Chapter 2
What kind of brave Gryffindor was he? If his friends could see him now they would all laugh, an 11 year old crying like a baby. Alex was more than certain his cousins Everett and Edmond would tease him incessantly.
He allowed Grandma Molly to wipe the tears away from his face. Holding out a tissue she instructed him to blow, “Can’t have you looking a mess for your mummy.” Molly threw the tissue away, and like any good grandmother proceeded to straighten out the collar on his Gryffindor robes.
“I can do this myself Gran.” Alex said his voice still wavering as he brushed out the nonexistent wrinkles on his robes.
“Of course.” Molly Weasley agreed. He was such a neat boy, always so orderly. Watching Alex smooth back his blonde locks she was suddenly struck by how much older he looked at that moment.
In St. Mungo’s waiting room, he took a seat between his grandparents. Alex’s head rested against his grandmother’s shoulder while her arm curved around him. He didn’t care if the whole lot of the Slytherin’s saw him. Alex felt safe between the people that loved him the most. If it made him immature, then so be it.
“Why don’t we get some lunch.” Arthur stood up suddenly and clapped his hands as if this was the best idea in the world. “There’s a new restaurant in Diagon Alley that specializes in Muggle food. I hear they have something called Pizza! Afterwards we’ll come back after getting a bit of food in our tummies. What do you say Alex?”
Yes, he wanted to go and not come back, ever. Since Alex could remember he’d dreamed of this day. Now that it had come true he didn’t know exactly what to feel.
(Flashback)
“Talk about bad luck! Your first class of the day is DADA with Professor Malfoy and with the Slytherin’s no less!”
“What’s so wrong with Professor Malfoy?” Alex asked his older and wiser 2nd year cousin Everett. Rumors abounded about the former Deatheater which answered many of his questions but left many unanswered. The dreaded name Malfoy. That itself scared him. Uncle Ron and Uncle Harry had told him many interesting tales about his future teacher. His favorite was the story where Malfoy was turned into a ferret. Uncle Fred even taught him a valuable hex just in case Malfoy took his disciplining of Gryffindor’s too far.
Edmund , sitting across from his twin and Alex couldn’t help adding more fuel to the fire after seeing fear in his cousin’s eyes, “I hear his dark mark still burns. Look really close and you can see it glowing through his Deatheater robes.”
Alex shivered pushing his plate of eggs away, losing his appetite. He didn’t like hearing about Deatheaters, much less his cousin making a joke about something so serious. Alex wasn’t looking forward to having one teach him. It made him angry, his thoughts drifting to his mother who was nothing more than a vegetable at St. Mungo’s.
Edmund was on a roll not noticing his cousin’s discomfort, “ I heard from a reliable source that if you fail his tests Malfoy takes you to the forbidden forest and offers you as a sacrifice to the dark lord.”
Rolling his eyes in disbelief Alex hurriedly stood up from the Gryffindor table, “That’s an absurd lie!” The force of his voice echoed throughout the hall. Not only did he have the attention of the student body but the staff as well.
Alex wasn’t stupid. The students were talking about him. He had heard them on the train . They had been careful, what with his cousins constantly around him and the Headmistress practically family. But he had indeed heard snatches of their conversations that sent a deep pain through his chest, making him wish desperately for the Burrow.
All he wanted to do was blend in, which would be nearly impossible. Great. Just Great. Now Professor Malfoy was staring at him. Straightening himself up the best he could, Alex strode coolly and calmly out the Great Hall doors . Alex only hoped that Professor Malfoy wasn’t planning on having a human sacrifice anytime in the near future.
Alex’s quill shook as he took notes in DADA class. As far as he could see, the Professor’s arm did not glow. That did not make him any less frightened. He was actually glad that Professor Malfoy didn’t seem to pay any attention to him at all. A bit surprising since Edmund, Everett and his uncles told him that Malfoy’s hatred for Weasleys was legendary.
Alex laughed a bit remembering Aunt Angelina yelling everytime she got an owl announcing another detention for the twins. More often than not, they had almost daily attention in the DADA class.
