Just then, quite coincidentally, another group of wizards gathered, their voices rising in a sharp argument. Alan focused his gaze and saw the McKinnons and the Travers family confronting each other once again.
*Happens every year, doesn't it?*
However, this time Alan didn't just observe from afar; he moved closer. He wanted a good look at the members of the Travers family. Keeping a cautious distance, he stopped about twenty meters away to observe the crowd.
The adults involved in the confrontation paid no mind to the small wizard approaching, but Sampel Travers and Charles noticed him immediately. Charles gave Alan a slight, weary nod, while Sampel glared with a look of pure malice. He hadn't forgotten the humiliation he suffered last year, but Alan had been so elusive that Sampel hadn't even been able to corner him in the common room.
Aside from Sampel, there were three other people in the Travers group. A striking woman with long golden hair stood next to a man with a prominent goatee—presumably Sampel's father. The man's face was sickly pale, and he looked far from healthy. Behind them stood a third man with a sullen expression and a sinister smile, staring coldly at the McKinnons.
The McKinnons glared back, openly calling the man in the rear a murderer, looking ready to draw their wands at any second.
Alan quickly assessed the group. The couple were likely Sampel's parents, and the man behind them was almost certainly the uncle Charles had mentioned—the suspected Death Eater. Without concrete evidence, the Ministry couldn't touch him, but Alan was surprised he had the audacity to wander openly through King's Cross.
Sampel, sensing an opportunity, leaned in and whispered something into his uncle's ear. The sullen-faced Travers shifted his gaze, his cold eyes scrutinizing Alan. Alan didn't flinch; he narrowed his eyes and met the man's gaze with a sneer of his own.
Before the tension could snap, Aurors arrived to forcefully separate the groups. They were used to this annual theater. Even if they sympathized with the McKinnons, they couldn't allow a magical brawl in a public station.
Alan didn't linger. He turned and boarded the train; it wasn't the time to escalate the conflict. He found an empty carriage and settled in just as the crowd on the platform was being dispersed. A moment later, Charles entered the carriage.
"Did you see them? That arrogant bunch?" Charles asked resentfully as he sat down. "They're the ones who killed my aunt. I know it."
Alan pulled out his wand and cast a Muffliato and a Shield Charm on the carriage door. "I saw them. From their expressions, they clearly don't lose any sleep over what they've done."
Charles leaned forward, his voice shaking with excitement. "I won't let them get away with it. Sampel is just as bad as the rest of them. Once we're at Hogwarts, I'm going to make him pay. Will you help me, Alan?"
Alan looked at Charles, noting the bloodshot eyes and the frantic energy. "What you need to do is protect yourself. Sampel isn't going to sit back and let you strike first. Acting out of rage will only get you hurt."
"So you're telling me to just stand by and watch them laugh?" Charles gesticulated wildly, his voice rising to a shout.
Alan pulled a vial of calming draught from his bag and handed it to Charles. "Drink this first. You're in no state to plan anything. Let's say you get to Hogwarts and Sampel provokes you into a duel. What do you do?"
"I'll let him taste that new hex I learned," Charles said, waving his wand fiercely before taking a sip of the potion.
Alan stared at him, unimpressed. *A straightforward genius, indeed.*
"And that's exactly what he wants," Alan said coldly. "He'd lead you to a dark corner, and instead of a fair duel, you'd find a group of upper-year Slytherins waiting to beat you into the hospital wing. You don't honestly think he plays fair, do you?"
Charles's emotions began to stabilize as the potion took effect. His tone was less aggressive, though the anger remained. "Then what? I just watch? I can't do that."
"There is only one path: you must become stronger. The pure-blood faction in Slytherin is tight-knit. You can't rush them until you're confident you can handle the older students who back them up," Alan advised.
"But I'm only twelve! I... I heard my aunt say you once held off a Death Eater yourself. Do you have a plan?" Charles asked. He trusted Alan specifically because he knew that while Alan wore green and silver, he was nothing like the Travers family.
Alan sighed. "Do you know where Hagrid's hut is? Past the covered bridge, left at the stone circle, all the way to the edge of the woods."
"By the Forbidden Forest? Isn't that off-limits?" Charles asked.
"I stay out there most of the time. Come find me after classes every day. I'll help you train. Sometimes, holding back isn't a sign of weakness; it's about making sure that when you finally act, you win," Alan explained.
Charles thought about it for a long moment, then nodded seriously.
The carriage door slid open again, and Vivian walked in, her good mood apparently unshakable. She beamed at the two of them. Charles greeted her, bid Alan farewell, and left to find his fellow Gryffindors.
"What was that about? You two looked very mysterious," Vivian asked as she stowed her luggage.
"Nothing much," Alan teased, watching her. "He just told me he's developed a massive crush on you and doesn't know how to confess."
Vivian's face instantly turned a deep shade of crimson. "What? What are you boys even talking about? Is there something wrong with both of you?"
Alan watched her flustered reaction with amusement. *She didn't actually believe that, did she? Oh well, if Charles asks, I'll just deny everything.*