The trio hurried through the secret passage, finally reaching the eighth floor.
After listening to Albert's account, Fred, slightly out of breath, found it incredible. "So, Professor Broad didn't help Filch catch you?"
"Albert is the professors' golden boy," George teased—then stopped mid-sentence, his mouth dropping open. A door had appeared on the wall opposite the bargain-basement barbecue tapestry.
"Sure enough…" Albert whispered.
"Sure enough what?" Fred asked curiously.
"Nothing. Let's go in." Albert pushed the door open and led them into the Room of Requirement.
Fred and George exchanged astonished glances. They had never seen such a beautifully furnished room before—until their excitement froze. The chamber was filled with rows of exquisite, luxurious chamber pots.
Albert winked mischievously. "Surprised?"
"You didn't stumble on this place when you were desperate for the loo, did you?" Fred asked.
"Am I that stupid?" Albert rolled his eyes.
"Is this really the broom cupboard we found earlier?" George examined the ornate pots. "So… you really needed to pee?"
The three burst out laughing, each picking a style they liked.
"But hiding here feels strange," Fred admitted, scratching his head.
"It's fine. Just leave and change the room," Albert said casually.
"This place isn't on the Marauder's Map. Maybe Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs never discovered it," George said, checking the parchment.
"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs?" Albert feigned confusion.
"The creators of the map," Fred explained.
"Oh, them." Albert nodded. "They probably didn't know. Very few people do."
"No problem. Filch is still on the fifth floor," George reported after checking the map.
Once they left the chamber, Fred asked, "Where should we change it to?"
"A place to rest," Albert suggested.
"I'll try this time."
"Me too."
The twins clasped shoulders, concentrated, and opened the door again. This time, they stepped into a cozy room with a blazing fireplace.
"Brilliant," Fred said, patting an armchair. "By the way, how did you discover this place?"
"I deduced it from you. You passed by here often, didn't you? Looking for a hiding spot?" Albert explained smoothly.
"That's right."
"So I tried it myself. At first, I failed. After many attempts, I figured out the method." Albert exaggerated the difficulty—though in truth, he had succeeded on his first try.
"Later, I tested different rooms. Eventually, I realized its true nature. That's why I call it the Room of Requirement. It transforms into whatever you need. Isn't that fitting?"
The twins stared at him in admiration.
"We can make garlic crosses here," George suggested suddenly. "No more stinking up the dormitory."
"You haven't given up?" Albert asked, surprised.
"Why would we? We've got plenty of garlic," Fred said proudly. "It's our first alchemical tool."
Albert resisted the urge to crush their enthusiasm. After all, the twins were destined to be kings of jokes.
They rested in the Room of Requirement, waiting for Filch and Professor Broad to abandon their search. By the fireplace, the twins challenged Albert to wizard chess. Two boards were set up, but Albert handled both effortlessly.
"Fred, fight back! You still have a chance," George encouraged.
"How? You lost even earlier than me," Fred retorted, rolling his eyes. He knew defeat was inevitable.
"Ahem," George cleared his throat. "Filch seems to have gone back to bed. Let's head to the library."
"Good idea," Fred said quickly, eager to escape his loss.
Albert moved his queen to checkmate Fred's king. "You lost too."
George gloated. "You're stronger than our useless brother."
"Brother?" Albert asked. "The one who burned his tongue on candy?"
"Ahem, that was an accident," George muttered, hurrying out.
The trio walked to the library. Though Hogwarts's library closed at eight, they were surprised to find the door unlocked.
Albert entered first, raising his wand to light the pitch-black interior. He led them toward the Restricted Section.
Crossing the rope barrier, the atmosphere grew eerie. Albert scanned the faded titles with his wandlight.
"Help me find The Book of Spells. Don't touch or open anything. Some of these books may be cursed," Albert warned.
"Got it," the twins said, exchanging glances.
Searching was slow. The Restricted Section was filled with ancient tomes, many rare.
"Albert!" Fred whispered. "I hear faint voices from those books."
Albert frowned. The whispers raised the hairs on their necks.
"This is the Restricted Section. Dark Arts texts are common here. Don't open them," Albert cautioned.
"You think they contain powerful Dark Arts?" George asked in awe.
"Maybe. But if you open one now, you'll regret it," Albert said firmly.
Fred backed away, recalling cursed books like The Tales of Beedle the Bard and The Sonnets of a Sorcerer.
"Focus on The Book of Spells. Those jinxes are useful for us," Albert reminded them.
They split up to search more efficiently.
Albert soon heard whispers again—this time not from the books, but from somewhere hidden by magic. He paused, intrigued, but chose not to investigate. His goal was the books.
After nearly an hour, they finally found what they needed.
"These books are chained," Fred said. "Alohomora won't work. What now?"
"Don't break the chains," George warned.
"I won't. I expected this." Albert pulled out a small knife.
"What are you doing?" Fred asked.
"Using a Muggle trick."
The twins watched curiously as Albert picked the lock. With a soft click, it opened.
"How did you do that?" George asked, astonished.
"Lock-picking. Wizards overlook Muggle tricks. It's slower than Alohomora, but effective." Albert smiled. "Next time, I'll teach you."
The twins' eyes gleamed.
By the time they left the library, it was four in the morning. They carried their spoils: The Original Book of Spells, The Book of Potions, and Powerful Potions.
After confirming the coast was clear, they slipped back to the Gryffindor common room, dodging a ghost with a cane.
Lee Jordan was already awake, glaring at them.
"You should've woken me," he complained.
"Whose fault is it you sleep like a pig?" Fred retorted, proudly showing off the books.
"Let me see," Lee said eagerly.
"Look for yourself. Don't damage them. We're going to sleep," Fred yawned, stripping off his clothes.
"Good night."
"Good night."
"What scoundrels," Lee muttered, eyeing the thick tomes as his friends collapsed into bed.