The rumors of a screaming beast in the woods had reached a fever pitch by Saturday morning, but Albert was more concerned with a different kind of horror: the British education system's elective choices.
In the Great Hall, the air was thick with the scent of sizzling sausages and the frantic energy of second-years realizing their childhood was effectively over. Beside Albert, Sanna and Percy Weasley were locked in a hushed, intense debate over third-year course loads.
"Muggle Studies, Divination, and Arithmancy," Albert said, casually spreading a thick layer of orange marmalade over a piece of perfectly charred toast. "If you want a life outside the library, Sanna, those are your best bets."
He took a bite, looking thoughtful. "Ancient Runes is basically like trying to learn a dead language while the grammar rules actively try to hex you. And Care of Magical Creatures? Most of the girls in our year lose interest the moment they realize 'cute' isn't a requirement for a passing grade. Unless you enjoy scrubbing Flobberworm mucus, I'd skip it."
Sanna looked at Percy, then back at Albert. "But you're taking everything, aren't you? And Percy did too."
Percy puffed out his chest slightly, his prefect badge catching the morning light. "It's a significant undertaking. The scheduling alone is enough to cause a nervous breakdown by fifth year. Though, for someone with Albert's... unusual capacity for focus, it's probably just a Tuesday."
"All of them," Albert confirmed, finishing his toast. "Twelve subjects. It's the only way to get a complete picture of the curriculum."
"Then maybe I should try it too?" Sanna bit her lip. "Muggle Studies is a joke for those of us who grew up in the non-magical world. That's one free period right there. So it's really only four new classes..."
"Don't measure your stamina against Albert's," Percy warned her gently. "He's already sitting in on N.E.W.T. level Ancient Runes sessions. For him, the third-year course is basically a nap. You need to consider if you actually want to spend your weekends buried in star charts and number-crunched prophecies."
Albert smiled inwardly. His "financial dream" from his previous life—the one where he wore a suit and manipulated stock markets—had long ago been kicked into a dusty corner of his mind. Why gamble with numbers when you can gamble with reality? Still, his background in economics made Arithmancy feel more like a hobby than a chore. He still read the occasional Muggle finance textbook he had delivered, convinced that the logic of "capital accumulation" would be the ultimate weapon in the wizarding world.
As he finished a bowl of corn chowder, Fred and George stumbled into the hall, looking like they'd been dragged through a hedge backward.
"Charlie is a maniac," Fred groaned, collapsing into the seat opposite Albert. "He had us doing tactical dives in a crosswind for three hours. My broom has more splinters than I do."
"I'm going down to see Hagrid in a bit," Albert interrupted, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Any of you lot want to come along? The fresh air might do your lungs some good."
The twins exchanged a look. "Nah," George said, reaching for a pile of bacon. "Hagrid's great and all, but every time we visit, he starts asking about 'who let the Billywigs into the greenhouses,' and we have to pretend we don't know what he's talking about. It's exhausting."
"Suit yourselves," Albert shrugged.
Just then, the morning post arrived. A deluge of owls swept into the hall, a feathered chaotic cloud. One particularly robust school owl dropped a heavy envelope onto Albert's lap. He checked the seal: Adolf.
Finally, Albert thought. The correspondence from France had taken its sweet time. He didn't want to exhaust his own owl, Shera, with long-distance international flights, so he'd been utilizing the school's communal owlry. It saved him a fortune in postage, even if it lacked the personal touch. He stuffed the letter into his pocket, his mind already drifting toward the Forbidden Forest.
He left the castle, the winter air crisp against his face, and headed toward the small wooden hut on the edge of the trees. Hagrid was already outside, but he didn't look like he was preparing for tea. He was carrying his massive crossbow, and Fang was whimpering at his heels, his tail tucked between his legs.
"Morning, Hagrid," Albert called out. "Going hunting?"
Hagrid jumped, nearly dropping the bow. He looked around nervously, his beard twitching. "Oh, Albert... it's you. Sorry, lad, I can't stop. Something's happened. Something bad."
"Let me guess," Albert said, watching Fang cower. "Fluffy?"
Hagrid's face paled. He pulled Albert closer to the hut, his voice a frantic whisper. "He got too big, Albert. Stronger than I thought. He chewed right through the enchanted vines last night and just... vanished into the deep woods. He's gone."
Albert didn't look surprised. In fact, he looked down at the empty air in front of him, where a new quest window had just popped up:
[Quest: Find the "Pet Dog". Objective: Help Hagrid recover his runaway Cerberus, Fluffy. Reward: 1500 XP, Hagrid Favorability +10, Special Gift.]
Pet dog? Albert thought with a mental sigh. The system's sense of humor is getting dryer by the day.
"Have you told Dumbledore yet?" Albert asked, his voice stern.
Hagrid looked miserable. "No... the Headmaster's got enough on his plate with the Ministry poking around. I figured I'd track him myself. I don't want to be a bother."
"Hagrid, you aren't being a bother; you're being a liability," Albert said, his tone shifting into that calm, logical register that usually made people listen. "A Cerberus isn't a runaway kneazle. If Fluffy stumbles onto a student during a Care of Magical Creatures class, you won't just be fired. Dumbledore will be held responsible for the safety of the school. His position is already precarious. You're putting him at risk by staying silent."
Hagrid's massive shoulders slumped. "I... I didn't think of it like that."
"If we don't find him by sundown, you have to go to the Headmaster," Albert insisted. "Wizards are fragile, Hagrid. One bite from a three-headed dog and it's over. Now, what's your plan? You aren't actually going to shoot him with that bow, are you?"
"No! Never!" Hagrid shook his head violently. "I just... I thought I'd lure him back with some music or a bit o' steak."
"Fluffy is in a forest full of things he can eat that don't come with a lecture," Albert noted. "If he's in a hunting mood, your steak won't mean much. And unless you've got an orchestra in your pocket, you won't get close enough to play him a lullaby before he decides which head gets to eat you first."
Hagrid bit his lip, looking at the dark tree-line. "I shouldn't involve you, Albert. It's too dangerous."
"Hagrid, I've been in that forest alone and come out without a scratch," Albert said, already stepping toward the woods. "And I'm the only one who knows about Fluffy who isn't going to report you the moment they see him. Besides, you need someone who can cast a Shield Charm that actually holds. Let's go."
Hagrid looked at the boy—really looked at him—and realized that Albert wasn't just a student anymore. He was a partner. "Thank you, lad. I... I really appreciate it."
"Just one thing," Albert added as they reached the edge of the shadows. "If we see an Acromantula, we run. I've got a history with those spiders, and I doubt they've forgotten the headache I gave them last year."
Hagrid nodded solemnly, and together, the giant and the boy stepped into the gloom of the Forbidden Forest, leaving the safety of the castle far behind. 🌲🐾