Not Dead Yet

1991 October

Alana let out a sigh of annoyance as she untethered several tripping hexes, a stinging curse, four alarm wards and a dizzying spell from her room's door. The entire situation was so utterly ridiculous that she was tempted to just let Aquarius poison the entire Ravenclaw population. She was barely two months into her second year of Hogwarts and Terrence Bagnold seemed content to let his pigeon followers peck her to death. Their attempts to humiliate her were admirable, creative even.

She hadn't really minded at first. None of the older years were inclined to invest time in hexing her and the youngsters didn't have the ability. The attempts weren't life-threatening or even that elaborate, but it had been two weeks, and by now their persistence had just become annoying. She gratefully acknowledged that the lack of effort was largely due to certain friends of hers. The young witch deflected the few curses sent her way as she entered the common room and plonked down across from Leoen. The boy looked just as annoyed as she felt. His scowl as he glared at the room dared anyone to so much as raise their wand at her. She gave him a sheepish smile. Her friends seemed more offended on her behalf than she was.

"They're annoying," He growled softly before moving his chess piece across the board. His grip tightened on the piece when she merely hummed in agreement. "How do you stand it?" He muttered. They both knew it wasn't really a question. It was a statement, a request, a plea to stop it, to stop them. Unfortunately for him, Alana wasn't the type to retaliate without indefinite cause.

"It's only behind closed doors," She replied in an attempt to reassure him. Her approximation of Bagnold's personality seemed to have been spot on. He preached inter-house equality publicly and only allowed her ostracisation behind the safety of closed doors. Surprisingly enough, there had been a decrease in inter-house bullying and conflict after he'd made it known she was fair game. Everyone seemed content letting off steam with her as their target. Again, it was amusing at first but had turned repetitive after the first week. She wondered if Professor Flitwick knew what was going on. Surely he had his suspicions. If he did, the half-goblin didn't speak a word against it. He couldn't really. He wasn't the Ravenclaw King. It was with those thoughts bubbling in her brain that Alana began the day of Samhain.

It wasn't any different from a usual Thursday as far as she was concerned. She finished her morning routine before heading to the Great Hall and entered just in time to catch Draco about to throw a fit. Potter had been gifted a Nimbus 2000, by a staff member no less. The rule for first years not being allowed brooms obviously didn't apply to the famed Boy-Who-Lived. She reluctantly interrupted the brewing fight with a hand on the younger Malfoy's shoulder. As much as she would have enjoyed a good brawl to lighten her sour mood, it was neither the time nor the place.

"It's not worth the trouble," She whispered to him. It wouldn't do to have the boy throwing all his brand new toys on the floor in a tantrum. He'd regret it eventually. She gave the Potter boy the kind smile she normally reserved for comforting friends and led Draco away with the allure of conversation on his classes.

She would tutor him whether he liked it or not. It was a fact she had made clear the moment they stepped out of the Forbidden Forest. She wouldn't have him defenceless. However, she was committed to installing some new brain cells and much-needed discipline in the child before she started pushing him past the curriculum. Malfoy Senior had yet to contact her in regards to his son which was a sure sign that he that he was running background checks. While she was certain he wouldn't find anything, she still couldn't quell her restlessness.

Regardless of her mind's turmoil, the day proceeded as it usually did with Herbology, Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts. She caught a few acid glares from jealous Slytherins that put a damper on her mood but it was otherwise tolerable. Quirrell wasn't even that bad. The dingy Professor had even begun to rub off on her. He seemed to have an invested interest in her future studies and never failed to supply extra reading material to her. It was nice in a mildly disturbing way. At least he wasn't trying to murder her.

She spent her lunchtime with the Slytherin first years. Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson had been the first Draco had introduced her to. Nott was the closest to Draco and, unsurprisingly, the son of one of Lord Voldemort's earliest followers. There were three other persons of interest in his year level that Draco had pointed out: Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass. He confessed that he did not have the most accurate grasp of their characters. Bulstrode was a vocal blood-purist while the latter two were staunch neutrals with Davis being a half-blood and the Greengrass family basically leading the frontier. Zabini and Draco got along best out of the group despite the dark-skinned boys more reclusive personality. All in all, it was an impressive list of possible allies. Draco preened under her praise of his scouting abilities.

…

Notification: You completed a ritual!

Reward: Magical power increased by 50% (duration: 7 days)

Alana really should have been paying more attention to the date. The saying 'ignorance is bliss' had never applied to her more than it did that moment as she stumbled down the castle corridors. She was, much to her enthusiasm, absolutely drunk. The Samhain ritual mixed with a pint of fire whiskey had turned out to be a recipe for disaster. Had she known that the sharp influx of magic and alcohol would not mix well, she would have saved the drink for later. As it was, whatever alcohol tolerance she had built was useless against the concoction.

