The air on Saturday morning was crisp and clear, warmed by a brilliant winter sun—a truly perfect day for watching a Quidditch match.
At precisely half-past ten, Albert and his roommates, along with a slightly limping Lee Jordan and the athletic Shanna, set off from the main castle. They navigated the packed, snowy road leading up to the stadium stands.
The crowd was already thick, a sea of red and yellow scarves, buzzing with loud, competitive chatter about the likely outcome of the game. Gryffindor was facing Hufflepuff in what promised to be an aggressive match.
"Good morning, Hagrid," Albert greeted the massive gamekeeper, who was already positioned near the highest accessible point of the stands, clutching a comically small, well-worn pair of binoculars.
Hagrid beamed, his rough hand patting the thick, woolly hat on his head. "Ah, Albert, lad! Thank ye kindly for this hat. I never imagined I'd receive a Christmas present from a student, let alone one so warm!"
"Consider it a returning favour, Hagrid," Albert replied with a genuine smile.
"A returning favour?" Hagrid scratched his bearded chin, clearly puzzled. "What favour would that be, exactly?"
Albert raised his left wrist, revealing a newly crafted, intricate accessory. It was a delicate white bracelet, slightly rough to the touch, braided from a mixture of fine, shimmering unicorn tail hairs and slender, polished chips of Guardian Tree wood.
"This," Albert said, allowing Hagrid and the others a clear view, "is a good luck charm. I fashioned it using the unicorn tail hair Fred found and the Guardian branch you gifted me a while back. I imbued it with a few simple runes. It's meant to bring good fortune to the wearer."
Hagrid leaned in, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. "Bring good luck, you say? I've never heard tell of combining unicorn hair and a Guardian tree for luck. Unicorn hair is usually for wands, and Guardian wood is for protection, not fortune."
Fred and George, who had seen Albert struggling with the crafting process, couldn't suppress their amusement, elbowing each other and stifling snorts of laughter. The master deceiver is getting a taste of his own medicine!
"However," Hagrid coughed lightly, covering his mouth, "you've certainly woven the rope quite handsomely, lad."
"The aesthetic is secondary to the magical component, Hagrid," Albert corrected gently. He picked up one of the small, smooth pendants made from the Guardian wood chips and showed them the minuscule, delicately etched symbols he had carved—the very runes he had been showing the twins earlier in the common room.
"You actually carved those peculiar symbols on it?" George asked, still highly suspicious. "Are you absolutely certain this arrangement of squiggles does anything at all, or is it just a fashionable trinket?"
"Who knows for sure?" Albert shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps it will attract good fortune; if so, it's a massive profit for such simple materials."
Albert admitted internally that the bracelet was, in fact, an experiment that had likely failed. He had originally intended to carve powerful protective runes, but after several consecutive Guardian wood chips had shattered under the force of his beginner's carving spell, he had temporarily given up.
He settled instead for the simplest of all: the lucky rune for 'fortuna.' When he tried to 'activate' the completed charm using a drop of his own blood, as some ancient texts suggested, absolutely nothing happened. He wore it now purely as a long-term empirical test: does belief in luck create luck?
"Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff! Anyone care to place a wager on the victor?"
Their discussion was interrupted by the boisterous shouts of several older students who were walking through the stands, shaking wooden boxes containing betting slips and silver coins. This was the famous—and entirely unauthorized—student betting pool.
The twins instantly brightened, reaching for their pockets. Lee Jordan, despite his aching bones, pulled out a shiny silver coin.
"So, Albert, who gets the nod?" the three asked in unison, looking to him for a divinely inspired prediction.
"I'll back Gryffindor to catch the Golden Snitch and win, naturally," Albert stated, pulling out a single silver Sickle to place his bet.
"Right then, we're all following Albert's lead!" the three chorused, handing over their own coins.
The senior student running the ledger paused, pen poised over the parchment. "Lots of faith in red today. The odds on Gryffindor are only one-and-a-half to one. If you truly want to make a killing, Hufflepuff winning would net you three times your stake!"
"No, Gryffindor is fine," Albert insisted, unwavering.
The student took Albert's money. "Name for the ledger?"
