Alan's fingers gently brushed across the ordinary cardboard box in his hands.
Its surface bore no patterns, rough to the touch, carrying the faint scent of cheap paperboard. From every angle, it looked as plain as could be—indistinguishable from the parcels you'd find stacked in any Muggle post office.
And yet, Alan's fingertips could clearly sense it: beneath this mundane disguise, a quiet and profound magical force slumbered.
Within his Mind Palace, the "information structure diagram" of this package unfolded in perfect clarity.
At its core lay the glowing moss Hagrid had given him. After more than a month of meticulous research and cultivation, the miraculous plant samples had stabilized and begun to propagate. Now they clung silently to a specially treated piece of stone, awaiting awakening.
Surrounding this core was a layer of magic Alan had just constructed—
a basic application he named the Confusion Charm of Concepts.
Its principle was not the traditional sleight-of-eye or illusion, but something deeper: informational interference. Alan had assigned a uniform conceptual label to all magical traits of the moss:
[Dormant]
Under the influence of this label, the bioluminescent circuits within the moss were severed, its magical circulation reduced to the lowest threshold. All fluctuations of magic were compressed and withdrawn, until they became utterly undetectable to the outside world.
To the Ministry's routine detection charms, this package now registered as nothing more than a rock covered with ordinary moss.
Simple, yet effective.
He didn't want a gift meant solely to share joy with his family to end up as a "pending abnormal item" on some Ministry official's desk. His family should not, because of his existence, suffer unnecessary scrutiny or intrusion from the wizarding world.
And the key to undoing the [Dormant] state likewise followed the logic of information science.
It was not a complex incantation, nor an elaborate wand movement.
It was a specific information command—
a line only the Scott family would understand, an inside joke about their clever yet silly border collie.
"Buck."
Only when his family received the parcel, tapped the box with their finger, and clearly spoke this name, would the [Dormant] tag be lifted by the corresponding command. At that moment, the suppressed magical energy would surge back, and the moss would bloom with its natural glow.
The most primitive, yet also the most secure, form of magical encryption.
Its key was stored in his family's memory and affection.
After confirming every detail was flawless, Alan carried the seemingly ordinary package through the castle corridors, heading toward the Owlery.
The moment he stepped onto the stone porch outside the roost, a pungent mixture of hay, feathers, and animal droppings greeted him.
But carried on that smell came something else—a booming roar, heavy as thunder, shaking the wooden door in its frame.
"…How many times have I told you lot!"
The voice was deep and enormous, reverberating so fiercely the timbers buzzed. Alan recognized it instantly. It was Hagrid.
But gone was the usual warmth and bumbling good-nature. This was fury, ignited like a fire in dry wood.
Alan stepped into the roost.
Hagrid's massive frame nearly blocked the entire doorway, his looming shadow falling over the two figures cowering before him.
The Weasley twins, Fred and George, pressed themselves against the cold stone wall like cornered animals.
"No more sending Howlers to harass Filch! And stop terrifying that poor cat of his!"
Hagrid's face was flushed purple, his thick beard quivering with each furious breath. One giant fist clenched tight, looking as though it might come crashing down at any moment.
"You nearly scared the poor creature to death!"
Fred and George hunched their shoulders, attempting to maintain an expression of wide-eyed innocence. They exchanged a quick glance—clearly, they didn't think their prank was such a big deal.
Inside Alan's Mind Palace, processes spun into overdrive.
[Situation Analysis: Hagrid is under the absolute dominance of the "Anger" state. Logical pathways shut down, effective communication impossible.]
[Objectives: 1. Successfully send the package. 2. Defuse the twins' predicament.]
[Intervention Assessment: Direct persuasion—success rate < 5%. Risk of Hagrid redirecting anger onto "meddler."]
[Optimal Solution: Locate and activate Hagrid's "Core Database." Interrupt current "Anger Process" with a high-priority task.]
Alan's gaze swept Hagrid with the precision of the finest scanning device.
The rough linen shirt. The oversized leather jerkin… until finally, his eyes locked on Hagrid's slightly ridiculous moleskin hat.
Atop it, a feather swayed.
But this feather was unlike any owl feather in the roost. It shimmered with a unique metallic sheen, reminiscent of ancient bronze, each strand stiff and powerful.
[Information Match Successful: Hippogriff Feather.]
[Related Information: Hagrid possesses the highest level of passion and protectiveness for magical creatures.]
[Action Plan Generated.]
Just as Hagrid was about to stretch out his fan-sized hand and hoist the twins up to dangle them from the beams of the hut, Alan quickly stepped forward.
He didn't move directly into the middle of the quarrel but cleverly sidestepped the twins, as if he hadn't noticed the tense atmosphere at all.
Instead, he walked to Hagrid's side, tilted his head back, and locked his gaze precisely on that bronze-colored feather. On his face appeared a look of pure curiosity, brimming with scholarly hunger.
"Good afternoon, Hagrid!"
His voice wasn't loud, but each word was clear, carrying a distinctive academic tone that pierced right through Hagrid's furious roar.
"Forgive my boldness, but may I ask—this feather on your hat, is it from a Hippogriff?"
He raised a finger, but kept a polite distance, merely pointing at the feather from afar.
"I read in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them that its feathers are highly resistant to magic, but I've never seen one in person. Could you tell me—what are the differences between its actual effects and what's written in the book?"
This sudden question was like a master key, slotting neatly into the deepest lock inside Hagrid's mind.
The rage that had been about to erupt froze on the spot.
His massive body stiffened for a moment, and then that boiling fury deflated rapidly, like a punctured balloon.
Slowly, he turned his head to look at Alan.
Those black eyes that had been burning with fire just moments ago suddenly lit up at the sight of Alan's face, filled with eager thirst for knowledge.
"Oh! Alan!"
At the mention of his beloved magical creatures, Hagrid's face immediately broke into a heartfelt, impossibly proud smile. The purplish-red anger drained away in an instant, replaced by a glow of excitement.
"You've got a sharp eye!"
He carefully plucked the feather from his hat, pinching it between his thick fingers, and held it out to Alan, his voice brimming with pride.
"This really is Buckbeak's feather! Let me tell you, what the books say is far too shor—"
Hagrid's attention had been completely diverted.
His "anger process" had been suspended, and the core database labeled "Magical Creatures" was now fully activated. He launched into a passionate speech, recounting his "glorious history" with the Hippogriff Buckbeak—from the first time he fed it ferrets to how he groomed its feathers.
Meanwhile, as Hagrid became utterly immersed in his own world, Alan's eyes subtly flicked toward the twins hiding in the corner.
He tilted his head ever so slightly, sending them a clear signal with the edge of his gaze.
Fred and George's faces instantly lit up with the expression of death-row prisoners being granted a pardon.
They shot Alan a look of deep gratitude, then immediately sprang into action.
Like two well-trained operatives, they pressed themselves against the wall, creeping toward the door with exaggerated, ridiculously slow movements, step by step, sneaking behind Hagrid's towering figure.
Their motions were completely silent, not interrupting Hagrid's grand lecture in the slightest.
When they finally slipped out of the hut's shadow and into the sunlight outside, Fred turned back and blew Alan an exaggerated, silent kiss before he and George bolted off together.
~~----------------------
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