"If you ask me, can't you guys come up with something original to say?" Alan walked up to Wilkes, patted him on the shoulder, and spoke in a tone of feigned sincerity. "You keep claiming to represent Slytherin, but you're only making people think everyone in this house is an uneducated piece of trash."
Wilkes flinched at the touch, goosebumps prickling his skin. Though he wanted to recoil, pride held him in place. Just as he was searching for a retort, Travers spoke up beside him.
"Alan, take your filthy hands off him!" Travers roared, his voice echoing down the corridor. "We are pure-blood nobles; the rules of Slytherin are ours to set. What? Do you think you can challenge our authority?"
Travers felt a surge of nausea looking at Alan's flippant expression. With his friend's support, Wilkes regained his composure. He shook Alan's hand off his shoulder and set his face in a stern mask. "You can't act recklessly here. Think carefully about the consequences of defying us. Now, stand aside and accept the inspection!"
"Heh, rules? I like that word." Alan's expression gradually turned cold, his gaze fixing intently on the two of them. "However, there is no need to obey unreasonable regulations set by the weak. You want to inspect me? Come on then, try it. If you're strong enough, I don't mind following your rules."
With a subtle flick of his will, the door behind them creaked shut and the lock clicked into place.
Travers and Wilkes startled at the sound, backing away several steps. "What are you doing?!"
"Who gave you the nerve to come looking for trouble in my room? Once you've entered my door, leaving won't be quite so simple." Alan sneered, advancing slowly.
"Don't come any closer! Open the door!" Travers shouted, his face tight with tension. "Do you really dare to start something in Slytherin? Using magic on classmates will get you expelled!"
"You're not injured, and you're not bleeding. How can you say I'm acting against you? Besides, do I even need magic to deal with you two?" Alan asked with a predatory smile.
Realizing he was a lamb in a tiger's den, Travers refused to surrender quietly. He reached for his wand, intent on striking first.
But Alan was faster. Travers saw only a blur before his wand vanished from his hand. Wilkes, beside him, suffered the same fate. Before they could react, Alan seized both their wrists, yanked them forward, and used a grappling technique to slam them into the stone floor.
With two precise strikes, he hit them squarely in the ribs.
The two let out a strangled cry as a sharp, twisting pain bloomed in their sides. Alan had used a specialized, soft force; there would be no bruising on the surface, but the pain made it nearly impossible for them to stand.
He then subjected them to a brief demonstration of joint dislocation—systematically taking their arms apart and snapping them back together. After several repetitions, Travers and Wilkes were slumped on the ground, too exhausted by the agony even to wail.
"Truly useless. You can't take a hit at all," Alan noted with disdain.
He dragged the two to the threshold and tossed them into the corridor. "Tell Yaxley that if he wants to deal with me, he should come himself. If he disturbs me again, it won't be this easy."
With that, he slammed the door shut. The two lay in the hallway until they were discovered by other pure-blood students and carried back to Yaxley's quarters.
Yaxley watched as they were brought in, his expression one of mounting dissatisfaction. "He actually attacked you in the dormitory?"
Wilkes, still wheezing, looked at his leader. "That's right! That Mudblood was insufferable. He dragged us inside and beat us without a word. You have to do something."
Yaxley stepped forward to examine them. "Where did he hit you? I don't see a single mark."
As they tried to explain the peculiar, internal pain, Yaxley's eyes narrowed.
"He doesn't respect us at all," Travers spat, fueled by resentment. "Let's gather everyone and teach him a lesson right now."
"If he beat you and left no injuries, he'll simply deny it," Yaxley said calmly. "We can't go too far within the school. He clearly knows this, which is why he handled you with such discretion. I only sent you to check his room to gauge his flexibility. Since he's chosen to be difficult, we won't let him off easily."
"What do you mean?" Wilkes asked.
"Forget about Alan for now. You two are responsible for managing the other students, especially the half-bloods. We cannot act openly against Alan inside Hogwarts, but I don't believe he can hide here forever. Eventually, we will catch him outside."
Yaxley methodically arranged their duties. Though the two burned with the desire for immediate revenge, they were forced to wait.
In the following days, the Purity Committee left Alan alone but cracked down severely on the rest of the house. They used their "official" status to search dormitories and confiscate any item deemed too Muggle. Unlike Alan, the other students didn't have the courage to resist and simply swallowed their anger.
Vivian was devastated. Almost all her Mahjong tiles were seized, effectively killing her club. The members were furious, but their anger was silent. Most Slytherins prioritized self-preservation; as long as they weren't the current target, they looked the other way. Yaxley exploited this, isolating individuals and suppressing dissent. The half-blood students were treated as servants, and they endured the bullying in fearful silence.
To Alan, their passivity was reminiscent of historical tragedies—shrewd and capable people who chose submission over resistance, hoping the storm would pass them by. He also noticed that the surveillance on his movements had resumed, though it was now much more discreet and focused on his weekend activities.
*They're waiting for me to leave the castle,* he realized. *It couldn't be more obvious.*
Third-year students had the privilege of visiting Hogsmeade on weekends, the only all-wizarding village in Britain. However, they required a guardian's signature to attend. Having spent the summer at the castle and being an orphan, Alan lacked a traditional guardian. Professor McGonagall had thoughtfully arranged for Hagrid to act as his temporary guardian, signing the permission form on his behalf.