"His name is Albert Anderson," Fred answered proudly, eager to see Albert's reputation immortalized in the betting book.
"Albert Anderson," the bookie muttered, scribbling a few words on a small slip of parchment, which he tore off and handed to Fred. "After the game, we'll be waiting by the exit. Bring this note to claim your winnings."
Albert shook his head at his friends, a genuine smile on his face. "Are you three entirely fearless when it comes to losing money?"
"We trust in your uncanny luck, Albert," Lee Jordan said earnestly. "If you've placed a wager, even if the payout is meager, we're willing to back your instinct."
"My luck?" Albert laughed, rolling his eyes. "Don't come crying to me if you lose your hard-earned Sickles."
"We won't," Fred said confidently. "The Gryffindor team has been training too hard to lose to Hufflepuff. It's simply not going to happen."
Hagrid, who had been listening from above, raised a cautionary finger. "Gambling is a bad habit, lads. Best avoid it."
"It's simply for the festive atmosphere, Hagrid, and to generate some good energy," Albert countered, winking at the gamekeeper. "Besides, I'm wearing my lucky rune bracelet today; I'm feeling particularly fortunate."
"I thought you were going to stake ten Galleons, given your famed confidence," George teased.
"And lose the entire sum when these privately run, unregulated betting rings inevitably disappear before paying out?" Albert shot back, his pragmatism showing. "Do you think for a minute they'd actually be able to cover ten Galleons if everyone won? They'd vanish faster than a Bludger hit by a Beater. I bet small because the odds of a payout are inversely proportional to the stake size."
"Hmm, it seems you have a firm grasp of the dark side of finance, Albert," Hagrid chuckled, nodding sagely. "A small, token wager is acceptable."
Lee Jordan leaned in to Hagrid. "Last time, he successfully bet one hundred Galleons on who the next Minister of Magic would be. His luck is, frankly, terrifyingly consistent."
Hagrid's jaw dropped slightly, and he immediately dismissed the thought of asking Albert for any betting advice. "Well, I still say don't gamble too much, lad! Nobody can win forever!"
"I know that very well, Hagrid," Albert said wryly. "Now, who do you actually expect to win?"
"Gryffindor, of course! You lot are the best!" Hagrid declared, though he quickly lowered his voice to reinforce his earlier point. "Still, best not to rely on luck alone."
The match was fierce and fast-paced. Lee Jordan, now in his role as commentator, was in top form, his voice booming over the magical amplification system, alternately celebrating Gryffindor's goals and loudly accusing the Hufflepuff players of various foul play offenses.
The Gryffindor team, led by Charlie Weasley as Seeker, played aggressively. The score remained neck-and-neck, making the small crowd tension nearly unbearable. Hufflepuff's Chasers were relentless, but Gryffindor's Keeper, Miles Bletchley, managed a number of spectacular saves. The Weasley twins, Fred and George, working as Beaters, were a chaotic blur of red, defending their teammates with vicious efficiency and sending Bludgers flying dangerously close to the opposing Seeker.
The game had stretched to nearly an hour when the shift happened. High above the pitch, a tiny, glittering flash—the Golden Snitch—was spotted near the Hufflepuff goalposts. Both Seekers—Charlie Weasley for Gryffindor and Cedric Diggory for Hufflepuff—shot upward in a synchronized dash.
It was a breathtaking, high-speed chase. Charlie Weasley, pushing his broom to its absolute limit, pulled a daring, near-vertical climb, outpacing Diggory by mere inches. His hand shot out, snatching the elusive, fluttering prize from the air.
A triumphant roar erupted from the Gryffindor stands. The match ended abruptly: Gryffindor won!
"We won!" Fred and George screamed, leaping into the air in a joint celebration hug.
"We actually won the bet!" Lee Jordan shouted, punching the air and nearly forgetting his injuries.
"The note! The parchment! Where is the blessed note?" George suddenly shrieked, looking frantically down at the ground.
In the midst of the chaotic celebration, the flimsy betting slip had fluttered away from Fred's grasping hand, carried by the subtle breeze. Hagrid, reacting quickly, reached down with his enormous hand, scooping the tiny piece of parchment from the snow before it could vanish entirely.
