As the evening wore on, the Gryffindor common room grew quiet, illuminated only by the warm glow of the fire. Most of the remaining students were hunched over tables, racing against homework deadlines.
"Finally, done," Lee Jordan sighed, stretching with a satisfied groan as he put away his parchment, which contained the summary of Gamp's Basic Laws of Transfiguration. After their earlier library session, the trio had learned their lesson: comparing their work to Albert's perfection only led to intense self-pity, so they stuck to their own, messy efforts.
"How's the Transfiguration coming along?" Albert asked, not looking up from his book, Selected Spells of the Nineteenth Century. He was just a few pages from finishing it.
"Don't comment until you've seen the evidence!" Fred grumbled, standing over him. He proudly displayed his match-to-needle effort. The resulting object was indeed a needle—in the sense that it was pointed—but it was so thick it looked more like a miniature, dull railroad spike. If this was the best he could manage, he was absolutely destined for a date with Professor McGonagall and detention.
"Come on, that's decent for now," Albert replied, finally glancing up. "If Transfiguration were easy, what would be the point of everyone else's effort? You have to build the foundational skill."
"That is the most unhelpful thing you've ever said," George deadpanned. His own attempt, while still quite thick, was at least thin enough to be called a needle, rather than the miniature nail Fred had produced.
"What's the trick, then?" Fred challenged, handing his heavy 'needle' to Albert.
"The solution is simply to practice for a few more days until you succeed," Albert said matter-of-factly.
"You're talking absolute rubbish," George countered, rolling his eyes.
"No, I've been right where you are." Albert picked up his own wand and effortlessly transformed a match into a delicate, silvery pin.Shutterstock
"First, you need to be able to envision the outcome perfectly. Second, you need to stop focusing on your past failures."
He handed the perfect pin to George. "What are you giving us this for?" George asked, confused, examining the sharp point.
"For comparison," Albert explained, taking a chocolate frog from its wrapper and popping it into his mouth. "You need a concrete image of a needle, not just a vague idea. But more importantly, it's there to distract you from dwelling on your failure. You need to stop telling yourself you can't do it and have some genuine confidence."
"Wait, so I just need to believe I can make a needle?" Fred asked, looking skeptical but hopeful.
"That's part of the magic," Albert agreed.
George took the pin, held his wand to a new match, and cast the spell, focusing entirely on the image of the silver pin in his hand. With a quick flick, the matchstick transformed. It wasn't perfect, but it was thinner, sharper, and undeniably a needle.
"It worked!" Fred gasped, grabbing the new object.
"You lacked confidence and got bogged down in the impossibility of the transformation," Albert said casually, closing his finished book. "Now that you have a reference and a fresh start, the psychological block is gone."
"Speaking of confidence," George began, giving Albert a meaningful look, "how's that Disillusionment Charm coming along?"
"Should be ready by next week," Albert replied, an eyebrow arched. He slid his eyes toward his task list and confirmed he had just hit the 1/100 reading milestone—a nice, easy goal. "Why the sudden interest? You aren't planning..." He made a gesture of sneaking along a wall.
"We are, tonight!" Fred confirmed, leaning in conspiratorially. "We heard Filch has a bad cold. This is the perfect window."
"Don't get caught, that's my only advice," Albert said, not wanting the ensuing point loss to affect his House Cup tally.
"You're not coming with us?" George asked, disappointed.
"No," Albert answered simply.
Fred and George exchanged a look of mock betrayal. "We misjudged you, Albert." They then looked at Lee Jordan, but he cut them off before they could make an appeal.
"Don't look at me," Lee Jordan shrugged. "I am absolutely not going."
"Fine. Looks like the night out will just be the two of us," the twins said, shrugging dramatically.
"If you must go, choose Friday," Albert advised kindly. "No classes the next day means you can recover. You won't make it through lessons if you're up all night."
"That's actually a brilliant idea. Friday it is!" Fred nodded.
"Choosing what for Friday?" a voice cut in, cold and sharp.
Fred instantly stiffened. Percy had materialized out of the shadows. "What, precisely, are you two plotting for Friday?" Percy demanded.
"Transfiguration practice!" George answered without a pause, his face the picture of innocent commitment.
"I heard that, and I know you're lying." Percy glared, his prefect badge gleaming. "Nighttime wandering is an absolute route to losing Gryffindor points, and I've been keeping a very close eye on you two."
"I heard Gryffindor hasn't won the House Cup in years," George countered, blinking slowly.
Percy's ears went red. He knew the insult was aimed perfectly: If you cared so much about points, why haven't you earned enough to win, Percy?
"Don't cause trouble," Percy hissed, before marching away.
"Percy is unbelievably irritating," Fred muttered once his older brother was out of earshot.
"I completely agree," George affirmed.
"Look, you two," Albert interjected, shaking his head. "If you're going to plan a major breach of rules, don't discuss it in the middle of a common room. Now everyone in earshot knows you're planning a nighttime expedition."
"Did someone say 'night out'?" Mark sauntered over, slinging an arm over Fred's shoulder. "That's a necessary life skill. You can't call yourself a proper Gryffindor until you've successfully slipped past the old caretaker."
Albert couldn't resist a small, malicious twitch of his lips. "Mark, you're detailing your heroic deeds of nighttime roaming, but weren't you caught by Filch?"
"Absolutely not!" Mark denied, wounded.
"I heard Filch knows more secret passages than the founders and has a highly intelligent cat on surveillance duty," Albert continued, delivering the harsh truth. "Unless you know the castle's secret routes better than him, or have a Confundus Charm memorized, you're going to have a bad night."
"Okay, a Confundus Charm is definitely the most effective strategy," Mark admitted casually.
"Don't listen to his rubbish," Erin said, pulling Mark away. Before she left, she reminded the newcomers, "Don't forget Quidditch training on Wednesday afternoon."
Back in the relative privacy of their dormitory, Lee Jordan brought up the evening's drama again. "I'm betting Mark got caught by Filch while attempting to sneak out on a date."
"Seriously, though, you two won't come with us on Friday?" Fred asked one last time.
"We shouldn't go on a night tour right now," Lee Jordan stated flatly. "We've only been here a month. Our knowledge of the castle is too limited. Attempting a night run now is just suicidal."
Albert simply smiled, knowing that their limited understanding was exactly what would make the twins' future nighttime endeavors so spectacularly disastrous.