The threat of Percy's "hospital wing" punishment had successfully cleared the common room of eavesdroppers, but it hadn't done anything to lighten the atmospheric pressure of the approaching Easter holidays. At Hogwarts, Easter was a cruel joke—a "break" that consisted of replacing regular classes with a vertical climb of coursework so steep it made the Astronomy Tower look like a step-stool.
While the rest of the wizarding world was preparing for chocolate eggs and spring festivals, the second-years were drowning in parchment. Fred and George, in particular, looked like they were oscillating between a nervous breakdown and a nap. Between the mountain of homework, the daily high-intensity dueling sessions Albert insisted on, and three grueling Quidditch practices a week, the twins were losing their signature spark.
Even though Gryffindor had already suffered two losses this season, Charlie Weasley was a man possessed. He refused to let the team go into the summer with their heads down, which meant Fred and George spent their evenings getting pelted by Bludgers in the freezing March rain, only to return to the common room to get pelted by Albert's "Expelliarmus" in the training sessions.
"I'm literally eroding," Fred groaned during Transfiguration on Monday morning. He was slumped over his desk, poking a bewildered white rabbit with his wand as if trying to wake it from a coma. "I think my soul has actually left my body and is currently hiding under my bed to avoid having to write that twelve-inch essay for Snape."
The task for the day was turning a rabbit into a pair of slippers. It was a classic second-year benchmark, requiring a delicate balance of organic-to-inorganic transition. Albert had, predictably, finished within the first ten minutes. His slippers were currently sitting on his desk—made of high-quality white fleece with silk lining, looking like something you'd find in a high-end boutique in Diagon Alley.
"Stop bullying the wildlife, Fred," Albert said, not looking up from a book on ancient runic inscriptions he'd pulled out to pass the time. "It's all in the visualization of the soles. If you don't focus on the rubber bottom, the rabbit just stays a rabbit with a very confused expression."
"Easy for you to say," George hissed from the next desk over. His rabbit was currently half-slipper, half-mammal, and was attempting to hop off the desk using its one remaining leg. "You don't have twenty-four hours in a day, Albert. You've got a Time-Turner hidden in those fancy wristbands of yours. There's no other explanation for how you're outperforming us, the Quidditch team, and the entire Ravenclaw house simultaneously."
It was a sentiment shared by many. Even Katrina, usually the pride of Ravenclaw, was staring at Albert's finished slippers with a look of quiet, scholarly fury. The gap between Albert and the rest of the year wasn't just a margin anymore; it was a canyon.
"Weasley! If you don't stop pestering that creature and start focusing on the incantation, you'll be spending your Easter holiday scrubbing the floorboards of this classroom," Professor McGonagall's voice cut through the air like a whip.
Fred jumped, nearly knocking his inkpot over. "Sorry, Professor. Just... getting the rabbit's consent, ma'am."
He tried to mimic Albert's technique, stroking the rabbit's ears to calm it down before attempting the spell again. Beside him, George was having a crisis of confidence. Sanna, sitting nearby, had managed a partial success, though her slipper still twitched and had a disturbingly pink nose.
"Is there a trick?" Fred whispered to Albert when McGonagall's back was turned. "Some secret mental trigger? A specific wiggle of the wrist?"
"There are no 'tricks' in Transfiguration, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, appearing behind them with the stealth of a cat. Fred nearly jumped out of his skin. "It is a science of precision. It requires discipline, intent, and a vast amount of practice—all of which Mr. Anderson has clearly applied, and all of which you are currently replacing with chatter."
Fred opened his mouth to point out that Albert barely seemed to practice at all, but one look at the Professor's stern spectacles told him that silence was the better part of valor.
As the class drew to a close, McGonagall moved back to her desk. The atmosphere shifted from the frustration of magic to the dread of the future. She pulled a stack of parchment from her ledger and began to distribute them.
"As Easter approaches, I expect you to manage your time wisely," she said, her gaze lingering on the twins. "Do not let the holiday spirit distract you from your obligations. And while you are contemplating your essays, you must also contemplate these."
She flicked her wand, and the parchment flew onto every desk. It was the New Course Selection List.
"In your third year, you are required to branch out," McGonagall explained. "You must choose at least two elective subjects. I suggest you treat this with the utmost gravity; these choices will form the foundation of your future careers and your OWL results."
The classroom erupted into a low hum of whispers. The list contained five options: Divination, Muggle Studies, Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes.
"Could you give us a rundown, Professor?" a student from the back asked.
"Divination," McGonagall started, her lip curling ever so slightly, "is a subjective field. It relies heavily on 'The Sight.' While the school offers the course, true Seers are exceptionally rare. Most who claim the title are... shall we say, gifted in the art of guesswork."
A few students snickered. The rumors about Professor Trelawney were legendary; she was widely considered a fraud who predicted the death of at least one student per week just to keep things interesting.
"Muggle Studies is for those who wish to understand the non-magical world," McGonagall continued. "It is vital for anyone considering a career in the Ministry's Department of Muggle Liaison."
"Unless the Professor is actually a Muggle-born," Albert whispered to Lee, "I doubt we'll learn anything we don't already know. Remember Mr. Weasley asking what a rubber duck was for? That's the level of 'expertise' we're dealing with."
"Care of Magical Creatures is an outdoor subject," McGonagall went on. "It's demanding and requires a certain... physical robustness."
"Charlie took that," George murmured. "He said it's great if you like getting bitten by things that shouldn't have teeth."
"Then we have Arithmancy and Ancient Runes," McGonagall said, her tone softening with a hint of respect. "These are for the serious scholars. Arithmancy involves the magical properties of numbers—it is the language of prophecy and spell-crafting. Ancient Runes is the study of the oldest scripts of magic, essential for anyone interested in advanced Alchemy or Curse-Breaking."
She paused, her eyes locking onto Albert. "I will note that some students—very few—attempt to take all five. I do not recommend this. The workload is designed to break even the most dedicated student. Unless you are truly exceptional, stick to two or three."
"Isabelle took all five," Katrina whispered to no one in particular. She looked at the list, her jaw set. It was clear she was debating whether she could handle the same load to prove she was equal to her sister.
Albert, meanwhile, was already ticking boxes. For him, this wasn't about difficulty; it was about utility. Arithmancy and Ancient Runes were non-negotiable for his personal research into the "Wizarding Card" mechanics and high-level enchanting.
Fred, George, and Lee, however, were taking a much more "economical" approach to their education.
"Divination and Care of Magical Creatures," Fred whispered, marking his sheet. "Minimum effort, maximum time spent outside or staring at tea leaves. Sounds like a vacation."
"Exactly," George agreed. "And if the homework gets tough, we've got Albert to explain the 'prophecies' to us. He's basically a Seer anyway; he saw that Filch raid coming a mile off."
"I'm not doing your Divination homework," Albert said, not looking up. "Predicting your own failure doesn't count as a successful vision."
"We'll see about that," Lee chuckled, leaning back in his chair.