"Then what price do you think is appropriate?" Alan asked, staring directly into Julia's eyes.
Julia gasped, glaring back with a flash of indignant heat. "I can offer you two thousand Galleons at most. That is the absolute ceiling."
"Heh." Alan pursed his lips in a sharp, derisive sound. "I didn't expect a vault full of your family's filth to be worth so little. Do you take me for a beggar? There were a thousand Galleons in the safe house alone."
Seeing Alan directly expose the secrets of the vault, Julia abandoned her last shred of denial. She could only pivot to a new argument. "Since you found the safe, you must have also found the unregistered deeds inside. Two thousand Galleons, plus the thousand and the property titles you've already stolen—isn't that more than enough?"
"Those Galleons and deeds are my spoils of war, taken at the risk of my life. I nearly died at Torquil's hands, and you have the gall to haggle using my own winnings? What a joke," Alan sneered.
In his mind, Alan truly had risked his life. He had stayed up all night, pushed himself to exhaustion through experiments and interrogations, and then performed a high-stakes act for the Aurors. For someone who guarded his sleep schedule as fiercely as Alan did, staying up late was practically a suicidal endeavor.
Julia, however, stubbornly clung to her status. "Do you realize who you are facing? The Travers family is one of the most ancient and sacred of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. If you accept these terms, you will have a friend in our house. If you do not, you will be an enemy of the Travers line, challenging the very foundations of the Pure-Blood elite."
*Trying to play word games with me again?* Alan thought. *This 'carrot and stick' routine might work on a child, but you're trying it on me?*
"Then do you know who you are facing right now?"
Alan's expression shifted, a sudden, violent intensity taking hold as he advanced on Julia. His gaze was like a pair of knives cutting through her composure. Julia felt a sharp ache in her eyes from trying to hold his stare, and as he drew closer, she instinctively retreated. Her legs hit the edge of the chair behind her, and she stumbled back onto the sofa. She found herself looking up at Alan as he towered over her.
"Allow me to formally introduce myself. My name is Alan Wilson. I turned fourteen this year. I am not someone who enjoys conflict; bickering attracts nothing but trouble and enemies. But when trouble finds me and I am forced to act, I do not lose. I ensure my enemies are cleaned up so thoroughly they never have a chance to speak again."
He leaned down, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Understand this: standing before you is an underage wizard who neutralized five Death Eaters by himself. Do you truly believe I am afraid of your crumbling family? I am not negotiating with you because I hold your pathetic secrets. I am negotiating because I have the power to turn your 'Sacred Twenty-Eight' into twenty-seven."
As Alan spoke, each word heavy with cold, murderous intent, Julia felt a chill race down her spine. By the time he finished, she realized she was drenched in a cold sweat.
"Are you... trying to scare me?" Julia bit her lip, gathering the last of her pride to meet his eyes.
"No. I am stating a fact, issuing a warning, and delivering a threat," Alan replied. He leaned even closer, his face inches from hers, his tone unhurried and freezing.
Under Alan's calculated coercion, Julia felt like a sheep cornered by a wolf. She was isolated and helpless. Though she told herself to remain calm, she couldn't stop her hands from trembling.
"But we simply cannot produce one hundred thousand Galleons," Julia said, her voice suddenly losing its edge. "You are asking for the impossible."
The moment she said it, she knew the battle was over. The initiative belonged entirely to the boy. Her only task now was to mitigate the damage.
"I know." Alan stood up and returned to his seat, the oppressive pressure lifting instantly. "If you don't have the gold, you can use collateral. Materials, rare potions, and... knowledge."
"What do you mean?" A fresh sense of dread pooled in Julia's stomach.
"You know exactly what I mean. There are plenty of 'good things' in the Travers vault. Slytherin's manuscripts, refined mithril, and 'that'!" Alan didn't actually know what 'that' was, but his earlier performance had completely convinced Julia that he had dismantled Torquil's mental protections.
"Are you trying to strip us bare? To leave us with nothing?" Julia was a cocktail of fury and fear. How many secrets had that useless Torquil spilled?
"Don't be so dramatic. I believe that as long as there is life, there is hope. Compared to watching Torquil rot in Azkaban, those are just inanimate objects." Alan's tone turned deceptively gentle, almost coaxing.
Julia was paralyzed by indecision. The Travers vault held the accumulated wealth and lore of dozens of generations. It was her final line of defense, yet Alan was treating it like a pile of scrap paper. Seeing her hesitation, Alan didn't push. Instead, he checked his pocket watch.
"Decide quickly, Julia. Time is running out. The reporter I contacted from the Daily Prophet is likely already downstairs," Alan noted with a light chuckle.
As if on cue, there was a sharp knock at the door.
"Come in."
An Auror entered the room. Alan recognized her immediately. "Senior Vanessa, it's been a while."
"Alan, good to see you." Vanessa noticed the guest and kept her tone professional. "There's a reporter outside named Rita Skeeter. She claims you scheduled an interview. The Captain asked me to check in. Should I send her away?"
"No need. I did make an appointment, but she'll have to wait a few more minutes. I'm just finishing up some business," Alan replied with a smile.
"Then hurry it up. That woman is driving us mad, badgering everyone she catches for a quote," Vanessa complained.