Alistair read the Hogwarts acceptance letter over and over again, becoming happier each time his eyes passed across the familiar words.
He had dreamed about Hogwarts for years, and now the school he’d once known only through books and movies had actually invited him to attend.
While he was still absorbed in the letter, the owl cautiously waddled closer and lightly tugged at his sleeve, reminding him that it was waiting for a reply.
Judging by the way the poor bird kept glancing toward the bodies scattered around the room, however, it clearly wanted to leave as quickly as possible.
Alistair finally noticed its impatience and was about to write his answer when Vinda Rosier stepped forward.
“There’s no need to trouble yourself, Alistair.
I’ll send the owl back personally.” Vinda drew her wand and aimed it directly at the terrified bird.
“If we kill Dumbledore’s owl, I think he’ll understand our answer perfectly well.” Both Alistair and the owl froze, and every feather on the bird seemed to stand on end.
Fortunately, Alistair reacted before Vinda could cast anything and grabbed her arm, pulling the wand away from its target.
“Mrs.
Rosier, what are you doing?” Alistair asked, still holding her arm.
“Haven’t all of you been hoping I’d receive a Hogwarts acceptance letter?” Vinda looked at him as though the answer were obvious.
“Of course.
Hogwarts has one of the most reliable methods in the Wizarding World for confirming whether a child possesses magical ability.
Now that your letter has arrived, we know without question that you’re not a Squib.” Her expression brightened with renewed enthusiasm.
“But now that we’ve confirmed your talent, we don’t need Hogwarts anymore.” Alistair stared at her.
“You obviously want to learn magic,” Vinda continued.
“Whatever spell interests you, the Alliance can teach you ourselves.
The Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, Avada Kedavra—there’s almost nothing among us that someone hasn’t mastered.” Having learned that Alistair truly possessed magic, Vinda’s old ambitions had clearly returned in full force.
Alistair’s mouth twitched as he listened to her casually list the three Unforgivable Curses as though she were describing an ordinary first-year curriculum.
If going to Hogwarts meant worrying about which House he’d be Sorted into, following the Alliance would certainly save him that trouble.
There was only one destination waiting at the end of that education.
Azkaban.
“Ahem.” Alistair cleared his throat.
“Mrs.
Rosier, I really don’t think everyone needs to go through that much trouble.
Hogwarts seems perfectly fine to me.” Before he could finish explaining, Vinda interrupted without hesitation.
“No.
Hogwarts is too dangerous.” Alistair stared at her in disbelief.
Of all the descriptions he’d expected to hear applied to Hogwarts, too dangerous compared with living among veteran Dark wizards wasn’t one of them.
In Vinda’s eyes, however, Albus Dumbledore was one of the most shameless men in the Wizarding World, surpassed perhaps only by a certain troublesome magizoologist.
Hogwarts knew the backgrounds of its students, and she couldn’t imagine Dumbledore failing to notice the arrival of a child carrying the Grindelwald name.
Sending Alistair into the school run by the man who had defeated their master felt less like education and more like voluntarily placing him inside enemy territory.
Vinda couldn’t trust Dumbledore simply because the rest of Britain considered him respectable.
Alistair’s view was exactly the opposite.
Hogwarts might have its share of strange dangers, but with Albus Dumbledore serving as Headmaster, it still seemed safer than almost anywhere else he could go.
The following year would mark the beginning of Harry Potter’s time at the school and the first renewed activity surrounding Voldemort, but Alistair already knew the easiest solution to that problem: stay away from Harry, Ron, and Hermione whenever the three of them started investigating something suspicious.
As long as he avoided the future Golden Trio’s yearly disasters, Hogwarts seemed considerably safer than spending his childhood around people who treated the Killing Curse like an ordinary defensive spell.
After thinking it through, Alistair made his decision.
“Mrs.
Rosier, I’ve decided.
I’m going to Hogwarts.” Vinda frowned.
Alistair immediately added what he considered the strongest possible argument.
“Because Dumbledore is there.” To Alistair, that should have ended the discussion.
Where could possibly be safer than the castle occupied by the wizard widely regarded as the greatest of the age?
Unfortunately, although Alistair had seen Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them in his previous life, he had never learned the later revelations about the full history between Dumbledore and Grindelwald.
As a result, he didn’t realize just how differently his words would sound to the oldest members of the Alliance.
Vinda’s eyes widened.
The others fell silent.
After a long pause, tears slowly gathered in Vinda’s eyes.
