Alan Scott's astonishing performance in the flying lesson cast a strange halo over his name. It began to circulate quietly among the upper years, replacing vague impressions like "that clever Gryffindor freshman" with a more concrete — and stranger — label: "the mad scientist." The nickname was half awe, half mockery.
At dinner, beneath the enchanted night sky of the Great Hall, plates and goblets clattered on the long tables. A solemn-looking owl weaved between flickering candles and dropped a rolled parchment with a soft thud beside Alan's pumpkin juice. The wax seal bore Professor McGonagall's family crest.
He unrolled the letter and read the neat, flowing script: notice of the first meeting of the "Advanced Transfiguration Theory Research Group," scheduled for Saturday night.
A heavy plate was set opposite him, interrupting his thoughts. Charlie Weasley — Gryffindor's Quidditch captain, sun-browned and cheerful from training — sat down with his characteristic grin still bright in his eyes.
"Alan, think about it again," Charlie said earnestly, leaning forward to close the gap between them. "You don't have to be a full team member. We don't need you at every tedious strength and endurance session. Even if you just come by sometimes, when you can, stand on the practice field and give us your… unique perspective. I've got a strong feeling your theories could really help."
Alan set down his cutlery; the silver met porcelain with a faint, crisp sound. He dabbed his mouth with a napkin — each motion measured and graceful — then looked up to meet Charlie's hopeful gaze.
"Charlie, I appreciate the offer," he said calmly, his voice flat but incisive. "But my personal schedule is arranged according to one core principle."
He paused, choosing the phrase as if reading from a formula.
"Maximizing the efficiency of knowledge acquisition."
Charlie's smile froze. The unfamiliar phrase left him momentarily baffled.
Alan ignored the confusion and continued in the same factual tone, eyes clear and cool as if solving an equation. "The Transfiguration research group gives me direct access to the highest-level transfiguration theory available to someone of my clearance. Its knowledge return on investment is very high."
"Quidditch training, by contrast, consumes enormous amounts of time and energy but yields very limited knowledge gains for me. I've already achieved a basic mastery of flying techniques; what remains is mostly practicing muscle memory and team coordination." He laced his fingers and rested them on the table, delivering his conclusion with clinical finality. "From an input–output perspective, it's a poor investment. So when the two activities conflict, I will, without hesitation, prioritize the former."
The sentence disassembled Charlie's ardor into cold, precise metrics — passion, glory, and team spirit reduced to numbers. Charlie was left speechless. He stared at Alan, gradually realizing that the gap between them was not merely a difference of interests but a deep, unfathomable chasm in modes of thought.
Later that evening in the Gryffindor common room the fire burned bright, bathing the round room in warm orange. The place buzzed: older students playing wizarding cards in one corner, explosive-card pops punctuating the air; first-years clustered together, chattering about the day's lessons. For someone who needed absolute focus, that mix of laughter, argument and fluctuating magical energy was torture. Every decibel of noise was an unwelcome drain on Alan's cognitive bandwidth.
He packed his parchments and books without expression, avoided classmates trying to catch his attention, and slipped out toward the Great Hall. At night the hall was quiet and spacious; only a few upper-years were scattered among the long tables, hunched over their studies. The only sounds were the scratch of quills and the occasional turning of a page.
This — silence and order — was efficiency.
Alan took a secluded corner and unfolded his draft: dense runes and logical circuits incomprehensible to ordinary eyes — the embryo of his "spell-automation program." He was fully absorbed when a timid, choked voice cut through his concentration.
"Alan… could you… help me?"
He looked up. Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff stood at his table, clutching a stack of heavy assignments. Her golden hair was a little messy, her eyes rimmed red; she looked on the verge of tears. "The Charms essay, and the Transfiguration practice… I don't know where to begin. There isn't enough time!"
Alan's gaze fell to the tear-marked schedule she held. His Mind Palace activated instantly: Hannah's to-do list became data, fed into his analysis routines. In under ten seconds he produced an optimal solution based on energy curves and knowledge linkage.
"It's simple," he said, voice steady as ever. "Your problem isn't insufficient time — it's the wrong process, which causes massive energy wastage."
Hannah blinked, puzzled.
"You should start with the Transfiguration practice immediately," he continued, each word crisp. "That task requires your highest concentration, so do it during your most energized period. After you finish, write your Charms essay. Take the observations from your Transfiguration practice — specifically, insights about precise willpower control during shape change — and apply them directly in the essay to support the point that intent is key in spell shaping. In that way, one concentrated effort gives you the core material for two assignments."
"Lastly, tackle the simplest piece: the History of Magic worksheet. It only asks you to transcribe dates and locations related to the goblin uprising — nearly no creative energy required. Save it for when you're tired."
"Following this order you'll save at least an hour and significantly improve the quality of the first two assignments."
His instructions were crisp, logically ordered, each step dependent on the prior. The tangled mess in Hannah's head smoothed instantly; anxiety vanished and was replaced by bright relief.
"Oh my goodness… that's it!" she exclaimed, gratitude pouring from her. She thanked him repeatedly and, clutching her homework, hurried off to execute his plan.
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