"Do either of you have any idea what's in this box?" Lee Jordan asked, pointing with his toe at a square, wooden container sitting squarely on Albert's desk. A rich, savory aroma—definitely something warm, comforting, and forbidden—was escaping from the slight gap in the lid, completely overpowering the usual dusty smell of old parchment and the residual whiff of charcoal smoke from Lee's earlier charm mishap.
"I have no clue, but it smells amazing," George immediately responded, leaning in close and sniffing theatrically, his eyes narrowed with intense curiosity. "A scent like that demands immediate investigation, Lee."
"Do you think… Albert was so overcome with guilt about ruining our black market scheme that he brought us a late-night feast from the kitchen?" Fred speculated, his gaze locked on the appetizing container.
"Where is he?" George asked, ready to accost Albert immediately.
"He's taking a long, hot shower in the prefect's bathroom after that Herbology class; he was covered in more mud than Hagrid's boots," Lee Jordan reminded them.
The three boys exchanged a single, conspiratorial look. The unspoken agreement was instant and unanimous.
"Right, let's inspect the contents and offer him a detailed critique," George declared, his hand already reaching for the lid.
The next second, all three of them burst into slightly maniacal laughter, fueled by hunger and the thrill of mild transgression. George was the fastest. He whipped the lid off the box, releasing a dense cloud of fragrant steam that smelled wonderfully of butter, spice, and something sharp and piquant.
The three immediately crowded the box, their heads touching as they tried to peer inside.
What they saw was a single, generous portion of a golden-yellow, fluffy scramble.
"Is that… eggs?" Fred murmured, slightly confused.
"It is," George confirmed, wasting no time. He brazenly scooped a large piece up with his fingers—ignoring the perfectly good fork nearby—threw it into his mouth, and began chewing with gusto. "Definitely egg, but savory. And those tiny green flecks… I think that's garlic?"
"Don't be a savage, there's a proper fork right here!" Fred yelled impatiently, snatching the utensil and spearing a large bite. "Let me taste. I feel like Albert has invented yet another terrifyingly delicious new thing."
"He had the kitchen house-elves make it, then," the twins concluded in unison, having seen Albert often disappear in the direction of the Great Hall foundations. "He's corrupted their culinary standards."
"It's incredible," Lee Jordan said, having just taken his first bite. He chewed slowly, savoring the richness. "Wait a minute, should we perhaps try to leave him a reasonable portion of this… exquisite dish?"
Before the words had fully left his mouth, the plate was completely, meticulously clean.
"It seems… that idea was about thirty seconds too late," George muttered softly, looking at the empty box with a profound sense of momentary satisfaction, quickly replaced by guilt.
As they were nervously trying to wipe the evidence of their crime, the dormitory door opened. They simultaneously dropped their forks and looked up to see Albert, freshly showered and smelling of soap and steam, entering the room.
"What is wrong with the three of you?" Albert asked, genuinely puzzled by their guilty, frozen postures. His gaze naturally drifted to the open, empty box on his desk, and his face gave an almost imperceptible twitch. "All gone?"
"We were powerless to resist the scent," Fred confessed awkwardly, dropping his eyes.
"What is this dish called, Albert? It's truly exceptional," Lee Jordan quickly attempted to change the subject, but George clamped a hand over his mouth.
"We're truly sorry," the three culprits mumbled in unison.
"It's called Garlic Scrambled Eggs," Albert said calmly, though his eyes were narrowed.
"Garlic… Scrambled eggs?" Fred repeated, his mind making a dizzying leap of connection. He immediately looked toward the window where his experimental pot of garlic was growing. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.
The pot of garlic was bald. All the vibrant green shoots, which had been thriving just that morning, were gone, leaving only the brown, dirt-covered bulbs.
"You… you cooked our research material?" George asked, staring at the bare flowerpot, momentarily speechless with mock-outrage.
"I see you're enjoying the results of my agricultural efforts," Albert replied dryly, indicating the empty plate. "Don't worry, spring is fully here now; the garlic will sprout new shoots quickly. It's quite resilient."
The three of them remained speechless. They had to admit, the delicious taste of the caramelized garlic mixed with the creamy eggs far outweighed the loss of the shoots.
Lee Jordan cleared his throat. "Did you make it yourself? Or was this the work of your new protégé in the kitchens?"
"I merely supervised the house-elves," Albert remarked. "Those little creatures are talented. It actually makes me wonder if I could potentially acquire one after I graduate to help with household tasks."
"Mum has always wished for an elf to help with the constant cooking and cleaning," George muttered wistfully. "But obviously, we don't have one."
"It's common knowledge, George," Fred interjected. "Only the ancient wizarding families, or those who have acquired massive amounts of wealth, keep house-elves. They're not exactly available for hire at Gringotts."
"I don't have one either," Lee Jordan confirmed, shaking his head.
"Perhaps a large enough offer of Galleons would suffice?" Albert mused, pulling out his small notebook. "House-elves must have some point of origin or acquisition. Hmm, I'll research this later."
"You wouldn't actually… try to buy a house-elf, would you?" All three looked at Albert with wide-eyed suspicion, a prospect that somehow seemed darker than the Snow Mushroom scheme.
"With the right amount of Galleons, most problems can be solved, or at least circumvented," Albert explained dismissively, tucking his notebook away. "Now, enough of this conjecture. I need your help with a magical experiment."