“Professor Malfoy hates Gryffindors, especially Weasley Gryffindors!” Edmund had told him over the summer. Alex didn’t quite know if he should believe him. The twins were known throughout the Weasley family as practical jokesters and probably deserved being punished. An opinion Alex kept to himself. Being the brunt of their jokes, he had no sympathy.
One thing they said was true. He did hate Gryffindors. It was only the first day in class and the Professor was taking points left and right from his housemates – for speaking out of turn or not being on the right page. If he thought someone looked at him funny, there went 10 points. Very unfair.
The Slytherins on the other hand were being given points like candy. Marigold Crabbe was given 50 points just for raising her hand . What was Professor Git’s excuse for that?
“50 points for following directions.”
Alex didn’t have much time to dwell on how many points Gryffindor lost. Soon he was immersed in writing a DADA essay on boggarts. So immersed in the subject that he didn’t hear Marcel Zabini’s voice in his ear.
“PSST……PSST………Weasley!”
Alex tried to ignore Marcel , the last thing he wanted to do was get into trouble. Profesor Malfoy would glance up at him from time to time and Alex prayed to the Gods that his teacher wouldn’t notice something was amiss. It was becoming harder to ignore the Slytherin’s insistent voice.
“Psst…Weasley!”
Turning roughly around in his seat he looked Zabini square in the face, “What do you want? I’m trying to work!”
“I want to know who your father is.” Zabini stared at him his eyes shining in sick delight. What Alex wouldn’t do to wipe that look right off Zabini’s face.
When he was younger Alex had imagined his father as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, dying in the final battle with Voldemort. He was dead and buried somewhere unable to come back to his wife and son. His father had died a hero’s death. That’s what he wanted to believe. Now he was older, eleven to be exact and not so naive.
Grandma and Grandpa Weasley along with the rest of the family had effectively coddled and protected him, not letting him hear the rumors of his sick mother and his unknown father.It wasn’t long before his curious side won over and he had found the newspaper clippings about the war and his mother. Grandma Weasley had caught him crying.
“How could you ever love me?” he had cried.
“It doesn’t matter how you came to be. What’s important is that you were meant to be.” Molly rocked her grandson back and forth trying her best to comfort him.
Sniffling, he asked, “D-Do you think I’m evil?” What if Grandma and Grandpa didn’t love him anymore? Where would he go? What would he do?”
Molly had only held him tighter, “Oh honey, of course not. When I look at you I see Ginny and that makes me love you even more.”
Staring back at Zabini, he thought of the bit of advice his Grandpa Weasley had told him before he left for Hogwarts. “It doesn’t matter what other people think.”
How easy that sounded back at Platform 9 ¾. Why should he worry about what a slimy Slytherin thought of him. Then why oh why did it bother him? What he wouldn’t do to have his Grandma and Grandpa here.
“That’s none of your concern Zabini.” He said trying to sound as unaffected as he could with the question.
Zabini wasn’t done. He was only getting started as he let out a little chuckle. “Perhaps you should be in Slytherin. It’s common knowledge that your daddy was a Deatheater.”
“That’s not true! Take that back Zabini….or I’ll, I’ll…..”
“You’ll what? Avada Kedavra me? Do it then Weasley. That’s what your daddy would do.”
I’m a better person than Zabini. I can ignore him.
“Problems Mr Zabini? Mr Weasley?” unnoticed by both boys, Professor Malfoy was now standing over their desks, eyeing them suspiciously.
Reminds me of a sneaky snake. Alex thought. How did he not hear the Professor? Slowly he brought his eyes to meet the Professor’s and quickly looked away hoping he wouldn’t be dragged to the Forbidden Forest.
“I’m just helping Weasley with the assignment Professor Malfoy.” Deceptively angelic. How could Professor fall for something like that? Alex shot daggers at Marcel awaiting the awarding of more points to the Slytherins. As if I need that fool’s help!
Unexpectedly for both Alex and Marcel the Professor said something quite different, “I’m quite sure Weasley can manage on his own. Now carry on. Any more talk and points will be taken from the both of you.”
