Word about what went down in the Slytherin common room spread through Hogwarts like wildfire.
For days, little witches and wizards were jumping at shadows, terrified some mystery ghost was gonna get them next. That vibe lasted right up until Halloween eve, when things finally calmed down a little.
It wasn't because the professors caught the ghost that attacked Dilys Derwent (Alice hadn't tried any more out-of-body adventures; Bloody Baron was guarding the common room like a hawk).
Nope, the fear just got drowned out by the mountain of homework everyone suddenly had, plus all the Halloween excitement in the air.
Alice had just finished Charms class. Professor Flitwick asked her to hang back; he wanted to talk about her study methods.
"You're telling me," Flitwick squeaked, eyes practically popping, "that you keep a notebook where you log every single tiny change (wand movement, grip pressure, pronunciation tweaks), then mix-and-match them until you find the exact combo that makes a spell hit hardest?"
He'd never heard of anyone learning like that.
Alice nodded. "Yep. I'm really sensitive to how magic moves inside me, so I can feel which combinations work best. Then I write the feeling down too."
"My Godric's hat, that's not easy. That takes insane focus and patience."
"Totally," Alice agreed. "But I love it. You can literally feel yourself getting stronger. It works."
Flitwick looked at her with a complicated swirl of pride, worry, and maybe a little envy. "Minerva keeps grumbling that the Sorting Hat's gone blind in its old age. I used to defend the thing, but now… I'm starting to think she's right."
Alice gave him the perfect shy-but-grateful smile. "I'd never have improved this fast without all your help, Professor."
"Oh, my dear girl." Flitwick beamed. "Any more questions about Protego or Expelliarmus? Fire away."
"Okay… Expelliarmus never feels totally smooth for me. Like there's something blocking the flow."
Flitwick casually flicked his wand up, took a few steps back, and said, "Hit me with your best Expelliarmus."
Alice blinked. "Uh… Professor?"
He grinned like a kid on Christmas. "Don't worry about hurting me. I was dueling champion in my day. Go for it."
Alice figured he wanted to feel the spell himself so he could diagnose it. Gotta admit, the Hogwarts professors were scary good (even her own Head of House was a potions genius). A little favoritism here and there was whatever.
She leveled her wand, jabbed it forward like a fencer, and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"
Flitwick didn't dodge. He just stood there and took it.
His wand ripped halfway out of his hand (you could see it flying), but at the last millisecond his lips moved, some silent counter, and the wand snapped right back to his fingers.
The next second his eyes were sparkling. "Merlin's beard, child—at your age, casting an Expelliarmus that strong? Incredible."
Alice waited. She knew Flitwick well enough by now: the "but" was coming.
"But," he said, right on cue, "I also spotted exactly why it feels blocked."
She leaned in, all ears.
"When you cast Expelliarmus, what's going through your head?"
Alice thought back to her duel with Pansy a month ago. "I'm one hundred percent focused on totally disarming my opponent and ending the fight. I want them helpless. I want to win."
Flitwick nodded like crazy. "That's the problem."
"You know why the spell's called Expelliarmus and not something else?"
"Because the whole point is disarming?" Alice guessed.
"Exactly!" Flitwick squeaked. "You nail Protego because when you cast it you're thinking protect, shield, keep safe. Same deal here: the intent has to be purely disarm—take the weapon, nothing more. Not crush them, not dominate them, just remove the weapon."
"That's the beautiful thing about magic," he went on. "The really brilliant witches and wizards baked the secret right into the name. Wingardium Leviosa, Protego, Expelliarmus… the more spells you master, the more you'll see it."
To prove his point he casually fired off half a dozen charms in a row (sparks, levitating books, color-changing teacups). Alice's jaw dropped. No wonder the guy had a dueling trophy.
"Professor," she said suddenly, "why doesn't Hogwarts have an official student dueling tournament?"
Flitwick actually froze, scratched his chin. "Huh. Never thought about it. That's… not a bad idea. The problem is, do modern students even have the skills for real dueling anymore?"
Back in the day Hogwarts grads could fight. After two wizarding wars, though, a lot of people got twitchy about teaching kids how to actually throw down. Plus Defense Against the Dark Arts was… well, a joke most years.
"Interesting thought," he said. "I'll bring it up at the next staff meeting."
He glanced at the door. "Anyway, I shouldn't keep you any longer. There's a young lady who's been waiting very patiently for you."
Alice assumed Hermione, but nope; it was one of Hermione's dormmates, Parvati Patil.
What does she want with me? Alice wondered.