In the pre-dawn stillness of the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, Albert gently extricated himself from the confines of his four-poster bed. The room was shrouded in the kind of deep, oppressive darkness only broken by the occasional, distant flicker of moonlight filtering through the high windows. The air was cold, carrying the damp, stony chill of the castle. He could hear the heavy, steady breathing of his other roommates, a rhythmic testament to their deep, homework-induced sleep.
He was in the silent process of pulling on his thick woolen sweater when a familiar, low voice sliced through the silence.
"We were beginning to think the promise of an adventure wasn't enough to drag you out of bed."
Albert turned his head to see Fred already sitting upright, a playful smirk visible in the faint light cast by a tiny Lumos spark hovering near his wand tip.
"And there, George, is the proof that I was correct," Fred continued, tilting his head toward the next bed. "I told you that Albert operates on a level of focused intent. If he says he'll wake up, he will."
George sighed dramatically from his own perch, also fully dressed. "Fine, you win the shilling. I genuinely thought he'd succumb to the inertia of the holiday routine." He offered a slightly annoyed, yet equally bright grin. "Good evening, or rather, good morning, Albert. Are we all set to proceed?"
"Indeed," Albert replied, pulling the thick, familiar scarf Nia had knitted for him snug around his neck. He looked at the twins. "I recommend adding an extra layer. The castle stone retains the cold ruthlessly this time of year."
"We are veterans of nocturnal expeditions, Albert," Fred boasted, pulling on a reinforced jacket. "We always dress for the hostile climate of the dungeons."
The three of them slipped out of the dormitory, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of the Common Room stairs. The immense circular room felt alien in the silence—the immense fireplace a cold, black hole, and the discarded cushions scattered like sleeping beasts.
Once they reached the portrait hole, Albert held up his hand, signaling a pause. He raised his wand, prepared to cast the complex, concentration-heavy Disillusionment Charm on all three of them.
"Now for the camouflaging charm," Albert murmured. "Stick close. It's an effective spell, but if we stray too far, the magical connection could weaken, and one of you might suddenly appear, looking like a disembodied head floating in the corridor."
"Hold that thought," Fred interrupted, his eyes gleaming with secret knowledge. "Where exactly are we headed first?"
"The Forbidden Section, of course," Albert confirmed, lowering his voice again. "I intend to secure a few specific texts that are crucial for my continued studies. Specifically, I'm looking for advanced texts on Spell Formulation, Power Potions, and, most immediately, any records pertaining to Felix Felicis."
The mention of the legendary potion immediately captured the twins' full attention.
"Ah, so you are indeed planning to attempt to brew the good-fortune enhancer?" George asked, a deep, avaricious spark in his eyes.
"It is a necessity," Albert stated with absolute, self-assured confidence. "It is currently beyond my reach, but I am entirely certain that I will master it in the future. The sheer difficulty only confirms its value. With my understanding of Potions and the aid of my unique learning method, I will eventually unlock its secrets."
"So, you're planning to sell Liquid Luck and establish a market dominance in the ultimate magical commodity?" Fred challenged, calculating the massive profits mentally. "I bet that would be the biggest seller in the history of Hogwarts enterprises. Count us in, Albert; let's get wealthy together."
Albert calculated the market value instantly. "A small, single dose of true Felix Felicis should easily command a price of twenty Galleons, potentially more, given its scarcity and the desperate need most people have for guaranteed success."
"A single shot! Twenty Galleons!" the twins gasped in synchronized awe, their voices rising instantly, though they quickly clamped down on the volume.
"Felix Felicis is indeed one of the most valuable liquid assets in the world," Albert cautioned, lowering the tone to one of serious warning. "But the value reflects the difficulty. It requires an advanced, almost alchemical precision. It is said that only the most highly skilled, near-legendary Potions Masters can brew it consistently, and even they cannot guarantee success. Failure means that the three months or more of meticulous, continuous labor, preparation, and expensive ingredients are completely wasted, often resulting in a lethal toxic substance."
Albert knew the truth: the potion didn't bring random good luck; it simply made the imbiber choose the most successful path every single time, giving the illusion of effortless victory. For someone with his existing capabilities, drinking it would provide a massive, temporary System Buff—the ultimate tactical advantage. He didn't just want the wealth; he wanted the sheer, overwhelming power of guaranteed success when he needed it most.
