Trouble brews once more at Hogwarts as Alexander enters his second year, shattering any hopes of a normal term. His curiosity about his grandfather's enigmatic past deepens with each passing day. Why the secrecy? And why the silence about his mother...
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The summer holidays had speedily come to an end. The time to return to Hogwarts was approaching. Mrs Weasley had received a brief letter from Grandfather informing the Weasleys that he would be meeting them and Alexander on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on September first.
During the last evening, Mrs Weasley cooked up a lavish dinner, ending with a tasty treacle pudding, that left Alexander as stuffed as a turkey. Fred and George, when their mother went out of the room, rounded off the evening with a display of Filibuster fireworks; they filled the kitchen with red and blue stars that bounced from the ceiling to the wall. Alexander burst into laughter at the display, as it almost hit Ron in the nose if he didn't duck in time. Unfortunately for the twins, Mrs Weasley discovered their purchase and they were favoured with a prompt scolding that left Alexander's ears buzzing. Before bed, they were treated to warm hot chocolate that reminded him of Eliot in its warm richness.
Next to Hogwarts and spending time with Eliot and Grandfather, the Burrow had become one of his favourite places to be. He loved the cheery, communal atmosphere, the musical laughter, and the unconditional love that everyone in the Weasley family gave each other. It made Alexander ache at the realisation of how much his own quiet life was lacking. That's not to say that Eliot and Grandfather didn't love him because that would be absurd. Of course, they did, especially Eliot, who was brimming with positive energy and love. He just wished that his Grandfather spent more time with him. Spoke to him properly as other families did. Yet, Alexander's daily life in London consisted of the scrapping of cutlery or monotonous rituals of asking how the day went. He knew everything about his Grandfather. His job, his habits, likes and dislikes. And yet Grandfather felt like a stranger to Alexander. This thread of a distance was something he couldn't close, no matter much he longed to. Sometimes, he imagined conversation and laughter between Grandfather, himself and Eliot during dinner, like the Weasley family. Perhaps there might have been a time – if his parents were alive.
The next morning was a chaotic hurricane of a mess, well, for the Weasleys it seemed. Alexander wasn't one of the first people to get up at dawn as Mrs Weasley forcibly roused Harry and Ron up with him, though there was much grumbling and hushed angry muttering that came from Ron. For Alexander, who prepared his trunk and belongings the night before, it was amusing to watch everyone else flail about, up and down, and around the house trying to look for their possessions.
'Where's my bloody trunk?' yelled Fred. 'You took it didn't you, you wanker?'
'You watch your language, Fred Weasley,' shouted an already irate Mrs Weasley from downstairs.
'I can't find my wand,' howled Ron.
Regardless of waking up at dawn, everyone somehow had a great deal to do. Mrs Weasley dashed about in a dreadful mood, muttering under her breath while looking for spare socks and quills. The twins were reprimanded hundreds of times for their prank items that were scattered all over the house; people collided on the stairs, half-dressed, munching on bits of toast in their hands. Alexander was a big help: he found Ron's wand from under his bed, Harry's quill on the windowsill, and even Mrs Weasley's coat.