Mended Crown

September had been a whirlwind. October brought along the prospect of both Quidditch and the trip to Hogsmeade, and while Blaise expressed his opinions about not being allowed to play Quidditch, Alex kept to the radio when he could. 

Very little had been said about Black since his first initial breakthrough, and neither the Ministry nor the Daily Prophet had reported the dementor attack at Cokeworth. Although he had heard an earful from the Slytherins upon the dementor’s first encounter on the train, he had expected them to be more up in arms against the idea that Black could get inside the castle. And perpetually harm any student who got in his way. 

Yet, the Slytherins kept to themselves and only cared about their brutish strategies for the upcoming sports matches. Alex found Blaise’s pitiful nature about being told he couldn’t play amusing, and often told his friend that he agreed with his mother. “We wouldn’t want you to ruin that handsome face of yours.” 

It had taken Blaise a few days to realize that Alex had flirted with him, and by the time, the boy questioned Alex, the latter had moved on. 

The twins continued their Patronus lessons well into the month, but Alex struggled to find a happy memory. Most of his memories centered around Amarra’s happiness, and rarely could he find a nice one to use to cast his spiritual guardian. He had grown afraid that he would never be able to cast one. 

But, if his father could produce one, then surely Alex could too. 

Every time Alex struggled to cast even a wisp of the charm, Remus gave him a piece of chocolate. Until finally, the night before Hogsmeade, Alex casted his wolfish guardian. Ever since he had learned about the extinct grey wolves of Great Britain, Alex had a fascination with the beast—and now his Patronus resembled the extinct. 

Amarra—who had successfully casted a red fox moments prior—clapped her brother on his shoulder and asked him what he had thought of, but he couldn’t answer her.  

The morning of their birthday, he still didn’t have answer for her. She had continued to ask him as they walked to Remus’ office, and while she was distracted by Remus, Alex thought long and hard about her question. 

“Do you want any chocolate from Honeydukes?” He heard her ask. 

“Today’s not about me, so don’t go spending any money on me, Mara.” Alex watched Remus playfully scold his goddaughter. “Alex, keep her away from any sweets, she’s already hyper.” 

Alex put his hands up defensively. “I can’t make promises. She likes to override any decisions.” 

They left when Potter knocked on Remus’ door, and when they left, both Potter and Alex caught each other’s glances. There was some truths Alex wished to reveal to his god-brother; yet, he wouldn’t dare open his mouth. 

He wouldn’t tell someone who didn’t believe he could do anything right. 

They found Blaise in the Entrance Hall with Cedric. Alex, although he had seen Cedric at the summer duel and during the previous two school years, rarely had time to talk with his ‘brother’. Cedric was too busy with Quidditch and his Prefect duties to care about anything else. 

“Morning, Mara and Al,” Cedric greeted them. “I was just getting to know your friend here—you kept us waiting.” 

Amarra ran to their older brother, who hugged her warmly. “You’re gonna have all the boys flaunting after you Mar, I just know it.” 

He smiled at Alex, who returned the gesture. Both Amarra and Cedric walked ahead of Blaise and Alex, and while the former two talked rapidly about many things, the further two kept quiet. 

Alex found an interest in a couple of shops— the music store and the ink parlor caught his eye each time they passed them. Blaise had left them when they entered the Three Broomsticks, and Alex knew he had to make nice with Malfoy’s gang. 

Amarra found solace in Honeydukes and Zonko’s, and went to Spintwitches with Cedric to look for a suitable broom. When neither Amarra nor Cedric returned to the place they planned to meet back at, Alex walked back to the castle himself. He thought hard about his Patronus, and he tried to remember what memories he had used to produce it, but still nothing came up. 

It was on the walk to the castle that he felt a strange sensation wash over his skin. He turned to see if someone had followed him, but no one appeared. The closer he got, the more he felt eyes on him. 

Suddenly the air grew cold, and he stopped in his tracks. He looked to the sky—once a blanket of grey clouds—was now black and stormy. He looked for signs of black cloaks, it wasn’t a dementor’s garbs that stuck out in the sky, but a strange dog-like shape that molded itself into the clouds. 

He had heard about Potter’s run-in with the Grim during Divination, but that was through tea leaves. He looked around once more, and spotted what he solely knew as the hooded man from Cokeworth. Alex felt around his pocket for his wand, but his legs didn’t budge. 

His eyes locked onto the runic tattoos that clashed against the stalker’s pale skin, and Alex could feel his heart race against his chest. The more he stared at his cloaked godfather, the more he felt his body struggle to breathe. 

“Alex?” He heard the soft voice behind him, yet he couldn’t turn to greet her. His eyes scanned over the black and white, tattered uniform, then back up to the face. A croaked and yellow-teethed smile sent a flush of warmth over his skin. He couldn’t look away. Not again. 

