasn’t the basilisk. The school stays open and no one gets hurt, until a few months ago when he opened it again. This time, however, he had help and has either possessed Ginny or is blackmailing her into doing his bidding.” 

Amarra stared at him in disbelief. “How long have you known about this?” 

Blaise answered for Alex. “A few months, ever since the first attack right?” 

“I started putting the clues together about six months ago. We’re getting off topic. Riddle has been using his diary to keep Ginny enthralled, and I assume he’s taking what she has told him, to get closer to Potter. The attack on Granger meant that Potter would have to work harder to find who attacked his friend, but that also means that Potter is one step closer to falling into a trap.” 

“And that being?” Blaise asked. 

“Ginny told me this morning that Riddle is search of a final victim, and I believe that she’s to be his final encore. One snap of his fingers, and her soul is his. The school will have to close permanently, and he’s one step closer to coming back.” 

“Fully?” Amarra’s eyes had widened. She had hoped and prayed that the Former wouldn’t be able to be revived, but now Alex could see it in her looks. 

He slowly nodded. Above them, a faint buzz sounded and hundreds of feet rose from the benches to head to their first class of the day. They had ran out of time. “This stays between us, but I thought you would like to know all that I do.” 

They walked back to the passageway, and climbed out of the trapdoor into Snape’s office. Amarra broke away to find the Ravenclaws, and Blaise and Alex found the Slytherins on their way to first period. 

In Charms that afternoon, Alex could feel the anxiety course through his veins. A few times, Blaise nudged him, but he continued to bounce his knee. An hour in, and McGonagall’s voice sounded across the school: 

“All students are to return to their common rooms at once. All professors please come to the staffroom immediately.” 

The Slytherin second-years rushed into the halls, but Alex and Blaise stayed behind to follow Flitwick to the staffroom. In the matter of minutes, the corridors and halls were deserted and Alex could feel the portraits’ eyes on them as they stood outside the staffroom. 

“It’s happened—a student has been taken by the beast!” McGonagall’s stern, but fearful voice came from behind the door. 

“How can you be sure, Minerva?” Snape asked. 

Alex could hear how nervous she was. The tap of her boots against the wood floors, her breath was unsteady. “The Heir left another message: ‘her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.’” 

Alex and Blaise exchanged looks. Alex could his skin grow cold. His anxiety had returned. 

“Who was the student?” Madam Hooch asked. 

“Ginny Weasley.” Alex could hear her voice crack. “We’ll have to send the students home tomorrow. The school is to be shut down for good.” 

Alex felt a tug at his collar, and Blaise pulled him around the corner. They both peered their heads around as the last of Lockhart’s robes entered the room, and they leaned against the wall to hear the rest. 

Lockhart told the other professors that he knew where the Chamber was and that he would put a stop to the beast. Alex thought he didn’t sound confident once the professors turned against him, and Lockhart left quickly. 

“I need the heads of each house to go and inform your students of what has happened. Tell them that they will be sent home first thing in the morning. The rest of you, make sure no students have been left outside their common rooms, and return them.” Each of the professors exited the staffroom, but McGonagall and Snape were the last to leave. “Severus, go and find your boy. Make sure he stays away from the Chamber and around his housemates, they’ll keep an eye on him in case.” 

She ran the other way—towards Gryffindor Tower— and Snape began to walk in the boys’ direction. “Come out, boys.” 

Snape didn’t looked disappointed, but they walked to the common room in silence. Snape addressed the Slytherins; half looked uneasy, and the other half looked happy to be free of their exams. In a room full of purebloods, none of them were safe. 

——

By the strike of nine from the ancient grandfather clock, the common room fell into a silent observance as not one student dared to disturb the situation at hand. 

Alex laid underneath Salazar’s portrait—his eyes closed and his body as pale as a winter moon—and not one student wished to retrieve Professor Snape. 

They watched, whether in horror or in contempt, but they watched and waited for something to happen. Blaise looked extremely worried. Malfoy sat beside him on the couch, his own knees bounced. 

A whisper broke out among the fifth years. “Why’s he on the ground again?” 

“Dunno, said it was too hot in here. But look at Flint, even he’s spooked.” 

