Alan laughed. "Professor McGonagall takes good care of me. It's usually the Gryffindors and Slytherins who are constantly at each other's throats that make her angry."
"Hmph, it must be those damned Slytherins causing the trouble." Frank paused, suddenly realizing Alan was in Slytherin himself, and quickly added, "I'm talking about the ones who always boast about pure-blood supremacy. There are plenty of Slytherin students who are well-behaved."
Alan didn't take offense. "I agree with you. A few pure-blood students tried to cause trouble earlier this year, but I dealt with them easily enough."
Frank's eyes lit up. "Then you should learn a trick or two from Sirius and James. They have a spell called the 'Leavicorpus' hex that hangs people upside down by the ankle. It was always a laugh when we were in school."
*I'm not that childish. Isn't it better to deal with enemies cleanly and efficiently?* Alan thought. He remembered his concerns and asked, "Sirius actually taught me that one already. By the way, is he in some sort of trouble? I can't reach him. The owls I send to Lily and James always fail to find them, too."
Alice and Frank's expressions grew somber. They exchanged a look, and Alice spoke after a moment of consideration. "Dumbledore believes Lily and James are in immediate danger, so he has hidden them away. It's normal that you can't find them; we can't contact them directly either."
"As for Sirius," Frank continued, "he's keeping a low profile. Many Death Eaters can't find Lily and the others, so they're hunting him down, hoping to beat their whereabouts out of him. But don't worry, he isn't fighting alone."
Alan nodded; it was exactly as he had suspected.
"Alright, it's getting late. You two should get some rest," Augusta said, entering the living room after tidying the kitchen. "Frank, take Alan to the guest room at the end of the corridor. I've already prepared it. Alan, you really were too generous—I don't think we can finish that ham in a month."
As she spoke, Augusta caught a scent in the air. Her face twisted into an expression of fury. "Frank! You've been secretly drinking again, haven't you? Don't you have to be at the Ministry tomorrow morning?"
Frank ducked his head, chuckling awkwardly, and quickly grabbed Alan's arm to pull him upstairs. Alice hugged Neville and snickered as she followed, leaving a fuming Augusta behind.
Alan settled into the Longbottom household with ease, maintaining his disciplined routine: exercise in the morning and evening, studying runes and practicing Occlumency at night, and spending his days helping Augusta with the chores.
Augusta was a stern woman, but she grew very fond of Alan. He was sensible, disciplined, and an excellent cook. Since Frank and Alice were both Aurors, they often left early and returned late. During the war, their schedules were packed with patrols and emergency missions. Alan was more than happy to keep the lonely matriarch company.
"Alan, Frank and Alice are off tomorrow, and I'm planning to invite the neighbors over. It'll be a good opportunity to serve that ham you brought. What do you think? Any ideas on how to prepare it?"
Augusta was preparing lunch with Alan. In the two weeks he had stayed with them, Alan had completely redefined her idea of good food. He made different dishes nearly every day, to the point where Augusta had essentially become his sous-chef.
"That depends on the guest list," Alan replied. "If it's a small group, we can do something delicate—perhaps boiled cabbage with ham essence, or simply thin slices served with a fresh salad."
"I'm planning on a larger crowd this time," Augusta said, counting on her fingers. "The Weasleys live just outside the village; Arthur is Frank's colleague, and his wife Molly is the Prewett brothers' sister. You met Gideon and Fabian at Christmas. They have many children, and Molly is pregnant again—I don't know how she manages. Then there's the Diggorys, who are also at the Ministry, and Xenophilius Lovegood, the editor of The Quibbler. He's a bit eccentric, but it would be rude not to invite the neighbors."
Alan felt a headache forming at the mention of so many children. After a moment of thought, he did the math. "So, six adults and eight children? Two infants, six under ten years old, and one pregnant guest."
Alan pulled out a piece of parchment and began neatly sketching a menu. "With a pregnant guest and young children, we'll avoid alcohol in the cooking. Kids usually love fried or sweet and sour flavors, so we'll do braised pork, sweet and sour ribs, fried chicken wings, and calamari rings."
His pen moved quickly across the paper. "For the ham, I'll dice it and sauté it with shrimp, scallops, peas, bamboo shoots, and eggs for a large batch of fried rice. We can serve it buffet-style as the main course. I'll also do a cold platter of thinly sliced ham with salad and cheese. For a starter, we'll have a creamy ham and corn chowder. I have some dried mushrooms for a chicken stew, and we can finish with those lamb chops in your pantry—roasted with a pistachio crust."
"I'll also prepare appetizers like pickled cucumbers and wood ear mushrooms. You can handle the desserts and bread for those who don't want rice. We can set up long tables in the yard for a self-service buffet. It's more practical for the kids and saves time. What do you think?"
Augusta watched in astonishment. In the time it took her to list the names, Alan had designed the entire menu and the logistics of the banquet. She had only wanted a tip on the ham, but he had taken care of everything.
"You've thought of every detail," she said, her mouth already watering. "Let's do it exactly like that. I'm actually quite looking forward to lunch tomorrow."