THE ALCHEMIST OF HARRY POTTER

"The curse stops immediately."

Albert stared at the nearly demolished wooden door, his eye twitching involuntarily.

"Merlin's beard, what do we do now?"

The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan took a synchronized step back, gulping audibly as they surveyed the damage. None of them had expected that simply speaking *Open Sesame* would nearly rip the door from its hinges.

"Aren't we…" Fred hesitated, glancing at his brother before making a subtle hand gesture that signaled an imminent retreat.

"Don't be daft," Albert muttered, grabbing Fred's shoulder to stop him. "Wizards of McGonagall's caliber can use tracking spells to determine who's been here recently. Running now would just make us look guilty."

"Then what do we do?" George whispered urgently, his eyes darting toward the stairway.

"I should be able to fix it," Albert said, regaining his composure. "The spell is *Reparo*." He raised his wand, aimed at the shattered wooden door, and concentrated on the incantation.

The torn wooden pieces lifted from the floor and realigned with the doorframe. The cracks slowly began to seal themselves, the hinges bending back into place as if time were reversing. Just as the door was about to be fully restored, however, it creaked open from the inside.

The four boys froze.

Out stepped Professor McGonagall, her sharp gaze shifting from the still-mending door to the quartet standing guilty before her. The silence was thick enough to cut with a Severing Charm.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" Professor McGonagall's voice was calm, yet edged with unmistakable sternness. She had heard an unusual noise from her office's concealed entrance and had come to investigate—only to find her door practically ripped off its hinges.

The sight had momentarily stunned even her.

"Apologies, Professor," Albert said swiftly, straightening up and opting for honesty. "We didn't realize *Open Sesame* was an actual unlocking spell."

McGonagall's lips thinned. "Mr. Anderson, there was a time—several centuries ago—when that incantation was used. However, modern spellwork has rendered it obsolete. I assume you were attempting to bypass standard unlocking spells?"

Albert coughed lightly. "It was an accident, Professor."

"Indeed," she said, clearly unconvinced. "Come inside. That includes you, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Jordan."

The four hesitated before following her into the office. Lee Jordan held his breath, as though exhaling too loudly might worsen their predicament.

McGonagall eyed Albert critically. "Your repair charm was well-executed. However, had you consulted *The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One*, you would know that *Alohomora* is the modern unlocking spell of choice."

Albert nodded. "Yes, but *Alohomora* didn't work on this door."

"Because," McGonagall explained, "the door is enchanted with an *Anti-Alohomora* Charm, commonly used to secure private chambers. If you have questions regarding spellwork, Professor Flitwick would be more than delighted to assist you."

"I'll keep that in mind."

McGonagall sighed, massaging the bridge of her nose. "See that you do. I will not deduct points this time, but let this serve as a warning—Hogwarts is not a playground for reckless spell experimentation. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Professor," they chorused.

McGonagall retrieved a parchment from her desk and handed it to Albert. "This is the first-year timetable. Post it on the Gryffindor notice board."

Albert accepted it with a quick nod. "We appreciate your leniency, Professor. It won't happen again." He ushered the others toward the exit before McGonagall could change her mind.

Once they were safely down the corridor, Lee let out a long breath. "That was terrifying."

"We just broke into Professor McGonagall's office," George muttered in disbelief.

Fred grinned. "And we got away with it!"

Albert unfolded the schedule. "First Charms lesson is on Monday morning."

"More importantly," George said, peering over his shoulder, "Flying lessons aren't until Thursday. Bit disappointing."

Albert frowned as he scanned the timetable. "Don't you think the number of classes seems low?"

"Are you mad?" Lee gawked at him. "Why would you want *more* classes?"

Albert tapped the parchment thoughtfully. "Muggle schools have far more subjects. Hogwarts' curriculum is surprisingly light in comparison."

"There aren't enough professors," Fred reasoned. "They have to teach multiple years, and most classes are shared between houses."

Albert nodded. "Makes sense."

"Oi, what are you thinking so hard about?" George asked.

"Nothing important," Albert replied. "Let's find the rest of the classrooms."

So far, they had located the Transfiguration and History of Magic classrooms on the second floor, as well as an abandoned bathroom. Albert knew, from future events, that it contained the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets—and the deadly Basilisk that lurked within.

They had wisely chosen not to enter. Even without the hidden monster, wandering into the girls' bathroom would have been a terrible idea.

Their exploration paid off when they discovered a hidden passageway on the fourth floor, tucked behind a tapestry. The tunnel led them near the Armor Gallery and the Trophy Room.

"I'm starting to think all Hogwarts tapestries conceal secret passages," Lee joked as they emerged from the tunnel.

Fred examined the area and sighed. "I bet loads of people already know about these ones."

"We'll find better ones," George assured him.

Albert gestured toward the Trophy Room. "Let's have a look inside." He was curious—were the awards and trophies actually made of gold and silver?

As they browsed, Lee's eyes landed on a gleaming plaque. "Hey, look! Charlie Weasley won a Quidditch Cup as team captain."

Fred and George examined the trophy. "Only once?" George muttered, eyeing the numerous Slytherin victories with distaste.

"Slytherins will do anything to win," Fred grumbled. "Percy told me."

"Yeah," George added, "and he said Snape practically gifts them house points while never giving any to Gryffindor."

"Snape *is* known for favoring his house," Albert admitted, smirking slightly at their indignation.

"Most of the school calls him the dungeon bat," Fred muttered.

Albert barely stifled a chuckle. Hogwarts, it seemed, would never run out of mischief—or mysteries—to uncover.