Little groups of first-year witches and wizards were huddling together all over the Great Hall.
Today, Gryffindor and Slytherin were practically at each other's throats. The Quidditch rivalry wasn't just on the pitch—it was spilling over into the dining hall. Kids from the two houses sat at their long tables, shooting daggers with their eyes.
Everyone was pumped for the big match. Millicent and her crew were buzzing with excitement, and Alice couldn't help getting swept up in the hype. Her pulse was racing.
She was actually starting to look forward to a Quidditch game.
Alice took a second to check herself. Back when Ron Weasley and Dean Thomas were arguing about whether soccer was any fun, she'd thought Ron was just full of wizard-world arrogance.
But wasn't she being just as judgy about his attitude?
She needed to be more open-minded about Quidditch.
Once she figured that out, Alice finally felt ready to jump into the conversation.
"So, in Quidditch, you're all flying around on brooms—doesn't that get dangerous?" she asked.
The Slytherin kids who'd been deep in debate suddenly froze. They hadn't expected Alice to chime in. The whole vibe just… stopped.
For a second, everyone looked kinda awkward.
Alice's smile faded a little. She went stone-faced and sat back down. Guess she was paying the price for trying to fit in…
She quietly started picking at her food.
"Of course it's dangerous," someone answered. "Remember that goofy Gryffindor kid who fell off his broom in our first flying lesson? That kind of injury is honestly the least of it."
Alice looked up. Pansy Parkinson was the one talking. Alice raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out what Pansy was up to.
But Pansy wasn't done. She nudged Millicent. "You're the huge Quidditch fan—why don't you fill Alice in on all the scary stuff?"
Millicent was shocked—first that Alice was joining in, and second that Pansy was actually helping her out.
She was so thrown off she didn't know what to say at first.
Pansy's nudge snapped her out of it. Millicent cleared her throat and announced, loud and proud, "Sure thing! Let me give Slytherin's own Alice Norton the full rundown on Quidditch dangers."
She really leaned into the word Slytherin and even winked at Alice.
A little ways down the table, Marcus Flint and his crew had been watching the whole thing. When they saw Alice actually fitting in, Flint's face darkened. He opened his mouth to shut it down—but then he felt a stare like needles.
He glanced over and saw Gemma Farley glaring daggers at him. One wrong move and she'd be on him like a hawk.
Flint muttered under his breath, "Just wait till you're a second-year…"
Malfoy, being on the Quidditch team, was sitting with the other players because of the upcoming game.
His eyes scanned each teammate, trying to read their expressions. He looked deep in thought.
Meanwhile, Millicent Bulstrode kept going:
"…like I was saying about players crashing into each other—honestly, that's nothing. Bludgers will straight-up attack you. They can cause serious injuries. Stuff like that happens all the time…"
Millicent really knew her stuff. Even the older Slytherins who'd seen tons of matches were hanging on every word, occasionally correcting her on small details.
When she finished, Alice had another question.
"Is the danger only on the field?"
"Magic works from far away, right? Could someone outside the pitch mess with the game? Or is there some kind of protection to stop that?"
Alice's question made everyone pause. They'd never even thought about it. And they'd never seen anything like that happen.
Could someone really interfere from the stands?
"If anyone actually did that, it'd be totally low," one first-year piped up.
A bunch of others nodded. Yeah, that'd be super shady.
"Figures," a nasty voice cut in. "Us noble pure-bloods would never even think of something so dirty. Only someone like Alice—who grew up with Muggles—would come up with that kind of sleazy idea and blurt it out loud."
Alice turned and stared like she was looking at a dead man. The speaker? None other than Dilixiat Bode.
The same guy who'd cheated and ambushed her during a duel. The same creep who'd lied to Harry and Hermione.
But Alice's new friendliness had worked—after hearing Bode, a bunch of first-years glared at him.
Still, he was a third-year. The little kids didn't dare do more than glare.
Alice was about to clap back when Theodore Nott spoke up.
"Bode, when you say 'pure-blood,' do you mean the part where you cut ties with your Muggle mom?"
"If I hear you using your pathetic behavior to call yourself pure-blood again, I'll speak for the Nott family and make sure you remember exactly where you come from—and where you belong."
Theodore's robes were old and patched up. Nothing like the fancy stuff Bode was wearing. No surprise there—ever since Bode started sucking up to the hardcore pure-blood crowd, he'd been doing their dirty work and getting rewarded.
But even though Theodore looked scruffy, when he laid into Bode, not a single third-year extremist jumped in to defend him. Not even Bode dared talk back.
Everyone in Slytherin knew Theodore Nott was the real deal—his dad was still rotting in Azkaban.
Pansy was acting weird today. While Bode stood there speechless, she went for the kill.
She pointed right at him. "Nott, this thing about him ditching his Muggle mom—is that actually true?"
Theodore smirked. "Why would I lie? Get this—his mom's the one who raised him. His dad never gave a damn."
Suddenly every first-year in Slytherin was staring at Bode like he was trash. That was the woman who raised him.
Even some older kids looked shocked. A few hadn't known.
Bode's face went ghost-white. He knew it—he was done for.
And the third-years he'd pledged loyalty to? Not a peep.
Alice stood up. "I'm heading to the pitch early. I feel sick."
Pansy jumped up and followed. "What's wrong, Alice?"
Alice glanced at the group Bode had come from. "Bode's a total scumbag, but the people he sucks up to won't even stick up for him? That's what these so-called pure-blood extremists are about?"
"Looks like all they've got left is their rotten family name. Ugh. Disgusting. They're an embarrassment to Slytherin."
"They won't even protect their own, and they talk about ambition and goals? Give me a break."