He jumped at the hand that touched his shoulder, and he turned around quickly to see Hermione and Weasley behind him. His wand had slipped into his hand, yet she wasn’t threatened by such remark. 

“You okay?” She asked. 

He blinked slowly, and turned his head in the direction of the forest. Neither his godfather was there, nor was the sky a muster of black clouds. It couldn’t tell if it was a vision or if he had genuinely seen his godfather. “I’m fine.” 

“Then move, you’re blocking the pathway,” Weasley grumbled. 

Alex stepped out of the way, and leaned against the stone wall. He could feel Hermione’s eyes on him. She knew he had lied. Yet, through worried eyes, she smiled at him and continued along the path with Weasley. Alex walked slowly behind them, but he kept his eyes on the tree-line of the forest. He knew this wouldn’t be the last time he saw Black either. 

———

November was also a blur. The only good thing it brought was the weather. Although the school had been riddled with the possibility of Sirius Black being inside the castle after a failed attempt to get into the Gryffindor Tower, the thought of Quidditch brought back the excitement that the students wished to have. Yet, Alex had a weary feeling stuck within him. 

While Snape had brewed a wolfsbane potion for Remus the month prior, he now fully expected his son to continue the brews. However, because of all the homework he had, Alex had little time to brew it. Except now, Remus had missed his classes for a week straight, and it meant that Snape finally got his chance to teach Defense. 

They had an essay due the previous week, and while Snape passed out the papers that Lupin had graded, the professor took his chance to scold his son. “I expected you, Mr. Snape, to know that Kappas are commonly found in Mongolia, not Japan.” 

Alex heard Malfoy snicker ahead of him, and the former boy shot his hand into the air. In a cool voice, he spoke, “but sir, kappas are water demons native to Japan.” 

“Five points will be taken from Slytherin—” Alex opened his mouth. “And I will take ten more if you don’t shut your mouth.” 

Alex shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Not once had his father acted in this manner towards him. Especially not in front of his housemates. 

Snape discussed how Remus was out sick for the week, and continued to lecture the students on werewolves. He’d ask questions about what werewolves were and if there was a difference between the former and Animagi. If Alex raised his hand, Snape would completely ignore his son’s hand. If no one answered, then Snape had them write notes about werewolves from the book. But Alex persisted—he kept his hand up. When Snape and his cool eyes gazed upon his son, he continued to refuse to call on the boy. 

Beside him, Blaise jotted down his notes. Ahead of him, Malfoy snickered. Yet, no one dared to speak out against the cool-headed professor. No one wanted to risk a week’s worth of detention. 

Finally, the bell rang and Snape gave them their homework. “I want a roll of parchment on my desk come Monday morning about the ways to recognize and kill a werewolf. Mr. Snape, a word.” 

Alex kept to his desk and watched as his housemates exited the classroom for lunch. When the door closed behind the last student, Alex stood. He saw his father’s cloaked figure guard the door, but the boy grabbed his bag and headed for it. 

“Back to your desk, Alexander.” 

Alex could feel his pulse race in his neck, and he was so sure his father could hear it patter against his skin. He could feel his face grow flustered and hot, yet he refused to return to his desk. 

“Now, boy,” Snape warned.

“Let me go to lunch,” he muttered. He tried to push past his father, but the professor persisted. “Please, sir.” 

“Now!” 

Alex’s eyes closed as a response, and his body began to shake slightly. Rarely his father raised his voice. Rarely his father cared. 

He sat at his desk once more, and a roll of parchment and a quill appeared in front of him. “You will write lines throughout lunch. I want no back talk. Write for me: ‘I must not let a mass murderer into the school.’ Do you understand me?”

Alex’s eyebrows knitted together. He turned his head to his father, who looked at his son with such coolness and anger, Alex could feel it radiate off of him. “You think I let Black into the school?” 

“I said no talking back! Write! I want a full parchment worth of those words by the end of lunch!” 

Alex blinked back tears. He looked at his father—no, right now, he wasn’t his father— like he had been betrayed. After all the years he had refused to utter a word about his godfather, because he knew it would piss his father off. Now, all of a sudden, the world had turned against him. There was no trust between father and son anymore. 

“Now, Alexander!” 

Alex wrote the sentence over and over again until the bell rang. His fingers cramped and spasmed each time he tried to relax them, and he winced at the pain that shot through him. On his way out, he saw Snape light the written parchment on fire, and that fueled his newfound hatred. 

He found Amarra and Blaise outside of the greenhouses, but refused to speak to them. His mind raced with all of the things he should’ve said, or done, but he knew Snape would never believe him about anything again. He had only see Black outside of Hogsmeade on his birthday, nor did he find the news about Black’s attempt into the Gryffindor common room life-threatening. Alex didn’t attend dinner either, and fell asleep in the Chamber after he spent his evening doing homework. 

