A Slytherin Proposition

Coming back to the Slytherin common room that night was like walking into a freezer. That ten-point loss in Transfiguration pretty much cemented her status as 'that weirdo who's actually a problem now'. Malfoy was holding court with his usual goons, Crabbe and Goyle, and made some loud, jerky comment about "talentless Mudbloods costing them the House Cup already." A few people actually laughed. Ugh.

Evelyn paid them no mind, her face totally blank. A little pop-up in her head showing [-10 Reputation: Malfoy Faction] got an immediate 'dismiss'. She just walked over to one of the huge windows looking out into the creepy green lake and watched a grindylow chase a fish. The anger she felt earlier was totally gone. Now, it was just this cold, sharp focus. She wasn't mad anymore. She was planning.

She was super deep in thought, picturing a mental map of Mrs. Norris's patrol routes, and almost missed it. But her gamer senses, trained by literally thousands of hours of playing, picked up on someone walking her way. The walk was quiet and confident. The robes were perfect. She didn't even have to turn around to know who it was.

Right on time, she thought. Cassia Rosier. Her character profile is all about ambition and finding useful assets. Let's see if her personality holds up.

"That was quite a show today," a cool, calm voice said from right next to her.

Evelyn turned, pretending to be a little surprised. And there she was: Cassia Rosier. She looked exactly like her game avatar, but better. The game had never quite captured the way the eerie light from the lake reflected off her glossy black hair, or the sharp intelligence in her dark eyes that seemed to see right through you. Her robes weren't the standard, slightly-too-big first-year uniform; they were perfectly tailored, made from a richer, darker fabric that whispered of old money and influence.

Of course, Evelyn knew exactly who she was. The Rosiers were one of the "Sacred Twenty-Eight" pure-blood families, which was basically a leaderboard for magical snobs. They weren't just talk, though. They had a dark history, with family members serving as loyal Death Eaters for both Grindelwald and Voldemort. More importantly, they were connected. Draco's grandmother was a Rosier, making Cassia his cousin. She was true Slytherin aristocracy, born and bred for this kind of environment.

"Losing points usually is," Evelyn shot back, giving her a simple line to work with.

"Oh, I'm not talking about the points," Cassia said, with a little smirk. "I'm talking about the raw power it must've taken to turn a matchstick into a tiny rocket. That wasn't a lack of skill. That was a lack of control. Too much power for the wand, maybe? Or maybe..." her eyes glanced down for a second, "you just don't have the right tools for the job."

Bingo, Evelyn thought. That's exactly the kind of observant, analytical opening her personality would lead with. It's all holding true.

"A good craftsman doesn't blame their tools," Evelyn said, feeding her a classic line she knew would provoke a specific kind of response from someone so pragmatic.

"A smart craftsman makes sure they have the best tools," Cassia shot back instantly, just as expected. "My dad always says, 'Power is useless if you can't aim it right.' You've clearly got the power part down. But that wand..." She nodded toward Evelyn's pocket. "That's a toy. You're trying to fight a dragon with a butter knife."

Cassia was right, of course. For a split second back in Transfiguration class, Evelyn had been tempted to do just that—ditch the wand entirely and just will the magic to happen. But she immediately shut that idea down. It was a classic rookie mistake. Wandless magic was like using a firehose; you could make a big, messy splash, but you had no precision. Transfiguration wasn't about raw power; it was about surgical intent, rewriting an object's nature molecule by molecule. For that, you needed a focus, a tool to narrow that firehose of energy into a laser beam. The wand was the laser beam. Besides, an eleven-year-old performing powerful, complex magic without a wand would paint a massive target on her back for Dumbledore to notice. Her current cover as a 'talented but inconsistent' student was the perfect stealth build.

"You're a real puzzle, Evelyn," Cassia went on, her voice getting lower, unaware of the complex strategic analysis that just ran through Evelyn's head. "You just show up out of the blue. You nail Snape's impossible questions. You make Malfoy look like a total idiot just by not looking at him. You're all over the place. And in Slytherin, that's dangerous. It makes people nervous when they can't figure you out."

"So? Why should I care if they're nervous?" Evelyn asked, just to move things along.

Cassia let out a short laugh. "You should if you plan on surviving here. This house isn't like the others, all friendly and brave. It's about power. It's a game of who has what and who knows who. Right now, you're on your own. And lone wolves always get taken down."

She paused, her eyes sharp. "So here's some free advice. You need better stuff. But good stuff—a custom wand, magic robes—costs a ton of money. Money you don't have. Or, you need to know the right people. People you definitely don't know. See the problem?"

"So what's your point, Cassia?" Evelyn asked, even though she could already predict her next move.

"My point is, you've got something valuable—raw power. That's a resource. And other people," she said, waving a hand at the other Slytherins, "have the resources you need. A partnership could be good for both of us. Someone with your kind of power, paired with someone who has the right connections... we could go really far. Just think about it."

And with that, Cassia gave her one last look-over and walked away, leaving the offer just hanging there. An invisible [Quest Offered: The Power Play] notification popped up in her head.

She watched her go. Yep. That confirmed it. The people in this world had the same core personalities as their game versions. Cassia's offer was a logical extension of her ambitious, strategic nature. It was a decent path, she knew. The rewards were good down the line, you get powerful friends... but man, was it slow. You had to deal with all the different groups, worry about your reputation, and end up owing a bunch of favors.

But Evelyn wasn't some new player. She was basically a regressor, someone who'd come back in time with all her knowledge. And she knew rule number one of stories like this: you don't take the slow, safe route. You use what you know about the future to game the system. You grab all the best stuff before anyone else even knows it's there.

An alliance was the smart, political move. But looting a dungeon is always faster.

All she needed was a map. And tonight, she was gonna go get it. The library's Restricted Section was waiting.