Alicia wanted to be a ballerina more than anything in the world.
She could have done it too, if her life had gone in a different direction. If she had been born a muggle, she could have had those silly muggle dreams. She had the grace, the lithe body, the athletic prowess. She could have made it big.
But her life did not go in that direction. She went to Hogwarts. She learned magic. She played Quidditch.
Quidditch was her outlet, her home. Alicia was as graceful in the air as she was on the ground, maybe even more so. No team had ever had an all-female chaser line up. Gryffindor was the first and man were they good. Angelina was the power; Katie was the talent, and Alicia? She was the style.
In the air, nothing could stop her. In the air, she could dance her heart out.
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The Battle was difficult. Alicia was not the most experienced of soldiers, but her time in the D.A had taught her well. Over the cries of the fighting and the moans of the fallen, she could hear Oliver shouting orders to her.
"Bank left, Bank left!"
She banked left just in time, a killing curse missed her ear by inches. She threw a grateful smile in Oliver's direction before re-concentrating her efforts on aiding the defenders of the castle below them.
She watched a pretty, red headed woman fall to a Death Eater; she shot a stunner at him in response and felled him before he could take a step.
She twirled, she dived, she swooped with more grace then she ever had on the pitch. That night, the grounds of Hogwarts were her stage, and Alicia shone.
They shot her out of the air that night. They sidelined the ballerina before the final act. Alicia landed in front of Colin Creevy, her broken body mangled horribly. Colin tried to help her, but healing magic that strong was beyond him. Alicia Spinnit died in his arms, her blood on his shoes, her eyes glazing like a curtain drawn across a stage.