Duh—of course it's my get-out-of-detention-free card, Alice thought.
She hadn't even had flying lessons yet. How was she supposed to know Gryffindor had some superstar Seeker?
Truth? She had zero clue how Quidditch worked. A bunch of people zooming around on brooms chasing balls? Couldn't picture it.
"I also can't imagine twenty guys chasing one ball on the ground being any fun!"
Huh?
Ron Weasley's voice.
Alice glanced over. Ron was bickering with another kid—about soccer?
The other guy… Dean Thomas, Muggle-born wizard.
Alice clocked the claret-and-blue striped scarf around Dean's neck.
West Ham fan, huh? That explained the soccer beef.
Ron and Dean spotted her at the same time. Argument paused. Awkward faces all around.
Alice smiled. "Keep going, just passing through."
Two steps later, she spun back to Dean. "Actually, I think soccer's pretty cool. You watch Leeds United? Yorkshire team."
Her butler, Haven Taylor, was a die-hard soccer nut. After her parents died, when she was a wreck, he'd dragged her to a few matches. Therapy, Taylor-style.
Dean lit up like she'd handed him a winning lottery ticket. He dove right back into the Quidditch-vs-soccer debate with Ron—except now it was just Ron vs. Dean on whether soccer was even fun.
Alice didn't have beef with Ron, but his tone dripped that pure-blood "Muggle stuff is beneath me" vibe.
She shook it off. Back to business: how to max out Theodore Nott's usefulness.
Money alone wouldn't hook an ambitious guy like him. She needed knowledge—the kind locked in that old dark wizard's soul inside the Banner.
The day flew by. Alice walked solo into the Slytherin common room again.
Different vibe tonight. Surface calm, but she caught the undercurrent—excitement buzzing like static.
All because of her.
She zeroed in on Theodore Nott, lurking in the shadows. He gave a tiny nod, then melted into the crowd. He'd promised to dig—he would.
Alice exhaled. Showtime.
She wanted to see what fresh nonsense awaited.
These Slytherins came up with new tricks daily.
Weirdly, nobody jumped her all the way to the dorm. Her hand even paused on the doorknob.
The common room had screamed "big drama tonight," but the threat stayed hidden. Dorm trouble?
No way. After weeks of dorm life, those girls still dared to poke the bear?
She pushed the door open.
Pansy Parkinson stood there in a sharp, fancy outfit, glaring like a dragon.
Alice's interest spiked. What's your play, Pansy?
"Alice Norton."
"I, Pansy Parkinson, bearer of the Parkinson family's honor and noble blood, formally challenge Alice Norton—of unknown blood and unknown family—to a duel."
A formal challenge? Cute.
But—
"I decline."
The entire Slytherin common room exploded.
"She refused?!"
"Told you—filthy blood, no family honor, no guts!"
"Did the Sorting Hat glitch? How is this Slytherin?"
"Just a Mudblood. Why even bother?"
The open door funneled every word straight into Alice's ears. She didn't flinch.
Pansy's face went storm-cloud black. All that pomp, and Alice shut it down with two words?
Unacceptable.
"Why refuse?"
Alice locked eyes with her. "Pointless duel. What do I win?"
"Free pass to live in peace in Slytherin? Everyone suddenly respects me?"
"Accepting your challenge insults me and overrates you."
Pansy's face darkened further—
Then a cool female voice cut through the chaos.
"Accept. Beat her, and I personally guarantee no first-year in this house—any kind of targeting—touches you again."
Alice turned. Gemma Farley, Slytherin prefect.
Calm, sharp, confident. Alice barely knew her.
Up till now, Gemma had stayed hands-off while upper-years messed with Alice.
Alice had pegged her as a hardcore pure-blood purist. So why the switch?
What's your angle, Gemma?
Should she take the bait?
"Does your guarantee actually mean anything?"
Gemma didn't bluff. She zeroed in on Marcus Flint in the crowd.
Cold voice: "Flint. My guarantee hold water?"
Flint met her stare. Wanted to flex. Couldn't. Dropped his gaze.
"…Yeah. It does."
Gemma turned back to Alice.
Flint wasn't the only ringleader, but Gemma flexing on him? Solid start.
Fine.
"I accept your challenge, Miss Pansy Parkinson. And for the record—I'm from the Norton family.
"You'll remember those names for the rest of your life. You'll pay for being this stupid."