When the four of them left the kitchens, their stomachs were full of cream cakes and milk tea, and their pockets bulged with egg custard biscuits and pies pressed on them by the eager House-elves.
"Curfew's in ten minutes—we'd better hurry back," Albert reminded them.
But as they crossed the Entrance Hall, Madam Norris spotted them. The caretaker's cat slunk off, and moments later Filch appeared, his lantern swinging ominously.
Fred and George stiffened, guilt prickling. Fred's hand instinctively brushed the pocket where the Marauder's Map lay hidden.
"You two…" Filch's voice dripped with malice. "Detention tomorrow night at seven. You'll polish every trophy in the Trophy Room. Perhaps then you'll learn some House pride. Gryffindor's points have dropped to last place again."
The four stood silently, Albert chewing a pie that muffled the tension.
"Back to your common room," Filch snarled. "If I catch you wandering after curfew again, detention will be the least of your worries." He stalked off, muttering.
"What a miserable old codger," George muttered, making a rude gesture at Filch's retreating back.
"I thought you were going to teach us the Scouring Charm," Fred said to Albert hopefully.
"Too late. You can't master it in a day," Albert replied, checking his pocket watch as they mounted the moving staircase.
"Cheer up," Lee Jordan said with mock sympathy. "At least it's polishing trophies, not scrubbing bedpans. Think of poor William. And there are two of you—it'll be quick." His tone was far too gleeful.
"Get lost, you traitor," Fred snapped. Then, turning back to Albert: "Couldn't you help us with—"
"Transfiguration Club," Albert interrupted.
"What?" Fred blinked.
"He means it's tomorrow night too," Lee explained, slinging an arm around Fred. "So forget it—you're doomed."
They wound their way through secret passages toward the eighth floor, nearly colliding with Professor Bard Broad.
"Good evening, Professor," Albert greeted politely.
"Good evening, Mr. Anderson." Broad's gaze lingered on Albert, sharp and appraising. "Curfew approaches. Best return to your common room."
After he left, Fred whispered, astonished, "He actually knows you!"
Albert frowned, glancing at the wall where the Room of Requirement lay hidden. Had it… shifted? And Broad's look—was he scrutinizing him?
Lee pointed at the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by trolls. "I checked earlier—no secret passage."
He wasn't wrong. The secret lay opposite, in the wall concealing the Room of Requirement, though few students knew it.
At last they reached the Fat Lady's portrait. She was humming tunelessly.
"Caput Draconis," George said.
She ignored him, continuing to sing.
"Caput Draconis," Fred repeated impatiently.
The Fat Lady glared, clearly annoyed at being interrupted, and swung open grudgingly.
"She's got no talent for singing," Albert muttered as they entered.
The common room was scattered with students bent over homework.
"Where've you been?" Charlie, already in pajamas, strode over. "Quidditch training tomorrow afternoon. Be at the pitch by six-thirty—I'll give you half an hour of drills."
"Sorry, Charlie. We can't," George said miserably.
"Why not?"
"Detention with Filch," Fred groaned.
Charlie sighed. "Fine. Next practice then. If you want to make the team next year, you'd better train hard. It'll give you an edge."
Not long after, Percy appeared, clutching his finished homework.
"Don't nag, Percy—Charlie already did," George snapped.
Albert excused himself, heading for the stairs.
Percy glared at the twins. "Stop provoking Filch. You've dragged Gryffindor's points down to last place again. If you keep this up—wandering after curfew—I'll write to Mum."
George mimicked Percy's pompous tone for his roommates, earning laughter.
"As if Gryffindor losing the House Cup is all our fault," Fred scoffed.
"Isn't it normal?" Albert said matter-of-factly. "Unless we win three Quidditch matches, the Cup's out of reach."
George grinned. "You really get us."
Albert rolled his eyes. "It's just the truth."
"Percy knows it too," Fred muttered. "He just likes lecturing."
Albert's eyes narrowed as a familiar shimmer appeared before him:
Quest: Gryffindor's Glory
Gryffindor has been without the House Cup for five years.Unleash your strength and help Gryffindor reclaim it.
Reward: 1 skill point.
Albert's mouth twitched. Was this even possible for one person?
Well, there was no time limit. He could always wait for the Boy Who Lived to arrive and ride the wave.
Yes… that sounded like a plan.