"That all sounds incredibly complicated and prone to explosions, which is exactly why you need a stealth expert like me on the team," Fred declared, turning serious. "But back to the current plan. Forget the Disillusionment Charm for now. We have a much, much better method for tonight."
"A better way?" Albert prompted, feigning confusion. He knew exactly what was coming, but he played the role of the knowledgeable outsider.
With a magician's flourish, the twins simultaneously produced an ancient, heavily creased, and worn piece of parchment from the inner pockets of their robes. It looked utterly worthless—yellowed, water-stained, and completely blank.
"Use this," George insisted, holding it up like a priceless artifact.
"This is what you managed to pilfer from Filch's Confiscated Supplies, High Danger drawer?" Albert scrutinized the blank sheet with his wand light. "It looks like nothing more than an old piece of discarded paper." He tapped it lightly with his wand. "Invisibility magic, perhaps? Or merely some kind of specialized vanishing ink?"
"This is a map, Albert," Fred whispered with pride radiating from his face. "The map of Hogwarts. But it requires the proper incantation to reveal itself. It is a thing of true beauty." George raised his wand and tapped the paper, his voice dropping to an almost ceremonial whisper. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
In the cold gloom of the Common Room, the transformation began. Lines of jet-black ink instantly burst forth from the parchment, spreading like an arcane web of arteries. Towers, corridors, classrooms, secret passages, and chambers sprang into detailed existence. Tiny, constantly moving dots, each labeled with a name, marked the location of every single person currently inside the castle walls.
"It is truly a masterwork of magical cartography," Albert said, his voice quiet with genuine respect, even as he maintained his facade of ignorance regarding its true creators. "The dedication required to map every turn, every hidden recess, every winding staircase is astounding. But what truly sets it apart is the tracking charm… a tracking magic of extremely high complexity."
George, mystified, asked, "Tracking magic? What do you mean?"
"The constantly moving dots," Albert explained, tracing the path of a tiny label marked 'Professor Severus Snape' currently patrolling the dungeons. "The creators didn't just map the structure of the castle; they implemented a highly advanced, continuous homing and recognition spell. It can identify individuals by name and track their movements in real-time. This level of charm work, incorporating both visual cartography and constant magical surveillance, is truly advanced. Its creators were brilliant, if profoundly mischievous, charmers."
"Brilliant is the word," Fred agreed, pointing to a small, labeled dot that had just reached the third-floor corridor. "Watch this. Right after midnight, Filch actually got up and decided to patrol the second and third floors—likely because of the conversation he overheard with you earlier. He was hunting for you, but luckily, you were sound asleep."
"He made a wasted trip, thanks to this map," George finished triumphantly. "We can see exactly where everyone is. We'll know precisely when and where to go to the Restricted Section."
Albert squinted his eyes, taking in the full scope of the map's complexity. He decided to use his meta-knowledge to test their loyalty and reveal his own greater knowledge of the castle's secrets—secrets even the map, created decades ago, didn't fully capture.
"So, you have the Marauder's Map," Albert said, using the name casually, as if it were a historical term. "And you've undoubtedly used it to memorize the locations of all the secret passages marked on it."
"Every single one," the twins whispered proudly. "We know them all, except perhaps the ones Snape seems to be guarding."
"I believe there is one significant secret of the castle that even this remarkable map has either failed to record, or its creators simply never discovered," Albert stated mysteriously.
"What secret could possibly escape the knowledge of the Marauders and the tracking of this map?" Fred challenged, instantly piqued.
"The secret of the 'Broom Cabinet' you two were so desperately searching for last term," Albert said, smiling knowingly.
"The broom cabinet that was always in a different place?" George recalled the frustrating wild goose chase. "You found it? The one that moved?"
"It's not a broom cabinet," Albert revealed softly. "Come with me. I suspect you two will be very surprised by the true nature of that space, and it might provide us with a much safer, more secure base of operations for our continued enterprises than even the secret passages."
Albert carefully folded his half of the map—which the twins insisted he keep for strategic planning—and led them out of the Common Room, ready to reveal one of the castle's deepest, most useful secrets.