Near noon, the Great Hall beca the vibrant hub of Hogwarts. The castle, which had been silent and gloomy all night, finally ca back to life. It was a clear testant that staying in bed was the universal nature of most people, especially on a weekend when no strict rise ti was enforced.
Outside the castle, a persistent drizzle continued, ensuring that the majority of students were clustered inside. The atmosphere was a mix of chatter and activity: large groups of students catching up on gossip, and the few unlucky souls—mostly older students who'd procrastinated—bent over tables, frantically copying their overdue sumr howork.
Albert's companions, the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan, had finally succumbed to exhaustion and hunger. They had run off earlier, their enthusiasm for mapping replaced by the magnetic pull of the Common Room and an unplanned, secretive quest they wouldn't disclose.
Albert, however, stayed on task. He spent the entire morning systematically traversing the colossal castle, patiently logging staircases, corridors, and finding several more minor hidden passages. He took nurous photos with his Muggle cara—capturing views of the castle, interesting portraits, and bizarre sculptures that broke up the monotony of the stone walls. By the ti he returned to the Hall, he was experiencing a dull, throbbing ache in his calves.
The expedition had been incredibly fruitful. Albert had used his photographic mory to draw a remarkably detailed, rough map of the first five floors.
He acknowledged the rumors that so of the stairs in the castle would shift their positions every Friday—but that was next Friday. He knew he'd find a solution then, perhaps by simply mapping the change as well. His official quest to explore Hogwarts Castle was progressing steadily, currently sitting at 26.7% completion.
"Why are you back here alone? Where did your friends disappear to?"
Angelina Johnson and another girl approached the table. They pulled up chairs opposite Albert.
"They defected halfway through the castle tour," Albert said, picking up a slice of bread to make himself a sandwich. "I assu those three found sothing more imdiately gratifying than drawing floor plans. Hand that blueberry jam, would you? Thanks."
"How is that castle map coming along, then? Can I borrow a look?" Angelina pushed the jam pot over and gestured toward the parchnt in Albert's left hand.
"I still think exploring the castle on your own is one of the essential joys of being a freshman," Albert said, but he casually handed the detailed parchnt over.
The other girl, Arya, leaned forward to inspect the sketch. Her slight frown suggested concentration. Arya was from a well-established wizarding family and carried herself with an air of subtle knowledge. She easily picked out the careful markings for classrooms, the notes on secret passage entrances, and even the tally marks Albert used to estimate the number of steps in various staircases.
"By the way, here's sothing useful," Albert said, performing a quick, quiet Duplication Charm on the class schedule Professor McGonagall had given him, producing two perfect duplicates. He handed one to each girl.
"What kind of magic is that?" Angelina asked, fascinated by the ease of the spell.
"The Cloning Charm," Arya supplied instantly, having recognized the sophisticated level of the duplicating spell. "It can turn one item into two. Not many first-years know that, even those of us who grew up with wands."
"It's a useful little trick, isn't it?" Albert winked at them. "With this, you don't even have to worry about taking notes. All you have to do is 'borrow' a copy from soone else and duplicate it."
Arya looked at Albert with a strange intensity. This boy's mind worked on an entirely different plane—a fusion of Muggle efficiency and magical pragmatism.
"Can you make a copy of the map, too? Please?" Arya requested. "That way, I don't have to worry about finding the correct classroom on Monday."
"Aren't you worried the map might be drawn incorrectly?" Albert challenged lightly.
"Of course I'll verify it myself," Arya said with simple logic.
"And you, Angelina? Do you want one?"
"Thank you, Albert. That would be a huge help," Angelina said with a grateful smile.
The large size and labyrinthine nature of Hogwarts made it incredibly easy for freshn to get lost. Having Albert's map, even a draft, gave them a huge advantage. Being late on the first day was definitely an experience they wanted to avoid.
"By the way," Arya said, tucking the schedule and the map copy into her robes. "I rember you ntioned you co from a Muggle family. How do you know so many spells? I bet most freshn don't know half as many as you do."
"I simply learned them while practicing spells before term started," Albert said, spreading the blueberry jam generously onto his bread. "Most of the charms are quite simple, if you approach them logically."
"Simple?" The two girls exchanged worried looks. They had both struggled with basic levitation and illumination spells. Hearing Albert describe the complex Cloning Charm as "simple" made them feel an inexplicable pressure. His tone suggested that mastering advanced magic was as easy as eating a piece of bread—which he then took a large bite of.
After finishing his jam-sared bread, Albert made himself a proper sandwich. British lunch was often an exercise in culinary disappointnt, and Hogwarts, despite its magic, was no exception. Bread and potatoes were the constant mainstays.
This particular lunch included the usual fare: bread slices, boiled potatoes in their jackets, a fresh vegetable salad, salty ham, and, of course, a huge cauldron of milk tea or pumpkin juice.
Albert polished off his ham sandwich and then placed two more jacket potatoes on his plate. After the strenuous morning of castle mapping, he was ravenous.
He looked around the tables. The twins and Lee were still absent, likely engaged in so secretive venture.
"I genuinely miss rice and pasta," Albert muttered softly to himself before continuing to devour the potatoes.
Potatoes were indeed a staple of the British diet; he felt he had eaten them nearly every day since arriving in this country. British cuisine, he thought wryly, could create a hundred different dishes from a potato, and most of them were sohow both filling and bland.
"The pasta is actually delicious," Angelina agreed, overhearing him. "I've had it a few tis and it tastes... well, it tastes like real food."
"British food is always disappointing, and the variety is criminal. The chefs here clearly never spend ti studying how to actually cook," Albert complained, pouring himself a cup of milk tea and taking a bracing sip. "I rember last month I had a whole roasted fish encased in a sea salt and herb bread crust. That was the last great al I rember."
The two girls listened with great interest as Albert launched into a full-scale culinary complaint, listing off various bizarre British foods, such as his father's preferred French fry sandwiches and his grandmother's beloved, intensely savory paste: Marmite. .
Albert shuddered internally. He still rembered the first ti he tasted Marmite. It was a flavor profile like nothing else—a strong, fernted, soy-like sll mixed with various, vaguely unpleasant tallic undertones. From that day on, he treated Marmite as if it were a minor dark art.
"If any of you are interested," Albert offered playfully, "I'll send one of my family's jars to you as a Christmas present."
"Ahem." Arya's appetite vanished instantly. "No, thank you, Albert. I'd much rather eat sothing normal. I don't want to get sick just from looking at jam pots in the future."
Having finished his milk tea and the last of the potatoes, Albert concluded lunch. He sat back, pulling out the instant photos he'd taken earlier. He flicked through the small stack: a shot of gleaming knight armor, a distant view of the castle rooftops from a high window, a mysterious portrait, and an overly-dramatic stone sculpture.
Angelina watched him carefully select and annotate the pictures. She couldn't help but feel that Albert wasn't really a student here to study; he was more like a highly observant, ticulous tourist docunting a fascinating, dangerous, historical site.
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