"The content in this manuscript was entirely your own conception?" Headmaster Dumbledore still found it difficult to accept, unable to suppress a sigh.
"My research into training theory actually began during my first year. To be precise, it was Professor Flitwick who initially inspired me. Without his guidance and consistent encouragement, I wouldn't have been able to codify the Magic Sensitivity Training Method."
Alan was telling the truth. Without Professor Flitwick's initial observation and the specialized research topic he provided, Alan might not have even initiated research in this direction. Headmaster Dumbledore nodded slowly. He knew that Alan had been an active member of the Charms Club since his first year, so Professor Flitwick must have been fostering his development ever since.
To have mastered a methodology capable of improving magical sensitivity and to have developed an apparatus to precisely measure magical reserves at such an age was nothing short of astonishing. However, as he pondered the mechanics, Headmaster Dumbledore frowned slightly. According to what he had just read, it appeared a localized blood sample was a baseline requirement to measure magical values.
How exactly had Alan extracted these specific metrics?
As an Alchemy Master himself, Dumbledore understood the underlying implications. It would be impossible to secure such precise data without an extensive series of controlled trials. Human experimentation had almost certainly been involved.
He looked at the young man opposite him with a trace of hesitation. Yet, as he had previously concluded, even with this realization, there was little he could do to alter the situation. Alan's influence within the Ministry of Magic was deeply entrenched; in the eyes of the current administration, the young alchemist's utility outweighed his own. Still, Dumbledore reasoned, given the boy's current social status and global connections, he had no logical reason to engage in anything inherently destructive.
"Alan, have you ever considered continuing your association with Hogwarts following your graduation?" Headmaster Dumbledore asked, casting aside his lingering concerns.
"An association? What specific arrangement do you have in mind, Headmaster?" Alan's eyes brightened slightly. Was Dumbledore preparing to place a bulk order for institutional training tools?
"Would you be interested in accepting an instructional position at the school?" Dumbledore asked with a warm smile.
Alan's immediate interest deflated slightly upon realizing the discussion wasn't regarding a commercial invoice, though he quickly processed the implication of the offer.
"Precisely. I am offering you the position of Professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class at Hogwarts. Naturally, this would be scheduled following the successful resolution of the Silver Spears matter. I am prepared to grant you sufficient instructional autonomy and scheduling flexibility to ensure your commercial responsibilities remain unaffected. You are well aware of our current institutional vacancy."
Since he could no longer exercise direct oversight over the young man from a distance, Dumbledore reasoned that bringing him into the castle faculty would allow him to monitor his ideological development more closely.
*Become the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor?* Alan stared at the old man with a highly skeptical look. *This old man is incredibly devious. Is he trying to invoke the curse on me?*
Alan was intimately aware of the systemic complications plaguing that specific instructional post. Since the jinx had taken hold, not a single wizard occupying the chair had concluded their tenure without experiencing a significant personal or professional catastrophe. This pattern had crippled the quality of the defense curriculum for decades. Asking him to accept the post was practically inviting disaster. Alan had no intention of falling for the Headmaster's administrative trap.
"You honor me with the offer, Headmaster, but I must respectfully decline. The position is not a suitable match for my current trajectory. Furthermore, the global expansion of the Silver Lightning Trading Company is currently entering a critical phase; I simply do not possess the necessary instructional availability."
"I see…" Dumbledore was not surprised by the refusal. It had been a tactical opening, and since the young man had declined cleanly, he chose not to press the issue further.
"Let us set those matters aside for now. I have a separate issue I would appreciate your perspective on, Headmaster," Alan said, smoothly steering the conversation.
"Oh? Feel free to voice whatever is on your mind."
"It concerns Harry—Lily's son. Do you recall his current standing?" Alan reminded him quietly.
Dumbledore's expression shifted, the memory of the underlying prophecy resurfacing instantly. "Harry? Why do you bring him up now?"
"I am entirely unaware of your long-term arrangements for the boy, Headmaster, but I intend to formally adopt him. Harry is Lily's child, and I now possess the requisite financial security and defensive capabilities to guarantee his total safety." Alan had never forgotten Lily's kindness during his early years, and he was determined to honor her memory by taking custody of her son.
"I understand your position, Alan. I am well aware of the deep bond you shared with Lily and your genuine desire to oversee his development on her behalf. However, I must decline. I believe it remains structurally safer for Harry to remain within his current environment."
Dumbledore understood the emotional weight behind the request, but the Boy Who Lived was far too critical a piece in his grand architecture. He wasn't concerned that Alan harbored malicious intent toward the child; Alan's relentless efforts on behalf of Sirius black proved he remained deeply loyal to his personal attachments. Raising Harry under Alan's lineage would undoubtedly provide the boy with superior training and resources, but the blood protection anchored at his current residence was an absolute variable Dumbledore could not risk compromising.
