"Good afternoon, Professor Brood."
Albert knocked lightly on the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office. When he received the customary, if slightly muffled, permission to enter, he pushed the door inward.
The room, which famously changed its decor with every new occupant, was currently warm and filled with the scent of old parchnt and cinnamon. Professor Brood sat on a plush, velvet armchair by a low table, not reading, but rather gazing thoughtfully at a stack of freshly bound volus.
Albert stepped fully into the room and imdiately offered his sincere thanks. "Thank you for everything last night, Professor. Without your Portkey, returning safely would have been… significantly more complicated for the three of us."
Professor Brood smiled, a faint, weary expression that seed to belong to soone who had already packed his taphorical bags. "You are welco, Mr. Anderson. However, I must admit, I have a distinct impression that even if I had not arrived, you would have concocted so ingenious, if reckless, thod of extracting the Weasley twins from that situation."
Albert did not confirm this. He knew that the only truly reliable thod left would have involved an extrely risky, high-power Apparition attempt, a feat far beyond the stated capabilities of a first-year student. He preferred to let Professor Brood's high opinion remain an assumption rather than a fact he had to deny.
"Please, sit down. What can I get for you to drink?" Professor Brood sighed, gesturing toward the beautiful, leather-bound books piled on the coffee table. "Mogg has completed his work. His productivity is quite staggering, really. Behold the fruits of your collaboration over these last months."
Albert took the seat opposite the professor. He picked up the top book, running his thumb slowly over the elegant, gold-embossed lettering on the deep burgundy cover: Advanced Rune Studies.
The title was straightforward, unpretentious, and promised a deep, rigorous examination of complex runic sequences and their application in advanced enchantnt theory.
"So, Mr. McDougal has managed to finalize the publication?" Albert asked, genuinely impressed. "And he's had it professionally bound already?"
"Mogg is nothing if not efficient when sufficiently motivated," Brood chuckled. "Though the print run is currently… modest. I believe you'll find a small surprise awaiting you on the very first page." Professor Brood winked, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Albert raised an eyebrow in curiosity and turned to the first page, the thick, creamy paper rustling softly. He found a short, elegant dedication, printed in bold script:
Dedicated to the youngest Runemaster for his invaluable assistance in completing the writing of Advanced Rune Research.
Mogg McDougal
Albert blinked, montarily stunned. He, a first-year, had just been publicly acknowledged as a Runemaster in a serious academic text. He, of course, knew the reference was to his own unique insight and problem-solving contributions, but the title itself felt heavy and unexpected.
"I was surprised myself," Professor Brood confessed, leaning back. "Mogg initially considered including your full na, perhaps as a co-contributor to the final chapter, but he ultimately decided against it. He felt that you hardly need to rely on him for future fa, and, perhaps more wisely, that announcing the existence of a first-year runemaster might lead to so… inconvenient attention."
Brood picked up the book and closed it. "This volu is his personal gift to you. I believe it is far more valuable than the price tag."
"I distinctly rember that we hadn't quite finished the final chapter of 'Advanced Rune Studies' when I last saw the drafts," Albert comnted, turning the book over in his hands and quickly flipping to the table of contents. He realized what had happened.
"Ah, I see. Mr. McDougal has intelligently partitioned the work. This first volu is a complete, self-contained study, leaving the final, most arcane research for a potential future volu."
"Precisely. Practical marketing, even for obscure theory," Brood confird. "It will be available in selected bookshops shortly. Though I strongly doubt its comrcial success," he added with a dry laugh. "Mogg and I have a standing wager. He believes he can sell a hundred copies within the first six months."
Albert noted the book's listed retail price: 5 Galleons. While not prohibitive, the specialized nature of the text ant its readership would be incredibly limited. The entire British wizarding population was small enough; unless the book was imdiately translated and marketed globally, selling even a hundred copies of such high-level theory would be a testant to McDougal's salesmanship.
"Regardless of the sales figures, Professor, please tell Mr. McDougal I am deeply appreciative of the gesture and the acknowledgnt," Albert said, carefully placing the book back on the table.
"I shall relay your gratitude." Brood's expression beca more serious as he reached into his robe pocket and placed a clear glass vial on the table. It was stoppered with cork and shimred with a pale, icy sheen, clearly enchanted with a Freezing Charm.
"Now, on to the loot," Brood said, pushing the vial toward Albert. "I managed to retrieve this for you. Venom of a Giant Eight-Eyed Spider."
Albert's eyes widened slightly. The liquid within was thick, yellowish-green, and highly viscous. It had been carefully siphoned and preserved.
"For ?" Albert reached out, realizing this was the reward for the first, smaller quest he'd taken on—the vial of venom he needed to complete the "Acromantula Venom" task. It was likely the venom taken from the very first spider he'd successfully disabled and finished off before the main swarm arrived. Brood had clearly doubled back to the kill zone.
