"Since it doesn't have a crystal ball for storage, you won't be able to run formal tests, but it should be more than enough for studying and light research. Well, what do you think? Do you like it?" Lily asked with a warm smile.
Alan looked at the valuable gift and tried to summon the resolve to refuse, but his inner desire for knowledge was simply too strong. Predictably, his resolve crumbled. He accepted the Magic Rune Disk, suppressing the urge to tinker with it immediately, and offered the Potters his sincere thanks.
"Alright, Alan, don't be so formal with us. It's getting late; I'll get you to the station," James said, clapping him on the shoulder.
And so, Alan's Christmas holiday—a time of warmth with Sirius and the Potters—came to an end. He set off for the journey back to Hogwarts.
After saying goodbye to James on the platform, Alan boarded the scarlet steam engine. In the compartment, Vivian and Charles were already waiting, happily sharing a stash of snacks Vivian had brought back from her trip to France. The moment Alan stepped inside, Charles jumped up and pulled him into a seat.
"Hey, Alan! I heard from my aunt, you were absolutely amazing during the—" Charles started, eager to dive into the rumors, but Alan cut him off with a sharp look and a subtle shake of the head. Charles got the message and fell silent.
"What are you two whispering about? What's amazing?" Vivian asked, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"Nothing. I just won a big prize over Christmas. It's not worth bragging about," Alan said smoothly. He had no intention of letting the word out that he'd been fighting Death Eaters. He was still a Slytherin, after all, and telling Vivian—who had a talent for spreading news—would mean the entire school would know by dinner.
"Oh, really?" Vivian didn't look convinced. She turned her questioning gaze toward Charles.
Feeling the pressure, Charles made a hasty excuse about his housemates waiting for him and beat a quick retreat.
"Hmph!" Vivian let out a dissatisfied huff. Seeing Alan nonchalantly open a book, she realized she wouldn't get any more out of him and eventually gave up. Before long, she was back to her usual self, regaling him with stories of her holiday in France.
The train ride passed with snacks and chatter, and soon the familiar silhouette of the castle appeared through the windows.
Once back at Hogwarts, Alan returned to his solitary, ghost-like routine, though his study plan had shifted. Since he couldn't yet practice high-output spells, he reallocated his time: a small portion went to basic charms and Transfiguration, while the bulk of his energy was dedicated to studying runes with his new disk. Every evening, he spent forty minutes refining his Occlumency.
The day after his return, Alan headed down to Hagrid's hut. He had brought an array of seasonings from London, intending to put them to good use.
Hagrid's cabin was blanketed in silver, with thick snow crowning the roof. Finding no one inside—not even Fang—Alan let himself in and lit the fireplace. He was far too comfortable here to stand on ceremony. As the flames drove away the winter chill, he boiled a kettle, brewed some tea, and noted with satisfaction that Hagrid was using the massive copper mug he'd given him.
Alan settled onto the sofa like an old man, listening to the pine wood crackle. A deep sense of tranquility washed over him as he sipped his tea and read, losing track of time in the warmth of the fire.
Eventually, the sound of barking outside signaled Hagrid's return. It was already dark; Alan had enjoyed the peace so much he hadn't noticed the sun going down.
"Hi, Alan! You're back," Hagrid boomed, walking in while lugging a massive object. He beamed when he saw Alan by the fire. Fang bounded over, excitedly sniffing at Alan's legs.
"I got in yesterday. Since classes don't start until tomorrow, I figured I'd come by. Where have you been? You're late getting in."
Hagrid shook the snow from his moleskin coat and dropped a massive haul of meat onto the table. "You've come at just the right time. Professor Kettleburn keeps a herd of Re'em cattle in the Forbidden Forest. One of them died today. He asked me to help process it and let me keep a generous cut of the beef."
Alan stood up to inspect the "cut." It was essentially an entire leg and a portion of the flank, nearly half the size of a standard cow.
"How big are Re'em cattle? And the Professor just lets them roam the forest? Just how many creatures does he keep out there?" Alan remarked. It seemed Professor Kettleburn treated the Forbidden Forest like a massive, magical ranch.
"The Professor keeps quite a few. There are wild herds, of course—Thestrals, Hippogriffs, and Unicorns—but he also manages populations of Re'em, Tebo hogs, Horned Camels, and Mooncalves. They're a handful, and Kettleburn certainly stays busy," Hagrid said, hanging up his coat.
"He says the breeding programs are vital for restoring the populations. So many magical creatures are endangered because of the value of their hides or horns. Over-hunting is a real problem. The Professor believes that only by strengthening the herds can we ensure these resources remain available in the long run."
Alan nodded. He could appreciate the wisdom of sustainable development.
"I'm wiped out. These cows are three times the size of a normal one. Their blood is a key ingredient in Strengthening Potions, so processing the carcass is a messy, half-day job." Hagrid grabbed his copper mug and drained it in one long gulp.
Alan eyed the fresh beef and smiled. "Perfect timing, then. Since you've got the meat, I'll treat you to a proper beef hotpot tonight."
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