Sweet Revenge

Alexgations and Ineptitude

The day had started like a perfectly normal one for Neville. That is to say that he had got out of bed sluggishly, still clinging to his fuzzy blanket. He had shuffled to the bathroom in his blue striped pyjamas and nightcap and splashed cold water onto his face because his gran had told him it would wake him up. He'd been doing this for six years, and it had never succeeded. What always did succeed in waking him, though, was the excessive brightness when he stumbled into the Great Hall every morning for breakfast. 

It was there that he noticed a great and marvelous silence at the Gryffindor table. He nodded cordially to the Slytherin pod across the hall and settled into his seat, serving himself a good helping of Bubble and Squeak and wrapped some Grasmere gingerbread in a napkin to snack on later. 

Then, Ginny flounced into the hall. Then, upon squinting around for two solid minutes, she addressed Eloise Midgen, demanding,

          "Midgen, you must have seen my sweet, amazing boyfriend, Alexceptional. Where is he?"

Midgen looked up from her Coronation Chicken and surreptitiously scooted away. Ginny pursued her. 

          "Well, where is he?"

Midgen scooted her plate over as well. 

          "I'm asking you a question!" Ginny shouted, working herself up. "Are you trying to steal my Alextraordinaire from me, Midgen? Well, I'll have you know that I'm not having any of that, and my lovely Alexdoodles isn't having that, either!" 

          "Well..." Blaise released a drawn-out sigh. "Your darling Alexuberant had now likely become your darling Alextronaut because his Alexcessive Alexaggerating self launched itself far, far away into who-knows-where, hopefully some Alextraterrestrial planet with Alextreme conditions on its Alexplosive surface."

Ginny didn't seem to understand all of the Alex references, so she settled with a dramatic huff and bit angrily into a cherry Bakewell while she tried to unravel that confusing thought. 

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          "I completely, 101 724 586% understand and agree with you, my boy," Dumbledore said, nodding wisely as he walked slowly around his office for maximum effect. 

Alex Potter, who was sitting in the chair opposite Dumbledore's desk, nodded vigorously and turned in the chair to watch Dumbledore circle around and sit back down. 

          "It is of no great importance, though," Dumbledore said softly, as though speaking to himself. "After all, you are the Boy-Who-Lived, and unprecedented people can do unprecedented things..."

          "Oh yes, sir! I don't have to go to school. O-of course, you can always train me--when you have time in your busy schedule...sir," Alex hastened to add. 

         "Well, why don't you floo home, my boy, and I'll send an owl about this. Yes. And who did you say you suspected was behind this?"

         "Potter!" Alex shouted, suddenly incensed. 

         "...Which one?" a portrait on the wall drawled. 

          "Why, Harry Potter, of course, Headmaster Black!" Dumbledore exclaimed, laughing. He was elated when all the other portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses started laughing alongside him. How ridiculous to suggest otherwise! 

          "'Of course!' he says," mocked Heliotrope Wilkins, an elderly dame near the top, in a ridiculously high voice. 

         "'Why, Harry Potter'  he says," chuckled Amrose Swott, a greying old man on the left.