Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

As they spoke, the two of them took out two small glass bottles from their pockets, which contained compound decoction.

They carefully placed the hairs they had collected, one by one, into the glass bottle.

As the hair was added, the compound decoction in one of the glass bottles slowly changed, gradually deepening in color until it turned dark brown; the compound decoction in the other glass bottle changed in a different direction, becoming increasingly darker until it turned blackish green.

Upon seeing the two colors, Fred and George both looked surprised and exclaimed in unison, "It really is! All the hair we collected is yours, no one else's!"

Fred picked up the bottle containing the dark brown polysaccharide, examined it closely, and said with certainty, "This bottle has turned dark brown; it's clearly a change brought about by Neville's hair."

George also held up the bottle containing the dark green Polyjuice Potion and waved it at Hannah: "Then this bottle turning dark green is undoubtedly caused by Hannah's hair."

After confirming the ownership of the hair, Fred and George's curiosity grew even stronger. They looked at Luna with inquisitive eyes: "Doesn't Dylan ever lose hair? Or do you have some new potion recipe that can prevent hair loss?"

George followed this line of thought and his eyes lit up instantly: "If there really were such a magic potion that could prevent hair loss, the market would be amazing! Even someone like old Tom in his younger days would probably be scrambling to get a bottle, and we'd definitely sell a lot!"

Hearing their guesses, Luna shook her head slightly and began to recall: "It shouldn't be any kind of magic potion. I remember Dylan cast a spell on me before. That spell seemed to automatically deal with my fallen hair, destroying it directly so it wouldn't stay anywhere else."

"There's such magic?" Fred and George exchanged a glance, a hint of excitement flashing in their eyes. A new idea suddenly popped into their heads. Fred looked at George, his tone full of anticipation, "Do you think we can treat our next batch of fluffy catfish like this?"

George nodded emphatically, finding the idea increasingly feasible: "If we could breed fluffy pets that don't require special grooming, they would be the perfect pets and would definitely be very popular!"

Fred then thought of another crucial issue and added, "Besides its fur, Puffy's excretion is also a problem. It would be perfect if we could solve its excrement problem in a similar way!"

Upon hearing this, George immediately high-fived Fred and excitedly said, "Great! It's settled then! Let's work on it carefully and solve both of these problems!"

Hannah, who had been listening nearby, was also somewhat tempted. She couldn't help but ask, "Could you make a separate breed of fluffy cat that doesn't require cleaning up its fur? I think their droppings are quite useful as fertilizer, and I don't want to waste them."

Fred and George grinned and readily agreed: "Of course! We can divide the fluffy into three types to meet different needs and set three different prices, so everyone can choose according to their own preferences!"

Fred looked at George, his voice full of emotion: "I never expected that Dylan's magic would bring us such great inspiration. Maybe it can make our fluffy business even more successful!"

Just then, Dylan's voice suddenly came from the other end of the corridor: "My magic? What kind of inspiration are you talking about? I don't understand."

Upon hearing Dylan's voice, Fred and George immediately stopped their discussion, turned around, and explained to Dylan their ideas about improving the fluffy fabric in a simple and clear manner.

After listening, Dylan nodded and agreed, saying, "This idea is indeed quite interesting. Considering the different needs of everyone when keeping pets, it should have a good market prospect."

“We think so too!” Fred and George said with confident smiles.

The Hogwarts Castle was exceptionally quiet at night, with only the occasional crackling of candlelight in the corridors casting long shadows.

Just then, a series of hurried footsteps accompanied by an angry shout came from the end of the corridor: "You two brats! Don't run!"

That hoarse, angry voice was unmistakably Argus Filch—he was not only the janitor of Hogwarts but also the castle caretaker. During the day, he was busy cleaning the corridors and tidying up abandoned classrooms. At night, he would patrol the corridors with a brass lantern, specifically catching students who violated school rules by going out at night. Once caught, he would mercilessly bring them to their respective house heads for punishment. And among his "key targets," Fred and George, the twins, were always at the very top of the list.

"Filch, why are you working so hard today?" Fred's voice came from the corridor ahead, full of undisguised playfulness, without any tension of being chased. "Normally at this time, you should be in the administrator's office eating dry bread and drinking cold tea, right?"

George's voice followed closely, even more teasing than Fred's: "Could it be that you're bored on patrol tonight and wanted us to keep you company and stretch your muscles? If you can't run anymore, just let us know and we can slow down and let you catch your breath before continuing!"

The two men's voices faded into the distance, clearly enjoying their game of "teasing Filch" and completely oblivious to the pursuit behind them.

Filch was so angry that his chest heaved violently, and his fingers gripping the lantern handle turned white from the force, his knuckles trembling slightly.

He stopped in his tracks and roared ahead, "You two troublemakers, don't let me catch you! Mrs. Loris! Come and help me!"

No sooner had his roar subsided than a sharp "meow" came from the stairwell next to him. Immediately afterward, a black figure darted over—it was Filch's pet cat, Mrs. Lorris, with jet-black fur. She always followed Filch around, helping him keep an eye out for any activity in the corridor. She was Filch's "right-hand woman" when it came to catching students.

"Oh! It's Mrs. Lorris!" George raised his voice deliberately upon hearing the cat's meow, his tone full of teasing. "I was wondering why I hadn't seen you with Filch. I thought he thought you weren't very useful lately and had left you in the dormitory!"

Fred joined in the fun, his laughter drifting from afar: "That's right, Mrs. Loris, with your tiny frame, even if you pounced, you'd only brush against our trouser legs at most, you wouldn't stop us at all. If you were as big as a cat or leopard, maybe we'd actually be a little afraid of you and obediently stop to let you catch us!" Indeed, Mrs. Loris was petite, and even at her fiercest, she could only make a token pounce as the two ran past, at most causing them to subconsciously slow down for half a second, offering no real obstacle whatsoever.

