Even past midnight, a faint, golden glow still spilled from the windows of the Gryffindor Tower. Inside the dormitory, the small group was still wide awake, the adrenaline of the planned excursion overriding any natural urge for sleep.
They were gathered around, running through a final, quick ga of exploding snap to settle their nerves. The increasing number of card types had certainly made the ga far more unpredictable and explosive, which was a surprisingly effective pre-raid stress reliever.
"Alright, that's ti," Albert announced, setting down his empty teacup and glancing at the heavy, silver pocket watch he always carried. He looked at the three boys. "Showti."
Lee Jordan was visibly vibrating with nervous energy, the kind that makes your hands clammy and your mouth dry. "Are we seriously doing this, Albert? Tonight? I an, I know you three have never been caught, but… this feels like a genuinely bad idea, Fred and George are masters of trouble, not masters of stealth."
"Planning to bail, Jordan?" Fred challenged, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.
"No! I'm just… asking for a reality check!" Lee Jordan muttered defensively. He knew Albert and the twins possessed an uncanny knack for slipping through the castle's defenses, but the thought of facing the horrifying punishnts of Argus Filch was almost unbearable.
"Don't worry, we'll ease you into it," George said with a reassuring, though slightly manic, grin. He reached into his deep robe pocket and pulled out a tattered piece of parchnt that looked ancient and slled faintly of mold. He tapped it dramatically. "This, my hesitant friend, is secret weapon number one. Pure confidence fuel."
"It's just old parchnt," Lee Jordan said, leaning in suspiciously.
"Enough dilly-dallying, let's get moving," Albert interrupted, impatient with the lodrama. He tapped the top of George's head lightly with his wand. Imdiately, a shimring, transparent wave washed over George Weasley, and he simply vanished. His form, his clothes, every fiber of his being was gone, replaced only by the faint outline of the air he displaced.
"That's secret weapon number two," Fred explained, trying hard not to look too impressed with Albert's seamless, powerful spellcasting.
"And what about secret weapon number three?" Lee Jordan whispered, utterly awestruck, staring at the empty space where George had been.
"If we told you that, it wouldn't be a secret," Fred and George replied simultaneously from their respective locations (one visible, one invisible).
"So there is a third one?" Lee Jordan pressed, thoroughly hooked.
Albert then perford the advanced Disillusionnt Charm on himself. His entire body disappeared, the effect much cleaner and more stable than the one he'd cast on George. "The Disillusionnt Charm should last a good few hours," his disembodied voice comnted. "That's plenty of ti for the whole operation."
"Feeling pumped, Jordan? Think of the stories!" Fred nudged Lee Jordan with an elbow, pulling him out of his trance.
"I'm George, and Lee Jordan is absolutely vibrating with anticipation now," the invisible George added, startling Lee Jordan, who had forgotten where his voice was coming from.
"I'm really excited! But where are we actually going?" Lee Jordan asked, his voice cracking slightly as the reality of his first official night patrol set in.
"I'm heading straight for the library," Albert's voice instructed. "Fred and George are going to give you the tour—a grand, rapid-fire introduction to our favorite secret passages. We'll et up afterwards in that specific, empty chamber on the eighth floor, near the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy."
"The empty room on the eighth floor? What room is that?" Lee Jordan felt increasingly like these three shared a secret language he didn't understand.
"You'll find out soon enough. Just follow the grand tour guides," Albert's voice promised with a hint of amusent.
"Do you need any backup?" George asked from the empty space next to Fred. "Hunting a book on mind magic in the Restricted Section sounds like a two-man job, at least."
"No need," Albert replied confidently. "I realized I don't need to wander around the Forbidden Wing guessing. I plan to use the Summoning Charm directly." He had only recently mastered the spell, but his confidence in his own magic had soared after the successful casting.
Fred looked utterly astonished at his visible friend. "Didn't he say just last month that Accio was too unpredictable for him to bother with?"
"If you don't know how to do a spell, you learn it," Albert said with a wry chuckle. "Turns out, it's actually quite useful for, you know, acquiring things you shouldn't have. Quite practical."