While intoxicated, she was lucid enough to realise that she was in no state to join the Halloween feast. Truthfully, she was in no condition to be touring the castle either but the common room had felt suffocating with its lack of life. There were, of course, a few other students in a similar state; those not quite used to the magic overload that came with performing magical rituals. She had spied a blue-haired Hufflepuff smoking gillyweed a few corridors before.

Swaying on her feet, the fourth year made her way past several paintings with an unnaturally bright smile adorning her features. The floors looked all sparkly and the walls were swirling panels of colour. It was all extremely amusing to the girl.

What was even funnier was the screaming.

The sound echoed in the hallway and was closely followed by a smashing sound.

"Fufufu." Alana's black hair fell into her face as she laughed. Looking like the vindictive victim of a drowning, she stumbled toward the disturbance. She reached the cavernous door to the girl's bathroom and peered in curiously. The action disorientated her slightly causing her to fall forward against the wooden door with a thump. A giggle left her parted lips as she righted herself.

Disinterestedly, she noticed that the door had been torn off its hinges. It was skewed sideways and barely clinging to the frame. She delicately sniffed the wood and poked her tongue out to lick it. Oak. Her nose wrinkled, finally noticing the pungent smell of faeces, piss and earth that saturated the room. Her eyes turned to make out the towering figure of a magical beast.

It was a humanoid creature with mottled blue skin and boulder-like calves. Lumps of flesh indicated its torso where a bulging stomach proudly displayed itself. Oversized ears extended from a small head inside which two eyeballs rolled listlessly. It was a mountain troll. A smaller breed, she noted apathetically as it swung its club down onto another bathroom stall.

Alana winced at the loud noise and rubbed her temples. Her head was ringing with the piercing volume. The pain only increased at the addition of a female scream. A bushy-haired witch tumbled out from a bathroom stall and she squinted in distaste at the shrill sound the female emitted.

Suddenly, she wasn't so alone in the corridor. Two bodies collided into her as they turned into the doorway. She didn't budge despite the force of the collision and slowly turned her gaze to the young boys sprawled on the hard floor.

"What did you do to her! Where's Hermione!" The red-haired first-year all but screamed at her with a brandished index finger. Internally, she m.o.a.n.e.d at the noise. Externally, she indicated the violent scene behind her where the witch - who she assumed to be Hermione - was ducking the blind swings of the troll.

"Hermione!" The Boy-Who-Lived looked suitably traumatised with large, round eyes taking in the scene. "We've got to help her," He said turning to the red-head beside him but not before giving the fourth-year a pleading glance.

"Hmmn." Alana's vision had blurred some with the onslaught of sound. However, she still had the clarity of sense to find her wand. The length of Sycamore warmed in her had, seeming to know precisely what she wanted to do. She had a quest.

It was a simple spell that she felt no shame in plagiarising from a certain book series in her inebriated state. With a quick mutter, she turned the shattered toilet remains into butterflies. The troll froze to watch the insects flutter and his monstrous grip loosened just enough for her to rip the club off him with a dreamy, "Wingardium leviosa." She giggled slightly as she knocked the troll out. The creature m.o.a.n.e.d pitifully as its eyes drooped shut. Trolls were rather lacking in intelligence, she decided. Just as she prepared to beat it to death, a squirrel hit her in the c.h.e.s.t effectively breaking her admittedly fragile concentration. She glanced down at the mop of brown fur. Two brown eyes eventually emerged from the mass.

"Thank you," The squirrel-witch murmured as she burrowed further into Alana's finely pressed robes. The fourth-year shifted uncomfortably in an attempt to dislodge the small animal. Hermione didn't seem to get the hint and snuggled closer to the criminal. She was strangely affectionate for a girl who just escaped death by club. Alana patted the girl's head awkwardly and looked around for an excuse to leave. The two boys looked away from her when she turned to them. Neither wanted to exchange places with the human pillow. The older girl was left to grumble darkly.

"And what exactly is going on here?" The sharp and stern voice of Professor McGonagall broke the scene.

Alana half-twisted to face the Deputy Headmistress. Her face was as calm as a lake despite the hint of whiskey on her breath.

"Miss Vincent," The woman's eyebrows arched in surprise, "May I ask why you are not with your housemates?" The older witch's inquiry was echoed by Professor Snape's scowl and Professor Sprout's concerned frown. Professor Quirrell looked innocently fearful with his horror-filled eyes darting between the troll and the group of students.

"I didn't attend the feast, Ms McGonagall. I didn't feel particularly inclined to stuff myself with candy so I opted for a stroll down the corridors. Didn't exactly expect to bump into a mountain troll," She replied slowly. Her head still felt like it was throbbing with all the racket. Quirrell and Snape gave her a quick glance at her impaired speech but she couldn't speculate what they made of it.

