Alice is just 11 years old when she finds out she's a witch and has to attend a magic school. Her life's been pretty ordinary; although she has never known her true family, she's found one in her foster parents. However, everything will change when...
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"Astoria, did you take my sweater?!" Daphne asked while opening the fabrics that served as room-to-room dividers inside the enchanted tend.
"No!" Both her sister and her friend replied at the same time. She'd walked in on Alice and Astoria changing for the quidditch game, and she took her fists to her hips as soon as she saw Alice with the piece of clothing she'd been looking for the past ten minutes.
"I did." Alice confessed, although it did not do much good, and then shrugged her shoulders. "You have to admit it looks way better on me – Hey!" She had to dodge a pillow Daphne playfully threw at her. It was at that moment when she noticed that the older Greengrass sister was holding a piece of parchment and a quill in her right hand, meaning she was writing another letter.
That had been a mystery for Alice throughout all summer. She had spent the holidays with her friends' family, which couldn't have been better. For the previous months, the three girls shared a room, spent entire nights talking and chatting and did everything together. Their parents, Atticus and Margaux, had been the nicest towards Alice and accepted her like their own. However, she had the feeling that if she – or they – hadn't find out she was pureblood, the treatment they'd given her would've been much different.
Alice could not lie, that had been the best summer she'd ever lived, and to bring it to an end, they had convinced the Greengrass marriage to get last minute tickets for the Quidditch World Cup, an opportunity of a lifetime. They were really excited because Hermione, Harry and the Weasleys were also going, and had seats nearly next to each other. The only thing that had been intriguing Alice was the letters Daphne had been writing all summer long. She hadn't said to whom they were intended, and she certainly wasn't going to let her read them.
"Girls, please." Daphne's and Astoria's mother called the young witches for them to lower their voice as she drew the room's fabrics and gestured them to get out. "We have a visit." The three of them stepped towards the wide tent's living room to find the last person they expected to see there.
"Malfoy?"
And not only the son, but the father, Lucius Malfoy, was also standing in front of them with his arms stretched, holding a cane on his right hand, and giving a smile that just radiated cynicism. "Look at them! Your girls have become such fine ladies." Then his cold gaze fell upon Alice, sending her shivers down her spine. "And you must be Alice Prince." He offered her his gloved hand to shake, which Alice was reluctant at first. "Draco has told me a lot about you."
Believing it would be the polite thing to do, Alice finally shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you, sir."
"Are you ready for the match, Atticus?" He turned to Daphne's father. "Where are your seats?"
