At Hogwarts, Alice Beaumont has a reputation: nose perpetually buried in a book, mind perpetually circling the mystery of the Cursed Vaults. But between Charms practice with Rowan, "arrangements" bartered for Dittany leaves, and a quietly negotiated stash of Boomslang skin, Alice is learning that her greatest asset isn't a rare ingredient or a clever spell; it's the people who see straight through her.
A tale of friendship, mischief, and the quiet art of knowing someone too well, where the most dangerous magic might just be how closely these friends pay attention to each other.
Hogwarts’ library was always busy once lessons had finished for the day. Students drifted in to start on newly assigned work as the late-afternoon light slanted in long, golden bars through the tall windows, catching the slow drift of dust motes above the rows of bookcases. Quills scratched against parchment, and somewhere in the stacks, a student hissed as he flipped pages with a hint of aggressivity that suggested the book was refusing to give up whatever information he was after. Along the tables and desks, the lamps began to glow of their own accord as the sun dipped lower, as if charmed to know exactly when their light would be needed.
But Alice Beaumont didn’t notice any of it. She was far too absorbed in her book. No, not some ancient text that would help her in the vaults quest. It was a French novel about four men who had once been brothers-in-arms, but were now on opposing sides of a conflict far beyond their control. She was enthralled.
Across from her, Simon Selwood was reading a rather voluminous book about some obscure branch of magic. Other books on similar subjects surrounded him, forming a small fortress, their spines carefully angled so that Alice, or any casual onlooker, couldn’t see the titles. He took a quick look at his watch, then cleared his throat, glancing at Alice.
Nothing.
He cleared it again, more pointedly this time, and that did the trick. Alice blinked, surfacing from her story, eyebrows lifting as she stared at him, clearly wondering why he’d interrupted her literary adventure. She got her answer when her gaze landed on the clock above the library’s entrance.
“Oh, for Merlin’s…” she muttered. She shoved the novel into her bag and swung the strap over her shoulder, before making her way towards the door. Just before she crossed the threshold, she stopped, turned back, rummaged through her bag, and set a small paper bag of Chocolate Frogs next to Simon’s books. “Don’t forget to eat something,” she said before walking briskly out of the library.
One corner of Simon’s mouth quirked upwards.
As Alice left the library, she walked straight into someone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you— Rowan?”
“I reckoned you'd be here. Any time you’re late to one of our meetings, it’s because you were in the library, your nose buried in a book.”
Alice smiled sheepishly as heat crept up her cheeks. “I mean… It’s not like you’re any better than me.”
Rowan laughed under her breath. “Never said I was.” She nudged Alice’s shoulder with hers and began walking. “I suppose that's why we're best friends. Though my reading material is usually more informative… Anyway, I know we were supposed to go to the greenhouses to prepare for our next Herbology class, but —”
“You want to practise the spell Flitwick showed us in Charms today.”
“How—”
“That sparkle in your eyes during his demonstration. I knew instantly.”
“It would be so practical for our dormitory! To remove Badeea’s paint stains from the floor! Tulip’s dungbomb residue from wherever she hides them! Your tea and ink stains from—”
“Point taken” Alice’s smile tugged at her lips. “Your dorm-mates are a messy bunch.”
“Let’s just say it would be a very useful spell. So we’ll need to find an abandoned classroom that’s dirty enough to practise it.”
“Fair enough. Though can we still pop by the greenhouse? I need to pick up an ingredient I noticed Penny is running low on, and that might be crucial for a potion I need for my… extracurricular activity.”
“The Vaults. We’ve been friends since we were eleven, Alice. I know you’re talking about the vault expeditions.”
“Fine. I need some Wiggenweld and Penny is almost out of—”
“Dittany leaves?” Andre asked, as if he’d materialised out of thin air. He stepped up beside Alice, holding a small bag. He gave it a shake; the leaves inside rustled. “You’re not the only one keeping track of our favourite potion-maker’s ingredient stash. Or, in this case, watching you keep track. I managed to get the last ones before Sprout showed up.”
Alice reached for the bag. “Thanks, Andre! You’re a —”
Andre lifted it higher, just out of her reach. “Not so fast, Curse-Breaker. You need those leaves, and I need a fitting model for my latest creations. How about an arrangement that benefits us both?”
