Many witches and wizards refuse to give up until they've run headlong into failure. Albert's roommates were no exception.
After poring over the first volume of Practical Defensive Magic and Its Restraint Against Dark Arts, the temptation to try was too strong.
"Protego!" Fred cried, slashing his wand downward as the book instructed. Nothing happened.
"The Shield Charm doesn't give off light," George reminded him, frowning as he compared their wand movements.
"Try again," Lee Jordan urged, snatching up Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection and hurling it at Fred.
"Are you trying to kill me?" Fred yelped, dodging the flying book.
"Danger sharpens skill! And a book won't kill you," Lee retorted.
Albert groaned. "Use this instead." He lobbed Fred's pillow at Lee. "Honestly, throwing books is asking for trouble."
Albert was right. After being pummeled by his own pillow several times, Fred gave up in frustration. George and Lee fared no better.
"Stick to simpler spells," Albert sighed, rolling his eyes.
Overconfidence, greed—Professor McGonagall had probably looked at him the same way once. But Albert was different. He had his own peculiar advantage: a hidden panel and an experience pool. With enough practice, he could "cheat" by spending accumulated experience to master skills.
"Is there a quick trick to learning the Shield Charm?" Fred asked hopefully.
"Practice," Albert replied dryly. "That's the only trick."
"But how did you learn so much so quickly? Summer wasn't that long!" George muttered, clearly envious.
Albert hesitated, then said, "Think of it like chess. Talent helps, but practice makes you better. Magic's the same—spellcasting requires both talent and control."
"So you're saying your magical power is stronger than ours?" the twins demanded suspiciously.
"For now, yes," Albert admitted. "The more spells I master, the easier new ones become. Professor McGonagall once said Hogwarts exists to teach young witches and wizards how to control their magic. I think she's right."
Fred narrowed his eyes. "Feels like you're tricking us."
Albert shook his head. "I'm not. It's just my guess."
After repeated failures, the twins abandoned Protego and turned their attention to Alohomora. Hours later, Fred triumphed—his wand flick unlocked a drawer with a satisfying click.
"That's brilliant! How did you do it?" George demanded, glaring at his own stubborn drawer.
Albert, reading nearby, grinned. "Fred mastered Alohomora first, so I win." He handed Lee Jordan a Pepper Imp from Honeydukes. "A bet's a bet."
"What bet?" Fred asked curiously.
"On which of you would succeed first," Albert explained cheerfully. "Loser eats this."
George clapped Lee on the shoulder, grinning wickedly. He couldn't wait to see flames shoot from Lee's nostrils.
Lee groaned. "This is your fault." He popped the sweet into his mouth. His face flushed scarlet, sweat beading on his forehead.
"So spicy—!" Flames burst from his nostrils, singeing George's face.
"You did that on purpose!" George spluttered, reeking of pepper.
Albert and Fred wisely retreated, unwilling to be collateral damage.
Minutes later, Lee returned from the washroom, nostrils still glowing red. "Never again," he grumbled.
"Next time, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans," Albert suggested with a wink, plucking three at random.
"That's better," Lee admitted grudgingly.
Albert popped a chocolate bean into his mouth and resumed reading Nineteenth-Century Spell Selection. He was already two-thirds through.
"Any progress on the Disillusionment Charm?" Fred asked.
"Not yet. It's far harder than Alohomora," Albert admitted. "I heard it's one of the spells Aurors must master." He feigned ignorance. "By the way, what exactly is an Auror?"
The twins exchanged horrified looks.
"It's over!" George groaned.
"What's over?" Albert asked innocently.
"We'll never learn the Disillusionment Charm this year," Fred wailed. "And it's the perfect spell for sneaking out at night!"