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As light disappeared in the horizon and night came, the Potter Heiress stayed immobile on a massive stone, even knowing she would have to go back in the valley soon. Even in summer, the night so high in the mountains could really be cold for her taste, not to mention she had not taken with her a lot of warm clothes.
But the night meant sleeping, and sleep was definitely an activity which on this July month brought her little comfort. Alexandra had believed she was about to die, in the armoury of Brise-Roc. The Summon had been about to roast her, and only a miracle could have saved her.
At the last moment, though, the miracle had happened. The salamander had roared in anger and pain, before being seemingly absorbed back into a gigantic vortex, like one in the video games Dudley was so fond of. Alexandra had not waited to know why or how she had been granted such a reprieve. The reality had shivered, and suddenly teleportation was available again. In a last effort, she had visualised the mountain overbearing the place where the first Gringotts portkey had brought her more than a week ago, and tried with all her will to teleport herself away.
It had worked, but the effort had nearly killed her. Alexandra had teleported herself on short distances before; this teleportation had been in miles or kilometres depending the measure system of the country you were referencing. Arrived to her destination, she had completely been emptied of energy and she had assisted in a semi-unconscious state to the explosion of the mountain in the far away distance.
Once sufficiently recovered, Alexandra had gone to the point where she had hidden her spare clothes (for once her prudence to create a secret hideout beforehand had been fairly justified), and left. She had not had the will to explain to the authorities the circumstances of her presence, and she wanted to be far, far away from Brise-Roc. This place had been a gigantic trap, and the furthest away she was from it, the better.
She had erred in the French mountains ever since, using the French money she had converted from the Galleons of her trust vault to buy food and drink. She may have been emerged unharmed from the disaster, but the demon was still pursuing her in her sleep. Every moment passed sleeping was seeing her dreams transform in nightmare with a certain salamander of flames and shadows appearing to annihilate her.
Damn the Exchequer. Damn the goblins for charging in the melee without a Plan B.
Beginning her long descent towards the next town, the young witch saw a white light approaching her in the rapidly diminishing light.
"Atalanta." Alexandra smiled, the first time she had done so for a long time.
"HOOT!" Replied the snow owl, which then proceeded to pose on her right shoulder and vigorously pinch her everywhere she could find.
"OUCH!OUCH! It's okay, I won't leave without news for so long, girl."
The snowy owl hooted again with a threatening glare, then dropped a letter carrying the Hogwarts seal in her hands, along with a few large packages from Hermione and Nigel.
Wondering how she had taken the dominated role in the owl-witch relationship, Alexandra broke the seal and opened the letter first.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Miss Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have achieved sufficient marks to enter your second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. Your ticket for King's Cross is included in this letter.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
"I was wondering when reality would come back ticking again." Alexandra sighed." After all, all those wander are not lost." She added to herself.
"Well, girl." She said to Atalanta. "Are you ready to return to Hogwarts?" Her owl emitted an offended hoot in answer.
"Of course you are ready. Plenty of male owls to court you there." Atalanta hooted loudly in indignation." Fine. Next stop, Diagon Alley."
Alexandra watched the mountains in the distance. While everything was peaceful, the young witch was not able to forget that behind this green and grey, the ruins of Brise-Roc laid. The thousands of souls of those slain by the Summon were still pressing her like an invisible burden.
"This is not over, Exchequer. I will become powerful...and then you will pay. This a promise."
An instant later, there was no one there anymore. Save a marmot wondering what all this noise was about before going to sleep.
The cat is out of the bag
24th August 1992, Diagon Alley, London, England
Diagon Alley hadn't changed much in the space of a year, thought Alexandra.
The young witch had come several times, but at each occasion she crossed from the Leaky Cauldron and tapped her wand to open the archway she was greeted by the same sight. Same strange shops. Same strange odours. Same strange wizards and witches walking with their strange clothes indifferent to the fashions of the twentieth century.
The only thing which changed today was that there was a lot more people than usual; to the point the irregular street along the multitude of shops was literally packed with people and she had real difficulties to manoeuvre in the direction she wanted. She had believed at first the large number of people in this infernal means of transport called the Knight Bus were the norm, but the crowd which was cluttering the archway and the Leaky Cauldron proved it was not so.
"I suppose I waited too long to make my school purchases." She sighed. "Everyone must have decided today was the good time to come with his family."