"Attention, everyone! Those of you whose names I just called, congratulations. You've officially made it into the Sweet Sixteen," Albert announced, his voice carrying over the chatter as he rolled up the parchment bracket. "The second round will commence toward the end of next month, just before the Easter break. Keep an eye on the common room notice boards—if the schedule shifts, that's where you'll find the update."
"Why so long?" a disappointed Hufflepuff called out. "Will we even crown a champion by the time we leave for the summer?"
"The quality of the matches is increasing," Albert replied reasonably. "Strategy takes time to refine. As for the finals, it depends entirely on how long you lot take to decide whether to play a Charm or a Hex. I'm not a Time-Turner; I can't make the games go faster than your brains allow."
"What about the cards, Albert? When do we get the 'Professional Edition'?" Sanna asked, her eyes lingering on the velvet-lined box. The contrast between the rough, home-made cards the students held and the polished masterpieces in Albert's hand was creating a palpable sense of envy in the Hall.
"They're still in the prototyping phase," Albert said, offering a practiced, diplomatic smile. "Magical ink stability is a fickle thing. I won't release a product that smudges after three games. Expect a wider release sometime next year."
"Next year!" The groan that went up from the crowd was nearly universal. In the world of a teenager, a year was an eternity.
Albert didn't linger to hear the complaints. He signaled to Fred, George, and Lee, and the four of them beat a hasty retreat toward the quieter corridors of the first floor. He had no intention of being cornered for the next hour by people trying to bargain for a "limited edition" Knight Bus card.
Once they were safely away from the Great Hall, the atmosphere among the four roommates shifted from professional to predatory.
"Alright, spill it," Lee Jordan said, his voice low and dangerous as he checked over his shoulder for eavesdroppers. "Who's the rat? Who actually went to Filch and tried to sink us?"
"Marcus McLaggen," Albert said without a second's hesitation.
The twins stopped in their tracks, their brows furrowing in unison. "McLaggen?" Fred asked. "The guy with the ego the size of the Astronomy Tower? Why would he care about a card game?"
"He doesn't care about the game," Albert explained, leaning against a stone gargoyle that looked remarkably bored. "He cares about the fact that he spent three days last month sprint-running to the nearest toilet because of a certain 'digestive' potion you two slipped into his pumpkin juice. Marcus isn't as dim as he looks. He put two and two together, figured out you were the culprits, and decided that ruining your big project was the perfect way to settle the score."
"How are you so sure?" George asked, squinting at Albert.
"Filch doesn't know Occlumency," Albert said simply, a faint, cold smile playing on his lips. "When he was shouting at us, he was thinking quite vividly about the 'brave young man' who did his civic duty and reported our 'illegal assembly.' The mental image was unmistakably Marcus."
"That two-faced snake," Lee spat, cracking his knuckles. "He tried to turn our achievement into a laughingstock. We need to do more than just give him the runs this time."
"He'll be expecting a direct attack," Albert warned. "He's probably carrying a pocketful of Antidotes and checking every doorway for a bucket of ice. If you try to prank him normally, he'll just catch you and run straight to McGonagall."
"We aren't afraid of a challenge," the twins said together, though their expressions were grim.
"There's no need for a 'challenge' when you have finesse," Albert said, pulling his wand from his sleeve. "You've been reading Practical Defensive Magic, haven't you? There's a very elegant chapter on the Confusion Hex. Or, as the ministry calls it, the Confundo."
"The Confundo?" George scratched his head. "Isn't that for making people forget where they put their keys?"
"If cast by a mediocre wizard, yes," Albert said. "But if you use it to tilt someone's internal compass just a few degrees... well, the results can be much more entertaining. And since Marcus is so fond of 'reporting' things, I think we should give him something truly scandalous to report."
"You have a plan," Fred noted, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face.
"I have a suggestion," Albert corrected. "I'll handle the spell. You three just need to be 'witnesses' who happen to be in the right place at the right time."
What followed was a sequence of events that would be whispered about in the Hogwarts corridors for years to come.
Marcus McLaggen was swaggering down the second-floor corridor, head held high, likely imagining the look on the twins' faces when Filch shut down their little club. As he neared the heavy oak door of the girls' lavatory, Albert, hidden behind a suit of armor a dozen yards away, whispered a sharp, precise incantation.
Confundo.
The spell hit Marcus like a silent gust of wind. To the observers, it looked like he simply blinked, hesitated for a second, and then—with a look of strange, glassy-eyed determination—turned left and marched straight into the girls' bathroom.
The silence that followed lasted exactly three seconds.
