Alice spun around and spotted Professor Snape striding toward her.
She couldn't help wondering: Do this many professors really patrol this hallway every single day?
Of course, she wasn't about to ask him. Things had been awkward ever since she'd jokingly said she was getting him shampoo for Christmas.
Better to keep a low profile around Snape for a while.
So she answered honestly:
"I just ran into Professor Quirrell, but he's gone now."
The second the words left her mouth, she saw the corner of Snape's mouth twitch. Then came that flat, tightly controlled voice:
"Stay away from Professor Quirrell."
There was definitely a warning in his tone. Alice tried to smooth it over.
"It was just a chance meeting, Professor."
"Good," Snape snapped. With that, he swept past her, his robes flaring out behind him like bat wings. The way he stalked forward, he looked like a bat ready to throw down.
Alice clicked her tongue. Why was he always so pissed off around her?
But his warning had tipped her off to something bigger.
Snape had to know whatever secret Quirrell was hiding—at least the broad strokes.
Otherwise he wouldn't have bothered warning her.
So… what exactly was Quirrell hiding?
…
By eleven o'clock, it felt like every kid at Hogwarts had crammed into the Quidditch stadium. The place was electric.
Alice was parked in the Slytherin stands, Gryffindor's section straight across from her. Millicent Bulstrode handed her a pair of binoculars and pointed to the very top row of the Gryffindor bleachers.
There they were—Hermione and the gang—hoisting a massive banner that screamed "HARRY WILL WIN!"
Below the words was a roaring lion in full Gryffindor colors, shifting and shimmering like it was alive.
The Slytherins weren't about to let that slide.
Moments later, an even bigger banner unfurled on their side: "SLYTHERIN WILL WIN!"
Underneath was a giant serpent, its eyes enchanted by Gemma Farley to glow with an eerie, cold light.
The two houses went at it, banners glaring across the pitch like rival gang flags. The energy in the stadium went from zero to a hundred real quick—Gryffindors and Slytherins screaming for their teams to crush the other side.
Then the match kicked off.
Thanks to Millicent's binoculars, Alice could actually see what was happening up in the air.
She didn't know much about Quidditch, though, so she relied on Millicent's running commentary and the announcer—who was obviously a Gryffindor. His play-by-play was so biased that half the Slytherin stands were flipping him off.
Alice couldn't stand Marcus Flint, but she had to admit the guy was out there fighting for Slytherin.
Just… not exactly playing fair.
She watched Flint barrel straight into Harry Potter like a linebacker. Harry nearly lost his grip on the broom and ate dirt.
The Gryffindor stands erupted in boos louder than the Slytherins cursing the announcer.
"…a blatant and despicable foul…"
The announcer's "unbiased" take only made both sides yell louder.
Pretty soon, Alice was caught up in the chaos, totally sucked into the game.
Slytherin started pulling ahead, and she could feel her dorm mates buzzing with excitement.
But her eyes kept locking onto Harry. Thanks to the few flying lessons she'd actually practiced, she could tell something was wrong with his broom.
It was jerking and twisting like crazy, dragging Harry farther and farther from the pitch.
No way he was doing that on purpose.
She nudged Millicent and pointed. "That Gryffindor Seeker—normal?"
Millicent squinted for a few seconds, then shook her head. "Nope. That's not normal."
"Seekers are supposed to chase the Snitch. He doesn't look like he found it—he looks like the broom's gone rogue."
"That's weird," Millicent muttered. "Brooms don't just glitch out on their own. Nothing messes with a broom mid-flight."
As she spoke, things got worse. The broom flung Harry off. Now he was dangling by one hand, hundreds of feet up, while the thing kept bucking like a wild horse.
Alice blurted, "Could dark magic mess with a broom?"
Pansy jumped in: "Sure, but who'd curse Harry now?"
By this point, the whole stadium had noticed. Kids were screaming, pointing. Alice saw the Weasley twins trying to fly up and grab Harry, but every time they got close, the broom swerved like it had a mind of its own.
Alice was sure now—someone was controlling that broom from the shadows.
The question she'd asked in the Great Hall was playing out right in front of her.
No way a student could pull off dark magic like that. She scanned the teachers' stands.
That's when she spotted a sneaky figure—Hermione Granger.
Hermione was creeping closer to the professors' section. Alice got it instantly: Miss Know-It-All had the same idea.
So who was hexing Harry's broom?
Under Alice's stare, Hermione finally slipped behind the professors' row. A flick of her wand sent a tongue of blue flame straight onto Snape's robes.
Alice didn't want to believe Snape was behind this, but then—
As Snape frantically beat out the fire on his clothes, Harry's broom suddenly steadied.
…
Alice's stomach dropped. Snape was a sarcastic, ice-cold jerk who played favorites, but he'd protected her these past few months.
She didn't want to think he'd stoop to secretly sabotaging a student.
But the proof was right there—Harry's broom was fine the second Snape stopped whatever he was doing.
Wait—
In the chaos of Snape putting out the flames, Alice caught sight of Professor Quirrell scrambling up from the ground.
Hold up… had Hermione bumped into Quirrell too?
So the person thrown off by Hermione's stunt wasn't just Snape—
It was Quirrell.