Early December had rolled in.
Alice stared into the soul space inside the Myriad Soul Banner and fell quiet.
Pages of Galle Nicholas's handwritten notes floated in the air. Over the past few days, she'd already copied every one of them into the space.
Thanks to those notes, an idea had sparked—a way to make herself stronger. She just wasn't sure whether to try it.
The first half of Nicholas's manuscript laid out a method for absorbing someone else's soul power to boost your own.
And right there in the banner was a ready-made soul.
Alice wanted to siphon off the wraith's energy, then let the banner's soul-nurturing feature rebuild it so she could drain it again later.
That way, she'd have a second source of power besides her own training.
No time like the present.
Under her control, the wraith drifted over. Following the manuscript's instructions, Alice formed the hand signs. Wisps of energy peeled away from the wraith's body, turning into specks of light that flowed into her.
It actually worked. Her eyes lit up.
Maybe because Galle's soul had been incomplete to begin with, the wraith only lasted ten minutes before it started fading to transparency.
The banner flashed a warning: keep going and the thing would vanish for good.
Alice cut it off. Ten minutes was all it took for her to feel the difference—her own soul felt denser, more solid.
But that wasn't the end of Nicholas's notes. Galle's research on souls went way deeper.
The real magic came after you'd powered up your soul—what you did with the extra juice.
Alice told the wraith to go rest, then flicked her wrist. One page lifted out of the floating stack.
[Once you've filled your soul with someone else's power, the question is how to channel it into stronger spells. I thought about this for a long time.]
[In the end, I went with soul imprints.]
[I carved imprints onto my wand that match specific spells. When I cast the spell, the imprint pulls on the stored soul energy and kicks the power way past normal.]
[Unfortunately, life's too short. I only finished imprints for five spells: Disarming Charm, Ironclad Charm, Avada Kedavra, Cruciatus Curse, and Imperius Curse.]
[Whoever finds these notes—pick up where I left off. Make more imprints.]
Alice studied the five intricate patterns beneath the text. She skipped the last three Unforgivable Curses without a second thought—not because she had anything against dark magic, but because she didn't know how to cast them yet. No point wasting time.
She memorized the Disarming Charm and Ironclad Charm patterns, then slipped out of the soul space.
She was standing in an empty classroom now. Door locked, Anti-Alohomora Charm up—just in case some nosy kid tried blasting it open and caught her off guard.
Hands crossed again, she formed the signs. A thread of soul force danced at her fingertips. Using her finger like a pen, she drew the Ironclad Charm imprint onto her wand in one smooth motion.
One imprint down, and she already felt the regret—she wouldn't have the juice for a second one today.
Even this one wasn't permanent like Nicholas described. She could feel it: three boosted Ironclad Charms, max, then she'd have to redraw it.
The more she practiced the charm and the imprint, though, the longer it would last.
Still, Alice was thrilled. With this under her belt, she was pretty sure she could hold her own against an upper-year student.
Not bad, she thought.
Plus, when the extra soul power wasn't being used, it kept feeding her own soul, making it stronger bit by bit.
Now she got why Dumbledore had been so obsessed with Galle Nicholas. With soul imprints, the guy probably could've gone toe-to-toe with old Dumbledore himself.
And if Nicholas had ever let go of his self-control and started harvesting souls left and right… yeah, Dumbledore might not have stood a chance.
Dumbledore had no clue that when Galle wrote this section, he'd already ripped those memories out of his main self. That's why the headmaster had been so on edge.
Thinking about it, Alice couldn't help but roll her eyes at Dumbledore. Look at the monsters he'd raised!
One Voldemort, one Galle Nicholas—if Nicholas hadn't thought Voldemort's whole pure-blood thing was lame, the two of them teaming up would've ended Dumbledore's career.
Where would the "greatest wizard of the age" rep come from then?
Still, Nicholas had written in his final note that he couldn't beat Voldemort. Alice mentally bumped her threat level for the Dark Lord up another notch.
He must be terrifying.
The hunger for power flared in her chest again. If Voldemort really was still alive like she suspected, she needed to be ready to protect herself when he showed up.
Which meant she needed a real wraith.
Myrtle didn't count. Alice couldn't just drain the school ghost without giving away her whole game.
Sure, the banner could keep Myrtle quiet, but Alice didn't trust Dumbledore not to notice.
No way the headmaster stashed those notes in that hidden compartment without reading them first.
And even if Dumbledore missed it, there was the Grey Lady up in the tower. She was the one who'd tipped Alice off about the manuscript in the first place.
The Grey Lady also knew Alice could turn into a ghost. No way could she risk exposing this trump card.
If the Grey Lady found out Alice was experimenting on school ghosts with Nicholas's methods, she'd march straight to Dumbledore and spill everything—including the ghost trick.
So where was she supposed to find a third wraith?
Alice turned it over in her mind. She'd keep hitting the Hog's Head for leads, sure, but first she had to collect from the Bloody Baron.
Learn how a ghost fights. Give her ghost form more ways to stay alive. Then she could hunt dark wizards for their souls.
She unlocked the classroom door and headed straight for the Astronomy Tower—the Baron's favorite brooding spot.
There he was, muttering to himself again. Alice craned her neck and called up:
"Mr. Baron, time to pay up!"