Then came a high-pitched, glass-shattering scream that could be heard all the way in the library.
Moments later, Marcus came stumbling out, his face as white as a ghost, clutching his nose. Close on his heels was a formidable seventh-year Hufflepuff girl who looked like she was ready to tackle a mountain troll. She was waving her wand and screaming "Pervert!" at the top of her lungs.
"Oh, look at that," Fred whispered from the safety of a nearby secret passage. "It seems McLaggen has developed a very specific, very unfortunate hobby."
The chaos was instantaneous. Within minutes, half the floor had emptied out to see what the commotion was. Marcus, still under the lingering fog of the hex, was trying to explain that the door "looked blue," but his excuses were drowned out by the indignant roars of the older girls.
Albert and the trio slipped out from the secret passage, blending into the crowd of onlookers. With a subtle flick of his wand under his robes, Albert lifted the hex. Marcus's eyes cleared just in time for him to realize he was standing in a circle of disgusted students, facing a very purple-faced Argus Filch.
The aftermath was glorious.
Professor McGonagall was reportedly so incensed that her hat nearly flew off. Marcus was slapped with a week of grueling detention—polishing the silver in the trophy room without magic—and a staggering fifty-point deduction for Gryffindor. But the real killing blow came the next day at noon.
The Great Hall was at its busiest when a large, screeching owl dropped a bright red envelope directly into Marcus's mashed potatoes.
A Howler.
The voice of Mrs. McLaggen erupted from the paper, amplified ten times over, echoing off the enchanted ceiling. "MARCUS EDGAR MCLAGGEN! DISGRACING THE FAMILY NAME... PEEKING IN BATHROOMS LIKE A COMMON FLOBBERWORM... I DID NOT RAISE A PERVERT... YOUR FATHER IS MORTIFIED!"
The silence that followed the Howler's self-destruction was broken only by the sound of the twins falling off their bench in a fit of hysterical laughter.
"I think I'm going to have a heart attack," George wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes as Marcus fled the Hall with his robes over his head. "The 'blue door' excuse! I can't believe he actually tried to say the door looked blue!"
"Tit for tat," Lee Jordan said, looking remarkably satisfied. "He tried to make our game look illegal; we made his social life extinct."
Albert sat calmly, sipping his tea as if he hadn't just single-handedly ruined a boy's reputation.
"I bet no girl at Hogwarts will ever want to sit within five feet of him again," Field said, sliding into the seat next to Albert. She was a fifth-year with a sharp wit and an even sharper eye for gossip. She leaned in, looking at Albert curiously. "You know, I happened to be coming around the corner when it happened. Marcus looked... well, he looked like he was under a Confundo."
"Is that so?" Albert asked, his expression perfectly neutral. "A tragic accident of magic, then. Perhaps a stray jinx from a classroom?"
"Perhaps," Field said, her tone teasing. "But if I were a teacher, I'd wonder why the hex wasn't there when McGonagall checked him. It's almost as if someone lifted it just in time for him to take the full blame."
"A mystery for the ages," Albert said with a small smile. "If it were me, I would have just claimed I was under the Imperius curse. It's a much more dramatic excuse."
"Why didn't you tell the Professor your theory, then?" Lee Jordan asked, looking a bit nervous.
Field laughed, a bright, cheerful sound. "And miss out on seeing that arrogant prick get his comeuppance? Not a chance. I've been waiting for someone to take McLaggen down a peg since he tried to 'correct' my Herbology notes in third year. Whoever did it has my eternal gratitude."
She winked at Albert and strolled away toward the library.
"She knows," Lee hissed as soon as she was out of earshot. "Albert, she definitely knows."
"She suspects," Albert corrected, reaching for a piece of toast. "But in this world, suspicion without proof is just a conversation starter. Besides, Field likes a good story more than she likes the truth."
"Where are the two idiots?" Albert asked, looking around for Fred and George.
"They're currently in the courtyard," Lee said, rolling his eyes. "They've started a betting pool. Five Sickles to anyone who can prove whether McLaggen wears red-and-gold underwear to match his 'bravery,' or if he's moved on to wearing a disguise. George is currently offering three-to-one odds that he tries to transfer to Durmstrang by the end of the week."
Albert shook his head. The revenge was complete, the tournament was back on track, and his roommates were making a profit off the fallout. It was a productive weekend. But as he looked toward the staff table and saw Professor Smith watching the empty seat where Marcus usually sat, Albert knew the "Bathroom Incident" was just a distraction. The real games were only just beginning. 🏰🚽🤡