Albert strolled back into the Gryffindor common room, the package from Hagrid tucked under his arm, followed closely by his wildly excited roommates. As soon as they were through the portrait hole, Lee Jordan practically snatched the parcel from him, examining it with wide, speculative eyes.
"Right then, genius," Lee whispered, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "What magical miracle are we cooking up this time? Is this some new kind of defensive potion, or a tactical stink bomb for the dungeon?"
"Something much more dignified, Jordan," Albert replied, already heading for the stairs. "It's a Garlic Cross."
The twins exchanged a look of pure confusion. "A what?" George demanded.
"Don't be thick, George," Fred interjected, cuffing his twin lightly. "If Albert can turn a common shrub into a Protective Bracelet that repels minor jinxes, then crafting an amulet out of a powerful repellent like garlic should be child's play! He's just leveling up his defenses, you'll see." Fred puffed out his chest, claiming superior knowledge despite his earlier confusion.
"Of course I know that," George mumbled defensively, hurrying to keep pace with the others. Nobody in the group was ever willing to admit to being the least informed.
Once safely locked inside their dormitory, the four friends set about their task. Lee Jordan, remembering his duty, quickly retrieved the braids of dried garlic hanging from the windowsill, which he had dutifully tended.
"First, the extraction process," Albert explained, recalling the precise steps he'd researched. "We need to peel the garlic, mince it finely, and then allow the allicin—the active compound—to leach out by soaking it thoroughly in the high-proof alcohol. This whole extraction phase will take at least a day."
Fred immediately grabbed a handful of cloves and began stripping away the papery outer skin with surprising speed. George, ever the practical one, pulled out a sturdy stone mortar and pestle—stolen, perhaps, or simply borrowed permanently from a previous Potions class—and was ready to reduce the cloves to paste.
"Hold on, George, put that away. That'll take forever," Albert said, quickly raising a hand to stop the manual labor.
Under their astonished gazes, Albert tapped his wand lightly against a crumpled copy of the Daily Prophet he'd pulled from his trunk. With a subtle, controlled twist of Transfiguration, the newspaper instantly folded and reformed into a simple, robust metallic device with a plunger and a perforated base.
"A Garlic Press," Albert announced, testing the plunger mechanism. "Slightly faster, and far less likely to send pungent garlic shrapnel across the dormitory."
The three boys stared. George's eyes were particularly alight with delight. "A Transfigured Kitchen Implement! Albert, that's genius! You turned a newspaper into a specialized tool just to mince garlic!" He immediately seized the press, sacrificing his role as the brute force grinder for the superior mechanical efficiency.
The dormitory quickly filled with the sharp, overwhelming aroma of crushed garlic. They worked for ten minutes, stuffing the cloves into Albert's elegant, temporary contraption until they had a full, wide-mouthed glass jar packed with wet, pungent garlic paste.
"Right, now what's next?" Lee asked, wrinkling his nose in potent admiration.
"Now, we pour the alcohol in," Albert instructed. He uncorked the bottle and carefully poured the spirit over the paste, stirring the mix with a slender glass rod until the liquid was cloudy and fully saturated. He then capped the jar tightly. "That's phase one. We wait until tomorrow."
He looked around the suddenly fumigated dormitory, his own face contorting slightly. "Next time, please remind me that performing extractions with aggressively aromatic ingredients should perhaps not happen in a sleeping environment. Unless you want our room to smell like an Italian kitchen mixed with a cesspit for the rest of the year."
"Don't worry, the smell will just make the Slytherins think we've been brewing something illegal," Fred chuckled, though he was holding his nose.
George, however, was still beaming at the jar. "I'm incredibly excited. This is officially the first Alchemical Artifact I've helped create!"
Albert didn't have the heart to tell them that the so-called Garlic Cross, despite its complex preparation, was functionally more of a magically reinforced folk remedy than a true alchemical tool in the Flamel tradition. Why ruin the dream? They could call it whatever they liked.
The following steps were far too intricate and smelly for the dormitory. They required heating, precise mixing, and the use of olive oil and beeswax—an obvious fire hazard and a permanent stain risk.
The next morning, armed with a hidden portable stove charm, a small brass cauldron, and their pungent jar, the four friends trekked down to the secluded, less-frequented edge of the Black Lake. The intense garlic fumes emanating from the jar ensured that any curious student gave them a wide berth.
