Chapter 550: Playing Hooky
Chapter 550: Playing Hooky
There's just no escaping the flu sometimes.
Especially after October, when the weather around Hogwarts took a sudden turn, bringing with it a sharp drop in temperature.
The rain pattered relentlessly against the windows, and a visible chill hung in the air over the grassy fields outside, seeping into the castle and causing many professors and students alike to fall ill with the flu.
"Haha, I wish I could capture this moment," George said, laughing raucously as he eyed Albert, steam rising from his head.
There was no helping it; this was one of Albert's rare embarrassing moments.
Click! The sound of a camera shutter abruptly rang out, and the three boys, steam billowing from their heads, looked up in unison.
There stood Albert, a camera in his hand and a slight smirk playing at his lips, having just snapped a photo of them.
"Let's strike a pose again. I've decided to include this photo in the Wizarding Cards, and I'll name it 'October Flu,'" Albert announced gleefully, taking advantage of their bewildered expressions to snap a couple more shots. "Looks like it'll turn out nicely."
"You jerk."
"If you're going to take a picture, at least let us pose handsomely."
Fred snatched the photo from Albert, and after a quick huddle with his companions, they struck a casual pose, complete with their just-emptied cups, for Albert to capture.
Drinking the Stimulant Potion would cause steam to rise from one's ears, and this effect would persist for several hours.
As the quartet exited the school hospital, they drew curious glances from students in the corridor. Anyone with steam rising from their heads was instantly recognized as a flu sufferer who had just taken the Stimulant Potion.
Perhaps due to the embarrassing nature of this appearance, many students were reluctant to seek treatment at the school hospital, which only served to spread the flu further.
The situation had become so dire that Madam Pomfrey had no choice but to brew large quantities of the Stimulant Potion to administer to those who couldn't withstand the illness. It was fortunate that most of the ingredients were sourced from Hogwarts' greenhouses and herb gardens; otherwise, the expenses would have been substantial.
Every day, severely ill students were forced to visit the school hospital for treatment, and so, students with steam rising from their heads were becoming a common sight at Hogwarts.
Speaking of which, Albert had Fred and George, those two rascals, to thank for his bout of flu.
While training for Quidditch in the rain, those two had caught the flu but failed to seek treatment from Madam Pomfrey promptly, and by the third day, they had passed it on to their roommates, Albert and Lee Jordan.
In the end, an exasperated Albert and Lee Jordan had given them a thorough scolding before finally making their way to the school hospital for treatment.
"Haha, is that Wood? You've caught the flu too?"
Fred and George happily sidled up to Wood, whose ears were also steaming, and struck a casual pose with him, unembarrassed by their new look.
"I'm heading back to rest. Remember to excuse me from this afternoon's Dark Arts class," Albert said offhandedly, making his way toward the Room of Requirement.
"What a coincidence, I need to skip class too," Lee Jordan chimed in. He had no intention of attending the Dark Arts class with his head steaming like that, and honestly, there wasn't much point in attending Professor Lockhart's classes anyway. They had become a laughingstock.
"Don't forget to excuse us too!"
After bidding Fred and George farewell, Lee Jordan trailed after Albert. He had long grown tired of Lockhart's classes, and now that he had a legitimate excuse to play hooky, he wasn't about to pass up the opportunity.
"Hey, wait for us!"
Fred and George, who had been chatting amiably with Wood, hurried to catch up, not keen on attending the Dark Arts class either.
In truth, a portion of the students had lost faith in Professor Lockhart. They hoped for a more competent Dark Arts professor to take his place next semester.
Unfortunately, the man himself remained blissfully unaware, continuing to treat each class as a stage performance. More and more students were questioning his teaching abilities, especially those in their fifth and seventh years, who would soon be facing their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, respectively.
At that moment, the Room of Requirement was filled with a smoky haze, as if someone had lit incense. By the cozy fireplace, Lee Jordan was adding firewood to stoke the flames.
"What's this?"
Lee Jordan leaned in, his curiosity piqued by the notebook in Albert's hands. He could understand each individual letter, but when they were combined, he couldn't make heads or tails of the words.
"It's a notebook on charms. Want to take a look?"
Albert offered the notebook to Lee Jordan with a smile.
"Never mind, it's giving me a headache just looking at it," Lee Jordan said, retracting his head. "What language is this, anyway?"
"French."
"You're just showing off, aren't you?" Lee Jordan grumbled.
The notebook had been placed in the metal box. If Nicolas Flamel had only sent two pairs of magic glasses, such elaborate protective measures wouldn't have been necessary.
In total, Nicolas Flamel had sent Albert ten notebooks, all of them filled with his personal research and unique insights into charms.
However...
While Nicolas Flamel was undoubtedly a formidable wizard, he didn't seem to be a very good teacher.
The contents of the notebooks were disorganized, filled with impressive knowledge but dumped haphazardly into Albert's lap, leaving him with a headache as he tried to make sense of it all and learn at the same time.
His instruction amounted to: "Figure it out yourself, and ask me if you don't understand."
Albert doubted that even Professor Flitwick could thoroughly decipher these notebooks within a few years.
But Albert had the advantage of his system, which made the process of deciphering and organizing the notebook's contents far quicker than for most genius wizards. His only challenge was keeping up with the frequent correspondence with Flamel.
Recently, even Isabelle had fallen behind.
"How's your research going?"
Fred and George were poring over the blueprints for a printing press. They would need this if they wanted to print Wizarding Cards or even boxes of various designs in the future.
After all, the wizarding community was small, and the sales volume of any product was limited. Placing large orders for packaging might not be feasible.
"Maybe we can ask Dad for help. He's good at tinkering with stuff like this."
In the end, Fred and George gave up. They realized that thoroughly modifying the printing press was beyond their capabilities.
"We could try outsourcing," Lee Jordan suggested hesitantly. "Don't the things we bought come in boxes? They must know where to get them made."
"We can certainly outsource to Muggles for some things," Albert agreed, closing his notebook and gesturing with the Wizarding Card in his hand, "but if we want to create intricate Wizarding Cards, we'll need to use magic, and that's something Muggles can't help us with."
Moreover, the "Statute of Secrecy" posed a significant obstacle. Witches and wizards were not supposed to have extensive interactions with Muggles, and collaboration was practically impossible. Muggle businessmen would never accept such unprofitable orders, either.
Outside, the rain continued to pour, but the four boys, steam rising from their heads, sat by the fireplace, chatting idly. Their dream of opening a shop was still a long way off.
(End of Chapter)
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