Travers kept grumbling as he walked, snarling about how he would teach that Mudblood a lesson, while Rozier trailed beside him, echoing the threats despite the growing disdain in his heart.
Upon returning to the castle, both of them, unsurprisingly, came down with severe colds. They didn't even make it back to the common room before Professor Slughorn, who happened to be passing by, whisked them off to the hospital wing.
Meanwhile, the Quidditch match was still dragging on. The score stood at 290 to 410. If Slytherin could catch the Golden Snitch, the 150-point bonus would allow them to overtake Gryffindor. However, the players from both sides were effectively breathless with exhaustion, yet neither team was willing to negotiate a stalemate. Slytherin's Seeker was so fatigued he had simply sat down on the grass of the pitch.
The spectators could endure it no longer; eighty to ninety percent of the stands had already emptied, and those who remained were mostly there for the sheer absurdity of the spectacle. Professor McGonagall and Madam Hooch once again approached the center of the field to suggest ending the match, but Slytherin refused to concede. Even though the players had become little more than "walking chickens," the officials could only exchange helpless glances and watch the marathon continue.
But all of this had nothing to do with Alan. He was full and content, reading the latest issue of Century Charm Studies in the quiet of his room, only occasionally wondering if the match had finally concluded.
"So, the Slytherin Seeker stumbled upon the Golden Snitch by sheer luck, and Slytherin actually won?" Alan asked at breakfast the next day, listening to Vivian recount the outcome.
"Yes! You wouldn't believe it; that match went on until deep into the night. All the players were too exhausted to even fly, but then the Snitch just happened to drift right next to William Higgs, and he caught it effortlessly." Vivian vividly recounted the legendary match. Of course, the only thing legendary about it was the duration; Vivian hadn't actually seen the finish. She had left as soon as it got dark and had only heard the news that morning in the common room.
Alan went out to exercise early every morning. When he left his dormitory, he barely saw a single soul in the entire castle, let alone the common room.
Just then, cheers erupted from the Slytherin table. William Higgs, the hero of the previous night, had arrived in the Great Hall. Alan glanced at the Seeker—a third-year with short black hair and a robust build. Higgs was surprisingly polite, returning greetings to everyone who spoke to him. Seeing Alan watching, he offered a smile and a nod of acknowledgment. Alan smiled and nodded back.
*It seems not everyone in Slytherin is insufferable,* Alan thought. After months in the house, his understanding of it had deepened. Slytherin qualities included ambition, shrewdness, cunning, and self-preservation. He had read a history book describing Salazar Slytherin, noting that the founder particularly valued intelligence, resourcefulness, strong will, and "a certain disregard for rules and regulations."
In a sense, Alan fit the criteria perfectly. He no longer felt any resentment about his placement, excluding the annoying pure-blood supremacists, of course.
Time passed quickly. By the time Christmas approached, Alan had brought most of the basic charms for his year to an introductory level, with the exception of spells that were difficult to practice alone, such as the Shield Charm, the Patronus, or the Disillusionment Charm. He had tried the Shield and Disillusionment charms, but the effects were lackluster. He was certain his pronunciation was correct, but he couldn't yet meet the required magical standard.
"Phew... I'll put the next phase of the plan into action after the holidays. Rozier hasn't made a move recently anyway. That was just a casual hook I set; let's leave it to fate." Having decided on his arrangements, Alan prepared to head out and relax with Hagrid.
When he reached the common room, it was quite crowded. Sampel Travers, spotting Alan, glared with open resentment. Since being taught that lesson in the forest, he had spent a full week in the infirmary and discovered his money pouch was missing, which had only fueled his rage.
Fortunately, he was in no position to cause trouble today; Professor Slughorn was present, recording the names of students staying over the Christmas break. Alan, having made plans with Sirius, had no intention of staying. After a few pleasantries with the Dean, he left the dungeon without looking back.
It wasn't until he reached Clock Tower Square that he realized fine snowflakes were falling, dusting the ground in a thin white carpet.
"It's snowing," Alan murmured, a slight smile curving his lips.
"Yes, it is," a gentle female voice drifted from beside him.
Alan turned and saw a girl who looked familiar. After a moment, he recognized her as one of the students who had shared his boat across the lake on the first night. She had been sorted into Ravenclaw.
"You're Aliana, right?" Alan recalled.
"How rare—the Slytherin Ghost actually remembers my name," Aliana chuckled, her breath misting in the cold air.
"Slytherin Ghost? You mean me? The Slytherin ghost is the Bloody Baron. Are you confused?" Alan asked, puzzled by the strange title.
"That's the nickname the first-years gave you. Even though our houses don't always have classes together, we usually see each other around. But most students haven't seen you for a month or two, so people started wondering if you even existed. Some spread rumors that you aren't actually a person, but a ghost. Isn't that funny?" Aliana giggled.
*Not human,* Alan thought. This was the second time he had heard someone describe him that way. It was only then that he realized he had been living in such total seclusion that his very existence had become a campus legend.