"You mean to tell me Lily Potter is expecting?" Dumbledore inquired, his piercing blue eyes suddenly displaying a profound interest that far exceeded standard pleasantries. "Their child is due to be born at the very end of the month? Has an exact delivery date been firmly established by the healers?"
"That is precisely what they told me," Professor McGonagall confirmed. "They even gifted young Alan a protective amulet. I could sense a rather potent magical fluctuation emanating from the trinket. Lily had mentioned earlier in her correspondence that she was preparing to craft some alchemical tools to practice and refine her ancient runes, and it certainly seems her dedicated efforts have yielded excellent results. Furthermore, that young Muggle-born boy is vastly more independent than I ever could have imagined, and his personal savings are shockingly substantial for an orphan. It is genuinely difficult to comprehend how an eleven-year-old child managed to accumulate such wealth within the confines of a dilapidated welfare home, but I suppose prying into the private affairs of our students is hardly appropriate."
Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore were clearly operating on entirely different wavelengths, with the former still thoroughly impressed by Alan's mature demeanor.
"Is that so?" Dumbledore murmured softly to himself, his gaze drifting away. "I have recently received word that Alice Longbottom is also expecting a child near the end of the month. Could the prophecy be referring to one of them?" He was blatantly far more absorbed by the implications of Lily's unborn child than the mundane logistics of the incoming Hogwarts first-year class.
"One of whom, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked, her brow furrowing in deep confusion at Dumbledore's cryptic mumbling.
"Oh, it is nothing of consequence, Minerva. You have had an exceptionally long and tiring day. Please, go and get some well-deserved rest. Tomorrow's Order of the Phoenix meeting will still be held at the usual secure location. We have a multitude of pressing logistical problems to solve together. The Death Eaters have been growing increasingly brazen and active in recent weeks." Dumbledore smoothly evaded her question, his mind still weighing heavy burdens.
"Understood, Albus," Professor McGonagall replied stiffly. Recalling the dark, lingering shadow of the escalating war, she turned on her heel and swiftly exited the circular office.
Dumbledore remained seated in silence behind his massive oak desk, his steepled fingers resting against his chin as he sank deep into thought. No one could possibly guess what complex strategies the aging Headmaster was currently weaving in the quiet dark.
…
The following morning, after bidding a brief, unsentimental farewell to Matron Triss and William at the orphanage, Alan efficiently packed his meager belongings and navigated the London streets to arrive completely alone at the Leaky Cauldron.
"What on earth did you just say? You plan on staying here, entirely by yourself, until the Hogwarts term officially begins?" Tom, the hunched owner of the Leaky Cauldron, stared down at Alan with utter, wide-eyed disbelief.
"That is correct, Mr. Tom. And please do not worry about my financial situation; I have more than enough money to cover the expenses," Alan assured the bartender, casually pulling a handful of gleaming gold Galleons from his trouser pocket and letting them clink together.
"This isn't just a simple matter of money, Mr. Wilson. You clearly do not comprehend the gravity of the current problem," Tom said, his voice dropping to a harsh, serious whisper. "It is incredibly unsafe out there right now. Please forgive me, lad, but I simply cannot agree to host a child unsupervised. I am telling you this strictly for your own good."
"I completely understand your concerns, Mr. Tom. Professor McGonagall already thoroughly explained the severe nature of the ongoing conflict to me yesterday. However, I must firmly insist," Alan replied, holding the older man's gaze without flinching. "Besides, if you think about it tactically, an underage Muggle-born wizard like myself is in far greater danger living completely exposed and defenseless out in the non-magical world. I am willing to place my trust in your heavily warded establishment. I can even help you out with various chores around the pub whenever I'm free, and keep you company during the slow hours. Surely that is a fair trade?"
Alan looked up at Tom with his dark, unyielding eyes, his posture projecting absolute determination. He clearly had absolutely no intention of backing down or leaving the premises.
Tom scowled down at the resolute young boy standing before him. After a long minute of tense consideration, he finally sighed and relented. After all, the kid had a valid tactical point; Diagon Alley still had heavy, regular Auror patrols guarding the perimeter. Forcing an untrained Muggle-born to wander aimlessly outside the protective magical barriers might actually invite a far worse tragedy.
"Alright, fine. I haven't exactly been drowning in paying customers lately anyway," Tom grumbled, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. "I'll give you a steep discount for a month and a half's rent and only charge you five Galleons total. But you must swear to me that you won't go running around the alley recklessly. It is absolutely best if you remain strictly inside the shop, and there is a hard curfew enforced after eight o'clock in the evening. You must be locked securely inside your rented room by then."
"That is absolutely no problem, Mr. Tom. I will be on my best behavior, you can rest completely assured of that." Alan paid the requested gold upfront without a second thought the moment Tom agreed. He smoothly accepted the heavy brass room key and began methodically carrying his luggage up the creaking wooden stairs, one heavy trunk at a time.
Upon entering his new quarters, Alan promptly placed his thriving potted scallions directly on the sunlit windowsill. He had brought a considerable amount of supplies with him this time around. In addition to his brand-new school materials and standard clothing, he had even smuggled in the large stash of authentic Asian seasonings William had acquired for him earlier, along with his polished wooden Shogi set.