"It was my fault!" Hermione interrupted before the woman could berate her properly. "I went looking for the troll because I - I thought I could deal with it on my own - you know, because I've read all about them." The girl ducked her head in shame, both at the lie and at the knowing look the Professor gave her.

Ms McGonagall gave the group a thorough lecture on the proper response to danger. Snape took some points only to have them returned by the woman not a second later. They were let off with a warning and a stern order to sleep by Ms McGonagall who seemed to have caught on to Alana's inebriated state - not that it was difficult to notice what with her swaying on her feet. The woman escorted Hermione to the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, while the others headed to their dorms.

Alana barely caught herself in time to avoid Leoen who was pacing up and down the corridor leading Ravenclaw Tower.

"Alana!" The boy exclaimed, his onyx eyes scanning her for injury. "Where were you? No one could find you in the dorm. Don't you know there's a troll around? I'm sure you could handle the stupid creature but what if a teacher caught you wandering about?" His diatribe was broken as he neared her. He inhaled deeply and narrowed his eyes. Alana squirmed uncomfortably. "Are you drunk?" His tone was wrought with disbelief.

"... No."

"You hesitated."

"No, I didn't… You're imagining things."

Leoen gave her a blank stare. Sidestepping him, Alana darted into the common room to escape his suspicion. In her mind, she congratulated herself on her superb acting skills. She truly was amazing. Caught up in her gloriousness, she barely noticed her hair turning pink and then green as she crossed the common room. She did, however, hex the caster of the colour-changing spell when they proceeded to cheer their accomplishment in an obnoxiously loud manner.

1991 November

Alana woke up to a dry mouth, a throbbing headache and an owl screeching in her ear.

"Silence, slave!" She hollered. Her pillow met its target and knocked the feathered bastard from his perch. The bird squawked indignantly before swooping towards her bed and tearing the blankets off her curled form with sharp talons. While Alana seethed, Auxilium made himself comfortable on top of a nearby bookshelf.

With gritted teeth, the young witch rustled through her potions supplies for a headache reliever. She grumpily muttered the counterspell for the startling shade of orange that had, at some time unknown to her, settled in her hair. When she had finally made herself presentable, she stalked downstairs. She had slept in - a rare event. With a few final grumbles, she organised her occlumency shields and entered the great hall.

She was immediately assaulted by a doe-eyed muggleborn who wrapped herself around the first available limb she saw. Contempt that flashed across her face for a brief second before she managed to remove the girl. She was not in the mood for touchy-feely.

"I am not fond of contact," She informed the girl after seeing her hurt expression. She sighed. This was exactly why she hadn't wished to attend Hogwarts. Some of the children, the first years especially, were too emotionally fragile for her to handle. The witch, Hermione as she finally introduced herself, was all too eager to indenture herself to her perceived saviour. She noted with no small ounce of discomfort that both Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were hovering behind the brunette. Whatever plans she had initially formed to distance herself from the trio seemed redundant now. Eyeing the witch, she considered the possibility of getting the girl to dissociate with her. It was possible, surely, but it would be difficult.

Her eyes briefly caught Draco giving her eye signals from across the hall and she suppressed a growl. Her magic simmered beneath its restraints, unsatisfied with its lack of use. It would be easier to mentor the Malfoy heir if he wasn't constantly trying for fisticuffs with the golden trio. She grimaced internally at what her train of thought was suggesting. The thought sickened her for a few seconds before she brandished a kind, if polite, smile at the group of Gryffindors. It was a smile that said 'I am open to friendship' in the eyes of the youngsters and 'I am prepared to offer an alliance' to the openly observing Slytherins and Ravens.

Terrence Bagnold had to restrain himself when the fourth-year was approached by not one, but three Gryffindor first-years in the great hall. He had a vague idea of the Raven's identity, of course, he wouldn't have targeted her if he wasn't confident of her lack of political standing in Britain. Lord Malfoy had made no move to vouch for her so he had assumed himself to be doing the man a favour by attempting to humiliate the girl. It would give him a viable excuse to revoke the privilege of being his heir's mentor and as long as the person implicated in the humiliation wasn't him…

The situation was unexpected and as much as he loathed changes in his plans, he would adapt accordingly. He watched tensely as the Boy-Who-Lived introduced himself to Vincent as Harry. He already speculated that the boy wasn't aware of the implications of offering a first name but the look on his face was too obvious for his intentions to be misconstrued. Had he been any less experienced in the field of politics, he would have felt nauseous at the sight. An alliance was on the horizon and neutral house or not, he would be a fool not to reap its rewards.