After finalizing his arrangements with Hagrid for the upcoming weekend, Alan left the hut and made his way back toward the castle.
As he crossed Clock Tower Square, a series of sharp, crackling sounds echoed from the direction of the Astronomy Tower.
*It sounds like the two groups finally clashed,* Alan thought. He wondered briefly how Charles was faring and if the warning had been heeded, but he had no intention of getting involved. If he showed up now, he risked being treated as an hostile by both sides.
With a cold sneer at the pointless drama, he ignored the commotion and went straight back to the Slytherin common room.
Upon returning to his dormitory, Alan felt a surprising surge of vitality. It seemed the meat of magical creatures like the Tebo Warthog possessed genuine body-strengthening properties. Pleased with the discovery, he performed a slow set of Tai Chi in the center of his room to aid digestion and center his energy.
Once finished, he sat down to refine his study plan. He decided to carve out a dedicated block of time for Potions alongside his charms work. He needed to master the production of practical drafts—not just for the academic merit, but to see if he could finally start recovering some of his spent gold.
Meanwhile, high atop the Astronomy Tower, the peace of Hogwarts had officially shattered.
---
The following morning, Alan arrived at the Great Hall after his daily run to find the atmosphere heavy with tension. The Gryffindor and Slytherin tables were noticeably sparse. Usually, the hall was nearly full at this hour, but today the two rival houses were missing nearly half their members.
Those who were present spent their time glaring across the hall, hands hovering near their wand pockets. Alan spotted Charles at the Gryffindor table; the boy looked exhausted but otherwise unharmed. When their eyes met, Charles gave him a faint, knowing nod.
"Oh my goodness, Alan! Do you have any idea what happened last night? I have the inside scoop. Do you want to hear it?" As soon as she sat down, Vivian leaned in, her eyes wide with the frantic energy of a dedicated gossip.
"I don't, and I don't particularly care. You don't have to tell me," Alan said calmly, reaching for a piece of toast. He knew exactly what had happened—he had even heard the spells—but he saw no reason to give Vivian the satisfaction.
"Alan, you're absolutely no fun," Vivian huffed, deflating for all of two seconds before the words started spilling out anyway. Making her shut up was a lost cause.
"Apparently, our house got wind that the Gryffindors were planning a secret late-night party at the Astronomy Tower. So, the pure-blood cliques got together to give them a 'warm' welcome. The plan was to pelt them with dungbombs, hit them with some nasty jinxes, and then lock the doors so they'd be trapped in the stench," Vivian said, gesturing wildly as if she'd been leading the charge.
"But get this—the second our lot snuck in, the Gryffindors were already waiting for them. What was supposed to be a prank turned into a full-blown duel. I heard people were getting hexed left and right.
"When Professor McGonagall and Filch finally burst in, everyone scrambled. Most of the people there got caught red-handed. The injured are up in the hospital wing, and the rest are looking at a month or two of detentions," Vivian finished with a look of pure schadenfreude. "Gryffindor and Slytherin both lost at least a hundred points. Vanessa is livid. Term only started two months ago and the House Cup is already a lost cause."
Alan was impressed by Vivian's intelligence-gathering skills, but he felt nothing but disdain for the participants. Sneaking out in the middle of a war-torn climate just to throw dungbombs?
*They're just children with no vision,* he thought. He wasn't going to waste another second of his life on their petty squabbles.
Later that week, Alan arrived early for the next Charms Club meeting. He went straight to the bottom shelf of the bookcase behind the podium and found the copy of "Theory of Magical Defense" Lily had mentioned. He slipped the book into his bag, found a seat, and began to skim it.
The pages were filled with Lily's meticulous handwriting. It was a goldmine of defensive theory and counter-curses for the Dark Arts, even explaining the process of developing a custom counter-spell. However, much of the advanced theory relied on Ancient Runes—a subject Alan wouldn't be able to take officially until his third year.
*I'll have to teach myself the basics ahead of schedule,* Alan decided.
The meeting began shortly after. It was a reminder that true research was a slow, grueling process. Most members had no major breakthroughs to report, and Professor Flitwick spent the time troubleshooting individual problems. However, Quirrell—the Ravenclaw senior—was making rapid progress with his sonic charms. His latest version of the Amplifying Charm allowed him to tune into the conversations of the portraits outside the room, though the feedback was still incredibly noisy.
Alan remained a "ghost" in the club, watching and listening without offering a word. The seniors assumed Flitwick was simply letting a favorite student observe, never imagining how much Alan was actually absorbing.
Quirrell's demonstration was particularly enlightening. Alan learned that developing a new spell required a foundation of "Magic Runes." It was like a canvas; you had to prepare the foundational rune before layering application runes on top. The trick was stability; if you combined clashing elements like water and fire without the proper runic anchors, the spell would simply explode in the caster's face.