Annoyed by the teasing, Mrs. Loris arched her back, her black fur standing on end, and let out a series of fierce "whooshing" sounds. She lunged towards the direction from which the sound came, but only managed to pounce on thin air. She could only anxiously circle around in place, her tail held straight up, as if she was angry about her "mistake".

Seeing that even Mrs. Lorris couldn't stop the two, Filch was so anxious that cold sweat poured down his forehead. Suddenly, as if he had thought of something, he took out a dark-colored short staff from his pocket—this was not a real wand, but a magical tool that Dylan had specially made for him.

Previously, Dylan had specially made this "fake wand" because Filch had no magical talent but was responsible for cleaning the entire castle. It only contained a few basic life spells, such as "Clean Up" to remove dust and "Tidy Up" to organize items, all to help Filch complete the cleaning work more conveniently.

However, this wand has a time limit; that is, the magic cannot last forever on the wand, so it needs to be replaced after a period of time.

Filch gripped his short staff tightly, swung it sharply at the floor of the corridor ahead, and chanted a spell: "Clean and refreshed!"

According to Dylan's original design, this spell could only remove dust, debris, and other trash from the ground, making the ground clean, and would not have any other additional effects.

But just as the incantation was uttered, a strange sound suddenly came from afar—it sounded like someone had thrown a large bar of slippery soap onto the stone floor, accompanied by a "sizzling" rubbing sound.

Immediately afterward, two exclamations came from ahead, followed by a muffled thud as something heavy hit the ground, accompanied by Fred and George's cries of pain: "Ouch! Why is the ground suddenly so slippery!" Clearly, the two had stepped on the ground affected by the spell and slipped and fell.

Upon seeing this, Filch immediately broke into a smug smile, picked up his lantern, and ran quickly toward the direction from which the sound came, his laughter full of glee: "Finally caught you! Let's see how you run this time!" Mrs. Lorris also ran over, circling around the two who had fallen, meowing loudly, sounding very pleased with herself.

At this moment, Dylan, who was hiding in the shadows on the other side of the corridor, saw all of this and raised an eyebrow. He clearly remembered that when he made that "fake wand", he had deliberately set a magical restriction in it. The "Clean Up" spell could only work on trash and could never make the floor slippery.

But the commotion just now clearly showed that Filch's spell had an additional effect, which caused Fred and George to fall.

He smacked his lips.

"Looks like I'm the one who has to save your life."

With that in mind, Dylan no longer hesitated and quickly walked towards the direction from which the sound came. At the same time, he was rapidly calculating in his mind how to subtly change the subject when he met Filch, helping Fred and George cover up the real purpose of their nighttime outing. In addition, he had to figure out what was wrong with that "fake wand" and why it produced additional magical effects—this was not only related to the current pursuit but could also affect the subsequent creation of magical props.

As Dylan turned into another corridor, the sight before him instantly made him stop in his tracks.

Filch was running quickly forward, his face full of eagerness and pride. His black cat, Mrs. Lorris, followed closely at his feet, its jet-black fur standing on end as if it had been magically blown apart. Its body was arched into a taut arc, and it kept making low "grumble" sounds in its throat as it stared intently at the two people on the ground in front of it—Fred and George.

Fred and George were lying on the ground in a sorry state, with a puddle of clear water beneath them. The hems and cuffs of their robes were covered in white foam, making them look particularly comical.

They tried to push themselves up from the ground, but as soon as their palms touched the ground, it was as if they had hit a greased stone slab, and they slid forward and fell heavily back into the water, letting out muffled groans of "ouch".

"I've finally waited for this day!" Filch ran up to the two men, hands on his knees, panting heavily. Sweat streamed down his face and dripped onto the stone floor. He looked down at Fred and George, his eyes filled with a long-suppressed sense of exhilaration.

Fred shook his slightly numb arm, raised his hand, and gently rubbed his palm with his five fingers together. There was no annoyance at being caught on his face, but rather a hint of curiosity: "What is this? How can it be so slippery that I can't even stand up!"

George then stretched out his foam-covered finger and gently blew it to his lips, sending a string of tiny bubbles floating up from his fingertip and slowly swirling in the air.

He stared at the bubbles for a few seconds, then turned to Filch, his tone full of doubt: "I think I just heard you say 'clean up'? Could it be that the fake wand Dylan made for you has gained a new ability?"

The two chatted away, their faces full of playful expressions. They didn't seem like students caught breaking the rules by the administrator at all; rather, they looked like children who had found a new toy at an amusement park, completely immersed in this unexpected "fun." Fred spread his hands, looking at the transparent foam film remaining between his fingers, and gently pinched it. His brows furrowed slightly: "That's not right. We've been making the fake wands since the beginning of this semester. Dylan hasn't been involved for a long time."

“That’s right.” George nodded, his fingers still poking at the foam on the ground. “These wands aren’t made by Dylan! With you holding one, we could have more fun when we’re out at night. Who knew this thing would have this kind of effect?”

"What?" Filch was struck dumb by their conversation. He looked up abruptly, his eyes wide and his voice trembling.

He instinctively pulled the dark, short cane from his pocket, waved it quickly in front of Fred and George, and asked urgently, "This...this thing, you made it? Why did you do it?"

"What else could it be? We're just bored." Fred said matter-of-factly, his tone as casual as if he were talking about the weather. "Before, it was just the two of us going out at night. It got boring after a while, so I had to find some fun with you." (End of Chapter)