The following morning was the first Quidditch match of the season: Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. By then, his anger had subsided, and he found the thrill of enthusiasm that circulated around the Great Hall to calm his nerves. Amarra didn’t bugger him about what happened, and she spent the morning at the Hufflepuff table with Cedric and the rest of the Quidditch team. 

“The clouds are depressing today,” Blaise said. “I’m glad I’m not out there. Don’t want to risk this pretty face getting struck by lightening.” 

Alex scoffed. A smile came to his lips. “So, you do think you have a pretty face?” 

“Only cause you said it, Alex.” Blaise quarterly cut his piece of toast, and spread a different jam or butter over each of the sections. “Say, do you think the badgers will win?” 

Alex shrugged. “I hope so. I’d hate to see Amarra disappointed, nor would I like to see Ced upset. He wants to play for either the English National team or Puddlemere United once he graduates.” 

“I think I heard something similar for the Gryffindor’s captain—Wood, right?” 

Alex nodded. “It’ll be stiff competition, but I think Ced would make a great seeker for either teams—oh, good morning, Moon.” 

A dreamy-eyed, blonde haired girl sat across from Alex. Atop her head, a replicated badger hat stared fiercely at the boy. “Morning, Alex, and boy I do not know.” 

Alex tried to hide his smile. “Luna, this is Blaise. He’s to become an honorary member of the family.” 

“Says who?” Luna questioned. 

Alex nearly said something snarky, but he knew Amarra had a keen eye over their youngest ‘sister’. “Well, he’s met Cedric, but he’s yet to meet you or Dora. So, play nice with him, okay?” 

Luna turned to face Blaise, and while the latter had a look of both confusion and concern in his eyes, he extended his hand. Luna—in her strange demeanor—pinched her pointer finger and thumb around Blaise’s pointer and shook it. “Pleasure to meet you. I shall call you—” 

She looked to Alex, who only smiled further. “Ophiuchus. Where is Aquila?

Alex pointed to his sister. “You two can go and annoy Ced before the game starts.” 

She stood, and patted Blaise on his head. “Not annoy. Excite!”

Alex watched her disappear behind a crowd of Hufflepuffs, and he turned his attention back to Blaise. The latter looked rather unsure of what had just happened, and gave Alex a questionable look. “What was that?” 

Alex smiled, and then stood. “That’s Luna for you. She loves the stars just as much as Mara does. She gave us all nicknames—I’m Serpens, Amarra is Aquila, and Cedric is Boötes. And now you’ve been added to the mix.” 

Blaise shook his head, and muttered under his breath, “this is a weird family.” 

“Absolutely bonkers,” Alex said. “I’m gonna go get my raincoat, I’ll meet you out there.” 

He exited the Great Hall and pushed through a large group of students, and took the stairs down to the dungeons. It wasn’t until he reached the entrance of the common room that he began to hear the whispers again. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes keen on the darkness hall that stood ahead of him. 

He thought he saw something move through the shadows—black against black dashed down the hall—and he pulled his wand from his pocket. Every step he took, the louder the whispers became and a scurry of sounds brushed past him. 

“Accio,” he said quietly in the somber air, and a small creature had been dragged by the force back to him. He grabbed it by its tail and watched the rat squirm to break free from his grasp. He turned his head upwards at the sound of students as they exited the castle, and he turned back to the long and unnerved hall. “What were you running from?” 

He walked down the long passageway, and with each step, the rat squirmed and squealed to be free. Alex’s eyes became adjusted to the darkness, and the torches remained unlit until they came to a heavy wooden door. “Lumos.” 

The tip of his wand lit up and he pushed the door open. The rat thrashed and tried to bite him, but Alex focused solely on what was inside. He thought he saw something—no someone— move around the dungeon cellar, and he squinted to get a better look at whoever it was. 

Finally, both the whispers and the rat stopped. Alex turned around just as the door slammed to a close behind him, and with his wand he saw a mangy, black dog. It growled at him, and the rat started to thrash and shake. 

“Leave him be, Padfoot!” 

Remus emerged from the shadows, and Alex turned his lit wand to the scarred man. “Hand over the rat, and we’ll let you go.” 

The dog advanced upon the boy, and Alex’s feet carried him backwards until his back pressed against the wall. The rat swung violently to break away, but Alex pinched its tail as if it were another rat he could feed to Serpentine. 

The dog snapped, and the boy saw foam fall from its mouth. He hadn’t been around a vicious dog since Fluffy in first year, and he flinched at sound it made when it grew closer. 

“Hand it over, Alex.” 

Alex felt his hand reach out to Remus, but the dog lunged. 

“No!”

Alex drew his hand back as his fingers let the rat slip from his grasp. His wand dropped, and the light fell dark. He could hear scurries from the rat, the dog, and the scarred man, and the door swung open. Alex grimaced at the pain that shot through his hand, and a warm liquid covered his fingers when he touched the mark. 

