HP: Hogwart's Journey

"It looks like he's not in his office," Fred said with a mischievous grin. "Let's hurry. By the time he comes down from the seventh floor, we'll already be in the Great Hall." 

Robert sighed. "Alright, since you all insist..." 

"Now, the real question is—where exactly is the fireplace in Honeydukes?" Robert's eye twitched. "And, honestly, using someone else's Floo Powder just feels... wrong." 

"Leave it to us!" The twins pulled off their Invisibility Cloak and walked straight into Honeydukes. 

Robert had no choice but to follow them. 

After a bit of explanation, Mr. Flume agreed to let them use the fireplace—so long as they covered the cost of the Floo Powder. 

Standing in front of the fireplace, Fred raised an eyebrow and asked, "Robert, have you ever used a fireplace before?" 

Robert shook his head. 

"Then I'll demonstrate." Fred smirked, grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, stepped into the flames, and shouted, "Hogwarts Castle, caretaker's office!" 

With a whoosh, emerald-green flames shot up from beneath his feet, swallowing him whole. In the blink of an eye, he was gone. 

George turned to Robert with a grin. "You wanna go next?" 

Expressionless, Robert took a handful of Floo Powder, sighed internally, and prayed he wouldn't get caught. Then, as a flash of green light enveloped him, he too vanished into the fire. 

It felt like being tossed into an oversized washing machine—Robert spun wildly as an unseen force yanked him forward at breakneck speed. By the time he regained his senses, the scene before him had completely changed. 

Shaking his head to clear the dizziness, he realized he was covered in soot. 

"Achoo!" He sneezed, scrunching his nose before finally feeling a bit better. 

After casting a Scouring Charm on both himself and Fred, Robert stepped out of the fireplace—only to immediately clamp his hand over his nose. 

The room was dark and windowless. Dim oil lamps flickered against the low ceiling, casting long, eerie shadows. A heavy stench of fish and fried food lingered in the air. 

"So dark," Robert muttered. 'So this is Filch's office.' 

Thud! 

Just as Robert was lost in thought, a loud crash signaled George's arrival. Another quick Scouring Charm later, and he, too, was soot-free. 

Robert pulled out the Marauder's Map, scanned it quickly, and sighed in relief. "Filch is still up on the seventh floor." 

"Let's go before he gets here," Robert said, handing the map back to Fred. "Getting caught by Filch is not on my to-do list." 

He reached for the door— 

"Hold up," Fred grabbed Robert's arm. "We can't just leave like this. We gotta leave him a little surprise." 

George grinned. "Yeah, he's always giving us detention, threatening to whip us... We hold grudges, you know!" 

Half an hour later, the three of them finally made it to the Great Hall, where students were already packed around the long tables, chatting excitedly about exams being over. Some were even making summer plans. 

Robert whispered to Fred, "Where'd you hide the Dungbombs?" 

Fred smirked and whispered back, "Three of them—hidden under the ashes in Filch's fireplace." 

"The moment he lights a fire and throws in the Floo Powder—" 

"Boom!" George mimicked an explosion, throwing his arms wide and making a face like someone drenched in filth. 

"Hehehehe..." The twins snickered. 

"If we're lucky, we might even see Filch storming around the castle, looking for the culprit before we leave." 

They returned to their seats, blending in with the other students. 

When dinner was about to begin, Robert suddenly noticed something odd—Professor Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. 

That was rare. The old man loved watching students cause trouble. If he wasn't here, something big must have happened. 

"Hey, Cedric, do you know where Professor Dumbledore is?" Robert turned to Cedric, who was in the middle of sharing study tips with his fellow Hufflepuffs. 

Cedric hesitated before answering. "The Headmaster does have something important to attend to. I mean, I don't know the details, but if he's missing dinner, it must be serious." 

"Come on, Cedric, that's not like you," Robert threw an arm around the handsome boy's shoulders. "Tell us something. Anything. We're just concerned about the professor—not trying to snoop where we shouldn't." 

Cedric lifted his head—only to find himself staring into several pairs of eager, inquisitive eyes. 

In that moment, Cedric felt utterly defeated. 'Such hungry eyes... Are you sure you're Hufflepuffs? Why do you all suddenly look like Ravenclaws?!'

"Fine, fine," he sighed. "I heard that the new Minister for Magic is being decided tonight. My guess is that the Headmaster is involved in that process." 

The Hufflepuffs exchanged puzzled glances. Being young, many of them didn't quite understand how electing a new Minister related to Dumbledore's absence from Hogwarts. 

But Robert's eye twitched violently. 'Oh no... That guy. He's coming.'

Cornelius Fudge. 

"By the way," Cedric added, "tonight's Daily Prophet has a prediction contest. If you guess correctly, you'll win a mystery prize." 

Just then, a flurry of owls swooped into the Great Hall, drawing gasps from the students—after all, owls usually only delivered mail in the mornings. 

One by one, students unfolded their newspapers, finally understanding the unexpected delivery. 

Holding out their claws, the owls demanded five Knuts per paper. 

"Hey! This is just a single sheet!" Stubbins glared at the owl in frustration, unwilling to be swindled. 

The owl, however, was unfazed. It merely shot him a poor and pathetic look before flying off in search of another customer. 

Robert picked up the paper and saw the headline: 

"Who Will Be the Next Minister for Magic?!"

Below the headline were seven moving portraits, each with a brightly colored card beneath their picture. Students could pick their chosen candidate's card, write their name on it, and officially enter the contest. 

Robert shrugged, plucking the green card—Cornelius Fudge's—before scrawling his name onto it. 

The moment he finished writing and set down his quill, the other candidates' cards ignited into flames, burning to ash. Meanwhile, Robert's card folded itself into a tiny paper crane, which shot out of the Great Hall and vanished into the night. 

Robert pulled a strange face. "It's not actually flying to Diagon Alley, is it?" 

"It's probably heading for the nearest fireplace," Cedric mused. 

Robert's expression grew even stranger. 

The nearest fireplace? 

That would be... 

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(End of Chapter)