As George shrewdly pointed out, acquiring a single pair of skates was the only true hurdle, and Albert had already cleared that by borrowing the footwear from Shanna.
Albert placed Shanna's sleek, brown leather ice skates on a low, snow-covered bank, tracing them carefully with his wand. He whispered the incantation for the Copy Charm—a straightforward piece of magic, but one that required precise concentration to perfectly replicate both the complex structure of the boot and the sharp, thin blade beneath. With a clean, bright flash of light, two perfect, identical copies appeared beside the original pair.
"There you have it," Albert announced, picking up the copies. "Perfect, professional-grade skates. George, Fred, try these on."
However, the easy success of the Copy Charm highlighted a fundamental flaw in their plan—not in the spell, but in anatomy. While the charm replicates an object exactly, it does not account for size variations. Lee Jordan, whose feet were noticeably larger and broader than Shanna's, found himself unable to even squeeze his toes into the magically duplicated boots.
"Are you joking?" Lee groaned in disbelief, hopping awkwardly on one foot. "I'm stranded on the shoreline? I'm going to be stuck here watching you lot tumble for two hours?"
"I warned you, Lee, Transfiguration to change the size is extremely difficult with something as structurally complex as a metal blade," Albert explained, tying the laces on his own pair. "Your best bet is to find someone else—perhaps a seventh-year with enormous feet—and I will copy their skates. Until then, you are our designated medic and cheer squad."
Lee Jordan was left dejectedly standing on the snow-dusted grass near the edge of the Black Lake. Meanwhile, his three roommates, now equipped with identical skates, were ready to embrace the new Muggle sport.
Albert, having already practiced and benefited from a quiet evening spent with his Skill Panel, felt the familiar, comfortable assurance beneath his feet. He took a wide, graceful push-off and began to glide, his brown leather boots bending inward naturally as he adjusted to the feeling of slicing the ice.
The Weasley twins, however, were instantly introduced to the brutal realities of gravity and friction.
George, taking his first tentative step, looked like a newly hatched flamingo attempting to find balance. His legs immediately splayed in opposite directions, and only a frantic grab at a nearby fence post saved him from an immediate crash.
Fred, next to him, fared considerably worse. His first independent movement was an uncoordinated lurch, resulting in a spectacular, sprawling fall that landed him squarely on his tailbone with a resonant thump that echoed across the frozen lake. He let out a pained, winded groan.
"Ugh! I see why they don't play this sport at Hogwarts. It's absolutely humiliating!" Fred wheezed, slowly pushing himself up with Lee Jordan's help.
"Watch out, don't use my head as a support pillar!" Lee Jordan shouted, struggling to maintain his own balance on the slippery bank while supporting Fred.
"Are you two actually alright?" Shanna asked, gliding up to them with a smooth, effortless stop that sprayed a light shower of ice chips. She looked entirely comfortable, weaving through the small, chaotic area near the bank.
Albert stopped next to Shanna, his movements fluid and easy, making the twins' efforts look almost pathetic by comparison. He watched the twins, who were wobbling precariously.
"I warned them repeatedly," Albert sighed, shaking his head with mock pity. "It takes a bit of time to get the balance right. It's perfectly normal for them to experience a few involuntary tumbles at the beginning."
"You actually can skate!" Shanna exclaimed, watching Albert's easy shift of weight. "And you said you were only 'so-so'—you're practically flying! Albert, you truly can do everything."
"I've had a little practice before; my family made me try it a few times," Albert lied smoothly, reinforcing his story. He certainly wouldn't mention the [Skating (Muggle)] entry on his Skill Panel that now sat at a comfortable Level 1, ensuring his movements were fundamentally sound and stable.
"Someone must teach us how to navigate this icy trap!" George shouted, still clinging desperately to Fred's shoulder. "I've successfully mastered complex Transfiguration, but I can't stand upright on two blades of metal?!"
"I'm afraid I'm useless as an instructor," Albert shrugged again, the picture of false humility. "My skating skills are genuinely terrible. I only managed to stay upright after years of clumsy attempts."
Just then, a flash of red and yellow zipped past. Mario, Danny, and Jack—the three chasers from the Gryffindor Quidditch team, whom Albert mentally dubbed the 'Acrobatic Trio'—executed a perfect triple turn and slid to a halt in front of Albert and Shanna. They were clearly incredibly skilled, weaving backward and forward with acrobatic grace.
"You guys are ice skating too?" Mario asked, his cheeks flushed from exertion.
George, spotting an acquaintance with visible talent, seized the opportunity. "Mario! Can one of you save us from this frozen humiliation? We need basic instruction on how to not fall on our faces!"
"We're only beginners ourselves, honestly, Fred," Danny replied modestly, executing a quick, sharp twist that sent a small fountain of ice into the air. "But we can give you a few pointers. Can't promise success though—skating requires a bit of natural talent and patience."
The trio of Quidditch players—fast, athletic, and already adept at controlling speed and balance—didn't mind helping out their housemates. Albert watched as Mario started patiently explaining the critical importance of keeping the knees bent, the ankles stiff, and the blades parallel—advice the twins were too busy falling to heed effectively.
Seeing his roommates were now safely under competent guidance, Albert turned to Shanna. "They're in good hands. Want to accompany me for a lap around the Black Lake? It's a spectacular view."
"Oh, I think I'll wait here for a while," Shanna said, politely declining after glancing briefly at the far, empty stretches of the lake.
"Very well. See you shortly." Albert gave a quick wave and pushed off, gliding smoothly away from the crowded edge.
