Deep in the dead of night, a ghostly figure drifted through the Slytherin dorms and out into the moonlit halls of Hogwarts.
Alice poked her own translucent hand right through her chest, giggling at the weird tingle.
This is wild.
Just minutes ago, she'd used her Soul Banner to yank her spirit clean out of her body. She'd tucked the banner inside her soul to keep it stable. Two-hour time limit—plenty for tonight.
Bonus: unlike the castle ghosts, nobody could spot her. Total stealth mode.
She phased through walls, beelining for the edge of the grounds. Plan? Slip out of Hogwarts, hit the nearbyy little wizard village of Hogsmeade, and snag a fresh wizard soul to beef up the banner.
Not easy. Even with the banner's boost, her soul was stronger than her living self, but that didn't mean she could take on a grown wizard in a straight fight.
Sometimes, though, you just gotta make a move. Fate loves a player in the game—whether it hands you the win or yanks the rug.
Hogsmeade was pure-wizard turf, perfect hunting ground. In soul form, travel was a breeze—obstacles? Just walk (or float) straight through. She was strolling the village streets in no time.
She stuck to the back alleys. No dark wizard dumb enough to strut down Main Street. Creeps love the shadows.
Jackpot: a rickety little shack with a creaky sign swinging in the wind—a severed boar's head, blood dripping, squeaking like a horror-movie prop.
Bar. Definitely a bar.
Downside of ghost mode: no sense of smell. Probably a blessing; this dump had to reek.
Late as it was, a few patrons still hunched inside. Alice glided in—and swore the bartender's head snapped up.
One look at his face and she did a double-take. Dude could be Dumbledore's ugly twin. Nephew? Evil clone? The family-resemblance vibe was strong.
She shook it off and zeroed in on two hooded guys at a corner table.
"You sure the old coot upstairs is on his way out?" one rasped, voice like gravel in a blender.
The other chugged his drink and nodded hard.
The bartender—still lurking behind the ratty curtain—stood up, glaring.
First guy threw his hands up. "Hey, we're not killing him. Guy's already knocking on death's door—you gonna save him?"
The bartender grunted and went back to polishing glasses.
The pair hashed out plans to loot the corpse later. No heirs, easy pickings. They even offered to "dispose" of the body—solving a headache for the bar owner, who stayed silent.
Nobody noticed the tiny silver soul sneaking upstairs.
The room was weirdly clean for this dump. An old man lay in bed, moaning, eyes shut, face chalk-white.
Alice watched his shallow breaths. Guilt prickled.
If there'd been any chance to save him, she'd have tried. She wasn't a monster. No grudge, no reason to play grim reaper for power.
But this guy was done. Medicine? Useless.
Minutes ticked by. The moans faded. A faint flush hit his cheeks—classic last hurrah.
His eyes cracked open. Locked on the glowing girl by the bed. Blurry, then sharp.
"Are you… the angel come to take me to heaven?"
Alice blinked. He can see me? Dying superpower? Or was he just that strong?
She shot back, "You think you belong in heaven?"
A weak smile. "Maybe. Never was a bad guy."
A pause. "Not a saint, either. But heaven… yeah, I'd like a peek."
Hope flickered in his eyes. Real, desperate hope.
Alice hated to crush it. "I'm no angel. No heaven escort."
The light dimmed. He nodded after a beat. "Figures. No heaven anyway."
"Dying, though… shame to take all my knowledge with me."
He pointed a shaky finger at a bundle by the bed. "Lifetime's work. Take it if you want."
Jackpot. But she didn't grab it. Just hovered, waiting.
The Soul Banner unfurled from her spirit. A silver thread tugged the old man's soul free the second his heart stopped.
Alice eyed the dazed soul and—on impulse—asked, "Anything nasty in that bundle?"
The soul's blank face twisted into something feral. "Nasty? Deadly. Still want my stuff? You'll get nothing—nothing!"
"Leeches living off the dead—maggots in the shadows!"
Alice touched her nose. Well, that was uncalled for.
She yanked her hand back from the bundle and made a new rule: Never trust a dead guy's sales pitch.
One swift kick sent the snarling soul tumbling into the banner. Then she waited.
The two goons crept in, hauled the body out, snagged the bundle, and dragged everything past the village limits. They dumped the corpse like trash and ripped the bundle open.
Black smoke exploded out, eating their fingers, racing up their arms.
Screams shredded the night. Alice plugged her ears and floated away.
She wasn't here to play cleanup crew. She just wanted to know how the old man planned to screw her over. That decided how she'd treat his soul later.
Behind her? Just scavengers eating each other alive. Not her circus.
Back in the Hog's Head, the bartender wiped a glass, lips curling in a dark smirk.
"Idiots."
"Like his stuff's free for the taking."