"Sir?" Demanded Neville in a hesitant tone. Evidently this words had put him as ill-at-ease as she was. "I've been thinking …Quirell said he had an accomplice in the castle, Sir, and-"
"The accomplice has been dealt with, Neville. Professor Devkins will not be a problem anymore." Said Albus Dumbledore in a soft tone.
But not thanks to you, thought Alexandra with rancour. By the looks of it, either the Headmaster or Neville Longbottom had dealt with Quirell. However, it was Alexandra who had been forced Devkins in a magical duel, and she couldn't see the Headmaster arriving in ti to save the Boy-Who-Lived by not passing near her little altercation with the DADA teacher. The fight had taken place in front of the only entrance. Dumbledore should have done the job himself if rumours of his skills had even a fraction of truth in reality.
"– even if the Stone's gone, Vol– … I an, You-Know-Who –"
The rest of the discussion was imdiately muffed, preventing her to hear one more word on what the Professor and the Gryffindor first-year boy discussed. Alexandra frowned.
The Headmaster had told himself everyone at Hogwarts knew everything of the events having happened in the Forbidden Corridor.
Or, a little voice whispered in her head, everything that has supposedly happened.
And what was this question about Who-Know-Who? The Dark Lord Voldemort had been dead and buried for over a decade. Maybe Quirell had been one of his forr partisans? But no, the Senior Professor of DADA had been a thirty-plus years old wizard, too young for having participated in the last war...
After a couple of minutes where only muffled sounds were heard from the rest of the room, Alexandra listened the voice of Neville again, and the boy had seemingly been broken by emotion.
"And the Invisibility Cloak – do you know who sent it to ?"
On her bed, the Ravenclaw black-haired girl saw her attention returning rapidly. An invisibility cloak? Since her accountant had told her one had disappeared from her vaults, the Potter Heiress had looked on the subject. These were not exactly unique items, but they were very expensive. Close to five or six hundred Galleons piece depending on the number of enchantnts you wanted on it. A few Cloaks went the double of these sums in gold, when a wizard or a witch wanted to really have the next best thing to complete stealth and invisibility.
"Ah – one mber of my Order happened to leave it in my possession and I thought you might like it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Useful things … the previous owner used it mainly for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here."
How typical of Dumbledore, thought Alexandra with grumpiness. Offering a present like that to the Boy-Who-Lived did not reek of favouritism, no Sir.
"And there's sothing else …"
"Fire away."
"How was it possible to get the Stone out of the Mirror?"
"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and , that's saying sothing. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone – find it, but not use it – would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life."
Alexandra had to retain a loud burst of laughter. The Supre Mugwump had really a high opinion of himself! Personally once known the secret looked utterly silly.
"My brain surprises even sotis … Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to co across a vomit-flavoured one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them – but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?"
The noise of the golden-brown bean popping into his mouth was heard. Then Albus Dumbledore choked and said, "Alas! Earwax!"
And the conversation ended with that. As the headmaster left the infirmary, Alexandra feigned to sleep. After what she had heard in this last conversation, Alexandra was not sure she could stop looking disgusted if she looked the man in the eyes. Better give the illusion of sleeping, and prepare for so excuses when the mont of confrontation would co with one mber of the teaching staff.
The rest of the day was after that marked by Ron Weasley and Leo Black bursting into the infirmary for a bit more than the five minutes Madam Pomfrey had given her authorization. The three boys didn't bother speaking in a low tone, and she learnt to her great relief that apparently everyone who had been involved that night was about to recuperate all their physical abilities. Seamus had been burnt by his own explosion fighting the Devil Snare's, Lavender had crashed in a wall, catching the silver flying key, but these had been the worst injuries in the Lion's pride. Ronald Weasley had played the party of chess (though Dean and Ron had apparently being forced to sacrifice themselves to win), Leo black had been the one to vanquish the troll and Hermione had solved the potions riddle in twenty seconds top. The thing really weird was after that the conversation was part-garbled, part-muffled. Impossible to know the exact sequence of events in the Mirror room.
Oh, and Ravenclaw had apparently beaten soundly Gryffindor, which ant her House had won the Quidditch Cup and that she had stayed more than three days unconscious. Alexandra hadn't thought her wounds were that bad. Not for the first ti of the year, the raven-haired witch felt very cold at the idea how close she had co from death.
May 26 1992, Hogwarts, Scotland
The day after, Alexandra had finally her first visitor all for her in the person of Professor Flitwick. Neville Longbottom, of course, had had in the an ti several dozen admirers to enquire on his health since the morning, making Madam Pomfrey of a massacring humour.
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