“Are we sure he’s still alive?”

Alex’s chest barely rose. To his housemates, he looked dead. To himself, he looked dead. 

Wake up, Alexander. Wake up, darling.

The voice returned. His mother’s. 

Baby, it’s time to wake up. Please…

Alex could feel the ground shake below him, and he squeezed his eyes tight before he opened them. He stood, and looked around at the face of his fellow housemates, but they all looked at the body below him. He turned to see himself, and saw how ghastly he had become. 

The fang-like scar in his arm, the blue of his veins, he reminded himself of his mother in a way, but he heard the whispers again and his neck strained to hear it. 

Come along, Alexander. Much to see.

He tucked into the wall behind him, and followed the tunnel into the Chamber where he saw Tom Riddle. In the flesh, or  a memorial image of Riddle. He walked to his predecessor, a cool demeanor of a teenager who leaned against one of the serpentine pillars, and waited for Potter to arrive. Alex squatted beside Ginny’s body to touch her wrist, a cold count of faint pulse beats let him know she was alive. Barely. 

“Riddle,” Alex greeted him. 

Riddle—tall, black-haired, handsomely strung— smiled at him, but his lips curled into a look that didn’t fit his face. “Been a while, Alexander. I was beginning to worry you won’t figure me out.” 

Alex narrowed his eyes, and turned back to Ginny. He could save her. “You’re not the real him, are you?” 

“Just a memory. We will get to know each other real soon, dear friend. For now, however, we have business to conduct.” 

“Business?” Alex instinctively reached for his wand, but knew he wouldn’t find it here. “Why are you interested in me? Shouldn’t you be after Potter?” 

Riddle gave a cold, high laugh. “Ginny has told me enough about Potter, but you, she’s told me nothing about you. When you stumbled upon us on Halloween night, I took one look at you and saw myself. You are the boy that my older self wished to kill before you were even born. You are the Heir. You are me.

“When you first entered the common room last year, the other Slytherin ghosts and I were attracted to you. A Slytherin, through and through, Alexander. But Salazar trusts you more than he could ever trust us, because you will change history.” They both turned towards the other end of the vast chamber, and the silhouette of a student appeared in the shadows. Potter. 

“You can try to get rid of me, Alexander. But you can’t even get rid of the ghosts that haunt you. You’re stuck with me.” 

Alex watched Riddle disappear into a mist, and appear on the other side of the pillars. He turned his attention back to Ginny, before he listened to the conversation between Potter and Riddle. Potter couldn’t see him, but if Alex could just move Ginny closer to the passageway, he could get her out. 

But she wouldn’t budge. And Dumbledore’s phoenix had arrived with the Sorting Hat. Riddle released the Serpent of Slytherin—Alex heard the words he said to the basilisk—and watched it chase after Potter. Until it didn’t. It fought with the phoenix, and for once Alex cheered the bird on. 

Forgive me, Serpentine, but this snake fucking bit me. 

Riddle wheeled around and glared at Alex, but the boy tilted his head with a smile. Alex barred the scar mark to Riddle, who eyed it before he commanded the basilisk, but even he was too late. 

The smile on Alex’s face fell, and his vision suddenly became blurry. He lifted his hands to his face, the sheer sight of them was distorted and foggy. 

He fell as his fingers touched the skin around his eye sockets, and felt over his eyelids but neither his fingers could find the eyeballs nor the puncture wound. He screamed at the touch, and he was so sure he could hear his body in the common room scream at the pain. 

He writhed in agony. His ghostly image mirrored the basilisk who spat in agony, but the boy didn’t move when the snake continued to track Potter. Alex could smell blood, whether his own or the snake’s, and his ears perked at any sign of life around him. 

He had a direction he needed to go towards, and he stood. He felt each of the pillars at his touch… he just needed to get back to the passageway…

Triumph fell in great waves for Harry Potter. In the midst of the moment—while the basilisk’s mouth was wide open, he drove the sword into the roof of the serpent’s mouth and watched the beast collapse. Both he and Ginny Weasley had been saved by the phoenix, while Riddle’s memory was destroyed. 

