The immediate repercussions of the Weasley twins' triumphant night out began to manifest in the days that followed, particularly in the unsettling behavior of the castle staff.
Filch, the caretaker, was a walking monument to perpetual bad temper. He seemed absolutely convinced that the culprits who had humiliated him were from Gryffindor.
Now, whenever a Gryffindor student passed him in the corridors—any Gryffindor student—Filch would fix them with a wide-eyed, manic glare, as if attempting to identify the exact, arrogant smirk of the trickster who had played him for a fool. His patrols intensified, transforming him from a nuisance into a genuinely unnerving presence for the whole House.
However, while Filch was grasping at straws, Professor Snape clearly had his target in sight. During Friday's Potions class, Albert was certain he heard Snape utter the words "night excursion" and "confinement" in a low, venomous tone directed squarely at the Weasley brothers.
The confirmation came swiftly. Snape, lacking concrete evidence to apply formal punishment, resorted to psychological warfare. He found fault with their rudimentary Scabies-Treating Potion, which, admittedly, was brewing into a noxious, slightly smoking sludge.
"A truly atrocious effort, even by Gryffindor standards," Snape drawled, his voice thick with contempt. He immediately penalized them five points for the House and reset their Potions score for the day to zero.
The twins, already exhausted from the previous night, couldn't concentrate under the crushing weight of Snape's piercing glare directed at their backs, ensuring their potion was indeed fatally flawed.
Before dismissing the class, Snape handed down his true vengeance: an additional assignment—a detailed, five-inch-long report on the preparation of the Scabies Potion, due immediately. The entire class looked on with sympathy, knowing the punishment was entirely political, as the twins were hardly the only students struggling to avoid poisoning themselves in Potions.
As they hurried out of the dungeon, Fred and George were utterly baffled.
"How did he know?" George asked, scrubbing at a stray patch of burnt potion on his sleeve. "He was definitely confirming that we were the ones who made a fool of him and Filch."
"He must have used some kind of detection charm, or maybe he's just a brilliant detective," Fred suggested half-heartedly.
"It's not hard," Albert said nonchalantly. "There must be magic that can look into people's minds. Legilimency, perhaps. Snape always seems to know when someone is lying or thinking about something inappropriate, doesn't he?" Albert was, of course, entirely correct, but he knew better than to reveal the truth about Snape's Occlumency abilities, as it would require too much explanation.
Lee Jordan frowned. "Can that really be done? Read minds like that?"
"I don't see why not," Albert shrugged. "The magical world is vast. But here's a more immediate warning: Filch is on a rampage this weekend. I hear he's patrolling the entire castle, day and night, hoping to catch a stray student and literally 'hang them up to dry like salted fish.'"
"Don't be an idiot," Fred grumbled, rolling his eyes dramatically, though he took the hint. Going on another night tour so soon would be reckless. Directly provoking Filch while Snape was watching was an invitation to disaster.
However, both twins looked at each other, their expressions hinting at a silent promise: next time, they would be smarter, more prepared, and Filch would never stand a chance.
As they took a circuitous route back to the Common Room, Lee Jordan asked, "By the way, when exactly did you two find that shortcut you mentioned—the one that leads from the tapestry to the third floor?"
"Oh, we discovered that during our last night walk," Fred said, attributing the Room of Requirement's location to his most recent triumph.
Albert, who was trailing them, merely smiled faintly, acknowledging the fabrication. He silently logged the location and the conditions that had led to the door's appearance. He now understood that the twins had not discovered a permanent secret passage, but a room that appeared only when urgently needed.
As they reached the portrait hole, Fred suddenly stopped and turned to Albert, his face contorted in a comical expression of exhausted dread. "Albert, please, you have to save us. Can we borrow your paper on the Scabies Potion? Snape gave us five inches to write!"
"I remember Snape giving you an E on that, not an O," Lee Jordan recalled, referencing the grade Snape had written on Albert's parchment before class. "Only an E, and nothing else written on it."
Albert recalled Snape's warning when he returned the paper: "Do not attempt to brew this again in my class, Potter. You will be serving detention for a week." Albert had simply nodded, knowing full well Snape was reacting to a potentially powerful, if slightly unstable, version of the potion.
"That's normal. Snape practically never gives Gryffindor students an O," Albert said, retrieving the parchment from his bag. "He's a Potions Master; our work is probably trash in his eyes anyway." He handed the paper to George with a serious caution: "Don't copy it word-for-word, or we'll both be in detention."
Fred snatched the parchment. "We'll be careful," he promised with a conspiratorial smile.
"Hold on, what are the actual grades?" Lee Jordan interjected, thoroughly confused by the terminology.
"Well, for acceptable grades, you generally have O (Outstanding), E (Exceeds Expectations), and A (Acceptable)," Albert explained concisely. "For unacceptable grades, you have P (Poor), D (Dreadful), or T..."
"And if you get a T on your homework, you're practically expelled," Fred interrupted dramatically, leaning in conspiratorially.
"Why?" Lee Jordan was genuinely perplexed.
"T stands for Troll," George declared with utmost seriousness. "It means your brain is identical to a troll's. Hogwarts doesn't accept trolls, so they send you packing."
Albert rolled his eyes at the twins' theatrical flourish. "Speaking of extra-curricular activities, if you two happen to be going on a night tour this coming weekend, remember to invite me along."
"You want to risk the wrath of the Cold-Blooded Duo?" Lee Jordan asked, completely surprised.
"Absolutely. I need to visit the Restricted Section of the Library," Albert announced mysteriously. "To get books from there, you need certain... unconventional methods."
"What book could possibly be worth risking detention with Snape?" Fred asked, suddenly intrigued.
"I need The Book of Spells by Miranda Goshawk," Albert stated.
Fred squinted. "Why does that name sound incredibly familiar, like I've heard it every day since September?"
"Because you're an idiot, Fred," Lee Jordan sighed, burying his face in his hands. "The book we use in Charms class is The Standard Book of Spells, Elementary by Miranda Goshawk."
"They are both idiots," George muttered under his breath.
"And you must be an idiot too, considering you're my twin brother," Fred retorted immediately.
"The book we're using now is actually a censored, revised edition," Albert interjected before the argument could escalate. "The full series, The Book of Spells, has seven volumes, one for each year. It was discontinued decades ago, and the original, uncensored versions were moved to the Restricted Section for safety. The current Standard Book of Spells we use has had some of the more powerful or complex charms and hexes removed."
He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. "The spells I'm interested in are in that original text. And you can't exactly check it out during regular library hours."
Fred and George exchanged a look. The chase had been fun, but a planned raid on the Restricted Section, potentially granting access to ancient and potent magic, was a whole new level of mischief.
"A book raid, then," George agreed, nodding slowly. "We'll let you know the time, but the first thing you need to provide is an immunity draught for a severe head cold."