The air inside the Room of Requirement felt thick enough to swim in, vibrating with the sharp cracks and whizzes of high-speed magical discharge. It wasn't a classroom anymore; it was a shooting gallery, and Albert was the only target.
Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were fanned out in a semi-circle, their faces flushed and beaded with sweat. They were relentless. A barrage of Impediment Jinxes and stinging hexes flew toward Albert like a swarm of angry hornets. Red and blue light illuminated the room in staccato flashes, reflecting off the stone walls and the polished floor.
But in the center of the storm, Albert stood remarkably still.
With every flick of his wrist and a sharp, whispered syllable, a shimmering translucent wall snapped into existence. Clang. Thwack. Ripple. The spells didn't just stop; they skidded off the curved surface of his Shield Charm, redirected at wild, unpredictable angles.
"Watch it!" Lee yelled, throwing himself flat onto the mats as a stray red bolt—his own spell—came whistling back over his head, narrowly missing his ear and charring a nearby training dummy.
George wasn't as fast. He took a ricochet to the shoulder that spun him half-around, his legs tangling as he tumbled to the floor. "Bloody hell, Albert! You're turning into a mirror!"
Albert didn't respond immediately. He was focused on the rhythm. The skill panel in his mind was ticking steadily, the experience for Protego climbing with every successful deflection. He hadn't mastered silent casting yet—that was a feat usually reserved for the elite sixth-years who looked like they were suffering from chronic constipation while trying to hold their breath—but he was close. His incantations were now nothing more than a twitch of the lips, a breathy sound that was faster than a heartbeat.
Eventually, the assault slowed. The trio's movements became sluggish, their wand-arms trembling from the strain of casting dozens of spells in a matter of minutes.
"Time," Albert said, lowering his wand and exhaling a long, steady breath. He rubbed his jaw, feeling the slight ache of repetitive motion. "I think my mouth is going to be stuck in a 'P' shape for the rest of the evening."
"Congratulations," Fred wheezed, leaning heavily on his knees and gulping for air. "You've officially transitioned from 'human' to 'annoying magical obstacle.' We can't even touch you anymore."
"Don't give me that look," Albert said, reaching for a bottle of water and taking a long swig. "You've all improved. Two weeks ago, half of those jinxes would have hit the ceiling. Today, you actually made me sweat."
"Improving?" George grunted, finally sitting up and rubbing his bruised shoulder. "We're not improving, Albert. We're being used. We've finally figured out your little game. You didn't drag us in here to 'train' us. You dragged us in here because a training dummy doesn't fire back, and you needed live targets to practice your shield."
"Free labor," Lee muttered, though he was smiling through his exhaustion. "We're literally tool-men for the Great Albert Anderson. If you get a medal for Defensive Magic this year, we want a cut of the prize money."
Albert leaned against a rack of practice wands, looking remarkably unbothered by the accusation. "Call it what you want. But look at yourselves. George, you just fired six jinxes in ten seconds without tripping over your own feet. Lee, your aim is actually starting to resemble something intended for a target. If I'm using you as sparring partners, then I'm the best sparring partner you'll ever have. I'm the one standing here taking the hits, remember?"
"You're not taking them! You're bouncing them back at us!" Lee pointed out, gesturing to the scorch mark on the floor where his own spell had nearly taken him out.
"Efficiency," Albert replied with a shrug. "My goal is to reach the point where the Shield Charm is a reflex, not a choice. In a real fight, the person who speaks first usually loses. If I can cast silently while you're still opening your mouth to say 'Stupefy,' I've already won."
"Is it true what they say?" Fred asked, his curiosity getting the better of his resentment. "That silent spells are weaker? Percy says they lose twenty percent of their 'oomph' because you aren't vibrating the air with the incantation or some other boring theory."
"Maybe for an average wizard," Albert said, tossing his towel aside. "But speed beats 'oomph' nine times out of ten. If I hit you three times with a 'weak' spell before you finish your one 'strong' one, you're still the one on the floor."
"Speaking of being on the floor," George said, his eyes lighting up with a familiar, dangerous glint. "When are we actually going to use this? The Forbidden Forest? Gryffindor's treasure? My wand-arm is ready for something that isn't a silver wall."
"Not yet," Albert said firmly.
"Oh, come on!" Fred groaned. "It's nearly Easter. The weather is clearing up. We know the Spider Repellent Charm, we know the Impediment Jinx... we could be in and out before Hagrid even finishes his morning tea."
"You know the theory of the Spider Repellent Charm," Albert corrected him. "You've practiced it on air. An Acromantula isn't 'air.' It's a multi-ton killing machine that moves faster than a cat and has a personal interest in what you taste like. Rushing in now would be an exercise in stupidity."
"Gryffindors don't lack courage, Albert," Lee said, puffing out his chest.
"Courage is knowing the risks and doing it anyway because it's necessary," Albert countered, his voice dropping an octave. "What you're talking about is recklessness. If you go in there now and get caught, it's not courage—it's just providing the spiders with a three-course meal. We wait until after the exams."
"After the exams?" George looked horrified. "That's ages away! The treasure might be gone by then!"
"The treasure has been sitting there for centuries, George. I think it can handle another couple of months," Albert said. "Besides, I need time to prepare more... safety measures. I'm working on a few items that will make sure if things go south, we aren't leaving anyone behind."
The trio looked deflated, but they didn't argue. They had learned the hard way that when Albert set a boundary, it was usually reinforced with logic as thick as his Shield Charms.
"You're just too steady, aren't you?" Fred muttered, shaking his head. "I bet you even plan your dreams in alphabetical order."
"I plan for variables," Albert said, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Luck is a wonderful thing to have, but I'd rather rely on a well-timed Protego than a lucky star."
"Your luck is already disgusting," Lee said, standing up and brushing the dust off his trousers. "You've never lost a bet, you always find the secret passages first, and you somehow managed to get the smartest girl in the year to think you're a colleague instead of a student. If I had your luck, I'd just walk into the Forest and wait for the gold to fall into my pockets."
"Is that what you think?" Albert asked, his eyes twinkling. "That it's just luck?"
"Isn't it?" the twins said in unison.
Albert laughed softly, a sound that held a bit more mystery than his roommates were comfortable with. He didn't tell them about the hours spent in the library, the meticulous planning, or the way he constantly checked the surroundings for threats they couldn't even see. To them, it looked like effortless fortune. To him, it was a constant, calculated effort to stay one step ahead of a world that was becoming increasingly dangerous.
"Even with good luck, you still need to be able to run," Albert said, heading for the door. "Now, let's go to dinner. I'm starving, and if we stay here any longer, Fred is going to start trying to eat the training cushions."
"I was thinking about it," Fred admitted, following him out. "They look remarkably like giant marshmallows when you've been hit in the head as many times as I have today."
As the four of them walked down the corridor toward the Great Hall, the tension of the training session faded into their usual easy banter. They looked like four ordinary Gryffindors, laughing and joking about the menu, but as they passed a group of older students, Albert noticed the way the trio moved—they were more balanced, their eyes were more alert, and their hands were never far from their pockets.
They weren't just students anymore. They were becoming something else. And as Albert caught sight of Professor Smith watching them from the shadows of a stone archway, he knew that the real test was coming much sooner than "after the exams." 🏰🌳🕷️