Professor Smith was definitely up to something.
It wasn't just a hunch; it was a nagging sensation at the base of Albert's skull that refused to go away. Ordinarily, he might have dismissed it as overthinking, but his Runestone Divination from a few weeks back had cast a long, shadowy doubt over the rest of the term. The runes hadn't "ripened" into reality yet, and while he'd love to think he'd just misread the stones, his skill panel suggested otherwise.
The panel didn't lie. If it said his Divination level was increasing, it meant the cosmic dice were landing exactly where he predicted, whether he liked the outcome or not.
He wondered if Isabel had seen the same storm clouds on the horizon. She had a similar result, after all. But asking her felt like a social minefield. Most people at Hogwarts—the "talented" ones, anyway—tended to trust their own logic over the nebulous ramblings of a crystal ball. They saw Professor Trelawney as a smelling-salt-addicted fraud, and honestly, Albert couldn't blame them. The woman was a walking advertisement for why Divination was the laughingstock of the magical curriculum.
"What are you doing now? Is that a puzzle or a prayer?"
Lee Jordan's voice broke Albert's concentration. He was currently hunched over a spread of smooth, etched stones on his dormitory bed, comparing the patterns to a thick, leather-bound volume on Nordic omens.
"Divination," Albert replied, his voice flat. "I'm trying to see if the timeline has shifted, or if I'm still on a collision course with a massive headache."
"Do people actually believe in that rubbish?" Lee asked, leaning over to squint at a rune that looked like a jagged lightning bolt. "I heard Trelawney predicts a student's death every Tuesday just to keep the class from falling asleep. It's a scam, Albert. A high-end, incense-smelling scam."
"I used to think so too," Albert said, gathering the stones and dropping them back into their velvet pouch with a soft clack. "But the more I look at the patterns, the more I realize that the future isn't a fixed point. It's a weather map. And right now, the barometer is dropping fast."
"Well, if the world is ending, at least I won't have to take my exams," Fred chimed in, popping up from behind a pile of laundry. "George and I are signing up for Divination next year anyway. Easy 'O', isn't it? Just tell the Professor you see a dark dog and a pile of skulls in your teacup and she gives you a biscuit."
"And Care of Magical Creatures," George added. "Charlie says it's brilliant. Although, looking at Professor Kettleburn, I'm worried he'll have run out of limbs to lose by the time we get to his class."
"Kettleburn is tougher than he looks," Albert said, sliding his books into his bag. "But if you're serious about surviving next year—and the rest of this one—we need to stop talking about teacups and start talking about survival."
He looked at his three roommates, his expression turning uncharacteristically grave. He lowered his voice so it didn't carry past the door.
"I'm going to start a private training regimen. Defense Against the Dark Arts. Real combat, not just the 'point and wiggle' stuff we do with Lockhart's replacement. We'll be using the Room. Are you in?"
The three of them traded glances. The casual, joking atmosphere evaporated. They knew Albert didn't do "hobbies." If he was suggesting a training camp, it meant he expected trouble.
"Is this about Gryffindor's treasure?" Fred asked, his eyes lighting up. "The stuff in the Forbidden Forest?"
"That's the excuse we'll use if anyone asks," Albert said smoothly. "The Forest is a death trap for the unprepared. If we're going to go poking around in the dark, we need to be more than just 'good' at spells. We need to be reflexive. Rushing into a nest of Acromantulas without a lucky streak is just an elaborate way to commit suicide."
He didn't mention the Smith family or the Wildsmith legacy. Some secrets were better kept behind his own mental wards.
An hour later, they were standing in a wide, circular arena within the Room of Requirement. The floor was covered in thick, charcoal-grey mats, and the walls were lined with racks of practice wands and training dummies.
"Right," Albert said, shedding his outer robe. "We start with the basics. Wizard combat isn't a duel of who knows the biggest explosion; it's a game of speed, silence, and stamina. If you're shouting your incantations like a town crier, you've already lost."
"But we know the spells, Albert," George said, twirling his wand. "We did the Impediment Jinx months ago."
"Knowing a spell and using it while someone is trying to take your head off are two very different things," Albert countered. "In the Forest, you won't see the Acromantula coming. You'll hear a rustle, and then you'll be wrapped in silk. You have to be able to react before you even think."
He stepped to the center of the mats. "Line up. You're going to take turns firing the Impediment Jinx at me. George first, then Fred, then Lee. I'm going to use the Shield Charm. Try to break through."
"You want us to gank you?" Fred grinned. "This might be the highlight of my week."
"Try me," Albert said, settling into a low, balanced stance.
"Impedimentia!" George shouted.
A bolt of dull red light shot toward Albert. It felt slow to him—telegraphed by George's wide swing and the shout of the spell.
"Protego," Albert whispered.
He didn't shout. He barely moved his wrist. A shimmering translucent barrier snapped into existence, catching the jinx and dispersing it like water against glass.
"Too loud, George. And your form is sloppy. You're broadcasting your intent three seconds before the magic even leaves your wand," Albert critiqued. "Fred, go."
For the next hour, the Room was filled with the rhythmic crack of spells hitting shields. Albert pushed them hard, making them cycle through their attacks faster and faster. He wasn't just practicing his defense; he was training his eyes to track the subtle movements of an opponent's shoulder, the slight flicker of their eyes before a cast.
Eventually, the sheer volume of magic began to wear him down. A stray jinx from Lee Jordan caught him in the shoulder, sending a numbing sensation down his arm and knocking him back a few steps.
"Ha! Got him!" Lee cheered, pumping his fist.
Albert didn't smile. He shook out his arm and signaled for them to stop. He was panting, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow.
"How was that?" Fred asked, leaning on his knees. "The Impediment Jinx feels... I don't know, a bit basic, doesn't it? Shouldn't we be learning something that actually bangs?"
"You think it's basic?" Albert asked. He wiped his face with a towel and looked at Lee, who was still celebrating. "Lee, stand over by those cushions."
Lee obeyed, looking confused. Albert didn't take a stance. He didn't even seem to be focusing. Then, with a flick of his wand so fast it was almost a blur, he snapped: "Impedimentia!"
A roar of magical energy, far more intense than anything the boys had produced, slammed into Lee. It didn't just 'impede' him; it lifted him off his feet and threw him twenty feet back into a pile of velvet cushions.
Fred and George's jaws dropped.
"That... was the same spell?" George whispered.
Albert walked over and helped a dazed Lee Jordan to his feet. "Magic isn't just about the words. It's about the intent and the weight of the wizard behind it. A simple Levitation Charm can break a neck if you use it right. A simple Shield Charm can be an anvil if you have the will."
He sat down on a bench and tossed a handful of fruit-flavored hard candies to his friends. "Take a break. Your magic is thin because you're treating it like a school subject. Treat it like a weapon."
"So what's the plan?" Fred asked, crunching on a lemon drop. "More Jinxes?"
"For now, yes," Albert said. "I want you to master the 'Practical Six': the Impediment Jinx, the Disarming Charm, the Stunning Spell, the Full Body-Bind, the Shield Charm, and the Shattering Curse. Once you can cast those silently and while moving, I'll bring out the 'Advanced Defensive Magic' book I bought. It has some... nastier tricks that Lockhart wouldn't even recognize."
"The one you hid from us?" George asked, his eyes sparkling.
"The very same," Albert said with a small, dangerous smile. "But if you can't hit me with a basic jinx, you're not ready for the heavy stuff. Now, get back in line. This time, I'm firing back." 🏰🛡️⚡