"Practical is one word for it," Fred muttered, slightly envious of Albert's rapid magical progression. He extinguished the oil lamp with a flick of his wand, plunging the dorm into darkness.
The four of them slipped silently through the common room entrance and out into the cold, drafty corridor of the tower. Just as George (the invisible one) was closing the Fat Lady's portrait behind them, he paused. "Hold up. Filch is sweeping the fifth floor corridor right now."
"How did you know that?" Lee Jordan whispered frantically, looking around wildly.
The Fat Lady, startled by the sudden voice with no person attached, swiveled her head. "Who's speaking? Show yourselves!"
"Let's retreat, quickly," Albert murmured, turning and heading straight for a nearby tapestry that concealed a narrow, dusty secret passage leading down to the lower floors.
"Our cue to deploy the distraction," Fred said, a dangerous sparkle in his eyes. "I brought the extra-stinky fertilizer bombs."
Equally eager, George chid in from the void. "And I've got the industrial-strength Super-Stick-Anything glue."
Lee Jordan was starting to sweat. "You are all genuinely insane, playing with a detention officer who loves hanging students by their ankles."
"It's an inflatable, screaming skeleton," Albert said, pushing a folded package into Lee Jordan's hand. "Don't go too far, and keep the distraction localized to the fourth and fifth floors."
"We know our limits, Albert," George's voice said dismissively.
"We'll make absolutely certain Filch is too busy to sniff around the library while you're picking out your bedti reading," Fred added, his voice vibrating with predatory excitent. They still hadn't forgotten Filch's punitive actions against them last term.
Lee Jordan clutched the package in his pocket. "I have a terrible feeling that the castle is about to beco extrely loud." He didn't dare refuse the task, or the skeleton. The fact that Albert had given him an active role, however minor, felt like an induction into a very exclusive, very reckless club.
The four companions separated at the mouth of the secret passage on the sixth floor. Albert, invisible and silent, continued down towards the library entrance. The Weasley twins, with a thoroughly terrified but utterly thrilled Lee Jordan in tow, headed up to the fourth floor to begin their elaborate ga of cat and mouse with the disgruntled caretaker.
Argus Filch, in his damp, dimly lit corridor on the fifth floor, was enjoying a rare mont of self-satisfaction. Life, lately, had been tolerable. Especially since he'd managed to apprehend that idiotic Gryffindor kid, William, creeping around after hours.
The mory of the boy's terrified face when he realized his fate had kept Filch's morale high for days. Detention, solitude, chamber pots—it was all so wonderfully disciplinary.
When will another foolish student dare to risk it? he thought, dragging his weary feet along the worn stone.
The answer ca instantly.
CLANG-CRASH-THUD!
The noise was deafeningly loud, a cacophony of tal falling on stone, originating from the floor imdiately below him. Filch was instantly alert, adrenaline spiking. He didn't hesitate. He clutched his oil lamp and hobbled towards the nearest flight of stairs, running towards the source of the noise with uncharacteristic speed.
Down on the fourth floor, the noise had been carefully orchestrated. Fred, George, and Lee Jordan had just erged from a shortcut. George, using his knowledge of castle physics, had simply nudged a very old, top-heavy suit of armor.
The helt had clattered to the floor, followed by the greaves and the breastplate, creating the exact sound of a clumsily apprehended culprit.
"Always works," Fred chuckled, checking the Marauder's Map. "He's coming, fast. He suspects Peeves."
Filch arrived, breathless, his oil lamp shaking. His eyes fell upon the scattered pieces of the suit of armor. He raised his head, squinted into the shadows, then bent down to pick up the fallen helt, muttering darkly, "Peeves! You miserable little monster! I know you're hiding."
He pulled on the helt. It didn't budge.
Filch frowned, pulling harder. The helt was stubbornly, impossibly fixed to the stone floor.
"Peeves, or… those Weasley brats?" Filch narrowed his gaze, suddenly hearing a muffled, distant set of running footsteps echoing down a distant corridor.
