"What a frustrating disappointment! If the Disillusionment Charm lasted even an hour longer and I cast it on a heavy cloak, imagine the possibilities. We'd essentially have our own invisibility gear!" Lee Jordan sighed, staring mournfully at the towel, now fully visible and dull again.
For Lee, the lack of a reliable Invisibility Cloak wasn't about mischief; it was about strategic access. If he possessed one, the entire castle, with all its secrets and hidden histories, would be an open book. His ambition was tempered by prudence; Gryffindor courage, in his view, was never meant to be synonymous with sheer recklessness.
"When I return the book to the library, you should absolutely borrow it and practice the Disillusionment Charm yourself," Albert suggested, noticing the keen, disappointed look in Lee's eyes. "The charm can be cast directly on a person, you know. Want to give that a go?"
"You haven't tried it on yourself yet, have you?" Lee Jordan asked, his wariness immediately surfacing.
"No, I haven't," Albert confirmed.
"Then I think I'll wait," Lee declared, shaking his head with mock suspicion. "Perfect. You become your own guinea pig first. Then I'll be happy to try it."
"Would you two brave adventurers care to volunteer?" Albert turned to the Weasley twins, who involuntarily shuddered at the notion of being personally covered by a visually distorting spell.
The twins recoiled instantly. "No, definitely not!" they chorused, holding up their hands defensively.
"What a shame," Albert murmured, failing to hide his grin.
"There is nothing to regret," the three of them stated in unison, finding common ground in their refusal to risk an imperfect vanishing spell on their own bodies.
"An Invisibility Cloak, you say? Actually, creating a low-quality, temporary one isn't particularly difficult," Albert mused, pulling a dark, spare travel cloak from his trunk. It was a sturdy, nondescript item, perfect for experimentation. He leveled his wand at the garment and whispered the spell again.
The change wasn't the sudden, stark pop of true vanishing. Instead, the heavy fabric seemed to inhale the ambient light, its contours softening and its dark folds refusing to cast shadows.
The cloak began to shimmer and ripple, appearing to stretch and distort the background view through it, like heat haze rising from hot pavement. It had blended so effectively into the immediate environment that its original shape was almost impossible to discern.
Albert picked up the enchanted garment, draped it over himself, and asked, "Well? What's the verdict?"
"Wow, he's just... gone," Lee Jordan breathed out, leaning forward intently.
"It truly is an Invisibility Cloak!" Fred exclaimed, eyes wide. They consciously chose to ignore the fact that the cloak was clearly visible in the places where the heavy fabric bunched or twisted, and instead indulged in the sheer excitement of witnessing the effect for the first time.
Albert deliberately lowered his head. His disembodied head appeared to be floating in mid-air, while his torso and legs were completely invisible beneath the charmed fabric.
"My turn, let me borrow it!" George urged, already bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Albert removed the cloak and handed it over. George immediately wrapped himself tightly inside, and the next moment, he had completely vanished from the room.
Though Albert knew the Disillusionment Charm had flaws, the effect was highly effective in the dim lighting of the dormitory. George's presence was only betrayed by the slight distortion of the air where his body displaced it, or by the muffled sound of his breathing.
"Alright, my turn to hunt," Lee Jordan challenged, reaching out and feeling the empty air where George had last stood, closing his eyes to rely solely on sound.
"Guess where I am now?" George whispered, his voice disembodied and muffled from beneath the cloak.
"Ahem, enough theatrics, reveal yourself, George," Albert said, raising his wand. He cast a simple Revealing Charm—a basic counter-spell—in the direction of the voice. George, who had been cloaked in the temporary magic, instantly reappeared in front of the trio, the spell-work having dissolved the Disillusionment Charm.
"Hey! What happened? Why did the invisibility vanish so fast?" George stuck his head out of the now-visible fabric, stunned.
"That was the Revelation Charm. An invisibility effect created through Charms is easily countered by another basic spell," Albert explained, gently patting George on the shoulder.
"The truly valuable Invisibility Cloaks—the ones that endure—are typically woven from the hair of invisible beasts, or are genuine magical relics, and even those eventually lose their invisibility over time. The one I just made? That's barely an acceptable temporary disguise."
Albert's mind immediately drifted to the true magical artifacts he knew of: Harry Potter's Cloak, the Mirror of Erised, Dumbledore's Deluminator, and the Pensieve. These were not just items with spells cast upon them; they were complex, sustained pieces of Alchemy—a branch of magic not taught at Hogwarts.
