After leaving the kitchen, Cho was still in a bit of a daze.
It wasn't until they arrived at an abandoned classroom on the second floor that she finally came back to her senses.
"I had no idea Hogwarts had so many house-elves in the kitchen…" she said softly, still marveling.
Though she was already in her second year, Cho had genuinely never thought about who actually prepared all the meals at Hogwarts. It just... appeared.
Alex nodded in agreement. He had known about the elves from the start, but even he had been awed seeing over a hundred of them bustling about together, cooking and cleaning in perfect harmony. It was a different kind of magic altogether.
Inside the classroom, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan expertly unloaded the food onto a dusty old desk they had turned into a makeshift banquet table.
Roast lamb, crispy chicken, fried sausages, steaming Cornish pasties, rich Yorkshire puddings, creamy pumpkin pies, a thick, fragrant stew…
And then came Lee, grinning as he opened up the bag he'd been carrying. Inside were several glass bottles, each filled with a warm, golden liquid.
"What's that?" Cho asked curiously, eyeing the bottles.
"Butterbeer!" the twins announced proudly, puffing out their chests.
"You actually bought this? They sell it to underage students?" she asked, half-skeptical.
Lee shrugged nonchalantly. "With this face? The lady at the Three Broomsticks didn't even ask. Just handed it right over."
Pfft!
Cho burst into laughter. Honestly, Lee did look older — a combination of height, swagger, and the kind of face that made age a mystery.
Alex chuckled too as he surveyed the spread before him. At this hour — well past midnight — it had been five or six hours since dinner. His stomach growled in agreement.
Still, before he could dive in, he gave Cho a little warning.
"Don't drink too much of that," he said, nodding toward the Butterbeer.
Cho wrinkled her nose and nodded. "Got it."
George pulled a stool over, placed one foot on it like a pirate captain, and raised his bottle high.
"A toast! To the newest recruits of the Hogwarts Midnight Wanderers!"
Everyone followed suit, clinking their bottles together with a hearty cheers!
Alex took a sip — and was surprised. Smooth, lightly sweet, and with only the faintest hint of alcohol. It was… actually really good.
Cho clearly agreed. She took a few curious sips in quick succession, delight lighting up her face.
Alex quickly reached over and eased the bottle from her hand before she got too far ahead.
"Pace yourself," he said with a grin. "The night's just started."
Cho pouted playfully. "But it's so good. I've always wanted to try it. But my parents kept telling me I wasn't old enough."
Two drinks in, her cheeks were already tinted a warm pink. Excitement danced in her eyes.
For someone who had always followed the rules, tonight was a whirlwind. Breaking curfew, sneaking into the kitchens, drinking Butterbeer — she'd already shattered at least ten school rules.
Alex couldn't help but find her adorably rebellious. "Well then," he said gently, "if you like it, I'll bring you more next time."
"Ooooh!"
The twins and Lee instantly started hooting and hollering, adding to the chaos.
Fred elbowed Alex. "If you ever want to sneak off to Hogsmeade, mate, we know all the hidden passages."
George nodded solemnly. "Consider it an official invitation."
Alex grinned. "Deal."
From that point on, conversation died down. The group fell into the most sacred of teenage traditions — eating like starved wolves. Bottles clinked, forks scraped, and laughter filled the dusty room.
Eventually, their feast lay vanquished. Plates were empty. Bellies full.
Alex, feeling sluggish, flicked his wand. "Accio chairs!"
Several mismatched chairs zoomed across the room.
Then with another quick spell, the wooden chairs elongated and curved, transforming smoothly into cushioned recliners.
Everyone stared.
"Now that's a trick!" George cried, flopping down with exaggerated relief.
Fred gave a slow, dramatic thumbs-up. "Second years can't even transfigure paperweights yet. And here you are, giving us magical furniture."
Cho leaned into Alex's side, her voice full of admiration. "Your Transfiguration is amazing. We won't even learn large object transformations until later this year."
"Seriously," said Lee, kicking his feet up. "It's like having our own personal spell butler."
Alex waved it off with a modest shrug, gently lacing his fingers through Cho's as the two of them rocked gently in their chairs.
The classroom filled with the rhythmic creak creak creak of swaying chairs.
Moments passed in sleepy silence.
Then Alex stretched and glanced toward the twins. "Hey… don't you guys have two more brothers at Hogwarts? Why didn't they come?"
Fred cackled. "You mean Percy and Ronniekins?"
George leaned over dramatically. "If Prefect Percy even knew what we did tonight, we'd get a Howler from Mum before breakfast."
Fred nodded. "And Ronnie's the family golden boy. Too sweet, too innocent. We can't go dragging him into the underworld like this."
Everyone burst out laughing.
Alex nodded knowingly. Percy's rule-loving, career-climbing attitude never sat right with him. Honestly, he belonged in Slytherin more than Gryffindor. Probably the Weasley name had swayed the Sorting Hat's final call.
From there, the twins launched into tale after tale — pranks pulled, teachers baffled, secret passageways found. Even Lee added a few of his own.
Alex and Cho listened with rapt attention, completely enchanted. These weren't just stories — they were a roadmap to turning Hogwarts into a playground.
Eventually, the hour grew late. Blinking sleepily, the group began to clean up. Alex used a few quick spells to return everything to how it had been, erasing all traces of their feast.
Then, before parting ways, Alex cast Invisibility Charms on the twins and Lee to keep them safe from Filch and his ever-creeping cat.
The group separated quietly, slipping back to their common rooms under cover of shadow and spellwork.
The night had been short, but perfect — the kind of memory that would linger, golden and warm, long after the candles burned out.
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