"You mean, Lily Potter?" Dumbledore seemed far more interested in the news of the Potter family. "Their child is due at the end of the month? Has a date been set?"
"That is what they said. They also gave Alan a gift—I could feel a strong magical residue on it. Lily mentioned earlier this year that she was practicing alchemy to improve her rune work; it seems her results are quite promising. And as for the boy, he is much more independent than I imagined. His savings are also... substantial. It is difficult to fathom how an eleven-year-old in an orphanage managed such a feat, but prying into his private affairs would be unbecoming." Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster were clearly on different wavelengths, her mind still focused on the remarkable new student.
"Is that so? I believe the Longbottoms are also expecting soon. Could it be one of them?" Dumbledore muttered to himself, his gaze drifting as if he were looking at something far beyond the walls of his office. He was evidently more preoccupied with the unborn children of the resistance than with the incoming first-years.
"One of whom, Albus?" McGonagall asked, confused by his mumbling.
"Oh, it is nothing, Minerva. You have had a long day. Go and get some rest. Tomorrow's Order of the Phoenix meeting is at the usual location. We have many problems to solve; the Death Eaters have been increasingly bold of late." Dumbledore had yet to reach a conclusion.
"Understood, Albus." McGonagall frowned, the weight of the war settling back onto her shoulders, and turned to leave.
Dumbledore remained at his desk, lost in thought. No one knew what he was calculating.
---
the next day, after bidding a quiet farewell to Matron Triss and William, Alan packed his trunk and made his way alone to the Leaky Cauldron.
"What was that? You're staying here by yourself until the term starts?" Tom, the landlord, looked at Alan with a mixture of suspicion and worry.
"Yes, Mr. Tom. Don't worry, I can pay my way." Alan pulled a few gold Galleons from his pocket to show him.
"It's not about the money, Mr. Wilson. You might not understand the risk. It isn't safe for a lad to be on his own right now. I'm sorry, but I can't agree to it. It's for your own protection." Tom spoke with a gravity that suggested he had seen too much recently.
"I understand, Mr. Tom. Professor McGonagall warned me about the situation yesterday, but I'm firm on this. Besides, I think a Muggle-born wizard like me is in more danger back in the city than I am here. I'm willing to trust you. I can help out with chores when I'm free and keep you company, can't I?" Alan looked up at Tom, his dark eyes steady and determined.
Tom studied the boy. There were still Aurors patrolling Diagon Alley just behind the pub, and letting a young wizard wander back into the Muggle world might lead to its own set of complications. After a long silence, he sighed.
"Fine. Business has been slow anyway. I'll give you a discount for the six weeks: five Galleons for the room. But you have to promise me you won't go wandering off. Stay in the shop, and there's a strict curfew at eight. You must be in your room by then."
"No problem, Mr. Tom. I'll be on my best behavior." Alan paid the sum immediately, took his key, and hauled his belongings upstairs.
He placed the pot of green onions on the windowsill. He had brought a significant amount of gear—school supplies, clothes, the seasonings William had helped him source, and even a Mahjong set. In his previous life, Alan's military background meant he had few hobbies beyond a deep appreciation for good food. Living on basic British fare for over a decade had nearly driven him to the brink; he had long since grown tired of it.
Once settled, he surveyed the room. It was large enough for basic exercise, though a bit cramped for his full boxing forms. He had previously practiced Tongbei, Pigua, and various long-fist styles, which he would have to modify now. For now, his physical training would consist of standing meditation and Tai Chi.
Alan sat at the small desk and drafted a strict schedule. He was a creature of habit, intensely disciplined. Aside from the fact that he no longer had to fold his bedding into a perfect military square, he still lived by the rigors of the army.
His daily routine was set:
6:00 AM: Wake up, wash, and morning exercise (stretching, meditation, cardio, and thirty minutes of forms).
7:30 AM: Breakfast, followed by reading and spell theory.
12:00 PM – 1:00 PM: Lunch and helping Tom.
1:00 PM: Magic practice and study.
6:00 PM: Dinner and rest.
8:00 PM: Internal forms and meditation.
9:00 PM: Sleep.
For the next month and a half, Alan decided to push himself to the limit. He wanted to absorb as much magical knowledge as humanly possible.
Around noon, he headed downstairs. Finding that the menu was limited to standard pub fare, he asked Tom for permission to use a corner of the kitchen. He used his own spices to whip up a few small dishes and shared the meal with the landlord. The shared food quickly broke the ice, and with both of them satisfied, Alan returned to his room to officially begin his journey into magic.
He focused first on The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, Magical Theory, and The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection. He wanted a handle on practical defense first. He spent the afternoon flipping through the texts, marking key passages and highlighting areas of confusion with a pen.
The following morning, after his exercise and breakfast, Alan prepared for his first formal spell: the Levitation Charm. Since he had spent years practicing a version of this without a wand, it felt like the most logical starting point.
"Wingardium Leviosa." Alan followed the precise incantation and the "swish and flick" gesture described in the book. He aimed his wand at a heavy textbook on the desk.
He felt a sudden, invisible tether connecting his mind, the wand, and the book. The object rose into the air with almost zero effort. *It's significantly easier with the wand,* he realized. *The incantation acts as a stabilizer for the raw magic.*
To test the difference, he set the wand down and tried to lift the book using only his previous methods. He focused his mind, but after several minutes of intense concentration, the book remained stubbornly still.