Wilkes shook his muddled head, which felt as if it had been filled with paste, and gradually opened his eyes. He saw a scene that would remain etched in his memory for the rest of his life: in the dim light of a dilapidated house, several people were squatting in a corner.
After a careful look, he realized this was the very house where they had planned to ambush Alan, and those squatting figures were his companions.
How was Yaxley among them?
His gaze shifted, landing on a graceful boy watching him with an indifferent expression. This was Alan.
Wilkes finally reacted, realizing that everything that had happened earlier was not a dream. He quickly sat up and fumbled around his robes, trying to pull out his wand to counterattack. He had only managed to cast a single spell in the previous battle before losing consciousness, but things did not go as planned. After searching for a long time, he found that not only was his wand gone, but even the bottle of Wiggenweld Potion he had prepared was missing.
"Awake?"
"If you're awake, get up quickly, put your hands on your head, and squat down," Alan commanded sternly.
Wilkes opened his mouth; he hadn't fully grasped the situation. It wasn't entirely his fault; he had passed out at the very beginning of the fight and had been the most severely injured. Being hit by more than a dozen spells was no small matter, and he was the last to wake up.
Seeing that Wilkes still hadn't moved, Alan kicked him and shouted again, "Didn't you hear me? Get up, hands on your head, and squat down! Haven't you seen your companions squatting already?"
Wilkes glanced at the others in the corner; they all wore resigned expressions. He had no choice but to follow suit.
"Good, it seems everyone is finally awake. It's time to talk," Alan said, surveying the crowd.
"Alan, we fell into your trap this time. You've taken our wands. What else do you want?" Yaxley looked up, staring at Alan with eyes full of resentment.
"You ask me what I want?" Alan sneered.
Alan walked over to Wilkes and firmly gripped his shoulder. "I'm just a student who wants to study honestly at the academy, yet I'm inexplicably discriminated against by you. Isn't that inappropriate?"
Wilkes, his shoulder being squeezed in a vice-like grip, was utterly bewildered. *It was Yaxley arguing with you, why the hell are you squeezing me?* He didn't know how to respond, so he glanced at Yaxley blankly, but immediately felt the hand on his shoulder exert more force. He grimaced in pain and shook his head repeatedly.
"Hmm. Not only was I discriminated against, but you repeatedly sought trouble with me and followed me. Targeting me like this... isn't that also inappropriate?" Alan swept his gaze over the group. His sharp eyes caused everyone to lower their heads. Wilkes, feeling his shoulder ache again, continued to shake his head.
"Alright. I've tolerated you time and again. You've forced me to the point where I couldn't even leave Hogwarts. Then I come out to celebrate Christmas and I'm ambushed. Isn't this even more inappropriate?"
"Ow!" Wilkes cried out. He looked at Alan with a terrified expression, his head shaking like a dice cup.
"So, as a victim—a poor student who has been oppressed for a long time—it's only natural for me to resist and ask for some compensation, isn't it?" Alan released Wilkes, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the group.
Rozier, mixed in with the crowd, felt a chill. *This guy wasn't satisfied after scamming me; he's targeting everyone.* Then, a wave of schadenfreude washed over him. *Why should I be the only unlucky one? Let's all go down together!*
Yaxley, however, completely misunderstood Alan. "What do you mean? What do you want to do? You're portraying yourself as a victim, but we're the ones squatting here!"
"It means that from now on, all of you will listen to me. What can be done and what cannot be done will be decided by me," Alan explained slowly.
"What? Listen to you? You, a Mudblood, want us to yield? You're dreaming!" Yaxley shouted, his voice thick with emotion.
"Hehehe. What we're doing now isn't a peace talk; I am threatening you. You haven't failed to recognize the situation, have you?" Alan corrected him.
Yaxley's face turned red with anger. He stood up, resisting. "How dare you be so self-righteous! Reporting this to the Head of House would be enough to get you expelled! This is impossible! If you have the guts, kill us! Do you dare?"
"I don't care to kill, but I'm very sure you do. Did you forget that you cast the Killing Curse on me in broad daylight? You're still thinking of reporting to the Head of House? Do you want me to report your attack on a fellow student to Headmaster Dumbledore, or the fact that you used Avada Kedavra? You know the consequences of using an Unforgivable Curse. You are the principal offender, and they are your accessories. Your wand is with me. Do you need me to use Prior Incantato to prove it?"
Alan ignored Yaxley's posturing, sweeping his gaze over the others and letting his chilling tone sink in.
The surrounding wizards gasped. As a truly evil and cruel magic, using an Unforgivable Curse without authorization resulted in life imprisonment in Azkaban.
Yaxley? How could he? Using such a spell in secret might be overlooked if no one found out, but openly using it was a death sentence. Now they were all in trouble. They were a group of wizards who had illegally gathered with the intent to murder a Muggle-born student. They could already imagine tomorrow's headlines in the Daily Prophet.
Yaxley had truly led them into a disaster.
Yaxley's face was pale. He scanned the people around him, opening his mouth to explain, looking for anyone willing to support him. But the other students were as silent as cicadas in winter. Many had joined the committee only to enjoy a superior status. Bullying students was one thing, but murder? They wouldn't dare, even if they had eight times the courage.
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