Alice stood beneath an old oak tree, a perfectly balanced stick in her hands, moving slowly through the steps of her sword dance.
It was the set her grandfather had created specifically for her: a deadly fighting style disguised as something beautiful. When she wasn't actually trying to kill anyone, she could dance through the forms like a ballerina, and it still trained every muscle, every reflex, every bit of focus she had.
At first, half the school used to watch. Students gawked, professors even stopped by a few times (McGonagall had looked thoughtful, Flitwick had muttered something about "elegant footwork"), but eventually everyone decided a Muggle sword style wasn't useful to wizards and lost interest.
Alice was fine with that. Fewer onlookers meant more peace.
The later forms were brutal. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her breathing grew ragged, and the stick started feeling like lead. She'd been practicing this set for four or five years now and it still kicked her butt every single time. That was exactly why she never skipped a day.
Her grandfather had been a sword master. Trained somewhere far in the East as a young man, then wandered into Europe, fought in real wars, and came out the other side with a style that was anything but fancy showboating. Every move in this dance used almost every muscle she had and drained her concentration down to the last drop. He'd told her that the day she could finish the entire set without collapsing, she'd be a master in her own right.
Today, again, she didn't quite make it. Her legs gave out on the final turn and she hit the grass hard, chest heaving.
"Still not there," she muttered, annoyed with herself.
From the edge of the clearing, Ron watched with his usual baffled expression.
"I will never get this," he announced. "We're wizards. Why bother with sword stuff? And how does someone as scary-strong as Alice still end up flat on her face because of some Muggle exercise? That's just not logical."
He tried (and failed) to copy one of her flowing arm movements. Hermione smacked him upside the head.
"Ow! Seriously, what is with you lately?" Ron rubbed the back of his skull. Ever since Hermione and Alice had gotten close, the slaps had multiplied. He was starting to suspect where she'd picked up the habit.
Harry just sighed and got ready to pull them apart. He'd done it so often he could probably do it blindfolded now.
Luckily, Hermione decided not to start a fight.
"Want to know why she keeps doing it?" she asked instead.
Ron shut up instantly. Yeah, he did.
Hermione explained (quietly) what Alice had told her about her grandfather: the old sword master who'd designed this exact set just for his granddaughter.
Ron nodded slowly. "Ohhh. So it's like… she's keeping him with her. That's actually kind of sweet."
Hermione shook her head. "That's not it. Or at least, not the main reason."
Now Harry was curious too.
"The weird part," Hermione went on, "is that even though her grandfather had zero magic, whenever Alice practices this dance her magic gets super active. Her power grows faster because of it. The sword dance literally helps her magic."
Harry and Ron locked eyes, both thinking the exact same thing.
Hermione saw the glint and rolled her eyes so hard it was audible. "No. I already tried. It has to be tailored to the person. For anyone else it's just exhausting exercise. No magic boost."
Harry let out a disappointed "Aww."
Ron shrugged. "Guess that's why they called the old guy a grandmaster. Dude figured out how to make a wizard stronger without even knowing wizards existed."
Hermione nodded. "I've been reading biographies of people like Nicolás Flamel lately. The really brilliant ones always manage to be exceptional at more than one thing. Her grandfather must've been like that."
While they talked, Alice finally caught her breath. She pushed herself up, carefully planted the stick upright in the dirt (same stick she'd been using for months; she'd grab it again tomorrow), and cast a quick Scourgify on herself to get rid of the sweat smell.
She walked over to the trio.
"You guys actually stayed for the whole thing today? Usually you get bored halfway through."
"Ron was curious," Hermione said. "So I explained some of the cool parts."
Alice gave a small, proud smile. "It really is cool. The more I practice, the more I realize how insane my grandfather was. Honestly? If you gave him the first move, I think he could've gone toe-to-toe with a trained Auror."
Ron snorted so hard he nearly choked. "No way. A Muggle? Against an Auror? Come on."
Alice just smiled mysteriously and didn't argue. Her grandfather had been dead for years anyway; no one could prove or disprove it.
She glanced around. "Where's Neville? He usually tags along to watch."
Ron suddenly looked incredibly shifty. "Uh… he's… preparing something big. You'll find out in a few days."
Harry elbowed him. Ron clammed up.
Alice raised an eyebrow but let it go.
Whatever it was, she had a feeling it was going to be good.