All of this was within Alan's expectations, and he had already begun planning to trouble his enemies using more indirect methods.
While the ongoing Ministry investigations had little actual effect on the entrenched pure-blood families, they did force a significant decline in their public arrogance. This shift even trickled down to the young pure-blood faction in Slytherin. For a while now, no one had attempted to follow Alan, which left him with a frustrating lack of practice material for his Legilimency and Memory Charms. His progress in those two areas had been so rapid precisely because he had constant access to live subjects.
However, he didn't dare openly snatch pure-blood students for his "lessons." Professor Bones's monitoring of Hogwarts was impartial; the man didn't care about a student's lineage. Recently, Alan had even noticed a faint magical pulse occasionally sweeping past him, indicating that Bones, perhaps fearing Alan might take his revenge too far, had placed him on the surveillance list as well.
*Fine then. We'll resolve it all next semester,* Alan thought. *These students are just small fry, anyway; the Death Eaters outside the school are the real targets.*
And so, Alan's second year at Hogwarts drew to a close. Professor Bones resigned two weeks before the final exams. Although the Dark Lord had vanished, the man had no desire to challenge the lingering power of the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.
Alan finished his exams with top marks across the board. Vivian, however, continued to struggle with her academic weaknesses; aside from History of Magic, she barely managed to scrape through her other subjects.
At the farewell feast, Headmaster Dumbledore announced the winner of the House Cup. The honest and reliable Hufflepuffs claimed the crown this year. Ravenclaw's Quidditch team had suffered a string of losses, leaving them far behind in points, while Slytherin and Gryffindor had spent the year in a state of perpetual friction, losing more points to disciplinary infractions than they managed to earn back.
When it came time to choose his third-year electives, Alan settled on Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures. He was already intimately familiar with runes, making the course a guaranteed path to an "Outstanding" evaluation. Furthermore, his long-term friendship with Hagrid had given him a deep appreciation for magical beasts; mastering more knowledge in that field would provide invaluable resources for his alchemical experiments.
For safety reasons this summer, and with the permission of Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore, Alan decided to stay at school. He planned to seclude himself in the Forbidden Forest cabin for the duration of the break. Hagrid was delighted by the company, and the arrangement gave Alan the uninterrupted time he needed for his research.
"I won't be heading back with you this year, Charles," Alan told his friends as they prepared to leave. "Remember to keep up with your training. Your current progress is still behind where it needs to be. I'm planning to increase the intensity next term, so don't fall behind."
Vivian gave a cheerful nod, but Charles could only offer a wry, weary smile; Alan had already put him through the wringer this year.
After seeing his friends off at the station, Alan turned to walk back toward the castle. He could feel several malicious gazes burning into his back.
"Damn it, the brat never leaves the grounds. What are we supposed to do?" Wilkes snarled from inside their train carriage.
"Hmph, it's your own fault for constantly sending people to tail him," Rory Yaxley said, stroking the sparse hairs on his chin. "Anyone would notice they were being watched. I told you to keep it low-key, but you've gone and alerted him."
"What if he just keeps hiding like this next semester?" Travers asked, sounding desperate.
"Don't worry. Professor Bones is gone, and Vanessa has finally graduated. Next term, Slytherin will be under my thumb. We'll find a way to make him see reason," Yaxley said, his smile thin and sinister.
"What do you think we should do to the Mudblood? He actually thought he could challenge the honor of the pure-blood families," Wilkes laughed darkly.
"I'm going to gouge his eyes out," Travers said, his face contorting with a sudden, sharp resentment, likely fueled by some lingering memory of their encounter in the lavatory. "Just looking at him makes me sick."
"Do whatever you like, but remember: no killing. At least not on school grounds," Yaxley warned. "The fallout would be too much to manage."
"Those filthy Mudbloods shouldn't even be allowed to enroll," Travers muttered. "Dumbledore's lost his wits."
In the corner of the carriage, Rozier swallowed nervously as he listened to them. A flicker of hope rose in him: if they truly got rid of Alan, would he finally be free? But the thought died as quickly as it came. If Alan were pushed too far, he might reveal that Rozier had been his informant, and then the consequences would be far worse.
"Has anyone heard anything from home? Where is the Potter boy? And does anyone know what's happened to the Dark Lord?" Yaxley asked, his tone shifting to something more serious.
"Nothing for certain," Travers replied. "But my uncle is convinced he isn't truly dead—that he'll return one day to finish what he started."
Yaxley glanced at Travers, knowing the family were fanatics. He turned his gaze toward Rozier. "What about your father?"
"I... I don't know," Rozier stammered. "My father seems... I mean, he isn't entirely sure that a return is possible."
At those words, Yaxley yanked up his left sleeve. The boys gasped as they saw the Dark Mark burned into the pale skin of his forearm—a black skull with a serpent coiling from its mouth, still faintly writhing. The carriage went silent, filled with a mix of awe, fear, and ecstasy.
"The Mark still exists. That is the only proof we need," Yaxley said sternly. "The fire of our ideals will not be extinguished. Betrayal always begins with the weak-willed. You should advise your father carefully, Rozier; maintaining our supremacy is in all our interests."
"Yes... of course," Rozier whispered, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow. Terrified by the word 'betrayal,' he leaned in and whispered a suggestion into Yaxley's ear.
Yaxley listened, his brow smoothing over. He looked at Rozier with a new, localized respect.
Meanwhile, Travers sighed. "Life has been difficult since he disappeared. That Bagnold woman is constantly watching the old families, and the Lestranges are already in Azkaban. I heard there was a plan to deal with Professor Bones this summer, but the man slipped away before anyone could move."