Alister spent the next hour simply wandering the castle. It was a rare moment of genuine leisure, unshackled by the demands of classes or his own rigorous self-imposed training.
He allowed himself to simply observe the castle as a living entity—the way the portraits gossiped as he passed, the subtle shifting of the staircases that seemed to breathe with the stone, and the intricate magical currents that flowed through the very walls.
It was around noon when he found himself on the sixth floor. This corridor was narrower than the others, lined with unused classrooms and a few dusty tapestries. It was quiet here, away from the bustle of the Great Hall where most students were gathering for lunch.
As he turned a corner, a flash of bright red hair caught his eye.
Huddled together near a stone statue of a knight were Fred and George Weasley. They were leaning close, their heads bent together in a conspiracy of whispers. Alister paused, his back pressed against the stone wall, and listened.
"...Filch will never look behind the tapestry..." "...timed perfectly with the transfiguration..." "...dungbombs in the corridor..."
They were clearly plotting their next strike, likely retaliation for the detention they had received earlier. Alister observed them for a moment.
He stepped out from the corner, his movements fluid and silent until he was just a few paces behind them. Then, deliberately, he let his heel strike the stone floor with a sharp clack.
The muttering stopped instantly.
Fred and George spun around in perfect synchronization, their hands twitching toward the pockets where their wands were stowed. Their expressions were tight, their eyes narrowing as they registered the green and silver trim of his robes. For a second, there was a flash of genuine wariness.
Then, their eyes traveled up to his face. They recognized the messy black hair and the calm, unblinking green eyes. They relaxed, exchanging a quick look that communicated a dozen silent thoughts.
"Lost your way to the dungeons, snakelet?" Fred asked, a grin slowly spreading across his face.
"Or are you looking for a quiet place to practice your brooding?" George chimed in. "We hear Slytherins have a curriculum for that."
Alister didn't flinch at the "snakelet" comment, nor did he offer a retort to the jab about brooding. He understood their prejudice; it was a predictable social construct of the school, meaningless to his actual goals. Being a Slytherin was a choice of convenience, not a definition of his character.
Instead of speaking, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a single, heavy gold coin. The torchlight caught the face of the Galleon, casting a warm, undeniable glow against the stone walls.
Fred and George's eyes tracked the coin instantly. Their grins didn't vanish, but they certainly froze. For two students who relied on budget pranks and hand-me-down robes, the sight of solid gold was a powerful silencer.
"I've heard rumors," Alister said, his voice calm and businesslike. "They say that nobody knows the secrets of Hogwarts castle as well as the Weasley twins."
The twins exchanged a quick look. The flattery was blatant, but combined with the gold, it was effective.
"Rumors are dangerous things," Fred said, his eyes still on the coin.
"But often rooted in truth," George added, stepping a little closer. "What kind of secrets are you looking for, Mr. Potter?"
"I need a way out," Alister stated. "Specifically, a secret passage to Hogsmeade."
The twins raised their eyebrows in unison. First-years were strictly forbidden from visiting the wizarding village. Asking for a route out was a serious breach of rules, the kind that could get a student expelled—or deeply respected by the likes of Fred and George.
"Hogsmeade?" Fred whistled low. "That's a tall order for a firstie. Filch watches the main doors like a hawk."
"And the secret paths..." George started, feigning hesitation.
Alister didn't let them finish the negotiation. He reached into his pocket again and pulled out a second Galleon. With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed one coin to Fred and the other to George.
They caught them reflexively, their hands snatching the gold from the air with Seeker-like precision. They looked down at the heavy coins in their palms, then back at Alister, their expressions shifting from amusement to genuine surprise. Two Galleons was a small fortune for a simple question.
"One Galleon for the location," Alister said coolly. "The other is for you to keep your mouths locked. I was never here, and we never had this conversation."
The twins weighed the gold in their hands, the heavy metal clinking satisfyingly. They exchanged a look—a silent communication that Alister observed with clinical interest. It shifted from surprise to a gleaming, mischievous approval. A first-year Slytherin bribing them for illegal passage out of the castle was exactly the kind of chaos they appreciated.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Potter," Fred said, slipping the coin into his pocket with a grin. "We usually charge a few Dungbombs for information, but this... this will fund research for months."
"And since you've paid the premium rate," George added, stepping closer and lowering his voice, "you get the premium route. No dusty mirrors or vanishing cabinets."
Fred glanced around to ensure the corridor was empty. "You know the statue of the One-Eyed Witch? Not this one," he gestured to a random gargoyle nearby, "but the one of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor on the third-floor corridor?"
Alister nodded. He had mapped the third floor during his invisibility walks; he knew the statue. It was an ugly, humpbacked stone figure that most students ignored.
"That's the ticket," George whispered. "Go to her. Tap your wand on her hump—right in the middle—and say the password: 'Dissendium'."
