Alice runs the main spiel, Pansy jumping in with the juicy details Alice missed. The two of them lay out the whole messy timeline for Harry and the crew in no time.
It's a long-ass backstory, so once they're done, Harry and Ron both pivot to Hermione like she's the human CliffsNotes.
Hermione rolls her eyes, already over it:
"Here's the TL;DR: Flint's been bullying Alice over her blood status."
"Then this Theo Nott kid gets too chummy with her, so Flint turns the heat on him."
"Theo's sharp as hell—Flint's crap bounces off. So Bode, who Theo roasted in public, piles on the hate train."
"Theo finally slips—dumb potion mishap, boom, explosion. Gets hurt bad."
"Snape saves his ass, swears Flint's crew is clean. Alice calls bullshit—knows they're neck-deep."
"That cover it? And why us three? Alice trusts us not to rat her out, even if it blows up in her face."
She shoots a look at Alice and Pansy: "Sound right?"
Then at Harry and Ron: "You two tracking?"
Four heads nod in sync. Hermione smirks, satisfied.
Alice leans in: "So… you in? Help me take these pricks down?"
Harry's mulling it over.
Ron's hyped but low-key terrified.
Hermione? Wants to help, but school rules are screaming in her head—this needs a bulletproof plan.
Harry makes the call:
"Count me in. Flint and Bode are a goddamn disgrace to Hogwarts."
Ron exhales like he just dodged a Bludger—Harry decided, so he's off the hook.
Hermione's already scheming, but Harry knows Alice didn't come empty-handed. She's not the type to wing it. Hermione's just too worried to see it.
"Alice, spill your plan. How do we play this?"
Hermione blinks—duh. Alice always has a strategy.
Alice flicks her wand; paper and quill zip from Pansy's pocket straight to her hand. Smooth Accio—Harry's impressed. Girl's leveling up.
She scribbles as she talks:
"Sometimes the simplest traps snap the hardest."
"No need to overcomplicate."
"Harry's been owning Flint on the Quidditch pitch—dude's pissed. Been trash-talking Slytherin's Seeker nonstop. Whole house is buzzing about their beef."
"That's our bait."
"Pansy's been hanging at Draco's practices—Slytherin team knows her face now."
"Here's the play: Pansy tells Flint she overheard me spilling Slytherin tactics in the dorms."
"I 'leak' it to Harry. Flint loses his shit."
"Then when he storms in… we spring the trap."
Ron's eyes light up—he loves his part, but Alice shuts him down with a look. He's vibrating inside.
Hermione spots the hole first: "Cool—nailed Flint. But Bode? How do we rope him in?"
Alice just smirks. Harry jumps in:
"Easy. We pick the timing. The 'leak'? Total fake."
"Wait for a moment Flint and Bode are glued at the hip. Flint knows Alice packs heat—plus me? He's not dumb. He'll drag his goon squad."
Hermione nods—flaw patched.
Pansy raises a shaky hand: "Uh… this is too simple. Profs will sniff it out. You said no getting caught!"
Classic Slytherin caution—scared of failing, craving approval.
Alice clocks it: Slytherins crave glory… but fear the fall.
She lays it out:
"Pansy, it's not 'no profs ever.' It's 'no getting busted red-handed.' Avoid that? We're golden."
Pansy: "…Huh?"
Hermione breaks it down: "Outside Hogwarts? Pure-blood crap still flies. Inside? Dead. Only some Slytherin dinosaurs cling to it. The other three houses? Blood status is whatever."
"Our play aligns with Dumbledore and most profs. Even the holdouts won't cross the boss or the majority."
"No smoking gun? Case closed. Flint and Bode eat their own mess."
Alice nods—Dumbledore's run Hogwarts his way for decades. Staff? His people. And he hates blood supremacy.
Harry and Ron swap a look: Shit, we had the same question… just too chicken to ask.
They grin sheepishly—Gryffindor bravado, zero chill.