Alice gave a small nod at Theodore's stunned face. Yep, he'd guessed it.
"Something that awful actually happened?" Theodore muttered under his breath.
Alice blinked, suddenly curious what wild theory he'd cooked up. "What'd you come up with?"
Still half-dazed, he answered, "Dumbledore's secretly working for Voldemort?"
Nice leap, dude.
Alice stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "What do you mean Dumbledore's with Voldemort? How'd you even land there?"
She shut it down fast.
Theodore snapped out of his fog, chuckling. "So he hasn't switched sides?"
"Of course not."
"Then chill. Just keep growing—happy, stress-free growing." He grinned, fishing a folded, scribble-covered paper from his pocket and waving it like a flag.
Alice dropped the gloom and zeroed in on the paper. "What's that?"
"Three, four days ago, Pansy Parkinson hooked me up with a girl who's a whiz at ancient runes."
Alice lifted her chin—keep going.
Theodore glanced around. Marcus Flint was staring daggers their way, whispering to his crew. Theodore's eyes flashed with disgust before he went on.
"Her name's Trista Rylan. Mixed-blood like me—mom's a witch, dad's a Muggle. Fifth-year Ravenclaw."
"I watched her for a bit first, sized up if she's cool to work with. Verdict: friendly, total research nerd."
"Oh, and she's sharp. Caught me spying on her real quick, so we just talked."
"I showed her some old family notes on ancient runes. Girl's the real deal—knows her stuff cold. Bonus: she's got a solid grip on alchemy too."
"So yeah, perfect fit to help us crack the flying sword."
He handed over the paper. Besides his notes on Trista, there was a chunk in totally different handwriting.
Alice pointed at it, confused. Theodore explained, "I gave her the quick rundown on your flying sword idea. She's obsessed. This is her pitch to join."
Alice nodded and read:
Alice Norton,
Hi, Trista Rylan here.
First off—huge respect for standing up to the pure-blood extremists. No mystery how we know; you're kind of a big deal in certain wizard circles.
Now, business. Nott told me about your flying sword concept and I'm ALL IN. Sounds insanely cool.
My strengths:
1. Ancient runes? I'm your girl. No student at Hogwarts knows those squiggly symbols better—guaranteed.
2. Alchemy—I'm no master, but I'm leagues ahead of Theodore Nott. (Sorry, Theo.)
Alice snorted and looked up. Theodore scratched his nose, sheepish. "Okay, fine. She's decent at alchemy."
Trista wasn't done:
One question, though. Building something from scratch—like a never-been-done flying sword—is HARD. Takes brains (we've got those) but also serious cash and grit. You got the funds and the stomach to see it through?
Alice could practically see the girl: research-obsessed, blunt, and zero filter.
Theodore added, "If you're cool with it, I'll pass her those ancient rune pages you gave me."
Alice thought for a second, then nodded hard. "Do it. Bring her in. Never met Rylan, but I trust your judgment 100%."
Theodore gave a little bow. "Hope Rylan and I don't let you down."
"Never," Alice said, standing up. She still wanted to meet this girl in person.
The second she stood, a sleazy whistle cut through the air.
Disgust flashed in Alice's eyes. Didn't even need to look.
Marcus Flint's voice slimed into her ears: "Well, well—has our little scholar Alice finally accepted Theodore Nott's proposal?"
Ugh.
Ever since Snape warned the older Slytherins to leave first-year Alice alone, Flint's crew had laid low for a few weeks.
Then they figured it out: why use fists when words work just as well?
Even started spreading dumb rumors about Alice and Theodore "dating."
Theodore got dragged into it too, just for hanging around her.
Alice didn't care about the gossip, but the constant buzzing? Like flies. Annoying.
Theodore's eyes blazed. He saw Alice as a leader, a partner—nothing else.
She'd told him to ignore the "loser barking," but having her reputation trashed? That pissed him off.
"Flint, watch your mouth."
"Aw, protective boyfriend mode activated?" Flint's voice dripped with fake drama. His buddies cracked up.
Alice watched their clown show with zero expression.
Theodore was still fuming, but one look at Alice's calm face killed his urge to fight. He switched gears:
"Flint, if you paid any attention to what I've been brewing with Professor Snape lately, you'd know now's not the time to mess with me."
Flint froze. The threat sounded weak… but Theodore's potion skills? Terrifying.
Snape had praised him in upper-year classes—multiple times.
Nobody wanted to tick off a future potion master. What if the kid whipped up something that didn't hurt… but made you look real stupid?
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