"Miss, you're an absolute genius—your investment paid off big time."
Alice Norton, the young lady in question, gave a polite nod. She couldn't care less about the butler's flattery.
She had money—tons of it. Enough to throw at a dozen projects. Some tanked, sure, but a few always hit. And whenever one hit, the butler showered her with praise while conveniently forgetting the losers.
Alice waved off the ever-dutiful old guy and rubbed her temples. Money wasn't the problem. Managing the massive fortune her parents left her? Piece of cake.
No, her real headache was the nonstop parade of bizarre, random accidents that had decided to make her life their personal playground.
Crash!
A sharp crack made Alice suck in a breath. She stared helplessly at the shattered teacup on the table a few feet away.
Again!
She hadn't even touched the thing—why did it just explode?
Lord only knows how she'd survived the past few weeks.
Windows vanishing into thin air. Clothes she loved shrinking overnight until they were doll-sized. Teacups shattering for no reason. Balloons popping right in her face…
Good grief. If this kept up, she'd have to take the butler's advice and invite a parade of so-called "mystics" to the estate: Catholic priests, African shamans, Chinese Taoist priests—anyone claiming supernatural powers.
Heaven knows if any of them could actually help.
Feeling lost, Alice stood from the couch and yanked open the window in frustration.
Her fingers brushed the glass—and her eyes lit up. The window didn't disappear. A small victory.
That made it the sixteenth window this month.
The second she cracked it open, Alice spotted a super sketchy-looking owl perched outside.
Huh?
She tilted her head. Why did an owl look sneaky?
Then she squinted. Yup—that bird was straight-up embarrassed. She'd swear on it.
Alice decided she was officially losing it.
But before she could process that, the owl flapped its wings, fanning a letter right into her face, then casually soared off.
Its wingbeats were so dramatic that a ratty bandana tied around its head came loose and fluttered down with the envelope, landing at Alice's feet.
As one of the few filthy-rich kids in polite society, Alice's fancy education kicked in: This letter screams danger.
Yet she couldn't look away.
The envelope read:
Yorkshire
Norton Manor
Third Floor, Main House, Master Bedroom
Miss Alice Norton
Well, that was… creepily specific.
It was thick parchment—no stamp. She flipped it over and saw a wax seal with a crest: a big "H" surrounded by a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake.
Alice raised an eyebrow. Okay, now things were getting interesting. Something told her this letter was a big deal.
She opened it carefully, half-expecting a prank, but nope—just a plain letter inside.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(President of the International Confederation of Wizards, First Class Order of Merlin, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot)
Dear Miss Norton,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Alice scratched her chin. An acceptance letter—cool. She'd gotten a bunch lately. At eleven, she was middle-school age, and tons of fancy schools wanted her money (and her brain—she'd been managing a huge fortune solo for a while now).
But this one didn't feel like it was after her cash. Too many weird details.
A smart owl delivering mail.
International Confederation of Wizards.
Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
She'd never heard of any of it.
But magic? That she could wrap her head around. Some kind of supernatural power, right?
Who knows if it's more legit than priests or witch doctors, but hey—why not give it a shot?
Alice called the maid waiting outside to fetch the ever-loyal butler.
Hervin Taylor showed up fast, looking like a textbook middle-aged butler: crisp uniform, neat hair, just a little out of breath.
Alice felt bad—she'd told the maid to make it sound urgent. Oops.
Hervin relaxed when he saw she was fine, then eyed the letter she held out.
After a long pause, he frowned. "I've never heard of any of this."
Alice nodded. Same. She gestured for him to keep going.
He thought for a second. "I believe there's some truth to it."
"But if possible, I'd like to see this… remarkable owl you mentioned."
Alice winced. "…It already flew off."
Right on cue, a soft tap-tap came from the window. Both spun around.
Alice's heart skipped—the window had finally vanished. But she barely mourned number sixteen, because there was the owl, back again.
It swooped inside, landed on the desk, and planted a foot squarely on the words Reply Letter.
Message received. Alice tapped her forehead. "Hang on a sec."
She and Hervin spent the next few minutes weighing the risks and decided: Why not?
Her weird accidents were spiraling out of control. If Hogwarts was a school, maybe they could fix her.
Plus, a headmaster with that many titles had to know his stuff.
Alice scribbled a quick reply and handed it to the owl, asking it to make another trip.
As it prepared to leave, she smacked her forehead, grabbed the bandana from the windowsill, and called, "Hey! Don't forget your bandana!"
The owl glanced at the rag in her hand, clearly thinking, That ain't mine, lady, and zoomed off without a backward glance.
Alice froze, rag dangling from her fingers.
Hervin thought she was embarrassed by the snub and opened his mouth to comfort her—but she snapped out of it. He shut up and excused himself.
Once he was gone, Alice picked up the bandana again. The same message from earlier popped into her head:
"Sacred Artifact: Myriad Soul Banner"
A sacred artifact?
How would that help her school life?
Coming from a long line of business tycoons and raised with an elite education, Alice's first instinct was to assess its value.