"I have a habit of morning exercise, a routine I've maintained for years. There's a park right near Diagon Alley, so I planned to come here at dawn to train and let my owl stretch its wings," Alan explained.
"And that's when you ran into them? Why would they target you specifically?" Moody was still struggling to reconcile why a group of seasoned Death Eaters would stage a coordinated ambush on a schoolboy in the early morning hours.
"Precisely. I had just arrived at Regent's Park and was about to warm up when I found myself surrounded. As for why..." Alan paused, appearing to choose his words carefully. "At Hogwarts, I've had ongoing conflicts with several students—Yaxley, Sampel, and the Travers boy. Plus, being the only Muggle-born in Slytherin makes me a natural target for their vitriol. They hate me to the core, and I believe that resentment boiled over."
"That still doesn't add up. Student rivalry is one thing, but assembling five Death Eaters for a hit? Looking at the devastation in this clearing, they weren't looking to bully you; they were looking to kill you." Moody frowned, his magical eye whirling in its socket. He looked at Alan, deeply puzzled.
Alan hesitated, biting his lip. He finally looked Moody straight in the eye, as if steeling himself to reveal a heavy secret.
"They've hounded me more than once at school. I've managed to fend them off, but it only made them more vengeful. Just before Christmas, Yaxley gathered a group of pure-blood students outside the castle to jump me. I was lucky to escape. And..." Alan lowered his voice, his expression grave. "During that encounter, Yaxley tried to use the Avada Kedavra on me."
"What?" Moody's face turned fierce, his hand tightening on his staff. "Are you certain?"
"Yes. Headmaster Dumbledore is aware—or at least he suspects the gravity of what happened. It's no coincidence that Yaxley hasn't stepped foot back in Hogwarts since the holidays," Alan sighed.
He effectively shifted the burden of proof onto Dumbledore. From Moody's reaction, it was clear the rest of the Order of the Phoenix had been kept in the dark about Yaxley's specific crimes.
"I see. Now the pieces fit. I wondered why Dumbledore was so insistent on finding Yaxley's whereabouts, even wasting manpower to watch that unmarked house. If they were hiding there, they likely saw you enter the Leaky Cauldron yesterday." Moody had a look of sudden realization, but his expression quickly soured. "Why didn't you report this sooner? A Death Eater capable of Unforgivables was roaming free. Do you have any idea how much danger you put yourself and others in?"
"I'm sorry. It's my fault. Yaxley... he was my senior, a Slytherin Prefect. I suppose I couldn't bring myself to be the one to ruin his life," Alan said, his face a mask of sincere remorse.
"Hmph. You're just too merciful for your own good. When facing these scoundrels, hesitation is a death sentence. Look where your 'mercy' got you—targeted for execution in a park!" Moody barked, clearly disappointed by Alan's perceived softness.
*A batch of high-quality experimental subjects, a small fortune, a title deed, and a key...* Alan's internal monologue drifted as he listened to Moody's lecture. He quickly snapped back to the present, maintaining his look of lingering trauma.
Moody grumbled a few more curses at the Death Eaters, then looked at the young man standing before him. Alan was just a boy, after all, and he had somehow survived a five-on-one struggle against killers. Curiosity finally overrode his annoyance. "You said you were surrounded. How exactly did you take them all down? These men aren't amateurs; they're vicious thugs."
"It was a combination of Professor Flitwick's dueling techniques, Professor Bones's research, and a fair amount of luck." Alan took a shaky breath. "They were lurking in the trees. Thanks to my owl's night vision and our bond, he spotted movement from above and warned me before they could strike. Without that, I wouldn't be standing here."
"And then?"
"I used the Echo Charm to pin down their locations. It's a spell Professor Bones and I worked on together before he left the Ministry."
"Aye, I've read the paper. Edgar showed us his prototype monocle at an Order meeting." Moody's lip curled at the memory of Bones, but he nodded for Alan to continue.
"Once I knew where they were, I knew I had to seize the initiative. I cast a Disillusionment Charm on myself and simultaneously triggered a Flash-Bang."
"A what? A Flash-Bang?" Moody asked, squinting.
Alan pulled a small metallic button from his pocket. "I'll show you." He infused the object with a pulse of magic and tossed it into the air. Even in the broad daylight, the resulting burst of brilliance was staggering. Moody flinched, spots dancing in his vision. "Is that your own work?"
"Yes. I optimized the Lumos runes to create a concentrated discharge," Alan explained. "In the dark of the early morning, it was blinding. They weren't expecting me to strike first. I used those few seconds of confusion to break their line, stun Yaxley, and pull him in front of me as a human shield."
"Tactically sound," Moody grunted, impressed. "Go on."
"They didn't care. They kept firing, hitting Yaxley with their own stray hexes. Realizing he was useless as leverage, I used a Banishing Charm to hurl him at the nearest attacker, then used a Grounding jinx to trip the large one—Goyle, I think." Alan pointed toward the heap of bodies.
Using Yaxley as a shield provided the perfect cover for the boy's fractured mental state. If any healers questioned why Yaxley was so traumatized later, Alan could simply point to the "friendly fire" from his own comrades.