How to make the Shield Charm on the protective wristband last longer had become Albert's latest research topic.
He had been poring over books, discovering methods to extend the duration of spells. The simplest was concentration: maintaining the spell with stronger magical power. The Duplication Charm was a prime example—some duplicated items lasted permanently, others vanished, depending on the caster's skill.
Albert also knew of the Permanent Sticking Charm, an irreversible spell. The ancient enchantments sustaining Hogwarts were immensely powerful; the Four Founders had achieved them, so Albert believed he could too. Perhaps his approach was flawed—or his dedication to knowledge and magic was far inferior to theirs.
He considered asking Professor Flitwick for guidance.
Someone tapped his left shoulder playfully. Albert turned, but no one was there.
"What is it?" he asked, knowing the person was on his right.
"You're really boring, aren't you?" Field smiled, sitting beside him. "Have you read the latest Transfiguration Today?"
"Not yet," Albert admitted.
"What? You haven't read it!" Field looked at him in disbelief, as if he were some rare creature.
"I've been busy with the wristband. What's special about this issue?" Albert asked, sensing something unusual.
He had been frustrated that the runes hadn't worked as expected, and hadn't yet opened the magazine.
"That essay you wrote was published in this issue," Field said, staring into his eyes to see if he truly didn't know.
Albert blinked. "What did you say?"
"Your essay was published," Field repeated, exasperated. She unrolled the magazine, pointed to the article, and added, "Professor McGonagall said our club activity will be to study this topic."
Students nearby leaned closer, eager to see Albert's essay.
"Professor McGonagall cut a lot, didn't she?" Albert said, scanning the page. "It's half the length."
"I know. I saw your original manuscript," Field nodded.
Albert looked surprised. "When?"
"I asked Professor McGonagall for a copy," Field explained. "You really dared to write those things."
Transfiguration was the most complex and dangerous branch of magic. Field remembered McGonagall saying so in her first class. Yet Albert had proposed using it offensively against enemies.
"Did you hit your head entering the common room?" Field asked impatiently.
"Is there a problem?"
"Of course. Do you know about the Transfiguration Torture Curse?"
"I know a little—it's using Transfiguration—" Albert began, but Field cut him off.
"The Ministry of Magic is committed to peace. Transfiguration Today is an academic journal. Part of your essay doesn't fit."
Field had to admit, Albert's ideas were ingenious. Charms used creatively could cause unexpected destruction. But sometimes, they simply weren't practical.
"Understood," Albert nodded. "No one wants chaos. It's easier to manage this way. But…"
"But what?" Field caught the flicker of sarcasm on his face.
"Nothing," Albert said with a smile.
He knew such tactics were favored by those in power. Sheep were easier to manage than wolves. But when stripped of strength, institutions crumbled under pressure. Voldemort's return had proved it—the Ministry's prestige was trampled overnight.
Albert, however, remained indifferent to matters that didn't concern him.
"I feel this isn't practical," Fred said after reading the essay. "It requires superb Transfiguration. Most wizards are terrible at it."
"Your Transfiguration is terrible. Don't drag others down," Sanna snapped.
No one liked admitting weakness, even when true.
"Shut up, Fred," George said, covering his brother's mouth.
At that moment, Beck walked over, clapping Albert's shoulder. "Enviable, isn't it? Publishing your first essay in Transfiguration Today as a first-year—breaking Hogwarts' record! MacDougal just broke it recently, and now you've surpassed her."
"MacDougal?" Sanna raised an eyebrow, recognizing the name from Ravenclaw.
"Who's calling me?" Katrina MacDougal asked, overhearing.
The room fell awkwardly silent.
"What's wrong?" Katrina frowned.
"Nothing," Albert coughed lightly. "We weren't talking about you."
"I didn't realize Isabelle had a sister," Beck said in surprise. "She's never mentioned it."
"Why should she?" Field countered.
"Just curious."
"Katrina is in my year," Albert clarified.
Katrina guessed they had been discussing her sister Isabelle, a true genius. Yet Albert seemed even more extraordinary. She had read his essay—it was on a completely different level from her own.