For over two months, this suffocating tension simmered, and it was only a matter of time before it boiled over.
One afternoon, Alex was in the middle of training with Charles, Welen, and the others near the hut. But something felt off—Vivian hadn't shown up. Welen mentioned she had gone back to the common room to put away some books, but it wasn't like her to take so long.
Alex wondered if the training had been too much for her. She often complained about the workload, calling it torturous. Her tendency to slack off whenever she could was well-known among the group. He had even begun treating her as more of a morale booster than a serious trainee.
Just as Alex was lost in thought, Vivian finally appeared, but she wasn't alone. Beside her was David Gamper, a young first-year wizard. Tears streaked David's face, and his expression was full of despair. Vivian, on the other hand, was seething with rage. As they came closer, Alex noticed that one side of Vivian's face was slightly swollen—she'd been slapped.
"What happened? Did someone hurt you?" Alex and the others rushed forward.
Seeing them, David burst into fresh sobs, wailing uncontrollably.
"It's those guys again," Vivian said furiously. "They're out of control! They're even picking on first-years now."
She explained what had happened. In the Slytherin common room, some of the committee members found a photograph of David's grandmother. When they discovered she was a Muggle, they confiscated the photo. Little David tried to argue with them, but as a first-year, he was powerless. To punish him, they burned the photograph in the fireplace right in front of him. Hearing this, the group fell silent. Anger simmered in Alex's chest. He clenched his fists tightly and looked at the tear-streaked face of the boy in front of him.
"They crossed the line," Alex said coldly, his voice steady but laced with fury.
Vivian had just returned to the lounge to store her things when she saw the commotion. Driven by a strong sense of justice, she immediately rushed forward to confront Amelia Osbert, the sixth-grade female prefect. Amelia, a staunch supporter of pure-blood superiority, wasted no time in berating Vivian for being a half-blood wizard. But when it came to arguing, Amelia's limited vocabulary was no match for Vivian's quick wit. Before long, Vivian's sharp retorts had Amelia stumbling over her words, visibly flustered.
Unable to win the verbal battle, Amelia resorted to physical aggression. What started as pushing and shoving escalated into an outright fight. Slaps were exchanged, hair was pulled, and tempers flared. Despite Vivian's courage, she was outmatched and eventually forced to retreat, dragging her little companion, David, along with her.
When Vivian rejoined her friends, she was clearly worse for wear but refused to admit defeat. "Hmph! Don't worry. I didn't really lose," she boasted, her pride intact despite the scratches on her face. "That Amelia isn't getting off easy either. I scratched her a few times myself. Though…" She hesitated, gingerly touching her scalp. "She did pull my hair pretty hard."
Charles, watching from the side, felt a pang of concern. He stepped forward to brush her hair aside, checking the scratches on her face. His gentle gesture made Vivian's cheeks flush crimson, and she quickly turned her head, mumbling awkwardly.
Meanwhile, David was seated nearby, his face pale and his voice trembling as he asked Alex hesitantly, "Senior, did I… do something wrong? Is it really a crime to have Muggle blood? I don't feel any different from them, except for magic…"
Alex felt a wave of discomfort. It was clear these young half-blood wizards were starting to internalize the pure-blood propaganda. He clenched his fists but softened his tone when he replied, "Don't listen to them. They're just trying to make themselves feel important. If they were really so great, they'd go bother the headmaster—he's a half-blood too."
Vivian, still tending to her injuries with Charles's help, chimed in angrily. "Exactly! They're just bullies looking for excuses. Even if Slytherin were filled with pure-blood wizards, they'd find something else to pick on."
Alex nodded. "That's right. People like that will always find a way to cause trouble. It's not about blood; it's about power."
Higgs, standing nearby, crossed his arms and added, "Alex, we can't let this continue. Slytherin is falling apart because of those idiots, and the headmaster isn't stepping in. If we want change, we'll have to make it ourselves."
Alex turned to Higgs, his expression serious. "How are the other half-bloods reacting?"
"What do you think?" Higgs replied with a bitter chuckle. "They're angry, sure, but no one's going to say it out loud. You know how Slytherins are. They grumble in private but clap the loudest when those pure-bloods trip up. For now, they're just waiting for someone to take the lead."
Alex thought for a moment before turning to David. "Stop crying. You need to learn to protect yourself. Starting tomorrow, you're training with me, Vivian, and Higgs every day. Remember this: only the strong have the right to speak. If you're weak, it won't matter how right you are—you'll still lose. Understand?"
David wiped his tears and nodded, determination flickering in his eyes. Today's events had clearly shaken him, but Alex's words sparked something deeper. Though his eyes brimmed with tears again, he forced himself to hold them back.
Alex pulled out a vial of Wiggenweld Potion and handed it to Charles. "Take care of her injuries," he instructed. Charles immediately went to work, carefully applying the potion to Vivian's scratches. Meanwhile, Bill stood silently nearby, watching intently. He didn't fully understand what Alex was planning, but the weight of the conversation made him too nervous to interrupt.
As the group tended to Vivian, Alex's mind raced. This wasn't just about petty school fights—this was an opportunity. The chaos in Slytherin could be turned to his advantage, especially with the Death Eaters looming outside the school. These troublemakers within the house could be a stepping stone to something much bigger.
At that moment, in the headmaster's office, Snape sat across from Dumbledore, his expression sharp despite the exhaustion etched into his features. "Severus, any news about those fugitives?" Dumbledore asked, his tone calm but probing.
Snape leaned back, rubbing his temples. "They've gone underground. I've checked several of their safe houses, but most were abandoned. I did, however, find traces of one."
"Who?" Dumbledore's gaze sharpened.
"Igor Karkaroff," Snape replied, his voice dripping with disdain. "That coward is probably hiding in some hole, shaking like a leaf. And while we're on the subject, why am I doing all this Auror work for you? It's exhausting, balancing this with my responsibilities here."
Dumbledore smiled faintly. "I know it's a lot to ask, Severus, but if we don't catch them, they'll cause more chaos. Remember what happened to the Longbottoms. These Death Eater remnants will only grow bolder without the Dark Lord's presence."
Snape sighed heavily. "Fine. I'll follow the trail. But what about the problems inside the school? Yaxley and Wilkes are stirring up trouble in Slytherin, and you know it. Why did you approve Wilkes as a prefect? He's practically a Death Eater in training."
Dumbledore adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable. "I have my reason…"