With a whistle long enough to pierce through the entire valley, the Hogwarts Express exhaled heavily, its metallic frame letting out a series of weary groans, before finally coming to a slow stop at Hogsmeade Station.
The moment the doors opened, a rush of cool air swept into the carriages, carrying with it the damp scent of earth and pine.
Night had already woven itself thickly across the sky, dark and impenetrable.
"First years! First years, over here!"
A rough voice boomed across the platform's bustle, effortlessly overpowering all the noise. It was Hagrid—his massive figure, lit dimly by the lantern in his hand, cast a giant's shadow against the ground.
Alan exchanged a brief look with Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, a simple gesture of farewell. He pulled himself away from the lively, noisy crowd and merged into the line of new students—faces a mixture of confusion, nerves, and excitement.
The path leading to the Black Lake was uneven and rugged. The sky was anything but generous; it had hidden away its stars and moon, only to release a cold autumn rain instead.
At first, the raindrops fell fine and light, but they quickly grew denser, lashing against them and stealing what little warmth remained in their bodies.
"Oh, Merlin! It's raining!"
"My new robes!"
Stifled complaints rose and fell through the line. Mud quickly swallowed the narrow path, every step sinking in with an unpleasant squelch as shoes tangled with the muck.
Some of the first-years from wizarding families began showing off what they had learned. Awkwardly, they pulled out brand-new wands and tried to cast a basic water-repelling charm on themselves.
Dim glimmers sparked at their wand tips, but most ended in failure. One boy's spell went astray, accidentally causing the girl beside him to have steam rising from her hair instead.
Chaos spread rapidly.
Alan did not join in this farcical attempt at spellwork.
His Mind Palace—the mental fortress built from cold logic and vast data—was running at high efficiency. A line of red warning text appeared crisply in his mind:
[Ambient magic concentration: unknown. Frequency fluctuations: abnormal. Casting bio-effect spells on oneself—Risk assessment: High.]
He chose a different solution. One safer, more physical, and far more elegant.
His hand slipped into his pocket, fingertips brushing against a smooth, cold pebble. It was a tool he had already prepared back at home.
Beneath the cover of his robes, his wand silently pointed at the stone.
A continuous, extremely faint heating charm was cast upon it. No light, no sound—only a precise transfer of energy.
The next second, a steady and dry warmth spread out from his palm, flowing along his arm, dispelling the chill brought on by the autumn rain. The pebble had become a perfect energy conversion core, a silent "hand-warmer."
Immediately after came the second action.
The tip of his wand shifted ever so slightly again, and a finely tuned miniature levitation charm was precisely applied to the soles of his shoes.
The spell's effect was strictly controlled.
It produced no visible magical glow—merely creating and sustaining a half-inch-thick repulsion field between his soles and the muddy ground.
And so, a strange scene appeared.
While every other first-year stumbled and splashed, their trousers and shoes spattered with mud, moving forward in a pitiful state—Alan's steps were unnaturally light.
His shoes hovered just above the muck, each step landing silently, as though he were walking on solid ground. Rainwater slid down the special material of his robes, leaving not a single trace.
He moved with ease, as if taking a stroll through his neatly kept garden at home.
When the weary group finally reached the shores of the Black Lake, all of them were instantly seized by the breathtaking sight before their eyes.
The boats they were to board floated like black lily pads upon the inky surface of the lake.
And across the waters, perched atop the cliffside, stood the magnificent castle—its countless lights blazing against the night.
Hogwarts.
It was glorious, majestic, its soaring towers piercing the clouds. The glow from its windows shone warm and mysterious, like an enchanted sanctuary plucked straight from the pages of a fairy tale.
"Wow…"
Awed gasps broke out one after another, blending into a chorus of reverence.
Alan, however, was the exception.
He did not, like the others, immerse himself in this pure visual splendor.
His gaze was sharp, as if to pierce through the thick stone walls and directly trace the very currents of magic that flowed within.
His Mind Palace was now running at an entirely new peak. Countless data streams roared through his mental world, mercilessly deconstructing the grand edifice before him.
"…An interesting energy circuit. Output stable. Source traced to the depths of the lake… Suspected extraction from a dense magical creature colony or a natural reservoir of magical power…"
"…Structural walls embedded with layered applications of anti-gravity charms—revolutionary in architectural terms. Load-bearing and magical structures fully coupled. Physical laws thoroughly rewritten…"
"…Defensive system is not a single physical barrier but a multilayered nested magical field. High-frequency repulsion, low-frequency confusion, spatial distortion layers… a dynamic ecosystem with self-repairing capacity…"
He murmured such words under his breath—phrases incomprehensible to his fellow first-years in the same boat.
A few students glanced at him in puzzlement, only to dismiss him as some babbling bookworm scared out of his wits, and soon lost interest.
As the magnificent castle of Hogwarts revealed itself in full, sovereign glory before them, what surged in Alan's heart was neither excitement nor reverence.
It was something entirely different—
The feeling of a chess master confronted with an ultimate game of exquisite design, intricate rules, and the beauty of pure structure: an uncontrollable urge to dismantle it, analyze it, understand every variation, and ultimately conquer it.
This—was his playground.