The second the crowd started heckling, Alice had already moved on to testing Neville.
She knew he couldn't read Chinese, so she first went through all seventy-two forms of the Shushan sword manual right in front of him, slow and flawless. Then she started correcting him move by move.
Neville was stumbling hard. Some of his swings looked outright ridiculous, and the students circling them didn't hold back.
"I told you he shouldn't bother with swordplay. What's even the point?"
"Yeah, Longbottom doesn't exactly scream 'natural swordsman.' Look at him, he's a walking joke!"
"A wizard learning sword fighting? That's the dumbest thing I've heard all year!"
Every jab hit Neville's ears. He shot Alice an apologetic look and only got clumsier.
Alice's eyebrow twitched. She locked eyes with him. "Why exactly are you sorry?"
The sudden question (and the fact she'd just stopped mid-form) startled him so badly he lost his balance and landed flat on his backside.
The crowd roared. Harry and the others started arguing with a couple of Slytherins. The only calm person was Neville, mumbling out an explanation.
"I just… if I hadn't begged you to teach me, you wouldn't be getting laughed at too."
"Also, I really am hopeless. Spells, swords, doesn't matter. I'm as thick as a troll."
Alice pictured a troll, glanced at Neville, and decided the boy had zero self-confidence.
"Mr. Longbottom?"
The formal address threw him for a second, but he straightened up and listened.
"I've got two questions."
"First: how exactly does their laughing hurt either of us? You decided to learn. I decided to teach. That decision belongs to the two of us. Why are you apologizing for a bunch of loudmouths?"
"Second: why do you always blame everything on 'no talent'?"
"Let's start with magic. Unless I'm mistaken, that wand of yours isn't new, right? Which means it's probably not yours at all."
"Why should magic listen to you if you're swinging someone else's wand?"
"And now swords. I haven't even told you what 'good enough' looks like, and you're already whining about talent. If your mindset's this weak, I'm telling you right now, quit while you're ahead."
"You know how many people were worse than you when they started?"
Neville's eyes lit up. "So… were you worse than me when you began?"
Alice snorted. "Obviously not. I was leagues above average. But don't compare yourself to me; I'm a freak of nature."
She lightly bonked him on the head with her practice stick. "Quit standing there grinning. Get fired up! We either do this properly or not at all, and if we do it, we do it better than anyone!"
Her intensity was contagious. Neville nodded hard, suddenly buzzing with energy, and threw himself back into practice.
Bit by bit, the students who could read lips started whispering what Alice had just told him. The whispers spread, and the jeering died down.
Hidden in the crowd (somehow invisible to everyone), Dumbledore dabbed at his eyes. "That girl has a gift for words. Neville needed to hear that."
Behind him, Snape rolled his eyes so hard it was audible. Not because Alice was wrong or because he was annoyed at Dumbledore; he just figured Neville knew exactly how useless he was. In Potions, the kid really was on troll level.
And here were Alice and Dumbledore encouraging him anyway. Snape's internal monologue: Sentimental fools. They could sell cauldron polish to a house-elf.
A few other professors stood with Dumbledore, unnoticed by the students.
McGonagall looked uncertain. "Albus, does sword training actually help with magic?"
Dumbledore shrugged. "No idea. But it's not hurting him, is it? Let the boy swing a stick. Worst case, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor don't try to kill each other for once."
Snape's fake smile returned. McGonagall glared daggers at Dumbledore.
Flitwick, never one to miss gossip, piped up, "Minerva, didn't you make a bet with Alice?"
McGonagall's scowl instantly turned into a grin. "That I did."
Dumbledore's ears perked up. "Do tell."
"She said she'd give me a book, and that when she did I wouldn't pay her for it. I told her no chance; I'm not taking a student's book for free."
"And?"
"She won. The little brat mailed me Journey to the West as a Christmas present."
The professors burst out laughing.
Flitwick beamed at Alice out on the lawn still fixing Neville's stance. He'd gotten a Christmas gift from her too, and he adored it.
Suddenly his eyes twinkled. "Headmaster, did Alice get you anything?"
Dumbledore thought of the mountain of odd socks and Muggle sweets piling up in his office and just smiled wider without saying a word.
Flitwick got the message. He turned to Snape, who was trying to slink away.
"Severus! What did she give you?"
Snape stopped, sighed through his nose, and muttered, "A complete set of Muggle primary-and middle-school chemistry textbooks. Plus a full lab kit."
Dumbledore leaned in, curious. "Any good?"
Snape looked like the words pained him. "…Yes. Their approach to stoichiometry is surprisingly useful."
"That explains why Theo's been doing better lately," he added grudgingly. "The girl's actually gifted at Potions."
Flitwick jumped in. "As she is at Charms!"
McGonagall couldn't resist. "And Transfiguration!"
Sprout crossed her arms, grumpy. "Oh, come on, say something we don't know! So she's hopeless at Herbology, big deal!"
Dumbledore cut the bickering short and pointed. "Look! She wasn't just cheering him up; Neville's actually got real sword talent!"