"What if he doesn't leave the school at all during the holidays?" Travers asked, his voice tight with frustration.
"Then we wait for the Easter break. If he's still hiding like a turtle then, we wait for summer. And if he's still hiding in the summer, we wait until next year. He'll be a third year then, won't he?" Yaxley chuckled, a dry, unpleasant sound.
"You mean...?" Wilkes said, a look of realization dawning on his face.
"Exactly. Third years always go to Hogsmeade. And by next year, Professor Bones should be gone. The Dark Lord's curse on that position is no joke. Vanessa is also about to graduate. By then, Slytherin will be mine. Don't you want to restore the glory of the pure-blood families and make that brat pay for what he's done? Next year, we'll make him bleed in every sense of the word," Yaxley promised with a sinister grin.
"But what about our wands? Are we really supposed to just buy new ones? Those were our first wands—the ones with the highest compatibility. Are we really going to let him stay that arrogant for another six months?" Travers seethed, his indignation nearly boiling over.
"What's the hurry? A viper has to lie low before it can deliver a fatal strike." Yaxley stroked his chin thoughtfully. "As for the wands, just pay the ransom and get them back for now. You need to be patient. Do not provoke him again for the next six months."
"What? We actually have to pay him? That's like bowing down to a Mudblood!" Travers couldn't believe his ears.
"This is a lesson for you. We upperclassmen find it difficult to move freely around the school lately. That old man Bones is no fool. I constantly feel as if someone is watching me. I have to wait until he's gone before I can act without restraint." Yaxley frowned. He was powerful enough to sense that inexplicable feeling of being watched, but he couldn't fathom how it was being done.
Meanwhile, Alan arrived at Professor Bones's office to find the door wide open. The professor was sitting leisurely at his desk, the runes on the side of his monocle glowing with a faint, steady light. It was clear he had been using the alchemical tool to observe something.
"Professor," Alan said softly, stepping into the room.
Bones blinked, coming back to his senses. Seeing it was Alan, he nodded. "Alan, what is it? It's not quite evening yet."
"Have you heard about the Longbottoms?" Alan asked, his voice low and serious.
Bones's brow furrowed. "I just received word. Emmeline, who is helping care for them, sent a message. They are out of danger, but due to the prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse, they still haven't regained consciousness."
Alan felt a wave of relief that they were at least alive, but his resolve remained sharp. "I've picked up some information in Slytherin. I have a good idea of who attacked them."
Bones sat bolt upright, staring at Alan. "Are you certain?"
"Yes. The source is reliable," Alan said, thinking of the memories he had forcibly extracted from Travers and Wilkes.
"Who was it?" Bones asked. He had worked with Alan long enough to know the boy didn't make idle claims.
"Rabastan, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus Lestrange. I've heard they have a secret hideout in the Mole Valley in Surrey. It's very close to where the Longbottoms were ambushed. It's highly likely they crossed paths during a patrol."
Professor Bones searched Alan's face. The boy didn't just know the attackers; he knew their specific location. This wasn't the kind of information one stumbled across by accident.
"Alan, I know you are close with the Longbottoms, but... heaven and hell are often just a step apart. Even the Dark Lord was once a promising young talent. Do you understand what I'm saying?" Bones asked earnestly.
"I understand. Don't worry, I know exactly who I am," Alan replied, pausing briefly. "But I am a Slytherin, after all. Following the rules isn't exactly my specialty."
Bones nodded slowly. He knew some things could only be hinted at. "The Lestranges have been wanted by the Ministry for a long time. I suspected they might be involved, but we haven't been able to pin down their location. This information is vital. I'll inform Moody immediately."
Alan nodded and turned to leave. Bones watched him go with a trace of concern. Such a brilliant young man—he desperately hoped the boy wouldn't lose himself to the darkness.
That night, in the Slytherin dormitory.
Alan looked at Rozier, who had come to find him, and couldn't help but smirk. "I didn't think they'd send you to do their dirty work."
Rozier had been ordered by Wilkes and the others to handle the ransom. They were far too humiliated to face Alan themselves.
"What... what did you actually do to Wilkes?" Rozier whispered, looking terrified. "Whenever someone mentions your name now, he looks like he's about to have a stroke."
"You'll have to ask him yourself. Stop stalling—did you bring the gold?" Alan asked.
"Here, one hundred and forty Galleons. How did you even manage this? They actually agreed to pay to get the wands back." Rozier still didn't know the details of the fight, only that Alan had confiscated the wands. He had expected a riot, not a quiet payout.
"It seems they aren't completely stupid. Or at least, they have someone smart advising them," Alan replied, taking the bag of coins.
"What do you mean by that?" Rozier asked, confused.
"They wouldn't dare make a scene in the school right now. They'll wait until I lower my guard," Alan sneered. "Did they mention any plans to come after me?"
"Not to me, but I saw the look in their eyes. They aren't going to let this go," Rozier said, shivering.
"I won't be letting them off easily either. Go back and keep a close watch on them for me. Tell me the moment they start moving," Alan instructed.
"I will, but... are you really going to go all-out against them? If a real fight breaks out, you could be expelled—or worse, sent to Azkaban," Rozier warned, shrinking back.