"Alright, I'm here for something serious this time. These items were entrusted to me by the Dark Lord to be kept with you. Guard them well. Your estate is inconspicuous, and your vault is exceptionally secure. Do you understand the weight of this? It is a mark of the Master's ultimate trust, and a great honor," Yulia said, producing a heavy package.
Upon hearing the Dark Lord mentioned, Lucius visibly tensed, a flicker of nervous energy crossing his face. "Is that so? I thank the Master for his grace, for allowing me the privilege of serving the future ruler of our world."
Lucius took the package with practiced reverence and stepped away, presumably to secure the artifacts.
Left alone with her sister-in-law, Yulia smiled at Narcissa. "By the way, Narcissa, how is Bellatrix? I haven't seen her in quite some time."
"She is always at the Dark Lord's side. I haven't seen much of her either. I heard her husband was ordered to establish another secret base in the Mole Valley, near Surrey. Perhaps we shall all gather there soon," Narcissa replied with a thin smile.
As the two women continued their pleasantries, Lucius returned. He was holding a shimmering object, which he handed to his sister. "I know the Travers family possesses a recording crystal. This was acquired by my father years ago from an Egyptian sorcerer. It's said to be a rare prototype rune. Unfortunately, after Father's incident, he couldn't fully decipher it before he died. The magic in this crystal is fading; I can't stabilize a transfer to a new one. You should try to record it onto yours while there's still time."
Yulia took the crystal, casting a reproachful look at her brother. "You really must try to apply yourself, Lucius. You can't even preserve our father's legacy properly."
Lucius simply curled his lip. He was well aware that his magical aptitude had its limits, which was exactly why he had been forced to ask Yulia for assistance.
At this point, the memory dissolved into mist and drifted away. Alan ended the Legilimency spell, exhaling slowly. "Mole Valley in Surrey... that's right next to where the Longbottoms were ambushed. It has to be them. And these pure-blood families... they certainly have their share of secrets."
Only a dozen seconds had passed in the real world, but to Sampel, it felt like hours of mental violation. His secrets had been laid bare, and his face flushed with a mixture of shame and fury. He glared venomously at Alan.
"How dare you... how dare you pry into the private affairs of the noble Travers family!" Sampel hissed.
"Noble? You so-called pure-blood families are a joke to me," Alan said, tossing Travers to the floor with contemptuous ease. He punctuated the move with a sharp kick to the boy's side.
With a flick of his wand, the others who were suspended in mid-air dropped abruptly to the ground. Alan looked down at the huddle of bruised boys and sneered. "I don't have time to finish this today. You've wasted enough of my afternoon. I'm keeping your wands. If you want them back, bring twenty Galleons each. Consider it a ransom for your very first wands."
With a final, chilling smile, Alan turned and walked out of the lavatory.
Travers watched him go, gnashing his teeth. He punched the tiled floor in a fit of rage, only to wince as pain shot up his arm.
"What do we do now?" one of the younger boys asked, his voice trembling. He was still visibly shaken by the encounter.
"What else can we do? First, wake that idiot Wilkes, then we figure out a plan," Travers snapped.
"He took our wands? All of them?" Wilkes croaked as soon as he regained consciousness.
"Yes, Senior Wilkes. He was overbearing. He beat us and then he robbed us," a younger student whined.
"We should report him to the Head of House! He started it. We get our wands back and then we find a way to break him," another suggested.
"No," said a fourth-year who had remained quiet. "We can't let this get out—it's too shameful. Besides, he wasn't caught in the act. What if the bastard destroys our wands out of spite? Even if Snape punishes him, he'll just get detention. That's not enough."
"Fine. we'll go to Prefect Yaxley. He'll know how to handle this," Wilkes said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous hiss. "I'll make that Mudblood pay for this humiliation a thousand times over."
"He disrespected the Travers name. I want him to pay in blood!" Sampel Travers shouted, his resentment boiling over.
The group pulled themselves together, tidying their robes before marching with bruised dignity back toward the Slytherin common room.
Moments later, a soft, rhythmic sobbing echoed from one of the stalls. Moaning Myrtle floated out, her translucent spectacles fogged with phantom tears.
"So scary... that boy scared Myrtle to death! It's a good thing I hid, or I might have died all over again." She wiped her eyes, the cold aura of the young wizard still fresh in her mind.
---
In Rory Yaxley's private room in the Slytherin dormitory.
The bruised and battered group crowded inside, talking over one another as they recounted the afternoon to the Prefect.
"So, the seven of you were bested by a second-year?" Yaxley looked at them with profound disappointment. "And you allowed him to take your wands? You are a disgrace to your names."
"His methods were vicious, Rory. He didn't care who we were," Wilkes said, trying to save face. "He even said he was coming for you next."
"Hmph." Yaxley shot Wilkes a sharp look. "An arrogant little brat."
"He is! You have to do something," Travers insisted. "Let's corner him tonight and show him exactly what happens to people like him."
Yaxley narrowed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. "No. Professor Bones has been watching me too closely, and Vanessa would jump at the chance to defend him. Within Hogwarts, the most we can do is make him uncomfortable."
"Then what? We just let him keep our wands?" Wilkes asked.
"We wait until he leaves the castle. Christmas is coming. Keep a close watch on him. The moment he steps off the grounds for the holidays, he'll be beyond Dumbledore's protection. That is when we corner him," Yaxley said, a dark smile touching his lips.