"So, that story you fed the others about fleeing to Europe was a lie too, wasn't it? You knew that with this key, even a small leak of information could save your life. Perhaps your earlier bail was secured with some of these materials? It makes me wonder if Lucius Malfoy's easy acquittal, beyond his political 'donations,' was connected to this. He is Julia's brother, after all," Alan said, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place.
Torquil felt his mind reel as Alan dismantled his secrets with surgical precision. He no longer dared to meet the boy's gaze, forcing an expression of stony indifference while his pulse thundered in panic.
Standing nearby, Karkaroff was seething. *So, you never intended to go into exile with us. You were going to stay behind as a rich master while we rotted in some foreign hole? You've been deceiving us from the start; you were the first to betray the cause!* This realization hardened his resolve to anchor himself to Alan.
Torquil now truly wished for death. Not only was he at the mercy of a monster, but the leverage the Travers family relied on for survival had been unearthed. Only yesterday, he was a carefree noble; now, he was the architect of his family's ruin.
According to his original plan, if he could trick the other Death Eaters into fleeing, he would be hailed as a hero for preserving their strength should the Dark Lord return. If the Dark Lord remained dead, those exiles would become the Travers family's overseas muscle, helping them expand their wealth and influence. But now, even if he escaped Alan's clutches, the loss of these ledgers made him a traitor to his bloodline.
Alan, however, didn't care about the internal politics of the Travers family. He was focused on how to extract the most benefit from the brass key. Keeping it for himself was a dead end. The key alone wouldn't open the vault without Julia, and the secrets it guarded were far more dangerous than the gold. If he tried to use the incriminating material to blackmail Ministry officials or Wizengamot members, he'd be painting a massive target on his back. What right did a student have to threaten the most powerful people in the country?
Simply leaking the information was also a waste. It would burn the world down around him without providing any tangible gain. He hated unnecessary trouble and had no desire to go down with the Travers ship.
So, should he hand it over to Dumbledore or Minister Bagnold? Bagnold would likely reward him, but probably only with a medal or a handshake. Dumbledore might get him an Order of Merlin. But what use were medals? They weren't edible and held zero research value.
Several schemes flashed through Alan's mind. "I have it," he whispered, his eyes gleaming. He glanced at the dispirited Torquil. "This plan is highly feasible, but it's going to require a sacrifice from you, Torquil," he thought with a cold laugh.
Alan checked his pocket watch; time was running thin. He pulled another pill from his pouch—similar to Karkaroff's but with subtle differences—and forced it into Torquil's mouth. Then he turned to Karkaroff.
"In a few hours, you're going to help me put on a play. Come closer."
Alan whispered instructions into Karkaroff's ear. The man's face paled. "Master, if we do that, won't I be... by the Ministry?"
"What are you panicking for?" Alan frowned. "Do as I say, and they'll have to release you. Or are you suddenly feeling sentimental toward your old friends?"
"No, no, not at all," Karkaroff said, shaking his head frantically. "I have no love for them. It's just... is this reliable? If they interrogate the others, won't they—"
"Aside from Torquil, whose mind is shielded, I have already edited the short-term memories of the rest. They'll pass any interrogation. As for Torquil, I have the Travers family's throat in my hand. Do you think he'll talk? Even if he tries, no one will believe the ravings of a broken Death Eater," Alan sneered.
He ignored Karkaroff's lingering anxiety and began clearing the room. He packed away his experimental tools and directed Karkaroff to scrub the floor. After the night's events, the hall was a mess of blood and sweat, but Karkaroff worked with desperate diligence.
Alan used healing spells to knit the wounds on the captives, avoiding his more violent methods to ensure they looked presentable and stayed sane enough for the coming act. He even repaired the punctures in their clothing.
By the time the house was spotless and the Death Eaters were "restored," the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon. It was time for his appointment with Shunfeng.
Finally, Alan used the Binding Spirit Snake to drain about half of the magic from the group, leaving them weakened and lethargic. He cast a Disillusionment Charm over the captives and himself, and they drifted out through the third-floor window like ghosts into the morning mist.
***
In the early morning hours at the Ministry of Magic, Alastor Moody yawned as he adjusted his heavy traveling cloak. He was preparing for another day of hunting, wondering which Dark wizard would be unfortunate enough to cross his path.
As the Ministry's most legendary Auror, Moody was a notorious workaholic who often lived out of his office. Minister Bagnold's aggressive stance had given him unprecedented authority, allowing him to use darker methods against the remnants of the Death Eaters—a change in policy that Moody found deeply satisfying.
After a quick, dry breakfast, he headed toward the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes to check the overnight logs. He muttered to himself about the on-duty staff; their negligence often meant that high-level magical signals were missed while they napped at their desks.
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