The Black Lake at Hogwarts was truly immense, and as Albert gained speed, the scenery began to blur into a magnificent, panoramic vista. He relished the unique solitude and the feeling of effortless speed. It was indeed a novel perspective; few students took the time to appreciate the castle from this vast, icy vantage point. He resolved to ask for a camera sometime soon.
Albert completed his first full circuit, his legs burning slightly but his movements still precise and controlled. As he neared the castle shoreline again, he slowed down and encountered two acquaintances: the red-haired McDougal sisters from Ravenclaw.
Katrina McDougal had clearly been attempting to skate, but the effort ended abruptly as her sister, Isabel, let go of her hand. Katrina slipped wildly, her feet flying out from under her, and she landed flat on her back with a painful thwack.
Albert quickly swerved around the fallen girl to avoid a collision. He knew the danger of uncoordinated beginners.
"Are you alright, Katrina?" Albert asked, seeing that Isabel, though concerned, wasn't immediately offering a hand, perhaps allowing her sister a chance to figure out how to stand. Albert reached down and pulled Katrina up from the ice.
"Oh, thank you, Albert," Katrina said, thoroughly embarrassed by her ungraceful entrance and slightly disheveled appearance. "This is much harder than it looks."
"You're very welcome," Albert replied, still holding her arm, as she seemed prone to falling again.
"Katrina, I fear you are entirely devoid of any talent for this particular activity," Isabel observed dryly, shaking her head.
"Long time no see, Isabel," Albert said, turning to the elder sister. "I managed to read your extended paper on the reverse-application of Gamp's Law; it was remarkably detailed. A pity about the award."
"Thank you," Isabel replied, accepting the compliment with a modest nod. "I never truly expected to win the Most Promising Newcomer in Transfiguration Award, as you are aware. It felt far too early for me, given the competition."
"You two know each other outside of class?" Katrina asked, watching the two intellectual peers with a puzzled expression.
"Yes, we both regularly attend Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration Club," Albert explained.
"Albert is a true genius in Transfiguration—and in many other fields, I suspect," Isabel stated suddenly, her expression turning serious.
"Now, are you two simply going to stand here and offer each other thinly veiled flattery?" Katrina asked, now looking genuinely skeptical.
"This is not flattery, Katrina, it's merely a statement of empirical fact," Isabel insisted, her Ravenclaw sensibility offended by the term. "By the way, Albert, my paper utilized a small part of your earlier theoretical work regarding the elemental components of non-transfigured matter. I hope you didn't mind the citation."
"I don't mind in the slightest," Albert waved off the concern. "Professor McGonagall mentioned it, and I gave my full agreement. It's all just ideas floating around the school library, after all."
Albert gently passed Katrina's arm back to Isabel, ensuring the younger girl was steady. "I should continue my circuit. I'll see you both at the next Transfiguration Club meeting."
He pushed off to leave, but Isabel's voice cut through the air, carrying a weight that belied the casual setting.
"Albert," she called out. "I heard you are quite familiar with Professor Bardbrod?"
Albert was instantly pulled from the casual atmosphere of the lake. He stopped, executing a smooth, controlled turn. Why would she bring this up? He felt a knot of suspicion tighten in his stomach.
"I'm not particularly close to him, no," Albert answered truthfully, but cautiously. "I've been to Professor Bardbrod's office a few times to discuss the concepts of Defense Against the Dark Arts, as I find the theory intriguing."
"It seems he thinks highly of you," Isabel said, her gaze steady and meaningful, devoid of the previous academic politeness.
"What exactly is wrong?" Albert looked at Isabel with genuine confusion, sensing a deeper significance to her words.
"Professor Bardbrod is considered a very famous and highly regarded wizard in the wider community. If you cultivate that connection, you could stand to gain a great deal of knowledge," Isabel said, her tone sounding almost like a cryptic piece of advice. "If one wishes to excel in any obscure or specialized field, one must always seek communication with those who possess the highest mastery in that field. Use the opportunity wisely."
"Oh, thank you for the reminder," Albert replied, slightly stunned by the unusual gravity of her delivery. He nodded and pushed off again, gliding away.
As he skated, his mind was a storm of deduction. Isabel hadn't just called him a professor; she had called him a "very famous" wizard, implying a reputation that transcended a mere teaching position. Why was his status being discussed, and why did Isabel feel the need to offer a subtle, unsolicited warning-cum-encouragement?
Professor Bardbrod is indeed strange. Albert decided he absolutely needed to allocate time to research the man—his background, his reputation, and the nature of the "advanced research" he was conducting in the Room of Requirement. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to connect in an increasingly worrying way.
Albert completed his circuit, the sun now hanging higher in the winter sky. When he finally returned to the bustling corner of the lake near the castle, he found a scene of moderate defeat.
Lee Jordan was still standing on the shore, his arms crossed, watching a very patient Mario attempt to instruct a struggling student on the basics of the heel-turn.
"Where are the Weasley brothers?" Albert asked, slightly surprised that his energetic roommates had disappeared.
"They've thrown in the towel," Danny shrugged, performing a graceful stop nearby. "They decided Quidditch was much more dignified. They realized falling over repeatedly wasn't worth the effort. Only Lee Jordan remains committed to the principle of not giving up, but even he's had a particularly bad tumble already, even without skates."
Lee Jordan glared at Albert, still annoyed about being sidelined. "You missed the best part: Fred declared that Muggle sports were too 'brutal' and needed to be 'sanitized' with proper enchantments to make them enjoyable."