Snape's "special attention" was like a stone dropped into a calm lake, sending a ripple of anger across the Gryffindor long table.
"He's gone too far!"
Lee Jordan jabbed his fork into a sausage with a harsh scraping sound. He lowered his voice, but the anger was unmistakable.
"That was absolutely the most perfect potion we've brewed all semester! Color, concentration, aroma—everything was flawless!"
"Exactly! He's just jealous!"
Fred slammed down his goblet, causing the pumpkin juice inside to slosh. He shook his cup in frustration.
"A three-foot essay on traditional potion-making! By Merlin's beard, that's more ridiculous than turning a barrel of slugs into a violin orchestra!"
Across the table, Alan's movements remained completely unaffected.
His knife and fork moved with stability and elegance, cutting a perfectly cooked steak into uniformly sized pieces. He didn't even look up, but there was a near-pleasant ease in his tone.
"I don't see it that way."
The complaints around him immediately stopped.
Alan wiped his mouth with a napkin before looking at his friends, calm and composed.
"He was just giving me an opportunity—an excellent chance to systematically and deeply review and study the theoretical framework of traditional potion-making."
He paused, took a bite of his steak, chewed slowly, and continued.
"And I can also take this chance to present my 'optimization theories' in a more academic and rigorous manner. For me, this isn't punishment—it's a valuable gift of extra knowledge."
This mindset—viewing punishment as opportunity and obstacles as gifts—made Fred, George, and Lee Jordan feel that familiar, deep sense of helplessness again. They felt an invisible gap, the kind only a top student like Alan could create, separating them from him.
The lunch table gradually quieted.
Fred and George slid in from either side, acting mysteriously, their robes' pockets bulging as if containing two restless creatures.
"Alan, come on!"
George whispered excitedly, winking.
"We finished that 'automatic dung tracker' you mentioned last time! It's ready! Works perfectly!"
"We were just about to test its tracking on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Want to witness this great invention?" Fred added, a mix of excitement and mischief on his face.
Alan's first instinct was to decline. In his mind palace, the logical framework for his three-foot essay was already taking shape.
But another thought quickly arose: the edge of the Forbidden Forest—a perfect place to collect rare herbs and plant samples. Theoretical research needed practical data.
He nodded.
"All right."
The three of them crossed the castle courtyard, the scent of grass mingling with earthy aromas. They bypassed the Wrackspurt Willow, looking particularly aggressive under the afternoon sun, and headed toward Hagrid's hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
Before they reached it, a huge figure appeared in their sight.
It was Hagrid.
The half-giant was pacing anxiously around a massive metal contraption.
Its appearance immediately reminded Alan of a Muggle shipping container, but the surface was far more complex. Thick copper pipes coiled around it like giant serpents, connecting crystals of varying sizes that flickered intermittently. Numerous intricate magical runes were etched into the metal plates, forming ten complex diagrams of magical circuits—a highly precise magical mechanism.
"Oh, Hagrid, what are you doing?"
Fred asked aloud, curiosity evident.
Hagrid turned, seeing them, his face beneath the thick beard clouded with worry. He wiped sweat from his forehead with his massive hand.
"Oh, it's you guys."
His voice sounded extremely frustrated.
"Don't even ask, I'm having the worst luck!"
Hagrid explained the situation in near despair. A few days ago, he had rescued an extremely rare magical creature, the Thestral, from a Greek merchant. The poor creature was severely injured. To provide the best treatment, Hagrid spent all his savings to acquire a costly fully automatic temperature-controlled healing chamber from Diagon Alley.
But just now, the machine had suddenly malfunctioned.
The heating charm maintaining the temperature and the ventilation charm for airflow both failed simultaneously without warning.
The temperature inside the box was dropping visibly.
If it wasn't repaired quickly, the already weak Thestral could die from the cold.
Hagrid clearly knew nothing about this precise magical machinery. Clutching a wrench nearly as large as himself, he banged on the box like it was a rusty bolt.
Bang, bang, bang.
Each strike weakened the already dim runes on the box.
The situation was worsening.
Seeing no response from the machine, a glint of determination appeared in Hagrid's eyes. He tossed the wrench aside, seemingly ready to use his mountain-sized body to warm the cold metal box.
At that moment, Alan stepped forward.
"Hagrid, stop hitting it."
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unquestionable calm authority.
Hagrid froze, staring at the first-year student in confusion.
Alan ignored his gaze, fully focused on the "broken" machine. His pupils constricted, as if becoming high-precision scanners. Countless complex data streams flashed across his retinas.
Inside his mind palace, the machine's complete magical circuit diagram was rapidly being built, analyzed, and reconstructed.
"If you keep hitting it, the main power crystal will overload from magical feedback."
Alan pointed with his finger—not touching the machine—at a row of densely arranged runes on the side, like Muggle circuit boards. His fingertip hovered precisely over one dim node.
"The problem is here."
His voice was clear and confident, filled with the professional tone of an engineer diagnosing a fault.
"See, this main circuit, responsible for transferring heat, has worn from prolonged high-load operation. Its magical field interferes with the adjacent ventilation circuit."
Alan spoke slowly, ensuring Hagrid and the twins could understand.
"The energy flows of the two core spells are in conflict. To prevent more serious damage, the machine's protective mechanism triggered, and the system automatically entered 'safe shutdown' mode."
This explanation, full of unfamiliar technical terms, left Hagrid and the Weasley twins utterly stunned. They felt as if they weren't listening to a wizard at all, but rather a Ravenclaw alchemy master presenting a complex academic paper.
"…So what do we do?"
Hagrid's voice carried a trace of awe toward knowledge, even he didn't realize it.
"Very simple."
Alan pulled his wand from his pocket, tracing a stable arc through the air with its tip.
"We just need a simple Repairing Charm to fix this worn rune node. Then, using another equally simple Linking Charm, we can connect here and here, creating a temporary magical bypass. Physically, it avoids the interference point causing the conflict."
He added one last remark:
"In engineering, this is called a 'workaround.'"
~~----------------------
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