Alchemy, he thought, like potions, is a distinct magical field. If I want to make an item with a truly permanent, complex, or sustained effect, simple Charms won't cut it.
The task of becoming an inventor, specifically the one who created the Magical Lamp from his future memories, was still pending.
"Albert, Albert!" Fred called out, snapping him out of his reverie. "Why did you suddenly zone out? We were just discussing the counter-spell."
"My apologies, I was distracted," Albert admitted. "I was contemplating something important: since the Disillusionment Charm can be cast on objects, what about other spells? Could I make this newspaper glow using a Charms spell?"
Albert picked up a crumpled copy of the Daily Prophet, raised his wand, and attempted to cast the Lumos Charm upon it. Nothing happened.
"What were you trying to achieve?" George asked, perplexed.
"I was attempting to make the paper generate light," Albert replied, frustrated by the mundane result.
"What was the result?"
"You just witnessed it," Albert grumbled. The result, clearly, was failure. The complexity of enchanting an inanimate object beyond Transfiguration was higher than his current magical ability could sustain.
"Why are you even trying that?" Fred asked, utterly confused by Albert's experimental frenzy.
"Haven't you noticed that almost every joke product sold at Zonko's uses embedded, permanent Charms?" Albert pointed out.
"That makes perfect sense," the three murmured, connecting the dots.
"So, let's try another one," Albert said, picking up a piece of scrap parchment. He focused, attempting to impose a powerful Shield Charm upon the paper, hoping to give it the protective properties of a suit of armor.
Again, there was no noticeable external reaction.
"What are you doing this time?" Lee Jordan asked.
"Attempting to put an Armour Charm on the paper," Albert explained.
The three looked at him blankly. "So, did it work?"
"I'm not sure. You hold it," Albert said, stuffing the crumpled paper into Fred's hand and asking him to hold it up.
"Hey, hold on! You aren't going to cast a stinging hex at me, are you?" Fred shouted, instantly suspicious.
"No, I'm just conducting a simple physical test," Albert clarified, grabbing the nearest object—a soft pillow—and hurling it directly at Fred's face.
THWACK. The pillow hit Fred square in the nose.
"Well, your Armour Charm definitely doesn't work!" Fred retorted, glaring at Albert with mock fury.
"As I suspected," Albert conceded, completely unsurprised by the charm's failure. His current magical core was simply not strong enough to embed complex Charms into materials. True magical item creation required greater power or knowledge of Alchemy.
"You absolutely did that on purpose, you menace!" Fred yelled, snatching up his own pillow and launching it at Albert's face. Lee Jordan and George instantly grabbed their pillows, joining the fray. The dormitory dissolved into a brief, joyous chaos of flying feathers and thumping cotton, a final release of energy before the day ended.
After the laughter had subsided and the pillows were roughly tossed back onto the beds, Albert covered a wide yawn. "I'm genuinely exhausted now. I'm going to sleep."
"Good night." "Sleep well."
Albert lay down and closed his eyes. The adrenaline from the pillow fight slowly faded, leaving him with a clear mind. The thought suddenly resurfaced: If I can develop a process to embed protective charms into simple gear, it would sell incredibly well. With You-Know-Who's influence growing, the wizarding world is starved for a feeling of security. That is a reliable source of Galleons.
His mind drifted again to the financial realities. Gringotts Bank was clear on its policy: large-scale currency exchange between Muggle pounds and Galleons was restricted, reinforcing the separation between the two societies. To accumulate capital, he needed a legitimate magical business.
Just as Albert felt sleep pulling him under, he heard soft creaks and whispers. The twins were moving. They were tiptoeing across the floor, their backpacks already packed.
So, they decided to go tonight after all, Albert thought, recognizing the sound of their desperate, silent retreat.
"Be careful," Albert murmured, his voice slightly muffled by his pillow. "Don't get the Fat Lady locked outside the common room again. That's a point deduction even the Marauder's Map can't fix."
He didn't need to stop them. He knew the twins were armed with a secret weapon—the Map itself. Unless they were actively trying to get caught, Filch and Mrs. Norris wouldn't stand a chance.
And Albert, having provided them with the necessary confidence boost and distraction, settled in for a peaceful night's sleep, anticipating the grand stories—and perhaps the minor point loss—that tomorrow would bring.