Rozier glanced left and right, relieved to find the street mostly empty. He pulled Travers away from the main thoroughfare and hurried toward the edge of the village, offering some hurried, well-meaning advice. "Didn't we provoke him first? He never seems to actively come looking for us. Just calm down for a bit. Haven't you noticed? Every time we get involved with him, we're the ones who end up miserable!"
"That's only because the bastard is too cunning," Travers spat, his face twisted with hatred. "Just wait until I find an opening. I'll make sure he dies a agonizing death."
"Please, no more of that. Look, he doesn't come for us, and we don't provoke him. Isn't it enough to just live in peace?" Rozier just wanted to be a quiet slacker; why was that so difficult?
"Give it a rest. That guy is a bad seed through and through. He's probably dreaming up ways to ruin us right now!" Travers continued to shout, his agitation growing.
"Indeed. But is it really that obvious?"
"Is it not? The moment I see his face, I know his head is full of wicked thoughts, I—" Travers froze mid-sentence, suddenly realizing something was wrong. The voice that had just responded didn't sound like Rozier's.
At that moment, both boys sensed the shift in the air and scanned their surroundings. They had gradually left the busy parts of Hogsmeade behind; the path was deserted, bordered only by heavy snow and the dark tree line. Where had a third person come from?
Just as they wondered if they were hearing things, a figure manifested out of thin air in the middle of the path. It was Alan, newly visible after dispelling his Disillusionment Charm.
He had been tracking them the entire way. He'd initially worried his footprints in the snow would give him away, so he'd used an advanced levitation charm to float. However, he realized he had overthought the matter; the two of them were so busy bickering they wouldn't have noticed a dragon following them.
Seeing Alan suddenly appear, Travers, fueled by a surge of rage, reached for his wand. Alan didn't give him the chance. He pointed his own wand from several meters away.
Instantly, Travers's house robes seemed to take on a life of their own. The fabric clamped his limbs to his sides, winding around him until he was bound as securely as a mummy.
"You don't even use a permanent counter-transfiguration spell on your own gear? You really are useless," Alan noted, his expression cold.
Beside him, Rozier nervously drew his wand and pointed it at Alan, shouting, "Don't come any closer! What do you want?"
Travers, wrapped tightly, let out a muffled shout. "Rozier! Curse him! Do it now!"
Alan turned his wand and casually flicked a spell at Rozier, who let out a loud "Ah!" and went sailing backward, landing hard in the snow.
Watching this, Alan couldn't help but curl his lip. *What an actor.* The spell hadn't even been forceful, and Travers's face was covered anyway. Who was Rozier performing for?
Ignoring the boy who had taken a dramatic tumble and was now pretending to be unconscious, Alan walked toward Travers, who was wriggling on the ground like a worm. With a slight flick of his wand, the robe covering the boy's face loosened, revealing Travers's contorted features.
"I just need your help with something today. Don't worry, I'll be very gentle. Be a good boy," Alan said with a predatory smile.
Travers opened his mouth to curse, but Alan pointed his wand, sealing the boy's lips together. Travers could only manage a few weak, panicked whimpers.
Rozier lay in the snow, watching through squinted eyes as Alan dragged Travers by the back of his collar into the depths of the small woods bordering the road. After a few moments, only faint, sorrowful sounds drifted through the trees.
Rozier swallowed hard, his mind conjuring several bizarre and terrifying images. He'd been lying on his stomach with his backside in the air, but he quickly decided to roll over and lie flat on his back instead.
A while later, a satisfied Alan emerged from the trees. He felt a bit speechless seeing Rozier still sprawled there. *Isn't he cold, just lying in the snow like that?* Not wanting to disturb the performance, Alan recast his Disillusionment Charm and headed back toward Hogsmeade.
After another minute, Rozier finally reached his limit with the cold. He scrambled up and hurried into the woods to check on his friend. He found Travers lying on the ground, disheveled and sobbing, a sight that made Rozier shiver.
"Travers? How are you? Are you alright?" Rozier asked, stepping closer with caution.
"Don't... don't ask!" Travers looked up, his eyes bloodshot. He gritted his teeth and hissed, "I swear I will never let that mudblood off. Never!"
Startled by the raw vitriol, Rozier merely nodded. He had no intention of provoking Travers further.
On the other side of the village, a newly invisible Alan was walking back while diligently writing in a notebook.
"After a living subject is cursed, the symptoms include magical power loss, decreased body temperature, fatigue, and weak limbs. Anxiety was also noted, though that might be a unique trait of Travers himself; further confirmation is required. As for the rate of depletion, it took roughly five minutes for a standard third-year reserve to empty. If we use a single Disarming Charm as a baseline, a trained student like Charles can cast sixty to seventy times. For an average student, let's estimate fifty. This means the Disabling Curse drains roughly ten baselines per minute—one every six seconds. That efficiency is somewhat low."
Alan walked toward the Three Broomsticks, lost in his calculations. "I need to find a way to measure magical reserves with a standard unit. Without a scale, the data is mostly guesswork. Why has the magical world never solved this problem? It's a real headache."
Just as he reached the pub, something caught his eye. A beetle crawled out from a gap in a nearby wall, scuttled quickly past the invisible Alan, and disappeared into a corner across the street.
"A beetle? In this weather?" Alan watched the spot for a moment, genuinely surprised.
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