Alex turned away smiling as he finished reading his assignment. His happiness did not last long. Laughter clearly directed at him reached his ears.
“Ignore them!” fellow Gryffindor Casey Wood whispered.
Easy for her to say. None of the taunts were directed at any other Gryffindor. Enough was enough. Ignoring them got him nowhere.
“What’s so funny?!” Turning around in his desk , he narrowed his eyes at Marcel. The black haired Slytherin sat leaning back in his chair smirking while Marigold Crabbe and the rest of the Slytherin’s were doubled over in laughter .
“It’s common knowledge Weasley…..” Marcel started in a very matter of fact voice. “That your deatheater daddy raped that slut of a mother and left her for dead.”
Alex jumped up from his desk knocking it to the ground, his wand held squarely in front of Marcel’s face. Before he could utter a hex Alex could feel something hot and burning on his back. More laughter surrounded him. They had done something to his robe.
“What’s the meaning of this?!” he heard the Professor yell from the front of the class.
Alex tore his burning robe from his body throwing it to the ground. The tears that he had kept inside for so long came, burning his cheeks and blinding him. Heaving sobs made his chest hurt. Horrible words he had only heard in whispers had been burnt into the back of his robe.
THE BASTARD WEASLEY
“Look at the Brave Gryffindor, crying like a itty-bitty baby!” Marcel’s laughter soon died down. Professor Malfoy stalked down the aisle towards Marcel Zabini dragging the screaming student out of his chair by his ear.
“My father will hear of this!” Marcel Zabini yelled, his face turned a shade of beet red in part due to pain but mostly due to embarrassment.
“Brat, that excuse doesn’t work with me!” Draco shoved the wailing Slytherin into a nearby closet pointing to a small cupboard underneath the shelves. “There’s a boggart that needs taken care of.”
Marcel’s eyes grew as wide as saucers,” B-But Professor we just started learning that today!”
“Are you sure you’re a Slytherin? Perhaps you are more suited to Hufflepuff.”
Marcel stood there shaking as the DADA professor crossed his arms wrathfully. Pounding his hand on the wall, Draco yelled causing Marcel to jump, “OPEN IT NOW!”
Slowly the Slytherin bent to the cupboard, screaming when a werewolf appeared.
“Pathetic.” Draco remarked as he shut the closet door behind him. Ignoring the screams he turned to the rest of the students who had become deathly quiet, “Anyone else?”
The class including Alex looked on in shock as Professor Malfoy righted his desk and motioned for the Gryffindor to have a seat. Who would have thought that the Head of Slytherin house would hand out such a severe punishment to one of his own. Alex could have sworn that Professor Malfoy looked even angrier as he picked up the ruined article of clothing, examining it in his hands. Pointing his wand at the robe, Professor Malfoy chanted a spell Alex had never heard before. In complete awe Alex watched as the hurtful words started to disappear leaving his robe looking better than new.
“Thank you Professor!” he exclaimed as he was handed the robe. Wait till he told Edmund and Everett. They wouldn’t believe it. Maybe Professor Malfoy wasn’t so bad after all.
***
Present – St. Mungo’s
No longer was he teased by his classmates after that episode. The Slytherins hadn’t dared taunt him about his mother and father. Alex willed himself not to think about it. He had Grandma and Grandpa Weasley and that had been enough.
Was it? Now she was awake. The woman everyone said was his mum. She didn’t even know him, didn’t even know she had him. So many years he had wished for her to waken from her sleep, then finally he could have a normal family like everyone else. His mum was supposed to take him in her arms and tell him that she loved him, but that had not happened. He couldn’t imagine what might be, now that he would be faced with the truth. What if every despicable thing he had heard about his father was true?
What if mum hates me and doesn’t want me?
“Pizza sounds very good Grandpa.”
Right now he wanted more than anything to spend time with his two most favorite people in the world. Maybe he’d even buy his mum a gift in Diagon Alley. That would prove to his mum that no matter who his father was, he was a good boy.
I am a good boy, mum.
I am.
