In the dormitory, the group who had just finished Astronomy class crowded around George's bed, flipping through and discussing the contents of Simple Alchemy.
Albert had never imagined that Simple Alchemy would hold such appeal for Fred and George. Perhaps it was because the author was none other than Zonko of Zonko's Joke Shop.
Despite its title, the book was anything but simple for first-years. With their limited knowledge, it was difficult to fully understand or grasp its contents.
In Albert's eyes, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan's enthusiasm was entirely due to their associating Alchemy with Zonko's joke props.
If a real Alchemist saw this, what would he think?
Albert himself doubted the book's legitimacy. After finishing it, no Alchemy-related skill appeared on his panel. Normally, listening to, reading, or actively learning relevant knowledge would trigger related skills. The absence of any meant the book wasn't truly about Alchemy—or at least not enough to count.
He stirred his milk tea thoughtfully, then looked up at the three whispering boys and took a sip.
This was a good start, perhaps. He had only nudged them gently—what would they become in the future? He was curious.
"Aren't you eating?" Albert asked, shaking the bitten biscuit in his hand. "By the way, can you even understand that book?"
"Barely. But I didn't expect Zonko to be an expert in Alchemy," Lee Jordan said with admiration. Publishing a book suggested some level of skill.
"He's not an expert, but he knows enough. Otherwise, he couldn't make those joke props," Albert replied, finishing his biscuit and draining his tea. He stood and stretched, ready to rest.
"You've finished that book? Cough—water!"
Fred, talking with his mouth full of biscuit, choked.
"I've finished it. I'll return it to the library tomorrow," Albert said, pouring Fred a glass of water. "If you want to read it, come with me and borrow it yourself."
Fred recovered after gulping the water.
"Alright, I'll go with you tomorrow," George said, taking a biscuit from Lee Jordan's plate. He chewed thoughtfully, then asked, "Have you ever thought about—"
"No," Albert interrupted.
"I haven't even finished—" George looked at him, exasperated.
"Your little thoughts aren't hard to guess." Albert's expression said plainly, don't think I don't know what you're plotting. "Alchemy is at least third-year content. It's too difficult for you now. I doubt you even understand that book."
"I don't believe you don't understand it," Fred pouted.
If Albert truly hadn't understood it, he wouldn't have read the whole thing. Struggling through a book you couldn't comprehend was torture, and Albert wasn't the type for such hobbies.
"Understanding and being able to do are two different things," Albert reminded them. "Alchemy isn't as simple as you think. That book is basically a joke."
"We never said we wanted to learn Alchemy," Fred said slyly. "We just want to—"
"Fine, the Alchemy you want…" Albert thought for a moment, then pulled a crude wooden cross from his robe pocket and tossed it to George. "It's an amulet I made to protect against dark creatures. If you want to learn, start by practicing the Cutting Curse. Then I'll teach you."
"You're bluffing again!" Fred scoffed. "Besides, don't you think this cross is too ugly?"
Albert replied seriously, "This thing is worth two Galleons."
"Two Galleons?" Fred and George's voices rose in disbelief as they scrutinized the crude cross, trying to see why it was worth that much.
"Provided you can sell it," Lee Jordan muttered, rolling his eyes. After a month of living together, he knew Albert's personality well: six parts truth, four parts lies, enough to leave people dazed.
"Exactly," Albert said. "Its effect is the same as the amulets in that book. It's made from guardian tree wood. Most amulets on the market are guardian tree too—just fancier in style. But they're essentially the same."
"Does it actually work?" Fred asked skeptically.
"On the contrary, its effect… is extremely poor," Albert admitted. "According to the book, if you soak the cross in garlic, dry it, and repeat several times, you'll get a garlic-scented cross."
"That's a good idea. You can always make more whenever you want."
"But where do we get garlic?" Fred asked, suddenly interested. Garlic-flavored crosses? He'd heard they could repel dark creatures.
"Write it down first. Try it after the Christmas holiday," Albert said, his mouth twitching. He had only been joking, but the others were taking it seriously. He didn't want the dormitory reeking of garlic.
As for how the twins might court disaster at home during Christmas, that wasn't his problem.
"There should be garlic in the school kitchens!" George said. "We can ask the house-elves."
"If you want to eat garlic, they'll give you some. But if they know…" Albert smirked. "Would you dare waste it like that?"
"Alright!" Fred shrank back. If Professor McGonagall found out they were wasting garlic, his family would probably send a Howler.
George, ever whimsical, said, "We can get garlic from the kitchen, then borrow Hagrid's vegetable patch to grow our own. No shortage that way."
"That's a good idea!" The others nodded, praising him.
Albert was stunned. For the first time, he felt his roommates' thinking was on a completely different wavelength.
"Are you seriously planning to… grow garlic yourselves?"
"Of course," the twins said in unison.
"Do you even know how to grow garlic?" Albert asked cautiously.
"No, but Hagrid definitely does."
Albert's face twitched, and he didn't press further. He suspected Hagrid wouldn't let them mess around in his vegetable patch anyway.