“Alistair…I understand how you feel, but isn’t it far too early for you to challenge Dumbledore?” Alistair nearly choked.
Challenge Dumbledore?
He had absolutely no intention of challenging the man.
At his current level, he wasn’t sure he could defeat a single strand of Dumbledore’s beard.
Unfortunately, Alistair was already beginning to understand how seriously these people regarded the Grindelwald name.
In their eyes, he wasn’t simply an eleven-year-old preparing for school; he was the final heir of the bloodline they’d followed for decades.
Saying that he only wanted Dumbledore nearby for protection would probably sound embarrassingly unambitious.
More importantly, the people surrounding him were experienced Dark wizards with an unsettling affection for forbidden magic.
Alistair therefore straightened his back and forced himself to continue.
“It’s fine, Mrs.
Rosier.
If someone wants to surpass the strongest, they first have to learn from the strongest.” Vinda repeated the sentence slowly.
“Learn from the strongest…in order to surpass the strongest.” The more she considered it, the more impressed she became.
She nodded almost unconsciously, while several other members of the Alliance exchanged approving looks.
What Alistair had intended as a desperate excuse sounded to them like a carefully considered declaration of ambition.
When Vinda looked down at Alistair’s still-childish face, her eyes became wet again.
“Alistair, you’ve been forced to carry far too much for someone your age.
Dumbledore may not openly mistreat you at Hogwarts—he cares too much about appearances for that—but your life there certainly won’t be easy.” Her expression turned bitter.
“You’re bearing responsibilities no eleven-year-old should have to carry.
It’s our fault.
If we hadn’t lost all those years ago, none of this would have fallen on you.” Alistair had no idea what responsibilities she believed he was carrying, but he understood the one thing that mattered: Vinda was no longer trying to stop him from attending Hogwarts.
That was enough.
“Mrs.
Rosier, this is simply my fate,” he said solemnly, deciding not to question anything further.
Then he immediately glanced toward the increasingly anxious owl.
“So shouldn’t we hurry and write my reply before the bird decides to leave without it?” Not long afterward, Alistair finished his response accepting Hogwarts’s offer.
The owl took the letter almost desperately and launched itself through the open window, disappearing into the night as though afraid Vinda might change her mind and kill it after all.
Alistair watched it vanish with a smile he couldn’t suppress.
He was really going to Hogwarts.
Vinda turned toward him once the owl was gone.
“Get some rest tonight, Alistair.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll take you to Diagon Alley and help you purchase everything you’ll need for school.” Around them, several members of the Alliance had already begun removing the bodies left behind by the attack.
Alistair watched them in silence for a moment before his gaze settled on Libby’s small, motionless form.
His excitement faded.
“Mrs.
Rosier.” Vinda stopped.
“I want to give Libby a proper burial.
She took care of me for all these years.” Vinda looked toward the dead house-elf.
In her view, caring for Alistair had simply been Libby’s duty as a servant of the family, and the fact that she’d failed to protect him from the attackers might even have deserved punishment under different circumstances.
Still, Alistair’s expression made it clear that this mattered to him.
After a brief pause, Vinda nodded.
“Very well.” Alistair quietly thanked her.
Whatever anyone else believed about house-elves, Libby had raised this body after his parents died, fed him, protected him, and kept him from growing up completely alone.
Even though Alistair had inherited those memories rather than personally living them, the emotions attached to them were real enough.
Leaving her among the bodies of the attackers was something he couldn’t accept.
Once everything else was settled, Vinda raised her wand toward the damaged room.
“Reparo.” Broken glass flew back into the window frame, damaged objects restored themselves, and overturned furniture returned to its proper place.
Within moments, most traces of the attack had disappeared.
Vinda bid Alistair good night and began leaving with the others, telling him to rest before their trip to Diagon Alley.
Just as she was about to step through the door, however, Vinda stopped.
“Alistair.” Something about her tone immediately made him suspicious.
“Yes?” Vinda turned back and studied him thoughtfully.
“How would you feel about meeting the master?” Alistair froze, while she continued as though suggesting something completely ordinary.
“He has remained imprisoned for many years, but if we truly wanted to arrange a private meeting between the two of you…” A faint smile appeared on her face.
“The Alliance could probably find a way inside.” Alistair stared at her.
She was suggesting that they break into a wizarding prison.
End of Chapter 5 [Milestone: [Milestone: 10 Reviews = +1 Chapter] Enjoyed this chapter?