"The little swine!" Filch roared, abandoning the glued-down helt. He knew he was being played for a fool, but the thrill of the chase was intoxicating. He was certain this ti; he would catch them in the act.
Filch's eyes glead with maniacal promise. He loved the fear in their faces.
What Filch didn't know was that the footsteps he heard were a carefully crafted illusion, Fred repeatedly casting a low-level Sonorus Charm on his own feet to make the noise carry and sound more frantic than their actual, asured escape.
The hunt was on. Defeating Filch was not just a prank for the Weasley twins; it was a necessary ritual, a core part of their identity as Hogwarts' resident chaos agents.
With the complete architectural knowledge provided by the Marauder's Map and the protection of Albert's Disillusionnt Charm, they were untouchable—two mischievous, invisible blips dancing circles around the caretaker's singular red dot on the parchnt.
"This is aweso! He's going for the fifth-floor shortcut!" Lee Jordan whispered, stumbling as he tried to keep up with Fred's long strides. "How do you think he'll try to cut us off?"
"He's predictable," Fred laughed, throwing a fistful of fertilizer bombs behind them, the resultant pop-hiss and noxious fus guaranteed to make Filch sneeze violently. "He always tries to intercept via the next staircase. Let's head down a level to the third floor now. That'll confuse his trajectory for a solid five minutes."
anwhile, on the fifth floor, Albert was already inside the library. He had carefully crossed the chard rope guarding the entrance to the Restricted Section. The air here was colder, heavier, filled with the sll of aging leather, dust, and sothing faintly, but distinctly, dangerous.
He located the relevant shelf, took a deep breath, raised his wand, and whispered the incantation.
"Accio Advanced Mind-Locking Manual!"
A mont of silence passed. Then, a low, agonizing groan filled the stillness. One of the massive bookshelves, secured by heavy, rusty chains, began to violently rattle.
Albert had seen the book, a thick, dark volu, lurching forward, its binding straining against its iron mooring. He was preparing to walk over and grab it when he suddenly understood the gravity of his mistake.
The chain, rather than snapping, was secured to the shelf's base. When the powerful Summoning Charm pulled the heavy book with such force, the chain acted as an anchor and a lever, yanking the entire, antique wooden shelf off its ancient mountings.
A terrible, cracking sound ripped through the silence, followed instantly by a thunderous, cataclysmic CRASH!
The summoned bookshelf hit the floor, its full weight and entire contents scattering in an explosion of ancient, brittle paper and heavy wood. But it didn't stop there. Like a line of giant, dusty dominoes, the fallen shelf struck the next one, which struck the next, and the next.
BOOM! CRASH! THUD!
The sound was imnse, multiplied by the vast, open space of the library and the echoing stone of the castle. Albert felt his heart leap into his throat; it was loud enough to wake the Headmaster, let alone a patrolling caretaker two floors down.
Idiot! Albert scread at himself. He hadn't accounted for the library's specific anti-theft asures—the chains weren't just to keep people away; they were part of the architecture! The Accio spell, amplified by his mastery, had simply torn the fittings out of the floor.
Albert abandoned any thought of retrieval. The book was forgotten, lying buried under a ton of wood and parchnt. He needed to eliminate the evidence. Now.
His wand snapped up. He poured his focus and intent into the single, most powerful restorative spell he could manage—a massively scaled Reparo.
"Reparo Maxima!"
The chaotic pile of fallen shelves and books shuddered. Then, with a loud, protesting screech, the shelves began to rise, the wood knitting itself back together, the scattered books whipping through the air and slamming back into their precise slots, even the rusty chain reattaching itself to the floor with a loud snap.
The entire disastrous ss was rapidly reconstituting itself, a frantic reversal of destruction. But the reconstruction was loud, almost as loud as the collapse.
Albert didn't wait for the spell to finish. He had stopped the domino effect and was reversing the visible damage. That was enough. Abandoning the Restricted Section, he fled the library, running silently and desperately down the main corridor, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.
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