“Remus…?” He called out. No one answered. 

He stood and grabbed his wand. The dungeon hall was illuminated, and he squinted at the bright torch lights that paved his way back to the common room. He looked among the other rooms, but found no other mentions of Remus and the dog. 

No, not just a dog—Padfoot. Sirius Black. 

Alex looked to his hand. There wasn’t a lot of blood, but it was still a mess that he had to clean up. The wall to the common room opened without a password and he took the stairs down the main room to wash up. The common area was dry and silent, and he washed the blood away in the bathroom sink. 

When he looked at himself in the mirror, he noticed how pale his skin had become. “No, not this again,” he whispered. He lifted his hands from the bowl, and noticed how they shook. 

“Salazar,” he called out. He hadn’t talked to the paternal ghost in weeks, but now he wanted a conversation. Out of the wall appeared the silver-green ghost, who looked over Alex’s hand with great care. “If it’s not you, it someone else, right?” 

“If it’s not our lineage, you mean.” Salazar took Alex’s hand in his. “Then yes, that seems to be the case. I’m afraid I know why he snapped at you.” 

Alex watched the ghost bandage his hand, and listened to him tell his tale. “The rat you had captured belongs to Ronald Weasley—Scabbers, I believe it his name. Scabbers has been in the Weasley family for twelves years, but he used to own another name.” 

Out of his vision, he saw the ghost of his mother and the seaweed-ridden boy. Instantly he knew. “Peter Pettigrew.” 

Salazar nodded. “Wormtail—another name given to him by his friends— was a rat animagus. Pettigrew was famous for being killed by Black, but strangely enough they only found a finger left. Coincidental, Scabbers is missing a toe. Seems rather weird, don’t you think?”

Alex stared at himself in the mirror. They—Remus and Black—wanted Pettigrew for his traitorous deeds against the Potters. Against his mother. Alex was only a means to an end here. 

“I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

“And the blame always seems to be placed on you.” Alex looked to his ancestor. He knew about what his father had done; surely he knew. “Story of your life, innit?” 

Alex rolled his eyes. “Modern vernacular isn’t your strong suit, Mr. Slytherin.” 

“No, but I’m learning how to be hip—do they still use that term?” 

Alex shook his head. “Yeah, about ten years ago they did.” 

Amarra was completely pissed that Alex had missed the match. She talked and talked about what had happened. Apparently, much to Alex’s dismay for missing such a great match, Potter had been attacked by the dementors. Cedric had pleaded with Dumbledore about a rematch, but neither the headmaster nor the deathly beings were too enthusiastic about the idea. Alex had to hear about it for the next week, at least. It was all anyone talked about anyway. 

A week before December, Alex sat beside Granger in an empty classroom as they worked on their Ancient Runes project. After a bargain had been struck between the son and his father, Snape had allowed both Alex and Hermione to skip his class—on the sole premise that Alex helped her brew a Doxycide potion and he did three essays before the next class period.

“Bugger off, Snape.” The cool voice of Potter annoyed Alex’s ears. He had come to the Gryffindor table to inform Hermione about his deal. 

“I need to speak with you,” he said. Her brown eyes locked onto his, and she stood. A hand went to grab her wrist, but Hermione moved out of the way before Weasley could touch her. “I’ll bring her back, gents.” 

They walked a little bit aways, but Alex still caught sight of Potter and Weasley as they peered around a corner. “I got permission.” 

Her lips grew into a large smile. “I knew you would! Did you have to sell your soul?”

He laughed. “I have three essays to write before Monday, and teach you all about Doxycide potions, but you’re a quick learner.” 

Her brown eyes widened slightly. “That’s good, I think? Do we need to check in with him?” 

“I’m gonna go do that now. Can we meet in an empty classroom on the first floor?”

“Why the first floor?” She asked. She eyed him. 

“Closer to the Defense classroom.” He turned to walk away, and winked at the boys who weren’t as invisible as they seemed. He told Snape to mark both he and Hermione off for the day. Outside of the designated classroom, however, he heard her and Weasley in an argument. 

“Listen to me, Hermione. He’s just using you. Snape’s gonna go tell his Slytherin buddies how gullible you are, and they’re gonna get a laugh out of you.” 

“You forget, Ron. Alex isn’t well-liked by his housemates. If anything, they’re gonna make fun of him.” 

“What if he’s just using this as an excuse to get on good terms with them? I wouldn’t put it past him. Both Harry and I think that this is a bad idea!” 

“I need this project for my grade, Ronald. I don’t share a house with Alex, so it’s extremely difficult to get together with him and do schoolwork. Now, go! You’re going to get in more trouble with Professor Snape if you’re late.” 

Alex held his breath as a blur of red hair rushed past him, and he heard Hermione call his name. He came out from his corner, and smiled at her. “Whatever I heard, I actually didn’t,” he joked. 

