THE ALCHEMIST OF HARRY POTTER

By the way, my panel shouldn't be a cut-down version, right? There's no Marauder's Map function. Albert was still in the mood to tease his panel's limited abilities, though he was pleased after successfully locating the Room of Requirement.

There was no helping it. In the wizarding books he had read before, the magical systems provided to protagonists were always incredibly powerful. With a simple spell or enchanted object, nothing remained hidden.

Now, thinking about it, his panel's functions felt rather pitiful in comparison.

That said, Albert was still grateful to have a magical advantage at all.

"I remember Dumbledore's office is also on the eighth floor, but I don't know exactly where," Albert murmured to himself.

Of course, he had no intention of approaching the headmaster's office. If Professor Dumbledore became suspicious of him, navigating school life would become significantly more difficult.

After all, Hogwarts was riddled with enchanted portraits, and if Dumbledore wanted to know what a student was up to, he could find out with ease.

Albert turned two more corners and discovered a descending staircase.

He walked down, meandering through the castle, only to realize that he had lost his way.

Well, perhaps 'lost' wasn't the right term. He had simply wandered into an unfamiliar part of the castle.

Albert stopped in front of a stone wall, raising his wand to illuminate the intricate carvings etched into its surface. Reaching out, he tapped lightly; it was solid.

However, he suspected there was a hidden passage here. The presence of a carved griffin with an eagle's head was too conspicuous—such embellishments often indicated secret doors at Hogwarts.

"What are you doing here, boy?" Nearly Headless Nick emerged from the adjacent wall, his transparent form momentarily flickering in the dim corridor.

The sudden voice startled Albert, making his heart leap into his throat.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he exhaled and muttered, "Merlin's beard, Sir Nicholas, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

"My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you." The ghost raised an eyebrow before repeating, "But what exactly are you doing here?"

"Just taking a stroll," Albert replied honestly.

"A stroll? At this hour?" Nick glanced down the empty hallway, clearly dubious.

"Yes, stretching my legs. Sir Nicholas, do you happen to have time to give me a proper tour? Hogwarts is like a labyrinth—I got lost while wandering." Albert smiled at him. If the ghost was willing to assist, it would save him considerable effort.

"Oh, but the joy of discovering Hogwarts is in exploring it yourself." Nick tactfully declined.

"You have a point." Albert didn't take offense at the refusal. Instead, after exchanging a polite nod with the ghost, he turned back to examine the griffin carving once more.

Nick watched him for a moment before sighing. "If you want to open that passage, press on the griffin's talon."

"Much obliged," Albert said, following the ghost's advice. As soon as he tapped the griffin's claw, the stone door groaned open, revealing a narrow tunnel.

"See you around, Sir Nicholas." Albert nodded in thanks before raising his wand and stepping inside.

The tunnel was uncomfortably narrow, allowing only one person through at a time. It was certainly not an ideal space for anyone with claustrophobia.

Albert could feel the downward incline beneath his feet. He had no idea where this passage led, but simply discovering its existence was valuable.

As expected, the ghosts and enchanted portraits within the castle knew Hogwarts better than anyone.

The passage's exit was hidden behind a portrait. As Albert carefully moved it aside, an old wizard in nightclothes glared at him, clearly displeased.

"You interrupted my sleep, young man," the portrait grumbled.

"My apologies," Albert said sincerely before stepping forward. He had no idea where he was now, but it didn't matter—he would figure it out soon enough.

Fortunately, this time he stumbled upon the moving staircases.

No matter how often he saw them, the sight of Hogwarts' ever-shifting staircases remained awe-inspiring.

It was rumored that both the moving staircases and the Room of Requirement were designed by Rowena Ravenclaw. Albert wondered if he would ever reach such a level of magical prowess.

By the way, did Rowena Ravenclaw leave any secrets hidden in the Room of Requirement?

After all, didn't Salazar Slytherin hide a basilisk in his own Chamber of Secrets?

It seemed logical. The next time he visited, he would investigate—perhaps he could unearth some forgotten secrets.

It took Albert ten minutes to descend the stairs. Along the way, he encountered a staircase shift and had to wait for it to return to its original position. Thankfully, the delay was brief. Merlin's beard, at times like these, he truly appreciated Hogwarts' peculiar magic.

Upon entering the entrance hall, Albert's attention was drawn to a cat. It was thin, with a dark gray coat—far less impressive than his own cat, Tom.

He bent down slightly, hoping to coax it closer, but the cat darted away in an instant, disappearing like a wisp of smoke.

Albert suspected it was Filch's cat—what was her name again? He had read *Hogwarts: A History* and seen *The Daily Prophet* mention her once, but recalling minor details wasn't his strong suit.

If he hadn't written a detailed account of the castle and done extensive research, he might have forgotten even faster.

The cat had likely gone to alert someone, but Albert wasn't concerned about Filch coming after him.

After all, it was already past six o'clock. Though the sky remained dark due to the rain, the school day had technically begun.

As Albert approached the Great Hall, he heard a familiar shuffling and the mutterings of an irritable voice—Argus Filch, trudging toward him, oil lamp in hand.

Filch still appeared groggy, dressed only in a cloak over his nightclothes. The smile playing at the corners of his lips was one of satisfaction—he thought he had caught a rule-breaking student.

"Good morning, Mr. Filch," Albert greeted him casually, as if they were old acquaintances.

"Morning?" Filch's hand shot out to seize him, but Albert swiftly stepped back, avoiding the grasp with ease.

"Of course. It's already 6:15, Mr. Filch." Albert pulled a pocket watch from his robes, checked the time, and held it up. "When does the Great Hall start serving breakfast?"

Filch hesitated, caught off guard. Albert had subtly angled his wand so Filch could clearly see the time.

Realizing he had no grounds to punish Albert, Filch's triumphant expression crumbled like a child who had just learned their Halloween feast had been canceled.

In reality, it *was* morning, and though other students had yet to wake, he hadn't broken any rules.

"Seven o'clock," Filch grumbled, turning away in frustration. Before leaving, he muttered, "You'd better not let me catch you—"

Albert didn't catch the rest, but it hardly mattered.

Did Filch truly despise students so much?

It seemed as if he lived to punish them.

Pushing open the doors to the Great Hall, Albert noted the room was dim, the floating candles extinguished, and the lively atmosphere of last night completely absent.

He turned and left, deciding to use the early morning to explore the castle's kitchens instead.