What kind of brave Gryffindor was he? If his friends could see him now they would all laugh, an 11 year old crying like a baby. Alex was more than certain his cousins Everett and Edmond would tease him incessantly.
He allowed Grandma Molly to wipe the tears away from his face. Holding out a tissue she instructed him to blow, “Can’t have you looking a mess for your mummy.” Molly threw the tissue away, and like any good grandmother proceeded to straighten out the collar on his Gryffindor robes.
“I can do this myself Gran.” Alex said his voice still wavering as he brushed out the nonexistent wrinkles on his robes.
“Of course.” Molly Weasley agreed. He was such a neat boy, always so orderly. Watching Alex smooth back his blonde locks she was suddenly struck by how much older he looked at that moment.
In St. Mungo’s waiting room, he took a seat between his grandparents. Alex’s head rested against his grandmother’s shoulder while her arm curved around him. He didn’t care if the whole lot of the Slytherin’s saw him. Alex felt safe between the people that loved him the most. If it made him immature, then so be it.
“Why don’t we get some lunch.” Arthur stood up suddenly and clapped his hands as if this was the best idea in the world. “There’s a new restaurant in Diagon Alley that specializes in Muggle food. I hear they have something called Pizza! Afterwards we’ll come back after getting a bit of food in our tummies. What do you say Alex?”
Yes, he wanted to go and not come back, ever. Since Alex could remember he’d dreamed of this day. Now that it had come true he didn’t know exactly what to feel.
(Flashback)
“Talk about bad luck! Your first class of the day is DADA with Professor Malfoy and with the Slytherin’s no less!”
“What’s so wrong with Professor Malfoy?” Alex asked his older and wiser 2nd year cousin Everett. Rumors abounded about the former Deatheater which answered many of his questions but left many unanswered. The dreaded name Malfoy. That itself scared him. Uncle Ron and Uncle Harry had told him many interesting tales about his future teacher. His favorite was the story where Malfoy was turned into a ferret. Uncle Fred even taught him a valuable hex just in case Malfoy took his disciplining of Gryffindor’s too far.
Edmund , sitting across from his twin and Alex couldn’t help adding more fuel to the fire after seeing fear in his cousin’s eyes, “I hear his dark mark still burns. Look really close and you can see it glowing through his Deatheater robes.”
Alex shivered pushing his plate of eggs away, losing his appetite. He didn’t like hearing about Deatheaters, much less his cousin making a joke about something so serious. Alex wasn’t looking forward to having one teach him. It made him angry, his thoughts drifting to his mother who was nothing more than a vegetable at St. Mungo’s.
Edmund was on a roll not noticing his cousin’s discomfort, “ I heard from a reliable source that if you fail his tests Malfoy takes you to the forbidden forest and offers you as a sacrifice to the dark lord.”
Rolling his eyes in disbelief Alex hurriedly stood up from the Gryffindor table, “That’s an absurd lie!” The force of his voice echoed throughout the hall. Not only did he have the attention of the student body but the staff as well.
Alex wasn’t stupid. The students were talking about him. He had heard them on the train . They had been careful, what with his cousins constantly around him and the Headmistress practically family. But he had indeed heard snatches of their conversations that sent a deep pain through his chest, making him wish desperately for the Burrow.
All he wanted to do was blend in, which would be nearly impossible. Great. Just Great. Now Professor Malfoy was staring at him. Straightening himself up the best he could, Alex strode coolly and calmly out the Great Hall doors . Alex only hoped that Professor Malfoy wasn’t planning on having a human sacrifice anytime in the near future.
Alex’s quill shook as he took notes in DADA class. As far as he could see, the Professor’s arm did not glow. That did not make him any less frightened. He was actually glad that Professor Malfoy didn’t seem to pay any attention to him at all. A bit surprising since Edmund, Everett and his uncles told him that Malfoy’s hatred for Weasleys was legendary.
Alex laughed a bit remembering Aunt Angelina yelling everytime she got an owl announcing another detention for the twins. More often than not, they had almost daily attention in the DADA class.