"Okay, process two: Emulsification and Setting," Albert explained, setting up the cauldron. "We need to melt the beeswax in warm water, then separate the alcohol from the saturated garlic pulp. Next, we carefully combine the garlic-infused alcohol with a stabilizing amount of olive oil. Finally, we introduce the little crosses we cut from the Guardian Tree branch into the mixture and let it cook until the wax absorbs the essence."
The process was delicate. They carefully filtered the liquid, leaving the pungent pulp behind. The scent of the boiling alcohol, hot olive oil, and melted beeswax, all infused with the overwhelming essence of concentrated garlic, was truly a crime against the senses.
"Anyone who wears this is guaranteed to have a fifty-foot perimeter clear of people for the rest of their lives," Albert declared, pinching his nose with the tongs he was using to rotate the small, wooden crosses in the noxious mixture.
Lee Jordan, hovering nervously far upwind, groaned. "Seriously, Albert, who would willingly wear that? No one is that worried about vampires."
"I'm more interested in the effectiveness than the aesthetics," Fred chimed in, attempting to peer at the bubbling cauldron from a safe distance.
George, having taken a small, cautious sniff, muttered, "I didn't think garlic could be this… aggressive. It smells like a dragon's breath after a three-course Italian meal."
The finished amulets were a sickly pale yellow, slightly sticky, and radiated a cloud of garlic scent that seemed to burn the nostrils.
"We have about a dozen of these," Albert noted, using his wand to extract the crosses and place them on a clean stone to cool. "The question is: what to do with the leftover wax, which is incredibly potent."
"Filch!" Fred and George yelled in immediate, terrifying unison.
"He'd just toss it," Albert immediately countered, knowing the caretaker's contempt for anything that wasn't a scrubbing brush. He lowered his voice, the look in his eyes suddenly sharp and strategic.
"No, we won't give it to him. We'll apply it. The remaining, highly concentrated wax can be thinly smeared around the corners and entry points of his office. I'd wager the scent will linger for weeks, creating an ambiance I'm sure Filch will find… unexpected."
The twins' faces lit up with a truly terrifying glee. They grabbed the jar containing the leftover wax, which was sealed with a powerful Sticking Charm to contain the fumes. "Consider it done after the feast, Albert. A glorious, lingering going-away present."
"Excellent. Now, Hagrid awaits," Albert said, gathering their tools. "We need to test the potency of our Garlic Cross. We can't claim effectiveness without empirical data."
"You're going to use us as bait, aren't you?" George asked suspiciously.
Albert threaded one of the finished crosses onto a piece of rope braided from Unicorn Hair—a magically sensitive material—creating a small necklace. "Who's volunteering to wear the field-test prototype?"
The three boys simultaneously took three large steps back, shaking their heads vigorously.
"Absolutely not," Lee stated firmly.
"Are you trying to strangle us with the scent?" Fred quipped, clutching his throat dramatically.
Albert, slightly disappointed but not surprised, carefully replaced the cross in the wide-mouthed jar and sealed it shut, which instantly muted the surrounding air. They then set off towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's cabin.
Hagrid, who was sitting on a low stool outside his hut polishing his crossbow, immediately wrinkled his nose as the four boys approached, a look of profound physical discomfort crossing his face.
"Blimey, what's that smell? Did one of yeh lot fall into a Fertilizer Charm?" he boomed, waving a thick hand in the air to dispel the lingering fumes.
"It's a newly concocted amulet, Hagrid," Albert replied, waving the sealed glass jar in his hand. "We call it the Garlic Cross, and we've come to ask if you know of any controlled, mildly dangerous dark creatures we could use to test its efficacy."
Hagrid took the jar, cautiously cracked the seal, and recoiled dramatically, sneezing several times. "A Garlic Cross? That's not a bad name. Smells like a troll's latrine to me, though. It's supposed to… what, protect yeh?"
"It's a talisman utilizing the condensed essence of garlic, designed to repel and protect the wearer from the attacks of dark creatures," Albert explained.
"Well, I can tell yeh this much," Hagrid grumbled, wiping his streaming eyes. "I don't know about warding off attacks, but I doubt any self-respecting Vampire would venture within thirty feet of yeh while yeh're wearing that thing. The smell is… truly offensive."
"So, the aversion to garlic by vampires is true?" Albert pressed, scribbling a quick note in his pocket journal.
"Oh, aye. Disgusting to 'em. But as for other dark creatures?" Hagrid looked at the mischievous expressions on the twins' faces with deep suspicion. "You lot aren't planning on trying this out in the Forest, are yeh? I thought you said the last time scared yeh silly, Fred."
