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"That's stupid!" Hermione didn't like this and did not try to hide it.
"That's a major advantage for the powerful." Corrected Alexandra, not throwing a stone at it...she might benefit from this measure in several years and one never knew when it would become useful. "But I was not aware Neville Longbottom was already a Lord?"
"Technically he's not." Grimaced Morag. "A wizard or a witch is not authorised to sit on the Wizengamot, no matter his or her age and situation, until he or she is fifteen years old or has successfully passed four OWLS. But to be properly considered a Lord or a Lady, you have to validate the two conditions plus satisfy a formal vote of the Wizengamot for your ascension."
Raising her quill to imitate a venerable judge of said assembly, the red-haired girl continued.
"Longbottom will officially be a Lord when he takes his OWLS at the end of fifth-year. Until then, it's his grandmother who is Regent for the Most Noble and Ancient House of Longbottom. However, asking him to take Veritaserum or a Truth Oath now for a Hogwarts issue could lead to political huge problems in a few years. The Wizengamot is already in turmoil, no one is going to accuse the Boy-Who-Lived and make the situation worse."
"They can't ask him questions because he's a noble? And what will happen if Neville is the Heir?" Hermione's voice has mounted several levels and was now completely indignant.
"Calmly, Hermione." Said Alexandra in a conciliatory tone. "To begin with, we have only suspicions, not facts. Nothing proves Neville is the Heir. Being a Parselmouth doesn't mean he's the Heir of Slytherin. Assuming being the Heir gives you the power to petrify people...I still have my doubts on that theory."
Especially as this so-called 'theory' was well-spread in the Slytherin and Gryffindor ranks. Anything coming from those hubs of agitation and self-righteousness could hardly be considered reliable.
"And if you're wrong?" Asked Hermione.
"If I'm wrong and there are more attacks where Neville Longbottom is involved, then he will be tried by the Wizengamot. Truth Oaths or no, the Ministry will act. Let's just hope they catch the culprit and not an innocent."
Of course it assumed the Ministry would bother with a trial, a point they were not required to satisfy with the anti-Death Eater laws voted in 1981 by the Bagnold government and never repealed since.
For a few minutes, no one spoke. The two Ravenclaw girls and the two Gryffindors went over their essays and other homework for the next week of school before the winter holidays. At short intervals, one or the other would look at the windows. The snow storm was now redoubling in violence and intensity. Everything was white outside. No one alive was visible. Even the giant Hagrid was inside the castle most of the time in this season. The Thestrals dragging the carriage were not going to have an easy task when the students would have to be transported to the station of Hogsmeade.
Then in the silence which was only troubled by the moans of the wind, someone knocked at the door.
"Were we waiting for someone?" Asked Nigel.
"Not that I'm aware of." Shrugged Alexandra, drawing her wand and standing up. She marched to the door, unlocked it with a quick "Alohomora!" and opened it in one swing. The four persons in front of her were known to Alexandra. Although what they were doing here, she had no idea.
"Heiress Greengrass. Heir Zabini. Heiress Davis. Heiress De Male-Foi." A nod of approval came from Morag, confirming she had put the names in the correct order. Granted the French name ending it because it was foreign looked like particularly petty but it was apparently a result of the endless English-French wars. "I was not aware we were organising a study group with House Slytherin today."
"Very funny, Potter. Very funny." Said Zabini in the same bored voice which was his trademark." Do you invite us in or should we talk in the entrance?"
"If you have made the effort to come here, I suppose it is important for you." Alexandra sighed, putting herself on the side and giving enough for the newcomers to enter. "Please enter and tell us what bring four members of the sadly infamous Slytherin House in our respectable meeting place. I'm sure the conversation is going to be fascinating."
Going back to the chair she had sat upon on the last hour, Alexandra examined with an interested eye the four Snakes who had just barged in their private gathering. Zabini was projecting the same image as ever, those of a dark-skinned boy with very expensive clothes and a continuously bored expression. Daphne Greengrass had not much changed too since her first meeting at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Platinum-haired, a visage with a complexion of porcelain and so perfect it was unreal. Pale lip and cold eyes. Witch robes and jewellery so pricey Alexandra knew the Potter vault wouldn't be able to cover such spending for a decade if she bought clothes like this every day. At twelve years old, the Greengrass Heiress was very much a potential top-model for the future. Assuming she ceased to harbour this icy expression permanently. Alexandra didn't know much about wizarding courting traditions, but a girl who never smiled wasn't going to attract any prince charming.
Lyre de Male-Foi came next. The first-year Slytherin was looking more approachable than the Greengrass Heiress – though honestly it would have been hard to appear less – and had expensive clothes but the style and the manner they were worn revealed her foreign origins. The French witch had not the impeccable mask of the second-years; Alexandra almost could see the schemes and plots swirling in them.
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