"That's right. It's all that despicable Mudblood's fault for putting me in this state. I'm truly unwilling to just slink away like this!" Yaxley's eyes were bloodshot as he recalled the humiliation he had endured.
"Heh. Sampel just mentioned that boy to me a couple of days ago. To dare to assault and insult my nephew, trampling on our noble honor... I won't let him off," Torquil sneered sinisterly.
"What do you mean?" Yaxley looked up, hope flickering in his eyes.
"I've already had people investigate. That little half-blood is currently staying at the Longbottom estate. Before you leave Britain, we can conveniently get rid of him—and that stubborn old Augusta, too. You'll have your revenge then," Torquil said, patting Yaxley on the shoulder.
"Really? But you were only just acquitted," Yaxley noted. Ever since Alan had tormented him, he had been haunted by the memory of that bone-deep, stinging pain. He still woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat from the nightmares.
"Just leave no survivors. They're a bunch of old women and children. If worst comes to worst, I'll leave the country with you, but before we go, we must make a statement. They need to know the consequences of opposing us." Torquil took a deep breath. "After we deal with them, we'll head to Europe and meet up with your brother and the Carrows. Even away from Britain, we can still make a name for ourselves."
"Good!" Yaxley's expression grew ferocious and crazed, his voice thick with hatred.
Crabbe and Goyle exchanged glances. They knew there was no other path now. Since Torquil had already prepared a retreat, they both nodded in grim agreement. Only Karkaroff remained silent, his face twisted in a bitter expression. He had joined the Dark Lord thinking he could do as he pleased, not realizing he would end up a hunted criminal. Now, dependent on the others, he could only obediently follow the Travers' lead.
***
Meanwhile, on the other side of the street.
Alan had already slipped away, hidden beneath his cloak. After Raven Number Two had triggered the alarm on the outer wall, he had immediately concealed the bird in the fireplace. He had then directed Raven Number One to the third-floor window to provide a distraction, ensuring his own presence remained undetected.
From the intelligence gathered, he knew the exterior walls, windows, and doors were heavily enchanted with alarm and protective spells. Breaking in from the outside was a fool's errand. There was also a Sneakoscope on the second floor that they likely moved around with them, making a frontal assault or a stealthy infiltration nearly impossible. However, the inner walls and the chimney system were devoid of alarm magic. If he wanted to enter without alerting the residents, that was his only path.
He meticulously outlined a three-dimensional model of the house in his mind, assessing the feasibility of his plan before nodding firmly. The success rate was high; now, he just needed to prepare.
With his plan set, Alan didn't linger. He returned to the Leaky Cauldron and booked a room for the night. Tom, happy to see him, generously waived the fee.
By the time Alan reached his room, Shunfeng had arrived. It seemed Augusta had received his message. Alan scratched the owl's head and whispered, "Wait here for me to return. I'll treat you to a good meal later. You'll have a lot of work to do tonight, so don't mess up when it matters."
He provided the owl with water and nuts, then cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself. He pushed open the window and climbed out into the cool evening air.
Leaving the Leaky Cauldron, Alan consulted a map of London. He quickly identified his target and headed straight for a small warehouse used for medical equipment and chemical supplies.
Shunfeng dozed in the room for two hours until the sound of the window reopening startled him awake. His master, who only ever seemed to trick him into hard labor, had returned.
"Phew. I finally managed to gather everything. Let's go, Shunfeng. Let's go downstairs and get you something to eat."
With the plump owl perched on his arm, Alan walked downstairs. He personally cooked a large spread for himself, Tom, and the owl, enjoying a quiet dinner with the barman. The fragrance from Alan's table drew the eyes of the other patrons, but he ignored them, reminiscing with Tom until past nine in the evening.
Back in his room, Alan got to work. He sat at the desk and drafted several letters. Then he turned to Shunfeng. "Your mission tonight is vital. I'm going to attach a communication ring to your leg. Pay attention to the signals I send, just like the games we played at the cabin. Understand?"
Shunfeng, sensing the gravity in Alan's voice, nodded seriously.
"Good. Keep these two letters safe. If I send one signal tonight, it means the operation is going poorly and I need support. You must immediately deliver these to Alastor Moody at the Ministry and Dumbledore at the school." He showed the owl two white envelopes.
He then produced two brown envelopes. "If you receive two signals, it means everything is going smoothly. One of these must go to Moody at 6:00 AM tomorrow. The other needs to be delivered to Rita Skeeter at the Daily Prophet around 10:00 AM. You must make sure she receives it personally."
Shunfeng tilted his head, committing the instructions to memory.
"Finally, if you receive three signals, it means the operation is aborted but I haven't been caught. In that case, do nothing. However, regardless of what happens tonight, you must deliver this last letter to Augusta after noon tomorrow. Then, stay at the Longbottom house and wait for me."
Alan was nothing if not thorough, repeating the instructions until he was certain the owl understood every contingency.