Alice's figure quickly vanished from the dining hall, with Pansy, Millicent, and their other roommates trailing behind her.
Behind them, many Slytherin students looked uneasy. Alice's words had stung some of them deeply.
Theodore Nott cast a cold glance at a few third-years whispering among themselves. His expression was calm, but inside, he felt a quiet scorn for them.
Before getting to know Alice, Nott had both hated and feared those who clung to extreme pure-blood ideals. On one hand, his father had followed the Dark Lord years ago and ended up in Azkaban after the Dark Lord's fall, leaving Nott with a rough childhood shaped by his father's choices. Nott knew that many of these students' parents had also followed the Dark Lord but managed to escape justice. That fueled his resentment toward them.
On the other hand, these students came from powerful, influential families—far above Nott, who had no parents to shield him. He knew that crossing them would only end badly for him, so he feared them.
But ever since he started hanging out with Alice and watched her repeatedly clash with these people, Nott began to see them for what they really were: a bunch of wannabes hiding behind their family names, all bark and no bite.
Over the past few months since school started, with Alice's support, Theodore Nott had discovered his knack for Potions. Even the hyper-critical Professor Snape couldn't find much to fault in Nott's work for someone his age.
Because of this, Nott no longer felt that mix of hate and fear toward these pure-blood fanatics. Instead, he was filled with confidence that he'd one day outshine them all.
Nott soon left the hall with his friends. Over the past few months, he'd gathered a small crew of Slytherins who weren't as obsessed with pure-blood nonsense.
…
On the way to the Quidditch pitch, Millicent needed a bathroom break, so Pansy and the others went with her.
Alice headed to the pitch alone. As she walked, she spotted a figure ahead, and her expression turned curious.
It was Professor Quirrell's back.
Quirrell was the one professor Alice couldn't quite figure out. He taught Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, but honestly, Alice wasn't impressed with his skills.
Thanks to the old spirit in her Soul Banner, Alice knew a thing or two about dark magic. So, she couldn't wrap her head around why Dumbledore would let Quirrell teach this class. In her opinion, Professor Snape knew way more about dark magic than Quirrell ever could.
Maybe Dumbledore couldn't find a decent Potions professor, so he had to keep Snape in that role? Alice didn't buy that theory, but she didn't have a better explanation either.
Putting those thoughts aside, she focused on the professor in front of her.
Quirrell always wore a massive purple turban on his head. He claimed it was a gift from an African prince to protect him from a zombie he'd encountered. Every time Alice saw that turban, it gave her a headache. Did he really feel comfortable wearing that thing?
Even the owl that delivered her Hogwarts letter refused to wear a headscarf, and that was the Soul Banner!
Of course, that wasn't her biggest issue. Everyone's got their quirks, right? What really bugged Alice was that she felt like she wasn't learning anything useful in Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
Quirrell had a habit of just reading straight from the textbook and tossing in random stories about his so-called adventures—like his run-ins with vampires and zombies. Those tales explained his turban and the garlic smell that clung to him, but they didn't exactly help Hogwarts students learn how to defend themselves against dark magic.
Maybe Alice had been staring at Quirrell's back for too long, because he slowly turned around.
He looked as jittery as ever, still coming off as timid under Alice's gaze.
To avoid any awkwardness, Alice spoke first. "Professor, you heading to the Quidditch match too?"
"Uh… y-yeah, yes, I'm… I'm going to, uh, watch the… the game," Quirrell stammered, tripping over his words as usual.
Alice kept a polite smile, patiently waiting for him to finish without showing any annoyance.
Her attitude seemed to put Quirrell at ease, like he felt respected. He unconsciously stepped closer to her.
And just like that, Alice found herself stuck walking to the Quidditch pitch with Professor Quirrell.
After a few moments of silence, Quirrell spoke again. "Y-you're… you're Alice… Alice Norton, r-right?"
Alice raised an eyebrow. She'd always been pretty quiet in his class, so she was surprised he'd noticed her. She nodded calmly, curious about what this odd professor would say next.
Getting her confirmation, Quirrell went on. "I-I've heard about… about some of the, uh, things you've dealt with in… in Slytherin."
"Haven't you ever thought about… about just, uh, going along with them… for now?" he asked. "J-just, you know, playing along… it could… could get you some, uh, help from them."
His words matched the impression Alice had of him, but that approach wasn't her style.
She shook her head. "No, Professor. In situations like this, giving in even a little can make them push harder."
Take Derrick Bode, for example. Those pure-blood fanatics kept testing his limits, and now he'd been completely molded into what they wanted.
Quirrell suddenly grabbed Alice's shoulder. It was only for a split second before she dodged, but his face flushed with embarrassment.
"Professor, what are you doing?" Alice asked, her tone guarded.
Quirrell, looking flustered, stammered, "I-I… I just wanted to, uh, tell you… if you… if you want to get, uh, stronger, you can… can come to me. I-I can teach you some… some powerful and, uh, effective spells."
Alice nodded, saying she'd think about it.
This little incident gave Alice an excuse to part ways with Quirrell. As she watched him hurry off, looking a bit like he was fleeing, her heart felt heavy.
When Quirrell had grabbed her shoulder, the Soul Banner on her wrist had flared with a heat so intense it nearly burned her.
It was a warning. The Soul Banner had sensed deep malice in Quirrell's soul. And his soul was powerful—so much so that the Banner trembled, something it had never done before, not even when Professor McGonagall had been near her.
Quirrell was clearly not as simple as he seemed.
Just then, a voice called out from behind her.
"Alice Norton, what are you doing standing here all alone?"
---