The arrival of the Easter holiday at Hogwarts was supposed to be a reprieve, but for most, it felt more like a siege. While the Scottish spring finally began to thaw the castle's stone bones, the professors were busy burying the students under a mountain of parchment so high it was a miracle the floor didn't collapse.
Albert, however, was having a relatively peaceful morning, though his post hadn't been entirely pleasant. He had opted to stay at the castle for the break, a decision that had not sat well with his sister, Nia. The Easter package she sent was heavy with resentment. Nestled among the chocolate eggs was a large, glossy photograph of their cat, Tom. Nia had apparently spent her frustration by painting Tom's face in bright, ridiculous colors, and the cat's judgmental glare in the photo seemed directed specifically at Albert for his absence.
"She's definitely holding a grudge," Albert muttered, tossing a piece of chocolate into his mouth.
Compared to his minor family drama, the Weasley twins were living through a genuine tragedy. Percy, ever the stickler for rules and a hater of fun, had followed through on his threat. He had penned a detailed letter to Mrs. Weasley regarding the "spider incident." The result was swift and devastating.
Fred and George sat at the Gryffindor table, staring in dismal silence at their Easter eggs. Usually, their mother sent generous, bulging chocolate creations. This year, they had received two eggs no larger than a standard chicken's, each containing a single, solitary piece of homemade toffee.
"He actually did it," Fred hissed, poking his tiny egg with a finger. "That absolute prat. He snitched to Mum."
"Our own brother," George added, his face a picture of betrayal. "Gnashing his teeth in the library while we rot with chicken-sized chocolate. I'll never forgive him, Fred. Never."
Lee Jordan wasn't in much of a position to laugh. His parents had decided to take a spontaneous trip for the holiday and hadn't sent him an egg at all. Instead, he had received a stack of postcards depicting sunny beaches and historical monuments.
"I feel like I'm being punished for existing," Lee groaned, slumping over his History of Magic notes. "They're eating exotic fruit on a balcony, and I'm trying to remember the Goblin Rebellion of 1612. It's not right."
Albert, seeing the communal depression of his roommates, pushed his own large, ornate Easter egg toward the center of the table. "Help yourselves. Food always tastes better when it's shared, and honestly, if I eat all of this myself, I won't be able to run for a week."
The mood lifted instantly as the boys began to scavenge. They didn't retreat to the library; instead, they turned a corner of the common room into a makeshift study lounge. A few girls from their year joined them, exchanging pieces of candy and gossiping about the latest rumors. The only reason they could afford this leisure was Albert's "Division of Labor" strategy, which had seen them finish most of their heavy lifting weeks ago.
Across the room, the atmosphere was much darker. A third-year student suddenly stood up, his hair disheveled and his eyes bloodshot. "Is this supposed to be a holiday?!" he screamed, slamming his textbook shut. "I've written six feet of parchment since breakfast! My hands are permanently stained with ink! What are they trying to do to us?!"
He wasn't the only one on the edge of a breakdown. Percy Weasley looked like he was vibrating. Taking twelve courses meant his Easter "break" consisted of a schedule so tight it left no room for breathing, let alone the twins' constant pranking. He had eventually fled to the deepest, quietest corner of the library just to escape their reach.
"So, what's the plan for the winnings?" Angelina asked, leaning toward Sanna and Albert.
"The winnings?" Albert asked, raising an eyebrow.
"The Wizard Card Championship prize," Angelina said, her eyes gleaming with ambition. "We're already deciding how to spend the gold. I'm thinking a new broom maintenance kit."
"You haven't even made it to the finals yet," Albert said with a chuckle. "Counting your Galleons before they're minted is a great way to lose a match."
"We're confident," Sanna said, though her expression turned curious. "But honestly, Albert, why are you doing this? You're paying for the prizes, the cards, the organization... you're losing money on this."
"It's an investment," Albert explained, his voice taking on a rare, business-like tone. "I'm building a brand. I'm promoting the game. If I play my cards right—pun intended—this could be a massive industry by the time I graduate. If I don't feel like working a Ministry desk job, I can just run the International Wizard Card League."
"Farsighted as always," Sanna remarked, clearly impressed.