“I wasn’t going to call you a blood-traitor, because I knew that would only prove his point,” Hermione said now that they were in the classroom. “So, what idea do you have for this?” 

Alex told her what he had planned for the project. “Since we need to incorporate runes into our daily lives, I think we should use our knowledge about the Muggle world and apply it something both worlds use: social security cards.” 

“Like how they do in Azkaban? That’s brilliant! The Wizarding world uses them not only to dictate who is in prison, but also when a child is born—like in the Muggle world— they receive a systemic card. It’s better than what I had in mind about taxes.” 

“I was thinking that we offer each person in our class their very own placard, including the professor. I don’t want to strangely guess what other people’s social numbers are, but this offers us some creative leeway.” A smile grew to his face as he watched her write down what had been said. “Plus, I think it would be a fun activity for people to guess what they did to get into Azkaban.” 

“I don’t even know where we can find governmental uses of the runic alphabet, but maybe we can get permission from Professor Babbling to search the restricted section?”

Alex thought long and hard about what to say. He knew that the runes they had studied thus far were most numerical, but he was sure that there was a book they could get their hands on that would answer that question. 

“Care for a trip to the library?” 

They took several flights of stairs to the library, and searched the section that focused on Runic texts. Hermione found a couple, but Alex wanted to see if there were any in the restricted section. The librarian—who typically kept a keen and hawk-like eye on the banned section—was busy yelling at another group of students to notice the boy slip into the unwanted area. 

A ghost-like hand pointed him to the book he was in search for, but he found another about the secrets within the world of Dark Arts. He heard Hermione whisper his name, and he grabbed the book about runes and stashed it. They checked out the books she had found and headed back to the classroom to search through the endless chapters about runic uses. 

They worked all through lunch, and when the bell rung, she looked at him. “I should be free after the match on Saturday if you want to continue this? I’d also be okay with us meeting on Sunday, if you want more time to write out your report.” 

“Why don’t we meet Sunday in this classroom? And bring your cauldron.” 

She smiled at him and left for Defense. He went his own way to Transfiguration and made it just before the bell. 

Alex had been forced to attend the Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and his sister forced him to root for her house rather than Cedric’s. The birdies won. The next day, he helped Hermione with her potions homework and they continued to work on their project. He told her about the three essays he had to do, and while she looked rather upset that that was the bargain, he disagreed. 

Come Monday, they had presented their project to the Ancient Runes class and received their grades—top marks— the following week. Another Hogsmeade trip flew by, and Alex learned from Salazar that Potter had finally learned of his connection to Sirius Black—especially the bit about Pettigrew being a blasphemous traitor. However, it gave Alex more to think about over the Christmas holidays. 

———

Alex had used most of the train ride to think back about everything he knew about Pettigrew. Amarra spent most of her time in deep conversations with Luna and Blaise, while the latter occasionally looked to Alex. Alex was so lost in his own mental conversations that he rarely kept track of what his sister had said.

They switched trains once they got into London, and on the ride to Southampton, Amarra took a nap. Alex still stayed in his own mind until they left the station to catch a ride to the Wilts Manor. He wondered how she was able to sleep so peacefully after the last known dream she had. 

They had both been plagued with dreams, yet hers always had some truth and hope to them. His were always dangerous—mostly to himself. 

They arrived at the manor well past eight, and ate dinner among their family before the twins retired to their mother’s bedroom. They had been told that neither Nanna nor Alastor would join them for the holidays— the old lovebirds had finally decided to get married while the twins were at school. 

However, much to Amarra’s pleasure, Remus would join them after the last of the moon cycle conceded. To Alex’s pleasure though, he was excluded from all extracurricular activities—going into London to shop was one of those activities. 

Two days before Christmas, Alex sat alone in the large manor and listened to the sounds of the house. He could hear the house-elves scurry around to fix any final decorations, and the amount of animals that now resided both inside and outside made the house more lively. He had been given a present early by his grandmother—Cassandra—and he chose that day to start it. 

He looked to see the seaweed-ridden boy on the sofa, and for once, he knew exactly who he was. Inside the cover of the book,  a picture of a teenage boy with perfect features and grey eyes stared at him. A large smile rested on the boy’s face as if he had just been told a marvelous joke. Below him, a statement had been written out in his mother cursive. 

Summer, 1977. Mum bought this book for me, but I wanted to give it to you, Reggie. You remind me a lot of Prince Atreides, but don’t let that get to your head, Reg— your favorite cousin, Becca. 

Alex looked between the photo and the ghostly boy across from him. He was still handsome, but like his imprisoned brother, his features had faltered in death. 

“So, you’re Reggie?” 

The ghost nodded. “My cousins and my brother called me Reggie. But Regulus Arcturus  Black is the name.” 

“I’ve been seeing you since I was a baby, and never once did I ask your name. I’m sorry.” 

Regulus shrugged. “Seaweed boy has a nice ring to it anyway.” 

