Something that Alistair had always adored about Hogwarts was its architecture. It was grand but it didn’t boast the luxury that the Slytherin dungeons did. He suspected that was because Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff had preferred the simplicity of it. He was sure that had Slytherin had his way then there would have been great big sculptures carved from gold and sumptuous fabrics that cost the earth twice over. There was something undoubtedly grand about the castle but it wasn’t showy and over the top as perhaps some of the Purebloods used to luxury would have wanted. It did have its own little hints of splendour though. It was splendorous, there was no doubt about that, but it was in its own simple understated way. However, despite the simplicity, there was still something that struck people dumb about Hogwarts and understandably so. It wasn’t Beauxbatons’ crystal and it certainly didn’t bear the furs that Durmstrang possessed but there was still something about it. Perhaps it was the intoxicating smell of magic or the feeling that, no matter who you were, you were home. Alistair would’ve said it was the latter but he couldn’t help but greedily inhale the smell and feel the taste of the magic on his tongue. Heaven.
Alistair brought his lips together, his teeth clenching and his jaw growing hard, pulling his skin taught over the bones. In doing so he made the pink scar tissue across his cheekbone all the more noticeable, though he paid little attention to it. He allowed the students to make up their own tales as to how he received the scar. He daren’t let slip that the cause had been the frightened flinging of hands and fingernails as he clawed at the clothes of the woman he kept in his bruising grip. It had been years since he’d thought about that night, the night when he’d turned from an intellectual, perhaps, into the Death Eater he was today. Admittedly, Alistair was far calmer now of all times but he still felt the need to take his wand to some of them - though Patricia had merely been thrown down a flight of stairs. As much as he had enjoyed the simplicity of it afterwards and the subsequent Daily Prophet articles about her death, Alistair preferred his wand. He preferred to inflict pain that didn’t mean he had to get his hands dirty. Then of course the Killing Curse was a kind way to finish them off, whoever it was. He was vaguely pleased to report he hadn’t killed anyone many since he had left Azkaban - no one really important at all, just people that wouldn’t be missed.
There was a change in the air; Alistair had noticed quite visibly that change. The students seemed a lot more optimistic, teasing almost. He had put a number in detentions with him for the evening ahead before leaving for London that morning and by the looks of the smirking faces lingering in the doorway of the Great Hall, he was definitely considering adding more to the list. Unlike Barker, he was quite a bit cleaner. They were children, they couldn’t be helped really but they did need their punishment. He had no intention of torturing them unless they got particularly mouthy. Alistair was content just to make them clean the dungeons and he was considering adding the pair of Hufflepuffs before him to the list simply because they were irritating.
Emerging from his thoughts, Alistair looked at the girl, his face betraying his disinterest. “Then perhaps you should run home to your mother and father, child.” He responded dully. “If you think ignorance is going to keep you safe from harm then truly, you are the most at risk. Naivety is not best suited upon anyone, let alone young women who have so much to be taken from them.” Alistair dragged his eyes across the girl’s form and drank her in once more before letting a small smirk tread across his lips. “But you’ve already lost all there is to be had, haven’t you? Your friend however seems to be a lot more innocent in the ways of the world, preferred perhaps to those who wish to teach her the way politics works; the way life works. You’re both terribly naive and at true risk. You’re just lucky that no one seems particularly interested in a bunch of duffers from Hufflepuff. Aren’t you lucky?”
Alistair watched the smaller of the two disappear back up the steps to the grand staircase and watched her make her descent to the Hufflepuff dungeons until she disappeared from view. His grip tightened and slackened once more on the box before he squared his shoulders and looked at the girl, finding no difficulty in displaying his contempt for her. “Now is there anything else or will you leave to play Gobstones or Wizard’s Chess like the good little girl you are?”