"I thought so too." Albert chuckled, glancing at the ghost drifting by. He raised a hand in greeting. "Good morning, Sir Nicholas."
"Good morning, child. Is something the matter?" the ghost replied, pausing midair.
"Sir, would you mind if I take a photo?" Albert asked, raising his camera.
"Oh! Certainly," said Sir Nicholas, puffing out his chest proudly. "Shall I strike a pose?"
"No need. Just look this way," Albert said, adjusting the angle before snapping the picture.
"Is that all?"
"Yes. Thank you, Sir Nicholas."
"You're welcome! I'll be off, then!" The ghost gave a flourishing bow and floated through the nearest wall.
Angelina leaned over curiously, trying to see the photograph—but the picture was blank.
"It seems Muggle cameras can't capture ghosts," Albert said thoughtfully. "Maybe a wizard camera could." He scribbled Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington on the back of the photo.
"It's amazing you can remember his full name," Angelina said, impressed. "I can't even repeat it."
"It's not the camera's fault," a calm voice interrupted.
They turned to see a red-haired girl entering the Great Hall. She caught their surprised looks and explained, "Once developed with the proper potion, wizarding photographs can move. But ghosts are spirits — they can't be captured by any camera."
With that, she walked off toward the Ravenclaw table.
"Wow. A true Ravenclaw—knows everything," George said dramatically.
"She really does," Albert admitted with a laugh. Then he turned to Angelina. "Want to join us after breakfast? We're going to explore more of the castle."
"I think I'll pass," Angelina said after a pause. "I promised someone else I'd meet them."
"That's a shame." Albert picked up an apple and took a thoughtful bite, already wondering where he could get the developing potion she mentioned.
By now, the Great Hall was slowly filling with students—mostly first-years. It seemed the older students preferred to sleep in on weekends, while the new ones were eager to explore every corridor of Hogwarts.
After saying goodbye to Angelina, Albert and the others wandered out of the Great Hall. As they passed through the Entrance Hall, all four noticed Filch standing there with Mrs. Norris in his arms, glaring at them suspiciously.
Albert frowned. A new task appeared on his panel:
[Malice from the Caretaker]
You've caught the attention of Hogwarts' caretaker, Filch. It's time to fight back.
During a night excursion, evade Filch's pursuit and show him that, even if he targets you, he won't find a trace.
Reward: 1000 experience points
Albert's mouth twitched. Ever since arriving at Hogwarts, new quests seemed to appear far too often.
"What's wrong?" Fred asked, noticing him pause.
"Nothing," Albert said quickly, lengthening his stride to catch up. As they crossed the damp stone viaduct, he suddenly asked, "Do you know the Disillusionment Charm?"
"What's that?" George asked, intrigued.
"It's an invisibility spell," Albert explained. "It makes the target blend into their surroundings, like a chameleon."
"That sounds brilliant," George said eagerly. "If we learn that, Filch will never catch us sneaking out."
"Exactly," Albert said with a grin. "That's my plan. I want to learn it before we go on any night adventures."
"But where do we get the incantation?" Fred asked, frustrated. "Dad might know, but he'd never tell us."
"We could ask a professor," Lee suggested.
Albert shook his head. "Better to start in the library. If we can't find it there, maybe we'll ask the Charms professor—but I doubt he'll teach it to us. He'd probably assume we want it for sneaking around."
The boys exchanged resigned looks. If they could master that spell, their lives at Hogwarts would become much easier.
Albert paused by the railing of the viaduct, gazing down at the misty valley below. A strange thought crossed his mind — in the story he remembered, Harry Potter had broken the Elder Wand here, tossing it away like a stick.
What a waste.
The Elder Wand was a legendary artifact. Even if he didn't use it, he could have hidden it. Between that and the Philosopher's Stone, both treasures had been destroyed by sentimental fools.
"In any case," Albert said, pulling himself from his thoughts, "let's find the library first."
"Even if we do, we probably won't be able to learn it yet," Lee said glumly. "I can barely cast the simplest spells."
"Don't be so pessimistic." Albert shot him a look. "How do you think I learned my spells?"
"How did you learn them?" the Twins asked, leaning in.
"Practice," Albert said flatly. "Hours and hours of it. Magic doesn't just happen."
They continued chatting as they explored the first floor of the castle, finding a few unused classrooms filled with dusty junk and even what looked like a hidden passageway — though none of them could open it. That frustrated them most of all.
"Most secret passages need passwords or a special rhythm of knocks," Albert explained. "Otherwise, you have to rely on luck — or find someone who already knows. But I doubt anyone would tell us."
"Transfiguration classroom," George said, pointing at the brass plaque beside the door. "Professor McGonagall teaches here."
"I heard that class is really hard," Lee whispered.
"It is," Albert said with a knowing smile. "Took me ages to learn how to turn a matchstick into a needle. But once you get the hang of it, the rest isn't so bad."
They eventually found the History of Magic classroom on the second floor — a relief, since the door plaques helped them avoid wandering in circles.
"Hey, look here!" Lee pointed to a wooden door half-hidden behind a stone statue. "That's got to be a secret passage."
"It's locked," Fred said, tugging at the handle.
Albert drew his wand. "Alohomora."
Nothing happened.
"Your spell didn't work," Fred said, trying again himself. The door didn't budge.
"It probably needs a password," Albert muttered.
"What kind of password?" Lee asked.
"How should I know?" Albert rolled his eyes, then said thoughtfully, "In Muggle stories, the most famous one is 'Open Sesame.' It's from Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves."
As he spoke, his wand accidentally tapped the door.
There was a loud crack.
The wooden boards suddenly burst off their hinges, splintering as if they'd been blasted apart.
All four boys froze, staring at the wreckage — mouths open, eyes wide — completely stunned by what had just happened.