Fred immediately clutched his chest, putting on a highly convincing show of trauma. "Me? Go back in there? Never, Hagrid! The shock nearly ruined my nervous system! We wouldn't dream of it. We're only looking for something small, manageable, and safe for a proper test." George nodded gravely beside him, equally convincing in his remorse.
Hagrid stared at them for a long moment, clearly unconvinced, but he finally conceded. "Fine. There ain't nothin' here right now, but I know where Professor Kettleburn keeps some of his little darlin's. Follow me."
They followed the half-giant along the edge of the forest toward the distant, cluttered cabin of Professor Silvanus Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Kettleburn, a one-armed man with an impressive collection of nicks and scars, was busy feeding caterpillars to a captive Flobberworm when they arrived.
"Hagrid, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Kettleburn chirped, looking up.
"Professor, these lads have brewed up an amulet and need a subject for a controlled test. They were hopin' to see how it works on one of yer Grindylows," Hagrid explained, still standing a cautious distance away.
Kettleburn squinted at the group, his nostrils twitching. "An amulet that smells like a forgotten food stall? You must be talking about the garlic then!"
Albert approached and handed him the sealed jar. "It's the Garlic Cross, Professor. We were wondering if you think it offers legitimate protection against dark creatures."
Kettleburn carefully unscrewed the lid just enough to take a professional sniff, his eyes widening marginally. "Well, Mr. Anderson, I must say, the craftsmanship on the wood is quite beautiful. As for the efficacy… I'd say it's moderately effective at best. Some magical organisms, like Gnomes or perhaps Vampires, have a natural, intense aversion to the scent. It acts as a powerful irritant. But against something genuinely vicious, like a Boggart or a Lethifold? I wouldn't rely on it."
"Even with the Guardian Tree branch incorporated?" Lee asked, disappointed.
"It might boost the charm's persistence, but not its power," Kettleburn concluded. He then kindly offered to lend them a Grindylow, a small, aggressive water demon.
As Albert opened the jar and held the cross near the tank, the unfortunate Grindylow inside thrashed violently, desperately trying to push itself against the back of the glass, its little horns vibrating with palpable distress.
"Splendid!" Hagrid roared, clapping his hands and ignoring the creature's obvious misery. "That nearly made the poor little fellow pass out from the smell! Brilliant warding!"
Albert, watching the Grindylow's reaction, finally understood the full, hilarious, and slightly cruel joke he had created. "Thank you, Professor. I believe the results are conclusive."
"Well, that settles it," Albert announced as they walked back toward the castle, the stinking jar sealed tightly. "It's too repulsive to be taken seriously as a defense, but its aversion effects are demonstrably potent on certain creatures. It is therefore perfect for its true purpose."
"The Filch Prank?" Fred asked, already smirking.
"No, Fred, the Legendary Treasure Prank," Albert corrected him, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I will write a Treasure Map that details a complex, decades-old mystery—a trail of cryptic clues leading to a single, powerful relic hidden by an ancient line of Hogwarts students."
George's eyes widened. "And the treasure… the final, magnificent prize, will be the Garlic Cross?"
"Precisely," Albert confirmed. "I'm calling it 'Vampires Beware'—a legendary amulet rumored to be the only defense against the shadowy creatures of the night. I'll slip the map, sealed in an ancient-looking envelope, into a dusty, obscure book on Arithmancy in the deepest corner of the library's Restricted Section."
"I love it! You're going to make some poor, ambitious Ravenclaw solve a months-long puzzle only to dig up a garlic necklace!" George cackled, clutching his stomach. "Imagine their face when they finally, finally decipher the final rune, dig up the prize, and realize the legendary amulet smells like a week-old vindaloo!"
"We should help embellish the myth!" Lee Jordan declared excitedly. "We can add journal entries about the ancient order of 'Garlic Guardians' and their sacrifices to keep the cross potent! Mention it was kept safe by generations of Hogwarts students!"
"That's it," Fred agreed, rubbing his hands together. "We won the House Cup, now we're setting up a magnificent, glorious practical joke that will only conclude long after we're gone. This is a truly spectacular, long-play prank, Albert."
Albert merely smiled, satisfied. He hadn't created an artifact of great magic, but he had created something far more valuable: a future legend, a source of immense frustration, and a beautiful, enduring joke at the expense of ambition. He carefully stored the Vampires Beware amulet, already drafting the first cryptic line of the treasure map in his head.