September 3rd, the official first day of classes at Hogwarts, began with a dramatic shift in the weather. The gloomy rain of the weekend had been swept away, leaving behind a clear, cool morning.
Albert woke from a deep sleep, the silence in the dormitory unusual. He slowly climbed out of bed, padded barefoot to the window, and opened it, letting the brisk morning breeze air out the room. His three roommates—Fred, George, and Lee Jordan—were still profoundly asleep. They had spent half the night in front of the Daily Prophet, discussing the intricacies of the Quebec World Cup, which meant they were now enjoying a well-deserved, late rest. Albert had no intention of waking them; classes didn't start until nine o'clock, and rousing a group of avid sports fans after an all-night debate would be unnecessarily cruel.
After a quick wash and dress, Albert glanced at his schedule, checked his bag to ensure he had his books, quills, ink, and parchment, and then headed down to the Gryffindor common room.
A few early risers were already there, including a couple of students from his own year.
"Good morning, Wilson," Albert greeted a girl sitting quietly by the fire. She was flipping through Miranda Goshawk's Standard Book of Spells, Elementary, likely trying to cram a few basic wand movements before the morning's first Charms class.
The girl, Shanna Wilson, looked up, a slight embarrassment coloring her cheeks. She knew the boy was a fellow first-year, but she couldn't recall his name. "Good morning..."
"Albert Anderson. You can call me Albert," he supplied easily, noticing her discomfort. "Would you like to head down to the Great Hall for breakfast together?"
"Oh, okay... okay, Albert!" Shanna agreed, her voice a little hesitant. She quickly gathered her books and hurried to follow Albert out of the portrait hole.
As they walked through the castle, Shanna didn't say a word, instead following Albert closely and constantly glancing around, her gaze flitting from one painting to the next. She seemed to be trying desperately to memorize every twist and turn of the corridors.
Could it be that she doesn't know the way? Albert thought to himself.
It was entirely possible. Navigating Hogwarts was notoriously complicated, with its shifting staircases and labyrinthine passages. It was normal for even students with good spatial awareness to get lost initially, let alone someone who might be poor with directions.
Albert realized his suspicion was likely correct. Shanna was waiting in the lounge, hoping to attach herself to a group to avoid getting completely lost on the way to the Great Hall.
He knew that a surprising number of older Gryffindor students had a rather mean-spirited habit of not offering directions, stemming from their own frustrating experiences as new students. They would often stand back and enjoy watching the freshmen fall into one of the stair traps or wander aimlessly. Yesterday, Albert had seen several older students watching new arrivals struggle with the trick steps, then walking away laughing without offering help. Fortunately, that wasn't the norm; most students, especially those from Hufflepuff, were generally kinder.
Upon safely arriving at the brightly lit and bustling Great Hall, Shanna Wilson visibly relaxed.
Albert found a seat at the Gryffindor table and, first thing, poured himself a glass of milk and drank it down in one gulp. He looked up and found Shanna staring at him, her mouth slightly open, as if she were about to speak.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said, quickly collecting herself. "Do you... like milk, Albert?" she asked, trying to initiate a conversation. Like many Muggle-born students, she was eager to make friends, and Albert seemed approachable.
"Like it?" Albert shook his head. "I can't really say I like it. I'm just used to it. I started drinking a cup every morning when I was about seven. You get used to things when you do them long enough."
Shanna just stared for a moment, unable to find a response. The idea of drinking something consistently every morning for years just because she got used to it was a testament to Albert's quiet discipline, and she found herself admiring it.
Albert was already applying jam generously to a slice of toast and taking a big bite. Shanna, meanwhile, was carefully eating one of the traditional British fried eggs—the kind that are hard-boiled, peeled, coated in flour, and then deep-fried until golden brown. Albert personally found a regular soft-boiled egg superior, but he stuck to his self-made sandwich, layering bacon, sausage, and a small amount of vegetable salad between two slices of bread.
He also had a small bowl of hominy, a cornmeal porridge boiled with water and milk. It was only passable compared to the creamy, rich corn chowder his neighbor, Daisy, used to make—a dish that was, admittedly, one of her few culinary masterpieces.
After breakfast, Shanna finally gathered her courage and brought up the one topic that was clearly on her mind.
"I heard from Angelina Johnson that you've mastered many kinds of spells already," she began, her voice low and hesitant. "Is that true? How did you learn all that magic so quickly? We Muggle-borns feel so far behind."
"Well," Albert considered, thinking about how to explain the acquisition of skills without mentioning the Panel. "The main thing is you have to be genuinely interested in it first. And then..." he paused, "you also need to spend the time, every day, studying and practicing."
He truly believed interest was the catalyst. Without genuine curiosity, no one would willingly dedicate the necessary hours to serious study and tedious practice.
"Interested..." Shanna pondered the word. Students like her, who came from Muggle families, never imagined they would become witches or wizards and were still trying to grasp the reality of the new world. They certainly had a steep learning curve compared to those from magical families.
"Honestly, you don't have to worry too much," Albert said, realizing how discouraging this reality must be. "Everyone else is only fifty or a hundred steps ahead. If you just commit to spending a little more time on the core subjects, you'll catch up sooner than you think."
He instantly felt a twinge of guilt. His advice was generally sound, but how could he, with his system, preach study ethics? Not every student is a Hermione Granger, and that one almost ended up in Ravenclaw, he thought wryly.
"Does the same rule apply to you?" Shanna asked, looking at him intently.
"Of course, what else would it be?" Albert answered with a ready smile, though the guilt lingered.
He knew he was different. He had the Panel . While he always ensured he mastered knowledge through personal effort, the Panel gave him the option to simply upgrade skills, granting instant proficiency. If he had maximized his Wizard Bloodline, his magical learning speed would be exponentially faster than anyone else's, but he hadn't. He hadn't even claimed the rewards from any of the wizarding path quests.
He was still debating whether to wait until his Bloodline level was maxed out before claiming those quest rewards—it was the most experience-efficient method. But that brought him back to his fundamental dilemma: his future career.
If he truly decided to develop his life in the Muggle world, he had to reserve a massive store of experience and skill points to upgrade all the necessary economic and financial skills after he graduated from Hogwarts.
Forget it. I'll stop overthinking it, Albert decided, shaking off the distracting career concerns. He slowly opened his book, Selection of Nineteenth Century Spells. He was quite satisfied with his current strategy: perform well enough to appear gifted, but reserve his true potential (the stored experience and skill points) for when he needed it most. He always had his own personal cheat code ready to deploy.