For Alexander Snape, however, his soul lain bloody in the Chamber. His mouth seeped with warm blood, a white-hot sting shot through his body in the Slytherin common room and his screams died the second the sword went through his mouth. Snape had rushed in the moment his son started to scream, and he watched in horror as his son shook and spasmed at the void and hurt that caused his body to cease all life. 

It wasn’t until the boy stopped shaking did his father gather him in his arms and rush to the Hospital Wing. While Madam Pomfrey pulled out all the potions and herbs she could to resuscitate him, his father prayed. 

Alex’s soul looked out from the empty, dark Chamber. A woman stood above him now, her eyes were kind and grey. She squatted in front of him, and smiled warmly. 

She was neither young nor old. She was neither grim nor angelic, but she smelled of old cedar and worn books. 

“It’s not your time, sweet boy,” she whispered. Her black cloak bellowed behind her, and she touched the spot just below his eyes, where the bird clawed at him. Then his lips, where the sword had pierced him. “This is what the Fates have designed. Wake up, sweet boy.”

In her hands, she carried a white staff as pale as the moon, and as vibrant as a horse. Alex blinked, and all pain of the wounds had disappeared. He turned over to now see Salazar, all young and grey, who stood above the basilisk.

Alex slowly got to his feet, and walked to his mentor. “You know, I’ve had her since she was an egg. I fed her and she grew, and grew until I couldn’t keep her in the dungeons any longer. I was so angry with my friends and myself, that I created this place to be safe haven for her. But I neglected her—locked her away for nearly a thousand years— and she waited for me. Then this boy came along, and used her. Used her for his own gain.” 

He pet the dead snake before him, and tears streamed across his face. “He didn’t feed her, he didn’t care for her. He didn’t love her. He used her. Just before the Myrtle was discovered, I found an egg under the statue. Her baby, her own flesh and blood. He’s the one who you saw in the boys’ lavatory.” 

Salazar leaned down to kiss the snake’s head. The tears came faster. “She was my girl, I never named her, but she was mine. I know you were scared of her when she bit you, but you scared her. She was only doing what she was told—anything to protect her child. I want you to have her child—not many basilisks can produce their own brood.” 

Alex looked to the statue, and then back at the dead snake before him. Salazar turned to Alex. “You’ll meet him when you’re healed. Now rest.” 

Salazar touched Alex’s shoulder. His stomach lurched, and twisted, and the boy felt a sense of rejuvenation about him. 

He gasped at the sudden rush of adrenaline in him, and Alex sat quickly in the infirmary bed. He panted, the feeling of pain had left his body. He looked around wide eyed before he laid back against the pillows. Amarra laid in the bed beside him, his father in a chair at the foot of the bed. Serpentine looked at him readily, his head lifted mere inches from the boy’s chest. 

“What?” He whispered. 

Serpentine’s tongue slithered out, and his beady eyes bore into Alex’s. He lifted his hand to his head, and felt the bandage around his hair. He touched his lips and eyes, and felt the scars that now placated his skin. 

“You’ve got a new brother,” his voice was raw. He heard how broken the scream had torn his vocal cords. He looked over to Hermione on the other side, and he smiled at her. She returned the smile. 

“What’re you in here for?” He asked humorously. 

“Petrification, and you?” 

“Scaring the shit out of Malfoy.” They both laughed quietly, soft and light. 

“You missed it,” Hermione began. “Dumbledore came in with Harry, Ginny, and Ron. Ginny kissed your cheek, but was shooed away by Pomfrey. Though Harry gave you a weird look—I think he knew—and, uhm, Dumbledore said there would be a feast around midnight. Will you go with me?” 

His scanned over her face, but her eyes were genuine. It felt odd after months of her in a comatose state that she still wanted to around him—he had told her not to tell Potter anything, and she could’ve avoided being petrified if he told her to tell Potter. Except now, she didn’t care about that. 

“Let me see if my body will let me get out of bed first,” he joked, but he was concerned. He swung his legs over the side, and braced himself to stand. He could feel her eyes on him. Even Serpentine’s beady eyes. Yet he stood. The wounds were on his upper body, not his lower half, yet he was concerned that death had taken over all sides of him. 

Nothing. 