Alex smiled, and then turned the book to him. “Did you ever read it?” 

“Loads of times. It was one of my favorites. I left it in my will for your mother when I died.” 

Alex had heard very little about any wills that had been created before or after the war. He knew of his mother’s, he found it once in the study, but knew better than to question anyone about it. 

“My sister called the note a relic of the past, but I think it gives some good insight into the family dynamics.” 

Regulus scoffed. “I always envied the Wilts cousins. They had much more freedom than my brother or other cousins did. Aunt Cassandra got out when she had the chance, and she’d let us indulge in those freedoms when we came around.” 

“Once you’re outside your own house, you begin to learn about other’s chances to be free. The weight of the world is no longer on your shoulders once you’re out there.” 

“Exactly. I knew you’d be interesting to talk to. The others didn’t think you would be, but your mother and I have always kept our love on you.” 

“Others?” 

“Y’know… all those who died after your mum and I did. Her friends. Them.” 

Alex had a wonderful memory, but there were times when he chose to forget certain things. He had met the Potters many times before their deaths—he and his family had been invited to Godric’s Hollow a month before his own mother’s death. And all of her friends, he vaguely remembered their faces, but he knew their names. 

“You like sticking around me, don’t you?” 

Regulus nodded. “Despite it all, you’re fun to be around—that sounded rude.” 

Alex waved it off. “It’s okay. At least you know that.” 

“Unlike your housemates. Slytherins have always been a stickler for rich philosophies and asshole behaviors.” 

Alex laughed. He took the book back from Regulus when the ghost offered it to him. His ears perked when he heard something close, and he turned to see a wide-eyed house-elf staring at him. “Hi, Penny,” he said. 

She looked between him and the spot that Regulus had sat in, and then scurried away. “Penny thinks young master Alexander has lost his mind,” she muttered.

Alex turned his head back to the ghost, and they both broke out into laughter. He continued to read until everyone came home late into the evening, and while Rodrick joked about how he found Remus outside—like a cold and lost puppy—Alex felt a rather cold hand on his shoulder. 

He looked to see Cassandra’s hand, and he smiled at her. She sat in the spot that Regulus had sat in, and her grey eyes scanned over to the fire. 

“Penny tells me that you were talking to yourself. Are there any ghosts here now?” 

Alex looked surprised. “How’d you know?” 

“Rebecca once told me that you used to smile only at the corner, and then bury your face in her arms when she picked you up. She said that it was Reggie that you would smile at, or thought it to be.” 

Alex smiled, and then closed his book. “Penny thinks that I’ve lost my mind, but he was only keeping me company.” 

She touched his knee, and smiled. He felt her kiss his forehead. “He’s good company. Keep Reg close. Did you eat?” 

He shook his head. “We mostly read, and I didn’t want to bother the elves. Cause we all know Penny won’t let us the kitchen unless it’s time to eat.” 

Cassandra sent him to the kitchen with strict orders, and the boy ate while he heard his sisters and cousins play (or bully) both Rodrick and Remus. He could heard Aurora’s giggles from where he sat, and he when he looked outside, he thought he saw among the white earth a lone black dog. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he had heard the voices again, counted back from ten. When he opened his eyes, the dog was no longer there. 

During the night, while he slept at the reading nook, his mind began to play tricks on him. The scars along his shoulders and upper arms started to sear, and Alex could nearly feel the pain in his dream. He stood in shabby house, outside the wind shook and nearly toppled it with one fell swoop. He heard a pack of wolves as they howled into the night air, and inside, he heard someone speak. 

At first, he couldn’t recognize the voice, then it came back to him slowly. “I don’t care about that, Moony! It’s Peter I’m after! And we had him. We had him in our grasps. And that boy, he brought Wormtail to us. But he let the bloody rat go!”

Alex walked closer to the room, and tilted his head closer to the parched door. 

“Don’t blame the boy! He brought Peter to us, but we scared him. That’s all.” Remus’ softer voice rang out. “He’s done more for us than anyone else has.” 

Alex heard something shatter against the door, and he pulled his head away quickly. “The Weasleys had him! They’ve had for twelve years. And you’ve spent all your time flitting between houses and families in Devon that you refused to grab Pete!” 

Remus gave a sigh of frustration. “Lest you forget, Sirius, I am your only ally here. You’d be wise to not insult me. I’ll walk right out.” 

“But the boy! That damned boy!” Alex heard Sirius’ teeth grind against one another. “He always knows how to get in the way, never knows when to stop!” 

“Reminds me of someone,” Remus muttered. “And you’ve been keeping tabs on him just as much as you have the other one. Don’t go trying to place blame on someone you barely know.” 

Alex heard the latter scoff. “He’s going to be the downfall of us all, Moony. Mark my words, that boy will be reason we get caught.” 

“We’ll see about that, Padfoot.” 

