Alan showed what he intended to be a very gentle smile, though in the dim light of the lavatory, it appeared predatory. "Well, do you remember anything now?"
"Ha… ha…" Wilkes gasped for air, his eyes fixed on Alan's terrifying expression. "What… what exactly… do you want to know?"
"Tell me, who attacked the Longbottoms?" Alan asked with a cold sneer, seeing the boy finally relent.
"I… I only know that Rabastan, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus of the Lestrange family have been on the run recently. Those two might have been targeted by them. I really don't know anything else." Wilkes was on the verge of tears, his lungs burning with every ragged breath. He had never suffered such torment in his life, and he no longer dared to meet Alan's gaze.
"The Lestranges? Bellatrix is Sirius's cousin, isn't she?" Alan murmured. He leaned in closer. "Where are they now? Where are they hiding?"
"I really don't know! My uncle died last Christmas. The rest of my family doesn't have high standing among the Death Eaters. If you want to know more, ask Travers. His family is much closer to the inner circle!" Wilkes sobbed, his spirit completely broken.
The Silence Charm on Travers, who was still hanging upside down, had finally worn off. Hearing Wilkes sell him out, he erupted in a panicked fury. "Wilkes, you coward! How would I know something you don't? Alan, if you lay a finger on me, my uncle will make you pay!"
Alan stood up from Wilkes's side and, with a casual flick of his wand, hit the boy with a Stunning Spell to keep him quiet. Then he turned his attention to Travers. His dark pupils were devoid of emotion, staring with a cold intensity that made the air in the room feel heavy.
"Relashio!" As Alan's spell took hold, Travers plummeted from the ceiling, crashing heavily onto the stone floor.
Before the boy could even cry out, Alan stepped into his field of vision. Travers swallowed hard, his bravado vanishing as he looked up at the expressionless face looming over him.
"While I was dealing with Wilkes, I think I forgot something important," Alan said, a thin grin spreading across his face. "I know Legilimency. Why did I bother with the water?"
"You… stay away from me!"
Travers felt the air thicken around him, as if invisible hands were constricting his chest. He was hoisted up by magic, dangled upright until his eyes were level with Alan's.
"Look at me!" Alan commanded sharply.
Travers instinctively met Alan's gaze, feeling as though he were staring into two black holes that were actively pulling the thoughts from his head. His vision blurred as his mind was forcibly breached.
For a young wizard like Travers, whose willpower was as thin as his experience, his mind was an open book. Alan's consciousness pierced through the layers of memory, pulling aside the veil of his private thoughts. The surroundings seemed to dissolve into a swirling mist before coalescing into the image of an ancient, sprawling manor.
The perspective drew closer, passing through grand iron gates and corridors lined with antique silver artifacts. A gloomy, familiar face appeared: Sampel Travers's uncle. In Sampel's mind, this man represented absolute power and security.
"Sampel, soon the Dark Lord's majesty will cover this land," the uncle boasted with a booming laugh. "The Travers family is about to ascend to heights you can't imagine!"
The scene shifted, the memories rolling like fog into a new shape. It was a dark, private study filled with alchemy materials and rare books. Sampel's mother, a young woman with light blonde hair, stood beside him.
"The Dark Lord instructed us to transfer certain artifacts to my brother's care. He is now the master of Malfoy Manor," the woman said, her voice low. She pulled several items from the shelves, including an unremarkable black notebook and a strange, twisted statue.
"Mother, what is that?" Sampel asked, pointing toward a meter-long, dried object that looked like a gnarled root.
"That is a heartstring from a Hebridean Black dragon. We intended to use it for wand cores, but a specimen this complete is rare. It will be crafted into a magnificent alchemical tool for you one day," she said with a fond smile. "Remember this room, Sampel. These treasures are the foundation of our family's status."
"Are we not born noble?" Sampel asked, his young voice already tinged with arrogance. "We have the blood of kings. We are not like those filthy Muggles."
"That is your uncle talking again," she said, though she didn't disagree. "Even with noble blood, you must be careful. Just remember where we keep our strength."
The memory dissolved again, reformulating into another grand estate. The blonde woman was leading Sampel toward a group of people. An adult man with perfectly groomed platinum hair stood waiting, a woman with a high bun beside him holding a small toddler.
"Yulia, Narcissa, it has been too long. Little Draco is growing so fast," Sampel's mother said warmly.
"You look wonderful, Yulia," Narcissa replied. "Lucius heard you were coming and had the kitchen prepare something special."
"Dobby! Dobby!" Lucius Malfoy shouted. He turned to his guest with a practiced, thin smile. "My apologies. The house-elf I recently acquired is proving to be… difficult."
With a soft pop, a small, trembling creature appeared beside Malfoy. "Master, what are your orders?"
"You idiot, why were you so slow?" Lucius snarled, raising his cane and striking the elf twice across the shoulders. "Where are the sweets I ordered?"
"Dobby is sorry, Master! Dobby will bring them at once!" the elf squeaked, cowering in fear.
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