It was a sunny weekend.
A gentle autumn breeze drifted through the Gryffindor tower windows, carrying cool air as students played on the lawn below.
The door to the common room swung open, and Lee Jordan crawled in from the hallway. Spotting Albert by the fireplace, he hurried over.
"Albert, I heard you beat up a Slytherin student."
At once, heads turned. Many in the common room looked over, clearly intrigued.
"Oh?" Albert paused, looked up at Lee with a puzzled expression, and asked, "What do you mean I beat up a Slytherin student?"
"Literally."
Just then, the entrance opened again and Fred and George strode in.
"We heard you beat up a Slytherin," they said together, sizing him up. "Nice job. Next time, call us."
"What's going on?" Albert asked.
"You don't know?" George looked around at the others, confused.
"No," Albert shook his head. "I've been practicing the Cutting Curse."
"But everyone's talking about it!" Fred said, realizing something was off. "They said…"
"Stop. I don't remember hitting anyone," Albert cut him off. "Besides, look at my scrawny arms and legs—do I look like someone good at fighting?"
He even patted his wrist, as if to prove the point.
On the surface, Albert wasn't strong—at best, simply not thin.
"It's already good if they don't hit me," he added irritably, noting their surprised expressions.
"Did you cast a spell on them?" George asked. The rumor seemed unreliable, but if Albert had used magic, it would be believable. His skill was far beyond most first-years.
"Be careful, I'll accuse you of slander," Albert glared, pointing to the armchair and signaling them to sit down.
"Then what happened? Rumors don't come from nowhere," George pressed.
"Shut up. You believe such nonsense?" Albert snapped. "Do you want me to spread rumors that you hum and dance in the shower?"
"Is that true?" Lee Jordan's eyes gleamed with mischief.
"Be careful, I'll hit you. Albert said it's a rumor," Fred retorted irritably.
"Tell us, what happened?" George urged.
Albert sighed. "After breakfast, I went walking with my camera. On the second-floor hallway, I met a few Slytherins. They were walking side by side, so I stepped aside to let them pass. One still bumped my shoulder—and then fell to the ground clutching it in pain."
He looked innocent. "I reached out to help him up, and he screamed again, clutching his hand. I still don't understand what happened."
"That's it?" The three looked perplexed.
"Then why is everyone saying you beat him into the Hospital Wing?" George asked.
"How should I know?" Albert said seriously. "Maybe I told them to take him to the Hospital Wing for a check-up."
His version painted him as the innocent victim of an unprovoked disaster.
The three exchanged bewildered looks. To be honest, if they hadn't known Albert, they might have believed him. He was convincing enough that his story could have been true.
The actual version:
Albert had just finished breakfast and was carrying his camera when he encountered several Slytherins. They deliberately tried to shoulder him.
Albert wasn't one to be trifled with. If someone sought trouble, he wasn't afraid—whether by physical action or wandwork.
To onlookers, it appeared that the Slytherin fell clutching his shoulder, while Albert looked bewildered.
Albert then reached out to help him, but when the boy grabbed his hand, Albert squeezed back firmly, making him cry out in pain.
To witnesses, Albert seemed helpless and innocent. Yet somehow, the rumor spread that he had beaten the Slytherin.
"That person went to the Hospital Wing, supposedly healed by Madam Pomfrey."
"Actually, my shoulder's injured too," Albert said seriously.
The three rolled their eyes.
"Anyway, I'm also a victim. Who knew he was like fragile porcelain—breaking at a touch?"
Those nearby laughed at Albert's description. Gryffindor and Slytherin had always been at odds.
"What are you doing?" Lee Jordan asked, watching Albert cut a piece of wood.
"Didn't I say I'm practicing the Cutting Curse?" Albert picked up a rough wooden cross, with a few circular carvings beside it.
"This looks like wood from a guardian tree!" George exclaimed.
"Yes, I got it from Hagrid. Perfect for practicing the Cutting Curse," Albert nodded.
Fred picked up the cross. "But the workmanship's rough. Planning to give it as an amulet?"
"If I were making an amulet for someone, I'd make it more exquisite," Albert said irritably.
"Are you sure guardian tree wood can protect people from dark creatures?" George asked.
"Who knows?" Albert shrugged. "It's not hard to find out—I'll just ask someone."