Chapter 93

The dreary cascade of rain persisted for a seemingly endless stretch, an incessant downpour that held the realm in a relentless embrace. When at last the heavens relented and the tempest abated, a crystal clarity overcame the sky. Yet, with the waning of the storm, an unexpected chill descended upon the environs of the castle, heralding the sudden onset of winter in the Highlands of Scotland.

Within the confines of the dormitory, Fred, a small kettle cradled in his hands, stood by the window. The lingering echoes of a melodic hum wafted through the air as he embarked on a curious ritual. With deliberate care, he bestowed droplets of life upon the nascent garlic, ensconced in the sanctity of a flowerpot. The pale tendrils, adorned in dewdrops, embraced the essence of rebirth, a testament to nature's unyielding cycle amidst the volatile seasons.

"I really understand why," George said as he was pulling a hand-knitted sweater over his head. "Why didn't we put in a pot the first time around?"

"I don't know why, brother, but after we got a telling off by Hagrid, we listened to him," Fred said. "We should have listened to him in the first place."

"Don't forget the telling-off he gave you," Lee said. "You two looked like you were going to cry."

"No, we didn't."

"Weasley's never cry."

"Lee is right. You two looked really upset after that," Albert chipped.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Flashback

Hagrid's bushy beard glistened with raindrops as he towered over the disappointed quartet of Albert, Lee, Fred, and George. His eyes, filled with both concern and exasperation, focused on the limp, rain-soaked garlic bed.

"Now, what in the name of Hippogriffs were you doing out here in this storm?" Hagrid bellowed, his voice carrying a mixture of fatherly concern and a hint of scolding.

Fred and George exchanged nervous glances before George sheepishly admitted, "We were checkin' on the garlic, mister Hagrid. I wanted to see if it survived the rain."

Hagrid's beetle-black eyes squinted as he processed the information. "Survived the rain, eh? I should've known better. Garlic's a hardy plant, but not when it's swimmin' instead of growin'."

Fred scratched the back of his head. "We just wanted it to be strong, you know? For our project."

Hagrid sighed, a gust of breath that mingled with the misty air. "I told you before, plantin' in the open like this ain't the way. needs shelter, like in a greenhouse or at least a decent flower pot. Magic or no magic, plants need lookin' after."

Lee, feeling a sense of responsibility, piped up, "Hagrid, we didn't want to disturb you with our garlic project. thought we could handle it ourselves."

Hagrid chuckled, a deep rumble that seemed to resonate with the thunder still echoing in the distance. "Disturb me? Growin' garlic ain't a disturbance; it's a bit of common sense. Besides, I love a good bit of gardening. I could've given you some pointers. I could."

Fred added, "We didn't want to bother you with it, Hagrid. I thought we could do it on our own, you know, for the defence against the dark arts project."

Hagrid's eyes softened, and he laid a massive hand on Fred's shoulder. "No shame in askin' for help, lads. Gardening's a community effort, it is. Now, let's see if we can salvage any of these garlics. They might need a bit of magic, but they ain't a lost cause."

As the rain continued to fall, the mismatched group—Hagrid, Albert, Lee, Fred, and George—set to work. The garlic, though battered, began to show signs of revival under the collaborative effort. Throughout the process, Hagrid shared anecdotes of his own misadventures in magical gardening, lightening the mood and turning the failed garlic experiment into a shared learning experience. By the time the last garlic shoot stood defiantly against the rain, the group was soaked but smiling.