“Professor Malfoy hates Gryffindors, especially Weasley Gryffindors!” Edmund had told him over the summer. Alex didn’t quite know if he should believe him. The twins were known throughout the Weasley family as practical jokesters and probably deserved being punished. An opinion Alex kept to himself. Being the brunt of their jokes, he had no sympathy.
One thing they said was true. He did hate Gryffindors. It was only the first day in class and the Professor was taking points left and right from his housemates – for speaking out of turn or not being on the right page. If he thought someone looked at him funny, there went 10 points. Very unfair.
The Slytherins on the other hand were being given points like candy. Marigold Crabbe was given 50 points just for raising her hand . What was Professor Git’s excuse for that?
“50 points for following directions.”
Alex didn’t have much time to dwell on how many points Gryffindor lost. Soon he was immersed in writing a DADA essay on boggarts. So immersed in the subject that he didn’t hear Marcel Zabini’s voice in his ear.
“PSST……PSST………Weasley!”
Alex tried to ignore Marcel , the last thing he wanted to do was get into trouble. Profesor Malfoy would glance up at him from time to time and Alex prayed to the Gods that his teacher wouldn’t notice something was amiss. It was becoming harder to ignore the Slytherin’s insistent voice.
“Psst…Weasley!”
Turning roughly around in his seat he looked Zabini square in the face, “What do you want? I’m trying to work!”
“I want to know who your father is.” Zabini stared at him his eyes shining in sick delight. What Alex wouldn’t do to wipe that look right off Zabini’s face.
When he was younger Alex had imagined his father as a member of the Order of the Phoenix, dying in the final battle with Voldemort. He was dead and buried somewhere unable to come back to his wife and son. His father had died a hero’s death. That’s what he wanted to believe. Now he was older, eleven to be exact and not so naive.
Grandma and Grandpa Weasley along with the rest of the family had effectively coddled and protected him, not letting him hear the rumors of his sick mother and his unknown father.It wasn’t long before his curious side won over and he had found the newspaper clippings about the war and his mother. Grandma Weasley had caught him crying.
“How could you ever love me?” he had cried.
“It doesn’t matter how you came to be. What’s important is that you were meant to be.” Molly rocked her grandson back and forth trying her best to comfort him.
Sniffling, he asked, “D-Do you think I’m evil?” What if Grandma and Grandpa didn’t love him anymore? Where would he go? What would he do?”
Molly had only held him tighter, “Oh honey, of course not. When I look at you I see Ginny and that makes me love you even more.”
Staring back at Zabini, he thought of the bit of advice his Grandpa Weasley had told him before he left for Hogwarts. “It doesn’t matter what other people think.”
How easy that sounded back at Platform 9 ¾. Why should he worry about what a slimy Slytherin thought of him. Then why oh why did it bother him? What he wouldn’t do to have his Grandma and Grandpa here.
“That’s none of your concern Zabini.” He said trying to sound as unaffected as he could with the question.
Zabini wasn’t done. He was only getting started as he let out a little chuckle. “Perhaps you should be in Slytherin. It’s common knowledge that your daddy was a Deatheater.”
“That’s not true! Take that back Zabini….or I’ll, I’ll…..”
“You’ll what? Avada Kedavra me? Do it then Weasley. That’s what your daddy would do.”
I’m a better person than Zabini. I can ignore him.
“Problems Mr Zabini? Mr Weasley?” unnoticed by both boys, Professor Malfoy was now standing over their desks, eyeing them suspiciously.
Reminds me of a sneaky snake. Alex thought. How did he not hear the Professor? Slowly he brought his eyes to meet the Professor’s and quickly looked away hoping he wouldn’t be dragged to the Forbidden Forest.
“I’m just helping Weasley with the assignment Professor Malfoy.” Deceptively angelic. How could Professor fall for something like that? Alex shot daggers at Marcel awaiting the awarding of more points to the Slytherins. As if I need that fool’s help!
Unexpectedly for both Alex and Marcel the Professor said something quite different, “I’m quite sure Weasley can manage on his own. Now carry on. Any more talk and points will be taken from the both of you.”
