Breakfast in the Great Hall was lively as always.
Plates filled themselves.
Goblets refilled.
Students chattered while owls swooped overhead delivering mail from home.
Alexander sat at the Ravenclaw table, calmly enjoying a plate of eggs and toast when—
Flap.
An owl descended and dropped a letter directly in front of him.
Alexander glanced at the envelope.
Familiar handwriting.
He broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.
To our beloved son Alex,
We heard what happened.
Please do not keep causing trouble.
Professor Snape is not racist and he is not a Death Eater. He has already been investigated regarding that matter, and Professor Dumbledore himself spoke on his behalf.
So do not accuse him of being a Death Eater again.
As for your claims about him being racist—we believe that may simply be your imagination. However, if matters escalate and more parents begin to complain, we will be the first to bring it before the Hogwarts Board of Governors.
But for now, calm down.
We are glad to hear you are getting used to the British cuisine.
Stay safe. Enjoy school.
And remember—Hogwarts is a fine institution.
Love,
Mom and Dad
Alexander lowered the letter slowly.
No expression.
He simply returned to eating his breakfast as if nothing had happened.
Cho, seated beside him, leaned slightly.
"…Everything okay?"
Alexander took another bite of eggs.
"Parental feedback."
"…Good or bad?"
"Neutral."
He finished the last of his toast, wiped his mouth, and stood.
The letter was still in his hand.
Without warning—
He flicked his wand.
"Incendio."
The parchment ignited instantly.
Flames curled the edges before the entire letter turned to ash in seconds.
Students nearby jerked back in surprise.
"Whoa—!"
"Again?!"
"Does he always burn his mail?!"
A few Ravenclaws hurriedly fanned the smoke away while Cho blinked at the fading ashes.
Alexander, meanwhile, had already turned and walked off toward the exit like nothing happened.
For the rest of the week—
Nothing happened.
No explosions.
No accusations.
No public confrontations.
In Potions class, Professor Snape entered as usual, robes billowing dramatically.
But this time—
He said nothing to Alexander.
Not a word.
He only stared.
Long.
Cold.
Alexander met the stare once—
Then went back to brewing as if Snape didn't exist.
The silence became more unsettling than yelling.
And naturally—
Rumors spread.
Fast.
"I heard Snape's scared of him now."
"My brother said the Ministry might remove Snape."
"They're investigating him again because of Chen."
"Imagine bullying a professor into retirement…"
The stories grew more ridiculous with each retelling.
Alexander ignored all of it.
His routine remained unchanged:
Classes.
Detention with McGonagall.
Night exploration.
And of course—
Hide-and-seek with Filch and Mrs. Norris.
If anything—
The quiet week only meant one thing to him.
The calm before the next storm.