"There you go, a lesson in both magic and common sense. And remember, next time, ask for help when you need it," Hagrid declared, clapping his hands together. "Now, let's get indoors before we all catch a cold. And you lot," he pointed at Fred and George with a stern but affectionate expression, "next time, bring an old hand like me into the plan. We're not as delicate as garlic, you know."

~~~~~~~~~

"Don't water it with the plant solution Hagrid gave. And don't drown it like last time," Albert said as he buttoned up his robe. "Today is one of those rare days when the sun is out. I would recommend you take it outside and let it rest under the sun."

"We should leave soon. If we take any longer, we could be late, and you know what Professor McGonagall would do if we were late," Lee said.

"She'll turn us into a watch."

"Or a map."

Fred picked up the flower pot and followed the three other boys outside. They made their way to the Great Hall, and sitting outside on a stool was a familiar face with a familiar cat in his arms.

"What in the name of Merlin do you have in your hands?" Flich said it in a gruff tone as he put the cat down.

"It's a flower pot with something growing inside of it," Fred said.

"I know what it is. Why do you have it?" Flich said as he stood up. "It doesn't matter. Follow me. We are going to see Professor McGonagall for your punishment."

"I'm pretty sure nowhere in the Hogwarts charter does it say we can't grow our own plants," George said. "You don't have any grounds to punish us."

"You are growing it without the supervision of any adult. I think that would be enough ground," Flich said as he got closer.

"We have Hagrid helping us," Fred said.

"He is not a professor," Flich said with a grin.

"You said 'adult'. Hagrid is an adult, and he is a member of staff. So I think you still have no grounds," George said.

"Tut, I'll get you next time, boy." Filch said as he turned around and hobbled away, with the cat following him.

"That guy is really annoying," George said as he saw Flich hobbling away.

"If I, hypothetically, wanted to get back at him, I would grow some garlic for him and give it to him as a present," Albert said.

"Why would you give him garlic?" George said. "Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Cats don't like the smell of garlic."

"That's kinda evil," Lee said.

"That is what the man deserves," Fred said as he entered the Great Hall.

During breakfast, all of the older students were discussing what they were going to do at hogsmeade. Charlie, someone who really thought about anything other than dragons and Quidditch, gave every single member of the Quidditch team the day off. Percy was sitting not far from them and was talking to a girl about all the romantic places they could visit at Hogsmeade. When the clock struck nine, everyone who was going to Hogsmeade followed Professor McGonagall outside the Great Hall, where they met Flich at the gate.

Flich stood at the gate with Professor McGonagall beside him. As the students walked past, he asked for their names and crossed them off a list before they continued on their merry way. He even caught a few students who didn't have their permission slips signed and four first-year students who tried to sneak past.

Fortunately for us, it wasn't our quartet. Our quartet had visited Hogsmeade before and had no reason to visit again so soon. After having breakfast, the boys returned to the common room, where they only saw a few people up and about. 

"Can I borrow your Vanishing Spell essay, please?" George asked. "I just finished the astronomy worksheet and quiz."

"I'm pretty sure McGonagall can tell when we've clicked on each other. Remember last lesson when she warned you two not to copy anybody or else you'll have to do it in front of her in your own time?" Albert said. "Anyway, I'm going for a walk around the castle. Do you want to come with me?"

"No, thanks," Lee said. "My parents are going to floo me soon, so I won't have time."

"Okay, then. I'll see you three later," Albert said as he left.

The halls of Hogwarts were especially quiet today. Most of the older students were at Hogsmeade, and the ones that remained are either getting their beauty sleep or catching up on work. The first and second years were either in their common room or in the Great Hall, catching up with friends from other houses.

Albert found himself in front of Barnabas' tapestry. He paced in front of it and thought, 'I need a place to hide things', three times before a door started emerging on the stone wall. With no hesitation, he stepped into the 'Room of Hidden Things'.

The torchlight flickered, casting dancing shadows that seemed to whisper of forgotten tales and untold mysteries. Albert stood at the threshold of this arcane chamber. His eyes, widened by the muted glow of magic, surveyed the vast expanse before him. The air hung heavy with the scent of age-old enchantments, and the distant echoes of countless wizards and witches resonated in the quietude.

The room sprawled with an opulence of relics and artefacts, each imbued with its own history. A tattered grimoire, its pages yellowed by the passage of centuries, beckoned to him. Albert cautiously approached, his fingers brushing against the timeworn cover. The book yielded to his touch, and as he perused its pages, he could almost feel the pulse of forgotten spells resonating through his very core.

A hushed gasp escaped Albert. "God damn! This place is stunning."

His gaze wandered, drawn towards a glimmering crystal suspended in mid-air. It refracted the ambient light into a kaleidoscope of colours, like fragments of forgotten dreams. Albert extended his hand, and the crystal responded, emitting a soft, melodic hum that resonated with the cadence of arcane harmonies.

"I want one of those," Albert thought. "And also, stop touching things. I have no clue if any one of these is a dark magic artefact. Voldemort left his Horcrux-ridden crown here. Must avoid."