Speaking of which, my panel probably isn't even the full version — it doesn't have a map function at all.
Albert was still in the mood to joke about it. Finding the Room of Requirement had put him in excellent spirits.
There was no other way to describe it — in all the web novels he'd read, the protagonists' systems were absurdly overpowered. Once the "scan" or "map" function unlocked, nothing could ever hide from them. Compared to that, his own panel felt pitifully underdeveloped.
Still, Albert wasn't complaining. Having a panel at all was already a golden finger beyond his wildest hopes.
"I remember the Headmaster's office is also on the eighth floor," he murmured. "But I've no idea where exactly."
Of course, sneaking into Dumbledore's office wasn't on his to-do list. If that old wizard caught him snooping around, life at Hogwarts would become… uncomfortable. The castle was covered in portraits, after all — and most of them were all too eager to gossip. Dumbledore probably knew what every student was up to within minutes.
After a few more turns, Albert found a staircase leading down. He descended, wandering aimlessly through the corridors, until he realized — somewhat helplessly — that he was lost.
Well, not lost exactly. He'd just never been here before.
He stopped in front of a wall, lifting his wand to illuminate the carvings etched into the stone. His light caught on a Hippogriff motif. He reached out to tap it experimentally. Solid.
Still, it was too suspicious to ignore. In Hogwarts, walls with such elaborate carvings rarely existed without some kind of secret behind them.
"Child, what are you doing here?"
The voice came from nowhere — and Albert nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around just in time to see Nearly Headless Nick float out of the wall.
"Merlin's beard!" Albert clutched his chest, feeling his heart hammer. "Don't sneak up on people like that — you'll scare them to death."
"Ah, sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," Nick said with a raised brow. "Now then, what brings you here?"
"Taking a walk," Albert said honestly.
"At this hour?" Nick asked, looking down the corridor in confusion. "You do realize it's barely dawn?"
"Yes, a walk," Albert said again, smiling. "Actually, Sir Nicholas, could you help me get better acquainted with Hogwarts? I keep getting lost — it's like a maze."
Nick gave a polite chuckle but shook his head. "Exploring the castle is half the fun of being a first-year. You'll learn it soon enough."
Albert only shrugged good-naturedly. "You're probably right."
He turned back to the wall, examining the Hippogriff carving again.
Nick watched him for a moment, then sighed. "If you're trying to open that one, the switch is on the Hippogriff's claw."
Albert grinned. "Thank you."
He reached for the claw, tapped it twice, and the wall began to rumble softly. The stone split open, revealing a narrow, dark passageway.
"See you later, Sir Nicholas," Albert said, nodding gratefully before stepping inside with his wand raised.
The passage was narrow — barely enough for one person. A claustrophobic's nightmare. The floor sloped downward, and the air grew cooler as he went. Albert had no idea where it led, but discovering it at all felt like a small victory.
Indeed, the ghosts and portraits knew this castle far better than any student guide ever could.
Eventually, the passage ended behind a portrait. Albert pushed it open — and startled an old man in pajamas.
"Sorry to disturb you!" Albert said quickly.
The portrait grumbled about students having no respect for a man's rest, but Albert had already slipped out into the corridor beyond.
He wasn't entirely sure where he was, but he soon spotted the moving staircases in the distance. No matter how many times he saw them, the shifting stairways still left him awestruck.
It was said that both the staircases and the Room of Requirement were the creations of Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Albert couldn't help but wonder — could he ever reach that level one day?
And if Slytherin had hidden a basilisk in his Chamber of Secrets… maybe Ravenclaw had left something in the Room of Requirement, too.
The idea made perfect sense, at least in Albert's head. He'd definitely have to look into it next time he went there.
It took him about ten minutes to descend the stairs, and he had to pause once when the staircase suddenly shifted mid-step. He waited patiently for it to realign — silently thanking Merlin when it did.
As he reached the ground floor, a thin gray cat caught his eye. Its fur was dull, its frame bony — a far cry from his own Tom.
Albert crouched down, intending to coax it closer. The cat took one look at him and bolted.
He sighed. "That must've been Filch's cat… Mrs. something."
He'd read the Harry Potter books and seen the films, but details like the caretaker's cat's name weren't exactly top of mind. If he hadn't written fanfiction and done the research, he'd have forgotten even faster.
The cat vanished, probably off to summon its master. Albert wasn't worried. After all, it was already past six o'clock — still dark, but technically morning, thanks to the gloomy weather outside.
Sure enough, moments later came the sound of hurried footsteps. Argus Filch appeared at the end of the corridor, clutching an oil lamp, wearing pajamas under a ragged cloak. He looked delighted, like a hunter spotting prey.
"Good morning, Mr. Filch," Albert greeted cheerfully, raising a hand as if meeting an old friend.
"Good morning?" Filch growled, reaching to grab him.
Albert easily sidestepped. "Of course. It's already six fifteen." He pulled out his pocket watch, checked it, and held it up so Filch could see. "When does the Great Hall start serving breakfast?"
Filch leaned in, squinting at the watch's face in the wandlight. His scowl faltered. The boy was right — it really was morning. His triumphant grin collapsed into a sulky grimace, like a child who'd just been told Halloween was canceled.
"Seven o'clock," Filch muttered finally, turning away. "And you'd better not let me see you—"
Whatever came after that trailed off into indistinct grumbling.
Albert didn't bother to listen. He was too busy marveling at how much the caretaker seemed to hate students. The man practically lived for the thrill of catching them in trouble.
The Great Hall was dim when Albert entered. The floating candles were extinguished, and the lively atmosphere from the night before had vanished.
He took one look around, then turned on his heel. There was still some time before breakfast. Perfect — he could explore the kitchens next.