Chapter 132: Ron, Who Understands Human Nature
It was Saturday, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Alexander Smith stayed in bed long after sunrise. No matter how much Ron tried to rouse him, Alexander simply rolled over and ignored him.
The week had been exhausting.
At Hogwarts, many students had begun to view him not with suspicion or pity, but with curiosity—some even with admiration. Alexander had hoped that, after some time, the initial excitement around "the Boy Who Lived" would fade once everyone realized he was just a normal, average wizard.
But it seemed reality had something different in store.
Peeves—who tormented nearly everyone—avoided him. Even the ghost who delighted in chaos seemed reluctant to get too close. When Alexander faced Professor Quirrell, he distinctly felt a strange and powerful force coursing through himself—something separate from ordinary magic. It wasn't the same as channeling magical energy through a wand. That power felt... deeper, more primal. It came from within his body, rooted in his flesh and blood, not his wand.
When he used it, all the filth and nausea from Quirrell's aura seemed to vanish. He felt whole, grounded, as if he were fulfilling something ancient inside himself.
Maybe he really was different after all.
And then there was Dudley.
His cousin—spoiled, coddled, and adored by the Dursleys—turned out to be a wizard too. The irony made Alexander want to laugh out loud. How would Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon treat their darling now that he was one of those "freaks"? Probably the same way they'd handled his bad grades.
Aunt Petunia would claim the teachers were jealous of Dudley's brilliance. Uncle Vernon would grumble that he didn't want his son to be a "sissy nerd," all while glaring at Alexander like it was somehow his fault. Even if Dudley set fire to a classroom, they'd call him a spirited young man who just needed guidance.
Alexander sighed and pulled the covers over his head.
Dudley's arrival had made his own story public. The whole school now knew the grim details of his childhood. Students who had once looked at him with admiration now glanced at him with a mixture of awe and pity. Worse, they kept slipping candy into his robes.
Ron, of course, ate most of it.
At first, Alexander thought Ron was annoyed by the attention and the newspapers. But he soon discovered that Ron's only real complaint was... that his name had been spelled wrong.
"Look at this!" Ron said, huffing. "My parents didn't even write to me about it. Nobody will believe me unless I write my own book! Maybe I should ask that Sage guy for help—he never shuts up about wanting to publish something."
Sometimes, Alexander thought Ron must have a screw loose.
He could be shockingly perceptive about other people… except when it came to himself. The moment something involved him directly—his interests, pride, or reputation—he lost all sense.
Like when he kept pestering Lisa Dupin with questions about dark curses, totally oblivious to the fact that both Hermione and Lisa were on the verge of tears. Or when he bombarded Alexander with endless football questions, forgetting entirely that Alexander's childhood had been anything but normal.
Unlike Dean Thomas, who grew up in a loving Muggle household with enough adopted siblings to field a football team, Alexander spent his early years scrubbing floors and sleeping in a cupboard.
And yet here was Ron again, trying to get him out of bed for a morning walk.
Alexander pretended to be asleep.
Every time the hype around him seemed to settle, something new pushed him back into the spotlight. Just yesterday, during flying class, he had mounted a broom for the first time in his life—and the moment he touched it, he felt like he'd been reunited with an old friend.
The broom had responded to him instantly.
Its seat was soft and perfectly balanced, enchanted with Elio Smeth's legendary Cushioning Charm. Alexander identified the model easily: the Meteor Broom, developed in 1955 by Cosmic Broom Co. Ltd.
Though the model had lost speed and lift over the years, it remained a favorite for beginners. It was cheap, reliable, and durable—just like pewter cauldrons in Potions class.
Still, Alexander couldn't understand why Cosmic Broom Co. had gone bankrupt in 1978. According to Ryan, the company had made a fatal mistake: it tried to compete with the likes of Comet Trading Company and the Sweep Broom Company in the high-end market. Instead of sticking with affordability, they poured all their funds into R&D, hoping to combine the stability of old Oakshaft brooms with the flexibility of the Sweep series.
The result? Disaster.
The founder lacked any real love for Quidditch. Unlike other companies, he was just a businessman. After a failed product launch, he stopped updating the tech and gave up altogether.
Ironically, this paved the way for the Nimbus Series.
Devlin Whitehorn, who once worked at Cosmic, left and spent years crafting his own design. He even survived by racing his handmade brooms across Europe. Eventually, in 1966, he unveiled the Nimbus 1000—a broom capable of flying at 100 mph and executing pinpoint turns mid-air.
The following year, he founded the Nimbus Racing Broom Company, revolutionizing the sport.
This was why Alexander had chosen the Nimbus 2000 instead of the latest Sweep model, after being approved by Professor Flitwick and tested by Roger Davies.
Unsurprisingly, this choice stirred yet another wave of attention. His name echoed through the common rooms again.
Even in Ravenclaw Tower, he couldn't escape it.
Upper-year students now saw him as some kind of future warrior, eager to share their secret jinxes and tactics in case Voldemort returned. One of the Chasers—Henry, the honest and broad-shouldered seventh-year—had personally welcomed him to the team.
Alexander buried his face in the pillow and sighed.
He hadn't asked for any of this. All he wanted was a quiet, normal year.
But as he thought about tomorrow's trip to Atlantis, the hidden city under the sea, even he had to admit...
Normal was never in the cards for him.
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