"Thirty Galleons!"
Fred's voice shot up an octave as if an invisible hand had clutched his throat. He clutched his chest in exaggerated fashion, leaning back so far he nearly collapsed into his seat, his eyes bulging.
"Mate, does your family own a gold mine?" He sucked in a sharp breath, each word trembling with theatrical shock. "Or do you think if you leave it in your pocket too long, the gold will burn a hole straight through?"
"That's a fortune," George said in a completely different tone. He leaned forward, pressing in close to Alan, lowering his voice to the volume of a shared secret, his warm breath brushing Alan's ear.
"You could buy yourself an older-model Nimbus broom with that—fast enough, no question!"
But in the face of their wildly different reactions, Alan's calm smile didn't falter. He shifted slightly in his seat, letting his weight lean back just enough to create a subtle but unmistakable sense of distance—one of quiet control over the entire exchange.
"I call it a probability-based rational inference."
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly to each of them, steady and far older in tone than his years.
"In my view, the success rate is far higher than one in fifty. So, it's a worthwhile investment."
The serious, lecture-like delivery—as if he were presenting an academic paper—completely stumped the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan. The three exchanged glances, silently passing the same unspoken conclusion: This bloke is a complete oddball.
The brief silence was broken by Lee Jordan's curiosity.
"Come to think of it…" He scratched his head, straining to recall. "Didn't you run into some trouble over the summer? I swear I heard Penelope Clearwater mention in the prefects' carriage that a first-year helped her with some warning letter from the Ministry of Magic."
The instant the words left his mouth, Alan's inner world—his Mind Palace built of logic and data—flared with a silent red alarm.
Premature exposure. Risk factor increasing. Immediate information control and impression adjustment required.
On his face, that calm composure shifted in a tenth of a second, replaced perfectly with just the right amount of curiosity and innocence. His eyes widened slightly, his brows lifted faintly—the classic expression of harmless interest in a new topic.
"Oh, that was just a little misunderstanding."
His tone was casual, as if brushing away something trivial, instantly stripping the weight from the subject.
"Honestly, I don't know much about the wizarding world yet—my whole family are Muggles, after all." He leaned forward now, posture humble, gaze sincere as it swept across the three of them. "There are so many things that are just common sense to you—I'll have to ask your guidance in the future."
The flawless act shifted their perception, recasting him from a "mysterious problem-solver" into a "Muggle-born first-year who needs help." It neatly dissolved their doubts.
Just then, a slight bump of the train wheels and the sweet aroma of food heralded the arrival of the trolley.
A plump, kindly witch with a beaming smile stopped her cart at their compartment door.
"Anything from the trolley, dears?" Her voice was as sweet as her smile.
"Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and three Chocolate Frogs," Fred rattled off their usual order.
But Alan stood up.
That simple act drew every eye in the compartment back to him.
He didn't head straight for the trolley. First he adjusted his robes with a deliberate neatness, then strode to the door with measured steps, bowing politely to the witch.
"Madam," his words were so courteous they bordered on old-fashioned, "I'll take one of every snack on your trolley that I don't yet recognise."
And instead of pulling out Galleons, he reached into his pocket and produced a handful of heavy silver Sickles. In his open palm, the coins glittered under the carriage lights with a captivating sheen, before he laid them lightly yet decisively upon the witch's counter.
The crisp clink of metal echoed through the small compartment.
The witch's professional smile froze.
Fred, George, and Lee Jordan's jaws nearly dislocated.
Under everyone's stunned gaze, Alan began transferring the heap of brightly wrapped sweets onto their seats—Fizzing Whizbees, Cauldron Cakes, Exploding Bonbons, Licorice Wands… Soon, a small mountain of candy rose on the table.
"Y-you… what are you doing?"
Lee Jordan stammered, his voice faltering in shock.
"Collecting data."
Alan's answer was calm and serious. He sat back down, and from his backpack, unhurriedly pulled out a gleaming quill and a hardbound notebook.
"I am interested in the chemical composition, physical properties, and magical effects of wizarding sweets." He tapped the notebook cover lightly with his fingertip, producing a crisp sound. "Since I am conducting research, I require ample and diverse samples. Come now, friends, I cannot handle so many samples alone. Please assist me in 'tasting and evaluating.'"
His tone was not one of inviting friends to share candy, but of a project supervisor delegating tasks.
As he spoke, he had already begun unwrapping a Chocolate Frog.
His movements were precise and methodical.
First, he carefully removed the dynamic wizard card, but did not immediately check the image. Instead, he placed it flat beside the notebook, pressing it gently with the tip of his quill to prevent it from jumping away.
Only then did he pick up the slightly trembling frog-shaped chocolate.
He didn't bite it straight away.
Using his fingertips, he broke off a small piece, examining the cross-section, even bringing it close to smell.
Finally, he placed the small piece in his mouth, closing his eyes, as if using his tongue to analyze the composition.
A few seconds later, he opened his eyes, picked up his quill, and began recording rapidly in his pristine notebook. His handwriting was neat and logical:
[Name: Chocolate Frog.]
[Texture: Soft, melts in the mouth. High sweetness. Preliminary taste analysis indicates approximately 40% cocoa content, with a relatively high milk fat ratio.]
[Magical Effect: Core accessory is a dynamic wizard card, possessing an independent, weak magical life circuit allowing limited autonomous movement. Holds collectible and social value.]
[Potential Improvements: 1. Flavor grading—develop different bitterness-sweetness series with varied cocoa content to cater to different age groups. 2. Release rare-themed card series, such as 'Legendary Duelists' or 'Ancient Alchemists,' utilizing scarcity principle to enhance product value and consumer desire.]
This bizarre act of treating candy like a rigorous academic experiment did not make the Weasley twins find him dull or boring. On the contrary, their eyes lit up with an unprecedented glow.
He wasn't a freak.
He was a once-in-a-century prodigy!
Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.
Fred and George exchanged a glance simultaneously. In each other's pupils, they saw the same roaring flame—one called excitement.