The common room portrait swung open, and Fred and George strutted in, looking suspiciously smug. They were holding a large, expensive-looking Easter egg that definitely hadn't come from their mother.
"Percy's egg!" Fred announced, breaking off a massive chunk of chocolate and handing it to Sanna. "The prat caved. We convinced him that since he cost us our chocolate, he owed us a 'tithe' of his own."
"How did you manage that?" Lee asked.
"Let's just say we found his secret stash of 'advanced study notes' and suggested they might take a swim in the lake," George grinned. He then turned to Albert and pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket. "Oh, and Katrina asked me to give you this. She looked pretty serious about it."
"A love letter?" Angelina teased, leaning in.
"Don't be ridiculous," Albert said, rolling his eyes as he took the parchment. He scanned the neat, precise handwriting. It wasn't a love letter; it was a request from Katrina to meet him at Professor Smith's office.
Albert frowned. It wasn't unusual for Smith to call for him, but something about the timing felt off. He stood up, dusted the chocolate crumbs off his robes, and headed for the door.
When he reached the office and knocked, the door was opened by Katrina. Her eyes were glazed, her movements stiff and mechanical, but Albert was too focused on the Professor to notice the details immediately.
"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Albert asked, stepping into the room.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the world changed.
"Imperio!"
The word was a soft, cold whisper.
Suddenly, every weight Albert had ever carried vanished. The stress of the school year, the worry about the poachers, the constant planning for the future—it all drifted away like smoke. He felt incredibly light, as if his soul had been dipped in warm, honeyed water. A hazy, beautiful joy filled his mind, erasing his sense of self. He felt happy. More than happy—he felt perfectly, blissfully empty.
In that hollow space where his thoughts used to be, a voice echoed. It was calm, authoritative, and impossible to disobey.
Give me your wand.
Albert's hand moved without a second of hesitation. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wand, and placed it into Professor Smith's outstretched hand. His consciousness was a blur, a distant observer watching his own body betray him.
Go get me the map of Gryffindor's secret treasure, the voice commanded.
Albert turned. He began to walk out of the office, his footsteps steady and rhythmic. He felt no fear, no anger—only the desire to fulfill the command.
But as he rounded the corner of the hallway, away from Smith's direct presence, something shifted. It started as a faint, annoying tap against the back of his mind. It was his own willpower, a shard of his consciousness that had lived an entire previous life, refusing to be extinguished.
The warmth of the curse began to turn cold. The "honey" in his mind started to feel like sludge. Albert froze mid-step, his body trembling violently as two forces clashed within him. His magic flared, reacting to the foreign intrusion.
The incoordination was too much; his knees buckled, and he collapsed to the stone floor.
When he looked up, the haze was gone. The bliss had been replaced by a cold, sharp fury. The Imperius Curse had shattered, broken by a combination of his dual-soul nature and his sheer, stubborn refusal to be a puppet.
Albert stood up slowly, his face like a mask of carved granite. He remembered everything. Every second of that "blissful" void was burned into his memory.
"Professor Smith," Albert whispered, his voice trembling with a dark, dangerous energy. "You actually did it. You used an Unforgivable on a student."
He realized then that Katrina hadn't just been "serious"—she was a thrall. She was likely the one who had been used to lure him there, her own mind already crushed under Smith's thumb.
Albert looked at his empty hands. Smith had his wand. The man likely thought that without his focus, Albert was nothing more than a talented teenager. He probably expected Albert to return in an hour, map in hand, ready to be disposed of.
Was Smith crazy? To use such a spell in the middle of Hogwarts? Or was he simply that desperate for whatever he thought was hidden in Gryffindor's "treasure"?
Albert leaned against the wall, taking deep, steady breaths to calm his racing heart. He had two choices. He could run to Dumbledore's office, report the crime, and hope the Headmaster could stop Smith before the man vanished.
Or, he could settle this himself.
Albert had spent months preparing for a confrontation with Smith. He had calculated the man's patterns, studied his weaknesses, and prepared countermeasures that didn't require a wand. He knew the layout of the castle better than almost anyone, and he had a "System" that didn't care about Unforgivable Curses.
"You want to play the master, Professor?" Albert muttered, a cold, predatory smile touching his lips. "Then let's see how you handle a student who doesn't need a wand to ruin your life."