"Was that Sampel Travers's uncle?" Alan recalled the gloomy face he had once seen at the train station.
"Why? Didn't the McKinnon family accuse him? He attacked your family twice, and one time he…" Vivian blurted out in a rush, but she suddenly remembered the tragedy involving Charles's aunt and stopped abruptly.
"It's all because his elder brother is a member of the Wizengamot. That scoundrel only knows how to shield criminals. He actually got off scot-free by claiming he was under the Imperius Curse." Charles grew angrier the more he thought about it.
All high-profile criminals had to face trial before the Wizengamot, and Sampel Travers's father was a sitting member. With his mediation, he managed to secure his Death Eater brother's freedom for a negligible price.
"What's his name?" Alan asked softly, narrowing his eyes.
"Togil Travers. They say he's even named after an ancestor who once served as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Bah!" Charles spat with great disdain.
"I'll remember it," Alan said, his voice still low and even.
William glanced at him, somewhat surprised. He wasn't sure what Alan wanted with the name, but he felt a vague, unsettling chill.
Time passed quickly with their casual chat, and soon the train pulled into the station.
After disembarking, Alan turned to the group with a final admonition. "The rules remain the same: do not neglect your basic training during the summer holidays. When the new school year starts, I'll be checking your progress. If anyone has fallen behind, don't expect me to be polite about it."
The group looked at Alan and nodded helplessly, even William. He felt as though he had experienced more in this single year than in his previous four combined.
However, once Alan had turned and left, those remaining exchanged knowing glances. The unspoken agreement was simple: if they were going to slack off, they would do it together. That way, everyone's level would remain roughly the same, and Alan wouldn't have a baseline for comparison. Sharing the burden and the blame made for a cohesive team, after all.
Alan, walking away alone, paid no mind to their little schemes. He boarded the Knight Bus once more to head for Ottery St. Catchpole.
"I really need to find time to learn Apparition. This blasted bus is insufferable," Alan thought, trying to settle his churning stomach.
However, remembering the risks of learning such magic, he forced himself to be patient. Learning Apparition in isolation was far too dangerous; he needed proper supervision and assistance.
Retracting his thoughts, Alan appeared at the Longbottom doorstep. Even from outside, he could hear Augusta's sharp voice echoing from within.
"Neville! How many times have I told you not to put specimens in your mouth? Don't you understand?"
Alan pursed his lips. The old lady's temper was as volatile as ever. Taking a breath, he knocked on the door.
"Oh, Alan! It's been far too long. You've grown so much taller—and more handsome, too." Augusta, wearing an apron, appeared much as she had before, though the wrinkles around her eyes had deepened with weariness. Despite her exhaustion, she greeted him with genuine warmth.
"Hello, Mrs. Longbottom. I'm truly sorry I couldn't visit sooner."
"Look at you. I understand your situation. The year after You-Know-Who disappeared was pure chaos. Those desperadoes were like madmen, causing trouble everywhere, even…" Augusta seemed to hit a painful memory. Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. "Let's not talk about that. Come in, quickly."
Two years later, walking into the familiar house felt heavy. The once bustling home now housed only an old woman and a small child.
Little Neville, now three years old, had just been scolded by his grandmother. His eyes were red and watery. Startled by the sudden appearance of a stranger, he let out a fresh burst of wails.
*Ugh, this child cries every time he sees me.* Alan began to wonder if he had a naturally menacing aura.
"Stop that crying! This is Alan. He held you when you were just a baby. Don't you remember?" Augusta looked at the sobbing Neville, exasperated, and spoke in a stern tone.
Seeing his grandmother's anger flare again, Neville cried even harder, leaving Alan standing awkwardly.
"Mrs. Longbottom, Neville is still very young. It's natural for him to be wary of people he doesn't recognize. Please, try not to be so hard on him," Alan advised.
"Hmph. The boys of the Longbottom family are men—they are heroes. It does him no good to be so timid. I'm doing this for his own sake. Anyway, you know your way around. I'll go start dinner." With one last stern glare at Neville, Augusta marched into the kitchen.
Alan looked around the quiet living room, then walked slowly over to Neville. He pulled out a clean handkerchief, wiped the tears from the boy's face, and sighed gently.
"Neville, let's start over. I'm Alan Wilson. You can call me Alan, or big brother—whatever you like. I'm a friend of your parents," Alan said softly, trying to project a sense of calm.
Perhaps it was the change in tone, or the fact that Augusta was no longer hovering, but Neville's sobs subsided into hiccups. He looked up at Alan with a flicker of curiosity.
"Are you and Mommy and Daddy good friends? Then, do you know where they went? I miss them," Neville asked in a small, childish voice, his innocent eyes wide.
Alan went silent. After a moment, he picked Neville up, settled him on the sofa, and sat down beside him.
"Your parents are heroes, Neville. They're very busy right now, and it will take some time before they can come home to see you," Alan said, choosing his words with extreme care.
"But I miss them. Can you help me find them? I get scared alone at night," Neville said, staring intently at Alan.
"Find them?" Alan was stunned for a heartbeat. Then, looking at the boy, he spoke with absolute determination. "I promise you, Neville. I will help you find them. I definitely will."
"Then let's pinky swear," Neville said, a small smile finally appearing as he extended his hand. Something about the look on Alan's face gave him a sudden, total confidence.
"Yes. Let's pinky swear."
Alan hooked his pinky with Neville's. The small gesture seemed to forge an immediate bond of trust, and soon enough, Neville was happily playing on the floor as if they had known each other forever.
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