Alex jolted awake. How forehead was drenched, yet his body felt cold. He looked to see the spotted snake nestle its head against Alex’s chest, and he felt at ease. But his mind replayed what had been said; he knew Remus was still in the house, and if he walked out that door, he would find his sister’s godfather still asleep. 

He looked out the window, and through the foggy night sky, he saw the eclipse of the waned gibbous moon. It slowly began its descent, and he knew the air would be filled with oranges and pinks in a short time. 

Alex stood carefully and wrapped Serpentine in one of his sweaters. He got dressed as quietly as possible, and headed for the door. He found Remus in the sitting room, the fire was barely a few embers, but the shabby man still sat in front of it. 

“I knew you’d be awake soon,” Remus said. He was still dressed in his sleepwear, but the scars on his face were bright against his pale face. The lines were nearly as bright as Alex’s and the boy gently touched his own before he sat across from him. 

“How’d you figure?” 

“You always go to bed late and wake up too early.” Alex could see the reflection of the fire in Remus’ eyes. “And I know you’ve been plagued with dreams recently.” 

Alex bit his lip. He felt Serpentine slither around in the sweater, but his hands held tightly on the snake. 

“I had a dream about you.” 

Remus looked in his direction. His eyebrow rose to crease his face, but a smile had waxed over his lips. “What about?” 

“I’d rather not say.” 

“Something about Sirius?” 

Alex nodded. “We never really talked about what happened. We both brushed it off like nothing occurred. So, Remus, what was that all about?” 

The smile still remained on the man’s face, but Alex could see it in his eyes. He didn’t know what to tell the boy, because even Remus didn’t know. 

“What do you know about Peter Pettigrew?” 

Alex told him what he knew. “He was a friend of yours, and he was the secret keeper for the Potters. He betrayed them to the Former, and he was supposedly killed by…by…” 

“Sirius. It’s okay, I couldn’t say his name for a while either. But you know that the rat you found was Wormtail, and that he means something to Sirius and I?” 

“And Potter, don’t forget him too.” The snake in his arms popped his head out, and the boy could feel its tongue slither against his chin. He gently petted the top of Serpentine’s head with his finger. “He supposedly knows now that Sirius is his godfather.” 

Remus stood. He sat on the sofa next to Alex, and turned to him. “You’ve always known that Sirius was your godfather and his, but don’t tell me that you’re letting Harry keep Sirius?” 

Alex scoffed, and rolled his eyes. “Since when has Sirius ever wanted to be my godfather? In my dream, Sirius blamed me for losing Pettigrew. Potter can keep him.” 

Alex stood with Serpentine in his arms. He walked back upstairs to get his coat and boots, and when he came back down, Remus was no longer there. Remus only wanted to help, but when it came to Sirius Black, the scarred man was torn between them. 

Alex spent most of the day outside. Although he had been called in many times—Cassandra and Andromeda worried that he could catch a cold—he remained either in the barn with the other snakes or by his mother’s grave. 

The following morning was Christmas. Alex saw very little of Remus, but he knew Amarra had from the smile of pure joy (and chaos) on her face. Alex received a plethora of gifts: new books, some homemade sweaters from Nanna, a boombox and cassette tapes, and a skateboard. Amarra had also received a number of gifts, but she was mostly excited to try out her new skates and the piano lessons that their grandmother would teach. 

While Amarra delicately banged on the piano keys in their grandmother’s study, Alex took the chance to bewitch his boombox. He had received a series of tapes of different musical artists, and upon each break that his sister caught, he would show her how to work the stereo system. 

“You know, the Ravenclaw Tower has a couple of pianos. Perhaps your housemates would love some midnight music,” their grandfather, Theodore, chided from the doorway. He smiled when his wife shot him a look, and he winked at both the twins and his love. “You’ll be happy to know that we big, strong, intelligent men didn’t burn down your house, darling. 

Alex rolled his eyes. “You mean to tell me that we wouldn’t get to eat burnt ham? I was waiting all day for that!” 

They ate an army of different foods for dinner. Amarra made a joke about how the family had been spared from the presence of unlucky number thirteen; as there were only eleven occupants at the table, and the smaller table to the side for the elves, would put them well over enough people to worry about loss of lives. Alex, however, caught sight of two ghosts who would’ve made thirteen, but they only winked at him—even after one of them floated away. 

Thank the Fates that they had already been caught before. 

The next few days, Alex saw more and more of the black dog. Ever since his talk with Remus, he  always had this weary feeling that someone had been watching him, and every time he looked out the window, that damned dog was there. 

A couple of times, when he was in the kitchen with Andromeda or Cassandra, they would see the dog and forbad him ever going outside without someone else with him. 

——

On the train ride back to Hogwarts, Alex introduced Blaise to a new Muggle artifact—his boombox. Blaise was both intrigued and scared of the thing, but after he learned that it played music, he found it to be quite interesting. 

