HP: Hogwart's Journey

The large mirror trembled slightly, and a crack appeared in the middle. The lower half of the mirror slowly slid downward, while the upper half remained still. 

"They... they actually have to crawl in?" Robert was stunned. "Did the person who designed this passage think they might get knocked down, so they made an entrance like this?" 

Fred climbed in first, followed by George, and then Robert. However... 

"Whoa!" 

As soon as they entered, they were met with a downward slide. Robert had no idea how long they had been sliding before he suddenly crashed into someone. 

"Ow!" Judging by the voice, it seemed to be George. 

Hurriedly, Robert scrambled to his feet, pulled out his wand, and muttered, "Sorry, George—Lumos!" 

The surroundings instantly lit up. 

Looking back, Robert saw a long, sloping passage behind them. It seemed his guess had been right—this tunnel was designed as an emergency escape route in case someone fell. 

The twins had already gotten up, dusting themselves off. 

"This passageway must have gone unused for centuries," Robert remarked. "We might be the first wizards in hundreds of years to clean it out." 

Saying that, he cast three Scourgify spells, finally feeling more comfortable. 

The tunnel stretched on endlessly. After about thirty minutes of walking, the three of them were exhausted and parched. They sat down, devoured some food, and then continued. 

Another half hour later, the passage began to slope upward. Robert knew they were close to the exit. 

"Alright, let's see where this leads!" Fred called out excitedly and bolted ahead. 

George grinned and followed. But Robert hesitated. He thought he had just heard... an owl? 

"Whoa—!" 

"Ahhh!" 

Two startled yells rang out, and the twins vanished from sight. 

Robert's mouth twitched. 

Wait a minute... Could it be? Did this passage lead to the Owl Post Office? 

"This is the worst luck ever!" Fred groaned. "Why are there so many owls at home today? Aren't they usually out delivering letters?" 

George was equally frustrated. "Getting attacked by a flock of owls the moment we step out—that's absolutely terrifying!" 

After rescuing the twins from the furious beaks of the postal owls, Robert trailed behind them, trying to console them. "Come on, come on, Fred, George... Cut those poor, chubby Scottish barn owls some slack! Look, I already cleaned us up!" 

Fred sighed. "Fine, fine... Since we made it to Hogsmeade, I suppose we can let it slide. Haha! It's amazing—we're not even third years yet, and we're already here!" 

"But the stench is still awful!" George complained, exasperated. "If we can't get rid of this smell before we go back, Lee Jordan is definitely going to think we snuck off to throw dungbombs without him!" 

"Speaking of which," Robert asked curiously, "where do you even get those dungbombs? I don't recall seeing them in Diagon Alley." 

Fred smirked. "South side of Diagon Alley—Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. It's right between WhizzHard Books and Twilfitt and Tattings." 

"You should check it out," George added. "It's a fantastic place!" 

"Really?" Robert glanced at a red-colored shop to the left, its sign reading Zonko's Joke Shop. 

"How does it compare to this one?" 

The twins turned their heads toward the shop. 

Then, the three of them exchanged mischievous grins. 

As they stepped inside, a skeletal soldier at the entrance let out a ghostly chant, "Naughty children, naughty children..." 

Inside Zonko's Joke Shop, bizarre items were piled high to the ceiling. Some bloodstained props were scattered around, creating an eerie atmosphere. At the back of the store stood a man with his back to them, his clothes tattered and smeared with what appeared to be bits of internal organs. 

"Oh-ho!" The man let out a peculiar sound, turning around. "What's this? What's this? Why are young wizards visiting Zonko's Joke Shop at this hour?" 

As he turned, the dim yellow lights revealed an elderly man with wild, unkempt gray hair that made him look as if he were wearing a cotton hat. His face was clean-shaven but deeply wrinkled, and his lips curled into a sly grin. 

Wow, Robert thought. This guy looks like a real prankster. 

"Hey there, Mr. Zonko!" Fred greeted him cheerfully. "What are you up to?" 

George leaned in for a closer look. "Whoa! That's a clever trick! Telling customers that their purchases are fresh off a corpse—your Transfiguration skills are top-notch, sir!" 

Mr. Zonko huffed, throwing down the knife in his hand and plopping into a rocking chair. "Hmph! Rude little brats! Do you know how long I've been crouching on the floor just to set this up?" 

Fred puffed out his chest. "Well, well, if we're talking about pranks—we're the real experts!" 

The twins declared in unison, "We are the kings of mischief, bringing joy to wizards everywhere!" 

Zonko chuckled heartily, clapping his hands. "Not bad, not bad! You two remind me of my younger days. Go ahead, pick whatever you like—I'll give you a twenty percent discount!" 

"I'm getting some stink pellets!" Fred and George immediately began rummaging through the shop's shelves. 

Robert, meanwhile, curiously examined some items that didn't seem to be prank-related. 

"What's this?" He picked up what looked like a stretchy tendon and gave it a slight tug. The cord extended on its own. Robert's eyes lit up—this seemed fun! 

"Oh, that's a tendril from a Mimic Lizard," Zonko explained. "I stock a lot of materials that can be used for pranks." He raised an eyebrow. "Interested in making your own mischief tools? That's even more fun." 

"Mimic Lizard? You mean the stuff they use to make coin purses?" Robert asked, intrigued. "Isn't that a rare material?" 

"Not anymore," Zonko said with a whistle. "Mimic Lizards have become a bit of a nuisance in Ireland, so their tendrils are dirt cheap now. Three strands for one Sickle—interested?" 

Robert put the tendrils back. "Uh... Thanks, but I think I'll pass." 

If the price of Mimic Lizard had dropped, maybe he could buy some coin purses as gifts to bring back to the Flower Country. 

Hmm? Would customs even let them through? 

With the British Ministry of Magic being as lax as it was, he doubted they'd check... but what about the authorities back home? He'd better look into that first—he wouldn't want to be stopped at the airport. 

(End of Chapter)