Alice’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “Fine,” she grumbled, snatching the bag from his hand.
Andre turned on his heel and walked away. “Good choice! I’ll see you tomorrow for the first session.” He waved back over his shoulder and disappeared down the corridor, humming under his breath.
Rowan watched him go, smirking. “Your friends know you too well.”
Alice stuffed the bag inside her satchel. “I think it’s starting to become a problem.”
And so they started their hunt for an abandoned room in need of some scourgifying.
“So now that you have the ingredient…” Rowan trailed off, opening a door to look inside.
“I just need to convince Penny to brew the Wiggenweld for me,” Alice replied, peering over Rowan’s shoulder before her friend closed the door again. “If she’s in one of those moods where she thinks my vault quest is brave, it should be easy. But—”
“—if she’s in one where she thinks you’re being reckless, you’ll need one hell of an argument,” Rowan said as they climbed another flight of stairs.
Alice’s smile turned devious. “Or one hell of an ingredient.”
Rowan stopped short. “Alice… Please don’t tell me you— Oh, Merlin, who am I kidding, of course you did!” Rowan shook her head. “What’s the ingredient?”
“Boomslang skin.”
“I have so many questions.”
“I would expect nothing less. And before you ask, I got it from one of Simon’s friends.”
“Simon has… interesting friends.”
Alice’s smirk widened. “So do we. Anyway, that friend is supposedly the go-to guy if you need anything rare or, you know, a bit shady.”
“Boomslang skin does fit both categories.” Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “Hang on a moment… Boomslang skin is an ingredient for—”
“Polyjuice potion. And Penny—”
“— can’t resist a potion challenge. And Polyjuice—”
“—might come in handy eventually.”
“That’s very cunning of you. It’s in moments like this that I’m surprised there wasn’t a Hatstall between Ravenclaw and Slytherin.”
“Well, considering one of the first things I told the Hat was how various characters from books I’d read would fit in the different Houses, I’m not surprised it picked Ravenclaw in less than five seconds.”
Rowan burst out laughing, and leaned briefly against a wall to catch her breath.
As they rounded the next corner, they noticed a rather unusual duo: Tulip Karasu and Ben Copper.
“That’s… unexpected,” Alice murmured.
“That’s not Ben. Look how he’s standing.”
Ben was indeed leaning against a wall, legs crossed at the ankles, animatedly chatting with Tulip.
“Way too confident and jovial,” Alice agreed. “Not an ounce of fear that the sky will fall on his head at any moment.” She squinted. “Tonks?”
“Definitely. Those two are clearly planning something, and I don’t want to be anywhere near it when it happens.” Rowan grabbed Alice’s arm and steered her towards the staircase to head to a different floor, intent on putting as much distance between them and the pranking duo as possible.
After a few minutes, the pair found what they were looking for: an empty classroom left to neglect. Dust filmed the windowsills. Dried, old mud left from some careless set of shoes spattered the stone floor. Perfect to practise Scourgify, which they did until their wrists hurt and their stomachs reminded them what time it was. They left the room so unnervingly pristine that when Filch stumbled upon it days later, he thought it was some sort of trap for an elaborate prank.
Later, much later, once most students had gone to bed, Simon slipped into the library using the Disillusionment Charm his great-grandfather had taught him. The lamps had dimmed to a soft glow, casting long shadows between tables. He moved soundlessly past the front desk, making his way towards his goal.
“Finite Incantatem,” he whispered, standing before the gates to the Restricted Section.
“Good evening, Selwood,” a voice said from the shadows behind him.
Simon spun around, wand raised, as Alice stepped out from behind a bookshelf, the moonlight catching her slightly amused expression. “Beaumont? What are you— How did you—”
“—know?” Alice finished lightly. “The books you were reading earlier. You didn’t hide the spines as well as you thought.” Her gaze slid toward the gates. “And let’s just say there are more books on those subjects in the Restricted section than in the regular stacks.”
Simon snorted, though there was something like admiration in it. “You’re good.”
“What can I say?” She shrugged, her voice softening. “I know my friends.” She let the silence hang, then added, mostly to herself, “Perhaps a bit too well.”