“How was Italy?” Amarra asked, once they had settled in a compartment. “Enjoy the weather?” 

“Merlin’s beard was it hot. But the food was excellent, and the sights were something to see. How’d it go in Southampton?” 

“Cold as hell, and the Gytrash had to tell everyone about the snow storm a few days ago. Amarra has learned how to become extra annoying to her fellow housemate with piano lessons, and I have this to annoy ours.” He held up the boombox and its tapes. 

They continued to talk until they reached the castle. Alex quickly fed the leathery-winged thestrals with a slab of cold, raw meat when they took the carriages. When they got back to the common room, the air had grown still and frighteningly cold. 

Alex looked around, but to unsuspected eye, nothing looked out of place. The boy turned to Salazar’s portrait to find the painted being still within, and he saw Baron float around to greet the students, but still something wasn’t right. 

Then, once more, the voices started again. Wildly, the boy looked around the common room. He searched and listened to the voices as they grew louder in certain places. He walked up to the portrait above the disappearing wall, and his eyes scanned over the olden features of his mentor. Then something snapped behind him, and he turned, only to come face to face with the darkened woods of the Forbidden Forest. 

“What the hell?” He whispered. 

The voices started again. He turned back around to see if perhaps he was daydreaming, but neither Salazar’s portrait nor the common room were around him. He looked to his feet and saw the floor was earthy and strewn leaves and snow caked the ground. 

Follow me. 

A wisp of light appeared in front of his face, and when he reached out to it, it flew forward. It looked like a blue flame, but there was no face inside this will o’ wisp. 

“Mum?” He called out, but the wisp didn’t turn around. It only inched forward more. 

He walked after it. Around him, he could hear the clops of centaur hooves become distant, or the wind that rustled the trees. Snow fell in clumps to his left or to the right with each step, and then the wisp stopped. 

They had reached a clearing, around them there was nothing but trees and darkness. Not even the stars could be seen, and if Alex squinted, he could barely see a sliver of the moon. The wisp darted back and forth over his face, and when he reached out to it again, it vanished. 

Listen. 

Alex listened intently to the wooden arena around him. He could hear the branches rustle or the leaves flutter away on the ground, but he heard nothing of the creatures that go bump in the night. Then behind him, he heard a low growl. 

He turned his head slowly around, and the yellow-eyed dog stood hunched and defensively at the ready. It bared its teeth, and spit came down in drops upon the earth. Alex turned completely to face it, his wand shook in his hand as he extended it towards the dog. 

The beast took a step closer to the boy, then another. Alex backed away slowly, his eyes wild with fear. His wand hand shook uncontrollably, and he could feel his nerves start to falter. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. 

He felt something latch onto his wrist, and the boy looked to see a black leather cuff manacled onto him. He had seen it before—a useless gift from a time when life wasn’t right. He looked to the dog, whose eyes only grew hardened with anger. The cuff bit into his skin, and the boy yelped at the pain that shot through his right arm, yet he held his wand tightly. 

“Please…” he whispered. 

Closer and closer the dog came to the boy, when finally the boy had backed himself up against a tree. He could run into the darkness, but surely the beast would track him and tear him to pieces. Or he could run back to the castle, perhaps the dementors would get them both. 

No, he thought. Potter needs his godfather. 

Alex turned his head towards the woods, and for a moment, he thought he saw a black cape float slowly down to the ground. He had seen that cape before, and now instead of thinking he saw something, he saw a pale face with slitted, red eyes. 

“Wake up. Wake up, please wake up,” he muttered to himself. He closed his eyes just as the dog jumped at him—those yellowy eyes peered deep into his soul. 

Alex felt his heart stop. An influx of heat welcomed him—hot and absorbed—something had licked his face. He opened his eyes to find himself in the common room again. His face was dangerously close to the fireplace, the flames yearned to touch his skin, but he found both Serpentine and Erskine by his body. 

The snake slithered up his arm, and then around his neck. Serpentine’s tongue fluttered against his chin, and Erskine had licked the boy’s fingers. They were alone in the common room. The grandfather clock chimed for the midnight hour. He had been gone for nearly three hours. 

Alone in the dreamscape. 

Alex backed away from the fire, and patted his lap. He felt the furry claws of Erskine knead into his trousers, and the grey-black tabby looked at him with similarly green eyes. Alex didn’t say anything. Serpentine slowly slither across the boy’s body. 

His right hand still held his wand, but when he lifted his left to pet the cat, he noticed the leather cuff tightly manicured to his wrist. 

He leaned his head back against the cushions of the sofa, his eyes reflected the flames back into the fireplace. 

Whether it had been a dream or a vision, Alex wasn’t sure what it meant. But he did know that Black was now completely hellbent to stay in his life, and there was no way the boy could escape the life he had left behind when his godfather had sentenced himself to life imprisonment.