"Don't trust that unreliable fool!" Lee Jordan shouted, snatching the note from Fred and jamming it forcefully into Albert's hand. "Albert, you keep this. It's worth eight Sickles, you incompetent!"
"It was simply an accident! A momentary lapse!" Fred protested, though he had been rigid with panic moments before.
"Thank you, Hagrid, for saving our meager fortune," Albert said, accepting the crumpled note.
"You're welcome, lad," Hagrid grumbled good-naturedly.
Albert and his companions easily found the two senior students at the exit and, presenting the now-crumpled note, successfully claimed their eight silver Sickles—a tidy profit for a token bet.
"See now? My lucky charm works perfectly, doesn't it?" Albert winked at his roommates, tapping the white bracelet on his wrist. "The runes are clearly more potent than I initially suspected."
"Oh, you've always been inexplicably lucky, you fraud!" Fred grumbled affectionately, though the winnings had thoroughly elevated his mood.
As they walked away from the stadium, flushed with victory and minor financial success, Albert glanced toward the dark, looming outline of the Forbidden Forest.
"By the way, George, Fred, was it from this side of the woods you entered last time?" Albert asked innocently, gesturing toward a particularly dense area of trees, only a few feet from where Hagrid was still standing, gathering his things.
The twins froze instantly, their faces draining of colour. Blasted Albert! Hagrid is right there!
"You went into the woods?" Hagrid's head snapped around, his expression suddenly stern and wary as he looked at the four boys.
"Hagrid, we were hoping you might be willing to take us into the forest sometime, just to expand our horizons," Albert asked, pivoting smoothly and addressing the gamekeeper directly, completely disregarding the twins' sudden terror.
"Absolutely not," Hagrid refused immediately, his voice booming. "School rules are crystal clear. Students are not permitted to enter the woods. End of discussion."
Albert looked directly at the twins, giving them a slight, amused smile. "These two were just saying that the woods near the school were rather ordinary, Hagrid. They sneaked in last time and claimed there was nothing special to see."
"You traitorous, backstabbing…" the twins muttered under their breath, glaring at Albert with furious disbelief.
"Ahem, Hagrid," Albert continued smoothly, ignoring their fury. "We've all heard the stories about the Forbidden Forest. Instead of letting us sneak in and potentially get into real trouble, why don't you give us a guided tour? Just to satisfy our curiosity once and for all. After that, we promise we won't feel the need to trespass again."
Hagrid stood silent for a long moment, clearly torn between following the rules and managing the boys' persistent curiosity.
"I can't do that, Albert. What if something happens to you? I'm responsible for your safety."
"Can you not even guarantee our safety, Hagrid?" Albert challenged him gently, his tone implying that the mighty gamekeeper's abilities might be insufficient. "Is it that dangerous?"
"The school rules strictly prohibit students from entering the woods alone," Hagrid repeated, his voice defensive now.
"Actually, Hagrid, with all due respect, I believe Dumbledore's blanket prohibition against entering the woods only serves to increase the students' curiosity," Albert explained, using logic. "As far as I know, many people have already snuck in—my friends here are simply one convenient example. If we know what's in there, the mystery is gone, and so is the desire to break the rule."
Hagrid stared intently at the Weasley brothers, who looked ready to spontaneously combust from anxiety.
"A lot of people?" Hagrid asked, his eyes darting back to the twins.
"They are just a recent data point, Hagrid," Albert clarified quickly. "We were merely curious. And besides, you go into the woods regularly, don't you? You know it intimately."
Hagrid sighed, the sound like a distant, defeated storm. "Alright. Just this once. And you must not wander off, and I swear if I catch any of you so much as looking at the edge of the Forest again without my presence, I'll personally bring you to Professor McGonagall!"
"You see!" Albert declared, turning to the three dumbfounded boys with a triumphant, flashing grin. "The lucky charm works exceptionally well, doesn't it?"
Fred and his two companions stared at Albert, their expressions a mixture of astonishment and reluctant admiration. They had tried for weeks to evade Hagrid's notice; Albert had just used reverse psychology and diplomatic finesse to get the gamekeeper to personally escort them. The Forbidden Forest was now officially on their itinerary.