In his previous life, Alan had been a hardened career soldier and possessed very few leisurely hobbies, save for a profound, enduring appreciation for high-quality culinary dishes. Having been forced to endure a bleak diet of bland, boiled British orphanage food for over a decade in this new world, he had been driven to the absolute brink of culinary insanity and fiercely detested the local cuisine.
After unpacking his essentials and settling in, Alan tactically surveyed the dimensions of the rented room. The floor space was certainly not small; there was an adequate area to perform basic calisthenics and physical conditioning. However, it lacked the necessary square footage required for practicing expansive, high-impact martial arts. Previously, he had heavily relied on dynamic striking forms, intense Judo throws, and aggressive Karate katas to maintain his physical edge—none of which he could safely execute in this confined space without destroying the furniture. Now, aside from static horse-stance conditioning in the center of the room, he was strictly limited to practicing tight, fluid Aikido movements and slow-form martial meditations.
Adapting to his new environment, Alan immediately retrieved a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill, drafting a meticulously structured daily schedule for his independent study and combat training. He was an individual defined by his extremely rigid habits and iron-clad self-discipline. Now, aside from the minor detail that he could no longer fold his blanket into a perfectly sharp, regulation military square, he essentially continued to operate exactly according to the grueling daily routines ingrained in him from his time in the army.
He structured his daily regimen as follows:
6:00 AM: Wake up, execute personal hygiene, and begin morning physical conditioning. Training parameters: dynamic stretching, deep horse-stance meditation, intense cardiovascular exercise, followed by thirty minutes of close-quarters shadowboxing.
7:30 AM: Consume breakfast, then immediately commence reading academic texts and executing practical spellwork.
12:00 PM – 1:00 PM: Break for lunch and physical recovery.
1:00 PM: Resume intensive academic study and spellcasting drills.
6:00 PM: Consume dinner, followed by either active rest or continued spell practice, strictly dependent on his overall mental fatigue levels.
8:00 PM: Evening physical conditioning: Aikido forms, core stabilization exercises, and deep mental meditation.
9:00 PM: Final hygiene routine and strictly enforced lights out for optimal sleep.
*Additional Note:* Assist Mr. Tom with menial pub chores during designated meal and rest periods to maintain a favorable strategic alliance.
For the duration of this crucial month and a half, Alan effectively decided to temporarily abandon basic human leisure; his sole, driving objective was to aggressively absorb as much theoretical magical knowledge and practical combat experience as physically possible before arriving at the castle.
After finalizing the highly detailed operational plan, Alan checked his pocket watch. It was rapidly approaching noon, so he decided to head downstairs to secure some rations.
He chatted amiably with Tom in the dim pub hall for a few minutes before quickly realizing that the standard catering services offered by the Leaky Cauldron consisted almost entirely of heavy, uninspired British pub food. After smoothly confirming he had access to the kitchen with Tom, Alan retrieved the specialized seasonings he had brought along and personally cooked up several incredibly flavorful, authentic Japanese-style side dishes. He generously treated Tom to the savory meal, a calculated diplomatic move that significantly strengthened the working bond between the young guest and the weary proprietor. After both individuals were thoroughly satisfied with the excellent food, Alan returned to his room, fully prepared to officially commence his magical education.
Alan's primary academic focus was strictly narrowed down to three core texts: *The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1*, *Magical Theory*, and *The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection*. His immediate tactical goal was to rapidly acquire and master a handful of highly practical, offensive and defensive spells. He pragmatically determined that Transfiguration was far too volatile and complex to attempt without expert supervision, while Herbology and Potions required specialized laboratory equipment and hands-on practical mastery that he currently lacked.
Rather than foolishly rushing straight into blind practical exercises, Alan spent the remainder of the afternoon rapidly digesting the dense theoretical texts. He continuously marked crucial arcane principles and flagged unclear conceptual areas with his quill. Lost in his intense focus, the hours slipped by entirely unnoticed.
The following morning, after completing his rigorous physical conditioning and eating a quick breakfast, Alan prepared to execute his very first official spell: the Levitation Charm. Because he had spent years secretly honing his telekinetic abilities, he could already easily force objects to levitate without the use of a magical focus. Therefore, he logically decided to begin his formal training by attempting to replicate the exact phenomenon he was already intimately familiar with.
"Wingardium Leviosa," Alan enunciated sharply. Carefully mirroring the precise incantation and the distinct swish-and-flick wand gesture illustrated in the textbook, he drew his black-jade wand and directed the spell toward a heavy leather-bound book resting on the wooden table.
Instantly, Alan felt a surge of invisible, highly structured energy securely bridge the gap between his core, the wand, and the target object. He effortlessly commanded the heavy book to float upward, expending almost zero mental exertion in the process.
"Fascinating," he muttered to himself, analyzing the data. "That felt significantly easier and far more efficient after utilizing the formal spell structure. Does the spoken incantation and wand movement actively stabilize the raw magical output?"
Intrigued by the scientific mechanics of his abilities, Alan smoothly placed his wand back on the desk. He squared his shoulders, faced the exact same hovering book, and attempted to mentally seize it using his raw, wandless telekinesis, exactly as he had done every single day for the past several years.
However, after straining his focus for several long minutes, he frowned in realization. The raw, wandless ability yielded absolutely no effect whatsoever.