Ambivalent → Hermione Granger [3] ✔

I 14 I A Cold Christmas

~*~

Alexander couldn't speak, much less move. His body was frozen like a statue carved from ice. The Professors, Fudge and Hagrid exited the Three Broomsticks, the sound of the door swinging shut and the howling of the snow ringing in his ear. His mind had gone numb, and he was unable to formulate words. What could he say right now that would make it better, that could help?

He sat there, anticipation heavy in the air, as if the very moment held its breath, waiting for the others to speak. Yet, as the seconds ticked by, the silence grew oppressive, a weighty cloak draped over the room, punctuated only by the gentle clinking of glasses and the murmur of conversation. Even Ron's mouth was gaping.

"Harry. . ." Hermione spoke first, her whispering tone laced with concern and anxiety.

Alexander peered at Harry, who cast him a glance that weighed like a sack of stones jammed in his mouth. Harry crawled out from under the table and then stormed past, his body trembling. Alexander shared a look with Hermione. Those doe-eyes swirled with the same fear and unease that coiled in his chest like restless serpents.

"Come on," muttered Ron and strode out after him.

Worry blossomed, a surge pulsating through his veins, propelling him forward as they all chased after Harry.

"Harry!" Ron yelled. "Slow down!"

"Harry, wait for us! Please!" said Hermione as they trudged through the heavy snow.

Alexander kept silent, his breath coming out in huffs as the path grew steeper, mist escaping his nostrils. The other two kept shouting Harry's name. He spotted Harry in the distance, moving with swift determination, as though he aimed to carve a path ablaze with fury in his wake. Harry was angry, there was no doubt about that. And Alexander didn't blame him. Who wouldn't be at this moment? After finding out that most people in his life were lying to him.

"Harry, we can talk about this!" Ron yelled.

Harry came to an abrupt halt, his body tensing as he spun around, his panting coming out in ragged gasps, his chest heaving visibly. Alexander froze in his tracks, his face drained of colour, his expression mixed with fear and apprehension. Harry's features hardened, his lips pressed into a thin line, betraying the intensity of his emotions.

"Is it true?" Harry asked, his voice striking like a whiplash across his cheeks. "A-All those things they said, or was Fudge lying?"

"I-" Alexander said.

"Please, just - just tell me. Tell me it was a lie and not what I think it is. Say it! That it was all a lie!"

Harry's voice surged, echoing through the crisp, snowy air, its intensity cutting through the silence. A heavy sensation weighed down Alexander like a jagged rock, rendering him speechless. He felt like a damn coward. Confronted like this meant he couldn't even lie; his brain wasn't working fast enough.

"Harry, please. . ." whimpered Hermione in a tremulous voice.

Harry's head swung to her. "No, I need to hear it straight from Alexander. Was he spying on me, reporting my every move to Fudge? Were you passing information to your grandfather? Did you exchange secret letters, note down my lunch routines or each time I visited the common room? Is that what's been going on? Are you their glorified puppet now, is that it?" Harry's words were sharp with suspicion and disappointment. Desperation crept into his tone. "Please, Alex, don't lie to me, I can't take another lie."

Alexander's bottom lip trembled. He bit on it with his teeth. "Yes," he revealed softly but he might as well have shouted it from the way Harry's face dropped. "To - to my grandfather."