"You've got to admit, the man's paranoia is reaching legendary status," Fred muttered, keeping his voice low as they navigated the drafty corridor toward the Great Hall. "Did you see his eyes darting around? He looked like a cornered kneazle."
"Can you blame him?" Lee Jordan countered, though he sounded more amused than concerned. "You lot practically started a commercial war against his wardrobe. Offering him those garlic-cross amulets every time he turned a corner? It's a wonder he hasn't hexed you into next week."
"We were offering a service!" George defended, waving a hand dismissively. "The man clearly has a vampire phobia. We were just being good, enterprising students."
Lee rolled his eyes. "There's 'enterprising,' and then there's 'being a total nuisance.' You weren't helping him; you were making sure he knew you were laughing at him. If I were him, I'd be looking over my shoulder too."
Fred glanced toward the group's periphery. "Speaking of which, where's Anderson? He was just here a second ago."
George didn't even turn his head. "Don't bother. He has a habit of folding into the background whenever things get interesting. He'll reappear when he's ready, likely with more information than we managed to scrape together in a week."
As if summoned by the mention of his name, a familiar voice drifted from the shadows behind them. "If you're still obsessing over Quirrell's scarf, do yourself a favor: drop it."
The three of them jumped, turning to find Albert leaning against a stone pillar, looking as calm as if he'd been there the whole time.
"Where did you pop up from?" Lee asked, though he'd long ago stopped expecting a straight answer.
"Irrelevant," Albert said smoothly, stepping into the light. "I heard you're still trying to get Peeves to unravel that scarf. I suggest you stop before you find yourselves in detention until graduation. He's placed a permanent sticking charm on the fabric. It's not coming off, and frankly, I'd rather not see what's underneath."
"You knew?" Fred asked, his irritation quickly replaced by curiosity. "You knew he'd enchanted it?"
"I hear things," Albert said vaguely. "But listen, the 'big scarf' mystery isn't worth the risk. Quirrell isn't a normal professor, and I have a feeling poking the bear—or in this case, the turban—is a fast track to a very bad day."
Lee didn't look convinced. "So, we just let Peeves give up? He's been complaining for days that the scarf is 'untouchable.' He's furious, and honestly, so am I. He took our best stink bombs and gave us nothing in return."
"Consider it a loss," Albert said firmly. He looked at the trio, his expression unreadable. "You guys have a knack for walking right up to the edge of an abyss and asking if you can jump. Let's talk about something else. Like that treasure map Harry somehow managed to finish. I assume you didn't have anything to do with that?"
Fred and George exchanged a look. "We might have... accidentally left a few clues lying around," Fred admitted with a grin. "But Harry actually solved it. He's got more grit than he looks like he has."
"Wait," George interrupted, steering the conversation. "Did you hear about the Halloween plans? Apparently, the school is ditching the usual choir nonsense."
"A pantomime show?" Lee suggested, brightening up. "Percy is supposedly involved. Imagine that—Percy Weasley, the man who thinks a library fine is a life-altering tragedy, performing on stage."
"It's not a pantomime," Albert corrected, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Those have been banned since the Great Fountain of Felicis disaster. Hogwarts doesn't do pantomimes unless they want the Great Hall to spontaneously combust again."
"Then what is it?" George asked.
Before Albert could answer, Wood jogged over to join them, looking uncharacteristically excited. "You heard? The Halloween festivities are being overhauled! Mario, Danny, and Jack are coming."
The group went silent. "The Acrobat Trio?" Albert asked, his tone shifting from casual to genuinely interested. "They're actually bringing the circus?"
"A miniature one," Wood explained, his eyes wide. "They've been touring since they graduated, scraping together Galleons and building a reputation. They're making Hogwarts their first stop on the world tour. It's going to be something else."
While the others delved into a spirited debate about the logistics of a traveling circus and where they would even set up the big tent, Albert drifted toward the Gryffindor table. He found Harry and Ron hunched over their plates, looking exhausted.
"Hear you had an interesting time at the Hunting Lodge," Albert said, dropping into a seat across from them.
Ron groaned, pushing a plate of half-eaten potatoes away. "If you mean finding a box of concentrated garlic that nearly turned us inside out, then yeah, it was a blast. Harry gave it to Quirrell. We figured he might as well use it to keep the vampires away."
Harry looked up, his expression guarded. "Speaking of, we found this on the map. Does 'ALFG' mean anything to you?"
He slid the piece of parchment across the table. It was one of the many variations Albert had drafted weeks ago. He caught the slight hesitation in Harry's eyes, the way he watched to see if Albert would recognize his own work.
"ALFG?" Albert mused, picking up the map and pretending to study it with a critical eye. "Never heard of it. Might be a cipher, or maybe it's just a prank someone left behind. You know how people like to mess with treasure hunters."
"It doesn't look like a prank," Harry insisted, his voice dropping. "It feels... intentional. Like someone was waiting for us to find it."
"Perhaps," Albert said, handing it back with a shrug. "But Hogwarts is old, and it loves its secrets. Just be careful. The Forbidden Forest isn't a playground, and sometimes, the best treasures are the ones you don't find."
As the conversation turned back to the upcoming circus, Albert watched the room. The transition from the tension of the Quirrell mystery to the excitement of the Halloween show was seamless, exactly as he intended. The students were hungry for distraction, and a circus was the perfect mask for whatever was brewing in the dark corners of the school.
He allowed himself a small, private smile. The pieces were moving. The treasure hunt was just a distraction, a way to keep the trio occupied while the real game played out on a board they couldn't see. He didn't need to be the one to solve the riddles; he just needed to be the one who wrote them.
"You guys ready for the circus?" Fred asked, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"I'm ready for anything that doesn't smell like rotting garlic," Ron grumbled, glancing toward the High Table where Quirrell sat, his heavy scarf looking particularly suffocating in the flickering candlelight.
Albert said. "Then enjoy the show. It's not every day you get to see a circus performed by former students who actually managed to make a living off their magic. It's a rare sort of success story—something to keep in mind, in case the whole 'savior' business ever gets a bit too heavy."