"Yes, your spoils of war," Brood affird. "I confess, I was rushing to find you, so I only managed to secure this one viable sample from the creature near the path. I later saw the absolute devastation you wrought by the tree. Remarkable. I never expected that spell to be quite so efficient."
"Professor," Albert began, hesitating only for a mont before stating his objective, "could you… could you assist in liquidating this asset? I genuinely have no practical use for it, and the necessary storage and concealnt are beyond my current ans at the castle."
Professor Brood nodded slowly, a knowing glint in his eye. "I knew you would say that, Mr. Anderson. A highly practical choice. Acromantula venom is difficult to transport discreetly, and the liquid itself commands a premium. This particular vial, being relatively fresh and pure, is likely worth 50 Galleons at the minimum—possibly more on the right black market channels."
"Then I would be very grateful if you could handle the transaction on my behalf," Albert confird, relieved that the professor was so easily anable. Keeping the venom was a liability; turning it into spendable currency was pure efficiency. If he ever needed more venom, he now knew exactly where to find a supply.
Brood reached back into his pocket and placed a small, weighty pouch on the table, counting out the agreed-upon sum of gold coins. "Done. Consider it handled."
"Thank you, Professor," Albert said, pocketing the Galleons with satisfaction.
"There is one final matter," Brood continued, his tone losing all trace of gentle amusent. "The map."
Albert's posture stiffened.
"You still have the map to Gryffindor's hidden treasure, do you not?" Professor Brood did not ask a question; he stated a simple, undeniable fact, directly exposing Albert's quick lie to Professor McGonagall.
Albert maintained a neutral expression, neither admitting nor denying the truth, but simply waiting for the professor to continue.
"Don't attempt to re-enter the Forbidden Forest," Brood warned, leaning forward slightly, his eyes conveying sincere concern. "Whatever treasure that parchnt leads to, it is currently guarded by an army of increasingly aggressive and hungry spiders. The forest is simply too dangerous for a first-year student, regardless of your prodigious talent."
"Is there genuinely such a thing as a Hidden Treasure?" Albert asked, steering the conversation away from his own actions and toward the lore.
"Legend has it that all four of the founders left a legacy at Hogwarts, intended as a secret reward or gift for their most worthy students," Professor Brood shared. "But the key word is legend. No one knows where they are, or if they even exist beyond myth. If they were easily found, they would not be called hidden treasures."
Albert remained silent, processing this. Brood's candidness suggested that he, a man in the dood Defense Against the Dark Arts post, might have been pursuing one of these sa mysteries. Brood, a renowned Runologist, and a scholar of imnse depth...
Ravenclaw's secret treasure... The pieces clicked in Albert's mind. Ravenclaw was the architect of the mind, the master of wisdom. And what is the most secret, most wisdom-dependent place in Hogwarts? The Room of Requirent.
The room was often said to appear only when a witch or wizard truly needed it, a kind of architectural expression of Ravenclaw's profound belief in seeking knowledge.
Could Ravenclaw's treasure be hidden within the Room of Requirent itself? Albert decided this was a thread worth pulling, an opportunity he would certainly explore when the ti was right.
"You are very contemplative, Mr. Anderson," Professor Brood observed, interrupting Albert's deep ntal calculation.
"I was rely wondering about the spiders," Albert offered, shrugging slightly, turning the attention back to the mundane danger. "It's remarkable, Professor, to see such a large, organized colony. It's no laughing matter. I wonder if soone has been actively breeding these creatures in the forest for decades."
"That scenario is highly unlikely," Professor Brood countered, shaking his head gently, though he seed to choose his words with care. "Do not let curiosity override your caution, Mr. Anderson. Focus on the wisdom you preach: value your life."
"I do, Professor. Very much so," Albert assured him.
Professor Brood smiled again, a subtle, almost lancholy expression. "By the way, I heard a rumor that your wand is made of redwood?"
Albert was slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in topic. "Yes. Mr. Ollivander said it was a particularly auspicious wand, one that brings good fortune to its owner." This was the standard line he used, a convenient cover for his luck stat.
"It is a beautiful wood," Brood agreed, his gaze distant. "The lore says redwood is attracted to a witch or wizard who has recently passed through great peril and chosen the right path. It is said to be the wand of the lucky survivor, of those who possess the uncanny ability to avoid or recover from danger." Professor Brood nodded slowly, satisfied. "Albert Anderson, your ability to find the two Weasleys and return safely from that madness was not rely the 'luck of the redwood staff.' It was a result of preparation, clear thought, and, most importantly, the wisdom to seek allies when you were in over your head."
He stood up, signaling the end of the eting. "I wish you the very best of fortune in your future studies, Mr. Anderson. I daresay you'll go very far."
Albert also stood, accepting the complint. He knew Professor Brood's ti at Hogwarts was ending, a victim of the curse, but the brief ntorship had been surprisingly beneficial, both academically and financially.
"Good day, Professor Brood."
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