"What kind of experiment?" George asked, instantly intrigued.
Albert raised his left wrist, which now sported the freshly polished, intricately runic-carved wooden bracelet.
"You three need to throw your pillows directly at me," Albert commanded.
"Are you certain?" Fred asked, already grabbing his feather-stuffed pillow.
The three of them grabbed their pillows and, following Albert's instruction, hurled them with synchronized enthusiasm.
The pillows flew directly toward Albert. However, about a foot from his wrist, they seemed to strike something invisible—an immediate, solid wall of force. Instead of connecting, the projectiles instantly bounced off the air with a soft thwump and unfolded harmlessly onto the floor.
"How did you do that?" The three boys immediately gathered around Albert, their earlier guilt forgotten, examining the air and the bracelet with intense curiosity. "Was that an invisible shield?"
"This is an Ironclad Amulet," Albert said, removing the wooden bracelet and holding it out for inspection. "It's a unique, self-designed magical artifact I made, utilizing a circuit of runes carved into the wood. In theory, it should passively emit a low-level Shield Charm, specifically tailored to deflect curses and physical objects, and potentially repel minor dark magic entities."
"I have a persistent feeling that you're just trying to trick us into believing you're a goblin craftsman," Fred said, taking the bracelet and examining the complex, flowing symbols closely. "But, I cannot deny that something truly magical happened. Was it really the effect of these symbols?"
"I'm not entirely sure yet," Albert admitted, shaking his head. "The effectiveness and the limit of the protection need to be tested repeatedly."
"My turn to test its limits!" Fred declared, slipping the bracelet onto his own wrist. "How do I activate the magic?"
"It should function passively just by being worn, or perhaps by being held tightly in the hand," Albert said, still uncertain of the exact activation conditions.
"Here comes the pillow!" George yelled, launching his pillow at Fred. The effect was immediate: the pillow hit the invisible barrier and rebounded perfectly, confirming the charm's passive effect.
"That is absolutely brilliant; you've created something incredible!" Lee Jordan exclaimed, his eyes shining with pure appreciation. "Think of the market for this! When someone tries to cast a spell on you in the corridors, you just casually raise your wrist, and the curse just… bounces off. That's truly awesome."
"Next, we must test the curse deflection!" George shouted excitedly, taking out his wand. "I will use a simple, non-harmful spell to confirm it can redirect magic. Albert, prepare to use the Barrier Charm (Oppugno)!"
"Tarantallegra!" Albert countered, pointing his wand at the twins. "I will use the Stuttering Charm!"
Albert raised his wand, but before the red spark of the spell could leave his wand tip and strike George, it hit the invisible shield radiating from the wooden bracelet. The spell ricocheted with an audible crack, veering off its intended course and hitting Lee Jordan squarely in the chest.
Lee Jordan let out a surprised yelp and was sent sprawling backward onto his bed with a violent thud, his limbs momentarily seizing up in an uncontrolled jigging motion for a few frantic seconds.
"Bloody hell, that actually hurt!" Lee Jordan complained incessantly, rubbing his back as he tried to stop twitching uncontrollably. "You absolutely did that on purpose, George!" He had clearly seen George's hand flinch, subtly deflecting the reflected curse right toward him.
"That is absolutely, breathtakingly cool!" Fred exclaimed, ignoring Lee's genuine distress.
"It's truly unbelievable," George added, his eyes meeting Fred's, a shared, avaricious thought passing between them. "This thing could easily sell for fifty Galleons! Maybe more!"
"You self-interested devils, now come and help me up!" Lee Jordan complained, managing to extricate himself from the tangled sheets.
"Apologies, Lee, I was overcome with enthusiasm," George said, not sounding entirely remorseful, but extending a hand to pull his friend up. "Are you alright? My deflection was purely accidental."
"Now it's my turn for the deflection test," Lee Jordan announced, snatching the wooden bracelet and slipping it onto his wrist. He was still vibrating slightly from the unexpected spell hit but was now determined to participate. "Hit me with a proper spell this time, Albert. A stronger, more effective one!"
"Stupefy!" Albert responded, his tone suddenly serious. He also wanted to test the precise power threshold of the Ironclad Charm he had bound to the bracelet. He didn't refuse the request.
Lee Jordan raised his wrist, feeling confident. The red jet of the Stunning Spell shot toward him, but this time, there was no sound, no visible deflection, and no bounce-back.
The spell hit him squarely in the chest.
Lee Jordan, clutching the unactivated wooden bracelet, instantly collapsed in a heap, hitting the floor with a loud thump, thoroughly and immediately stunned.
The room fell silent.
"The protection failed?" Fred asked, staring at the inert bracelet on Lee's wrist.
"It must have reached its power limit," Albert guessed, crouching down next to the motionless Lee Jordan. "This is merely a prototype, carved by a first-year. It's reasonable that a powerful spell like Stupefy would overwhelm the passive charm. It's working exactly as a test subject should."
"I think Lee Jordan's luck just completely ran out for the day," Fred commented, looking down at his motionless roommate with an expression that was half-pity, half-smugness.
"So, what should we do now?" George asked, staring at their suddenly unconscious friend. "Can you revive him, Albert?"
"Given the potency of the stunner, I think it's probably safest to let him sleep until morning," Albert said, rising to his feet.
"I agree entirely," Fred quickly concurred. "It gives us an excellent opportunity to try out that new chess set we borrowed from the library."