He walked around the bed, and raised his finger to his lip. He leaned over Amarra’s shoulders, and smiled. “Bird brain…” 

Reflexively, Amarra smacked him across the stomach, and he clutched the spot. “Don’t scare me, snake boy.” 

“Do you want to go with us to the feast?” Hermione asked. “Unless Alex decides he can’t walk all of a sudden.” 

The feast was something… Slytherins stood to watch Alex walk in, and he could hear them talk behind his back. His skin was still indubitably pale and gaunt, but he had slowly healed. Hermione had broken off with them once Potter and Weasley saw her. Amarra and their father escorted Alex to the Ravenclaw table, but for once, he wanted to sit with his housemates. 

He gained house points, but most of the feast was a celebration for Potter. 

Alex spent the next few weeks in the Hospital Wing, and found time to play chess with Blaise when his homework was completed. 

——

A week before school let out, Alex took Amarra and Blaise down with him to the Chamber. The dead basilisk had been moved to inside the statue, but Alex felt somber for the snake and her child. He met Bask—the young basilisk—and found him to be very puppy-like. Bask was rather smaller than his mother, but still as thick as an oak trunk. He had beautiful poisonous, dark green scales, yellow-gold eyes, and a scarlet plume atop his head. 

Amarra found him cute, Blaise was unsure of what he thought about Bask, but Alex found comfort in the snake. Even Serpentine found Bask a fun addition to the family. 

Bask nudged his head under Alex’s chin, and the boy smiled at his touch. “Be good for Grandpa Salazar, okay? Listen to every word he says, even if he doesn’t make any sense.” 

He kissed the top of Bask’s head, and patted his carefully. 

On the train ride back into London, Alex received a letter via Hemlock from the Minister and he read it aloud. “Dear Mr. Prince, I am grateful to inform you that your submission to the Ministry’s Summer Dueling Competition has been approved by me and Mr. MacFarlan’s. Despite Lord Malfoy’s focus on you this year, I am excited to finally get to meet you and see what all the fuss is about. Sincerely, the Minister of Magic—Cornelius Fudge.” 

“When did you have time to write to the dueling organization?” Amarra asked. She petted the blackened bird, and then watched it fall back out the window. 

“You forget that I nearly spent a month in the Hospital Wing. I had all the time in the world.” 

Blaise sat with his cat, and a smile grew on his lips. “And I helped.” 

Amarra looked offended that she was not in on the original conversation. 

“Blaise’s mother tried to date MacFarlan, but the old man wasn’t interested,” Alex lied. Blaise smacked his shoulder, and then apologized. 

“No, he knew my father, so he was excited to hear from me.” 

“Anyway, I wrote to him and the Minister about possibly joining the summer duels. Dad thinks I might have a good shot at winning this year.” 

“Yeah, you knocked Lockhart on his sorry ass,” Amarra chimed. She had finally gotten over her obsession with Lockhart after she learned how much he stole from his ghost writers and those he had encountered while on his travels. “Plus, last year, the fight with Flint. I think you also have a fair advantage.” 

The compartment door slid open, and Malfoy now stood in the doorway. “Think you have a fair shot? Crabbe’s father will be competing too.” 

“And when will I get to duel your father, Draco?” Alex asked. Malfoy had been respectful of Alex after the incident, but they bantered with one another constantly. Alex had thought—maybe—they would have a chance of friendship, but the moment Malfoy was back with his goons, all the kindness disappeared. 

“In your dreams, Snape.” Malfoy rolled his eyes, and then walked away. Amarra turned her head to her brother, and smiled. 

“Was he flirting with you, Alex?” 

Alex rolled his eyes this time. “Me and Malfoy? Never.” 

He was jealous—yes, he was willing to admit to that—he knew he and Amarra wouldn’t ever have what Malfoy had, but he just wished that Narcissa could openly show her love and support for her godchildren as she did for own son. And as he watched her with Malfoy, he felt that sense of jealousy course through his body. 

And now, he knew that jealously would be the backing of his next school years, but after he witnessed the love between Narcissa and Malfoy, he knew it would be set in stone. But, if this is what the Fates designed for him, then what is the true nature of being the heir without the promise of consequences?