Alex turned away smiling as he finished reading his assignment. His happiness did not last long. Laughter clearly directed at him reached his ears.
“Ignore them!” fellow Gryffindor Casey Wood whispered.
Easy for her to say. None of the taunts were directed at any other Gryffindor. Enough was enough. Ignoring them got him nowhere.
“What’s so funny?!” Turning around in his desk , he narrowed his eyes at Marcel. The black haired Slytherin sat leaning back in his chair smirking while Marigold Crabbe and the rest of the Slytherin’s were doubled over in laughter .
“It’s common knowledge Weasley…..” Marcel started in a very matter of fact voice. “That your deatheater daddy raped that slut of a mother and left her for dead.”
Alex jumped up from his desk knocking it to the ground, his wand held squarely in front of Marcel’s face. Before he could utter a hex Alex could feel something hot and burning on his back. More laughter surrounded him. They had done something to his robe.
“What’s the meaning of this?!” he heard the Professor yell from the front of the class.
Alex tore his burning robe from his body throwing it to the ground. The tears that he had kept inside for so long came, burning his cheeks and blinding him. Heaving sobs made his chest hurt. Horrible words he had only heard in whispers had been burnt into the back of his robe.
THE BASTARD WEASLEY
“Look at the Brave Gryffindor, crying like a itty-bitty baby!” Marcel’s laughter soon died down. Professor Malfoy stalked down the aisle towards Marcel Zabini dragging the screaming student out of his chair by his ear.
“My father will hear of this!” Marcel Zabini yelled, his face turned a shade of beet red in part due to pain but mostly due to embarrassment.
“Brat, that excuse doesn’t work with me!” Draco shoved the wailing Slytherin into a nearby closet pointing to a small cupboard underneath the shelves. “There’s a boggart that needs taken care of.”
Marcel’s eyes grew as wide as saucers,” B-But Professor we just started learning that today!”
“Are you sure you’re a Slytherin? Perhaps you are more suited to Hufflepuff.”
Marcel stood there shaking as the DADA professor crossed his arms wrathfully. Pounding his hand on the wall, Draco yelled causing Marcel to jump, “OPEN IT NOW!”
Slowly the Slytherin bent to the cupboard, screaming when a werewolf appeared.
“Pathetic.” Draco remarked as he shut the closet door behind him. Ignoring the screams he turned to the rest of the students who had become deathly quiet, “Anyone else?”
The class including Alex looked on in shock as Professor Malfoy righted his desk and motioned for the Gryffindor to have a seat. Who would have thought that the Head of Slytherin house would hand out such a severe punishment to one of his own. Alex could have sworn that Professor Malfoy looked even angrier as he picked up the ruined article of clothing, examining it in his hands. Pointing his wand at the robe, Professor Malfoy chanted a spell Alex had never heard before. In complete awe Alex watched as the hurtful words started to disappear leaving his robe looking better than new.
“Thank you Professor!” he exclaimed as he was handed the robe. Wait till he told Edmund and Everett. They wouldn’t believe it. Maybe Professor Malfoy wasn’t so bad after all.
***
Present – St. Mungo’s
No longer was he teased by his classmates after that episode. The Slytherins hadn’t dared taunt him about his mother and father. Alex willed himself not to think about it. He had Grandma and Grandpa Weasley and that had been enough.
Was it? Now she was awake. The woman everyone said was his mum. She didn’t even know him, didn’t even know she had him. So many years he had wished for her to waken from her sleep, then finally he could have a normal family like everyone else. His mum was supposed to take him in her arms and tell him that she loved him, but that had not happened. He couldn’t imagine what might be, now that he would be faced with the truth. What if every despicable thing he had heard about his father was true?
What if mum hates me and doesn’t want me?
“Pizza sounds very good Grandpa.”
Right now he wanted more than anything to spend time with his two most favorite people in the world. Maybe he’d even buy his mum a gift in Diagon Alley. That would prove to his mum that no matter who his father was, he was a good boy.
I am a good boy, mum.
I am.
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