"The hump will open up," Fred continued, his eyes twinkling. "It reveals a slide. It goes deep, right under the school. Follow the tunnel all the way to the end—it's a bit of a trek, mind you—and you'll come up through a trapdoor."
"And where does it come out?" Alister asked.
"The cellar of Honeydukes," the twins said in unison.
"The sweet shop," George clarified. "Best chocolate in Britain. Just be careful coming up; the crates are usually stacked high, and you don't want to pop up while the owner is restocking the Fizzing Whizzbees."
"Third floor. One-eyed witch. Dissendium. Honeydukes," Alister repeated, locking the data into his memory.
"Precisely," Fred beamed. "Though what a first-year wants in Hogsmeade is a mystery. Trying to buy forbidden curses?"
"Or perhaps smuggling dragons?" George suggested.
"Just sightseeing," Alister lied smoothly. He gave them a curt nod, accepting the information. But as he turned to leave.
There must be a story," Alister said, pausing and turning back to them. His lips curved in a slight smile. "How did you find this? You couldn't have just guessed the password."
Fred and George exchanged a look, a silent debate passing between them. Usually, they guarded their secrets with their lives, but something about this cool, composed first-year—and the heavy gold coins in their pockets—made them reconsider.
"We wouldn't normally tell a soul," Fred admitted, stepping closer and lowering his voice even further. "Trade secrets, you understand."
"But," George added with a grin, "a Potter is an exception."
Alister frowned slightly, confused. "An exception? Why?"
"Because," Fred whispered, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "we had a little help from the previous generation of troublemakers. In our first year, we nicked a piece of parchment from Filch's office. Thought it was just a bit of old rubbish he'd confiscated."
"Turns out," George continued, "it was a masterpiece. An Alchemy product of the highest tier. It's called the Marauder's Map."
"It shows every inch of Hogwarts," Fred said, tracing a map in the air with his finger. "Every passageway, every ghost, every person moving around in real-time. It's brilliant magic."
"And it was signed by four makers," George finished, his voice taking on a tone of reverence. "Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs." He looked meaningfully at Alister. "We did some digging. 'Prongs'... that was your dad. James Potter."
Alister stood perfectly still. The revelation was really a shock. He thought Hagrid was simply boosting about his parents but being capable of creating a complex magical tracking device that bypassed Hogwarts' powerful anti-mapping wards. That required exceptional skill in Charms and binding magic.
However, as the twins watched him, expecting a tearful reaction or a swell of pride, they saw only a thoughtful tilt of his head.
Alister searched inside himself for an emotional response. He saw flashes of a man with messy hair and a woman with red hair in his memory, but they were distant echoes, like scenes from a play he had watched once long ago. He felt no grief, no longing. His soul, forged in a previous life of steel and blood, was the dominant force.
"I see," Alister said finally, his voice calm and there was even a slight smile on his face. "It seems talent runs in the blood. He was a skilled enchanter."
The twins looked a little surprised by his detached reaction, but they shrugged it off.
"Skilled is putting it lightly," Fred grinned. "He was a genius. And now you know the way out. Use it well, snakelet."
"And remember," George added with a wink, "you owe us. If you ever find yourself in possession of any other Potter family secrets, we get first refusal."
Alister nodded. "Agreed."
"How about you guys come with me?" Alister stayed silent for a moment and then asked, his tone casual, as if suggesting a walk to the library rather than an illicit smuggling run.
He expected hesitation, perhaps a negotiation for more gold or a worry about detention. Instead, the reaction was instantaneous.
Fred and George grinned, identical expressions of delight spreading across their faces. They were full of vibrating energy of pure mischief.
"We were waiting for you to ask," Fred said, stepping away from the wall with a bounce in his step.
"Honestly," George added, falling into step beside his brother, "we were taking bets on how long it would take you to realize you need guides."
"And bodyguards," Fred chipped in. "Hogsmeade can be confusing for a lone first-year. Plus, spending Galleons is much more fun in a group."
"Lead the way," Alister said, a faint smile touching his lips.
They moved quickly down the corridor to the statue of the humpbacked one-eyed witch. George glanced up and down the hallway to ensure the coast was clear, then tapped the stone hump with his wand.
"Dissendium," he whispered.
With a low, grinding sound of stone on stone, the statue's hump slid open, revealing a dark, narrow chute that disappeared into the floor. A draft of cool, damp air drifted up from the opening.
"Down the hatch," Fred said, gesturing gallantly to the dark hole. "It's a bit of a slide at first, then a long walk. Hope you brought good shoes, Potter."
Alister didn't hesitate. He climbed into the gap and pushed off, sliding down into the pitch-black darkness of the castle's foundations. He heard the twins scrambling in behind him, the stone hump sliding shut above them, sealing them into the secret world beneath the school.
(END OF CHAPTER)
Please Support me on patreon: patreon.com/xxSUPxx
Bonus chapter when power stones reach 500
[GUYS please leave a review if you read till here! It's free and it doesn't take much of your time]
Patreon members:
~ Warren