"I see…" Alan shook his head with a trace of quiet disappointment. "Very well. I simply hope the boy receives the care he deserves under your framework. If there are no further administrative matters, I shall take my leave. Farewell."
"Do not worry, Alan. I oversee Harry's security parameters with the utmost gravity. His current coordinates are absolute in terms of defensive safety." Dumbledore offered a reassuring nod. "As for the Silver Spears operation, do not overextend your personal safety. Minister Bagnold and I will continue to leverage diplomatic channels to clear Sirius's record. You should have received the formal notification from the Order of Merlin; ensure you submit your acceptance promptly."
"I shall respond once the Silver Spears matter has concluded cleanly." Alan met Dumbledore's gaze with absolute resolve, signaling that he had no intention of altering his impending operational schedule.
Leaving the Headmaster's office, Alan walked down the spiral staircase in deep thought. He hadn't managed to extract much actionable intelligence from Dumbledore. The old man remained characteristically guarded—balancing genuine trust with calculation.
As he navigated the corridor, a familiar silhouette blocked his path.
"Ah, if it isn't our esteemed Head of House. Are you arriving for a consultation with Headmaster Dumbledore?" Alan smiled, noting Snape's characteristically severe expression.
"Hmph. An exceptionally irritating coincidence. I invariably encounter you whenever I am forced to navigate this sector of the castle," Snape drawled, his lips thin with distaste.
Only then did Alan recognize their immediate surroundings. This was the exact corridor where they had first crossed paths during his first year at Hogwarts. That initial encounter had degenerated into an immediate, explosive duel, and Alan still remembered the extensive damage their spells had carved into the ancient masonry. In a way, his entire relationship with Snape had been anchored by that opening fight.
"Heh, dwelling excessively on historic encounters will accelerate the aging process, Professor," Alan chuckled, amused by the memory.
"A failing memory is typically the primary indicator of cognitive decline, is it not? I was unaware your intellect had deteriorated so dramatically," Snape countered sharply. "Furthermore, you have officially concluded your studies; there is no longer an administrative requirement to address me as your Head of House. My sole desire is for you to vanish from my perimeter immediately—preferably permanently."
"Do not be so severe, Professor Snape. Harboring such persistent irritability is detrimental to your health. Besides, my presence has been highly advantageous to your record over the past several years; surely the House Cup in your quarters hasn't gathered dust yet?" Alan joked, entirely accustomed to Snape's abrasive demeanor.
Snape's jaw tightened, his facial muscles working to suppress an involuntary twitch before settling back into a flat, severe scowl. Winning the House Cup for three consecutive terms with absolute dominance had been an immense source of personal satisfaction. He frequently visited the common room after hours simply to look at the silver trophy, occasionally permitting himself a rare smirk when entirely alone, though he refused to grant Alan the satisfaction of verbal praise.
"That simply indicates you managed not to entirely default on the academic expectations the institution placed upon you. It is hardly a metric for personal arrogance. I trust you will not maintain this intolerable complacency following your departure!" Snape barked, his features taut.
*You're clearly the one gloating here,* Alan thought, entirely amused by the display.
"Regardless of our differences, I appreciate the absolute lack of interference you provided during my tenure here, Professor. Consider this a baseline parting gift; I trust you won't decline it." Alan extended a small, polished wooden box.
Throughout his years within Slytherin, Snape—despite his consistent scowling and biting remarks—had never placed systemic obstacles in his path, save for their opening duel.
Snape stared at the presentation box, his dark features smoothing out slightly before he reached out and took the item. Judging by the weight and craftsmanship, it closely resembled the premium music boxes manufactured by Alan's firm.
*The brat has likely just cleared a piece of dead inventory from his shop to handle his social obligations,* Snape mused internally as he unlatched the lid.
A soft, clear melody floated into the corridor. It was indeed a music box. But the moment Snape's eyes registered the interior mechanism, his entire posture froze. His pupils dilated, his breathing hitching as his mind stalled completely.
He snapped his head up to demand an explanation.
But the corridor was empty. Alan had already quieted his movements and vanished from the sector without leaving a trace.
"The arrogant little bastard… how could he possibly know?" Snape whispered, his voice shaking with a sudden, violent surge of emotion.
When he looked back down at the revolving mechanism, his severe expression melted into a raw, absolute tenderness. Inside the velvet lining of the lid, a tiny, perfectly preserved magical photograph was embedded, featuring the radiant, laughing face of a young Lily.