The noise and heat of the Start-of-Term Feast had long since been left behind.
Percy Weasley, the prefect, held a lantern high, his red-and-gold robes billowing behind him as he led a cluster of Gryffindor first-years, merging them into the larger stream of students flowing toward the castle's main thoroughfare.
The aroma of food quickly faded from the air, replaced by the unique scent of old stone, damp moss, and the lingering trace of ancient magic.
Passing through arch after arch, climbing spiral stair after stair, the castle gradually unfolded its vast and majestic interior before the new students.
Suppressed gasps of awe rose one after another, echoing faintly along the spacious corridors.
"Look at those portraits! They're winking at us!"
"That suit of armor just moved—I swear it did!"
But the true visual shock struck when they arrived at the main staircase hall.
Dozens of massive stone staircases crisscrossed the air, weaving into an incredible, ever-shifting labyrinth. They ignored all physical logic, moving slowly and solemnly, sometimes docking with a platform, sometimes gliding off into another stretch of bottomless darkness.
Each successful docking triggered small waves of panic and commotion among the first-years.
"Heavens, they're moving all the time!"
A timid girl clutched her friend's sleeve, her voice on the verge of tears.
"How are we supposed to get up? What if it moves halfway while we're on it?"
Alan was swept along with the crowd, but the chatter and exclamations around him stirred not the slightest ripple in the calm waters of his mind. His body advanced with the others, yet his consciousness had already detached itself.
His eyes locked coolly on the vast staircases. In the depths of his pupils there was no trace of novelty—only pure observation and analysis.
Deep within his mind palace, a module labeled Pattern Recognition and Path Planning had activated on its own. Countless streams of data flashed behind his retinas, dismantling the fantastical scene before him into cold, precise strings of code.
This was no miracle of magic.
It was a complex, multivariable transport system, governed by hidden scheduling logic.
[Staircase A: movement cycle approx. 120 seconds; docks at platforms 3, 5, 7… minor rail deviation detected; correction factor -0.3%…]
[Staircases C and D show mutual lock. When C is in motion, D remains stationary. Lock trigger mechanism suspected to be platform load sensors…]
[All staircase movement is not entirely random. Their scheduling originates from a unified, unknown central algorithm. Predictability present.]
From the Great Hall to Gryffindor Tower, this ten-minute journey brimmed with wonder and unease for the other first-years.
For Alan, it was nothing more than an efficient data-collection exercise.
By the time Percy Weasley halted them before a portrait of a Fat Lady in pink, Alan had already constructed a preliminary movement model of Hogwarts' central staircase system.
"The password is 'Pig Snout.'" Percy cleared his throat and announced in a tone he thought very important.
The portrait swung aside, revealing a circular opening.
A wave of warm air, scented with fireplace embers and old parchment, rushed outward.
The first-years filed through in a line, stepping at last into the place that would be their home for the next seven years.
The Gryffindor common room was a cozy, round chamber. Scarlet drapes lined the walls, and the fire crackled brightly in the hearth, bathing the space in warmth and light. Soft armchairs and thick carpets made everyone exhale in relief, the fatigue of the journey and the taut nerves of the day loosening at last.
Alan's gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on Fred, George, and Lee Jordan. The housemaster soon completed dormitory assignments, the results perfectly matching Alan's expectations.
He, the Weasley twins, and their friend Lee Jordan had all been placed in the same room.
"Brilliant, Alan! We're together again!"
Fred rushed over excitedly and gave him a hearty slap on the shoulder—hard enough to send an ordinary boy stumbling.
The process of settling into the dormitory was filled with laughter. The twins seemed to have boundless energy; while tossing their luggage all over the place, they kept chattering enthusiastically about every detail of the castle.
As night deepened and everyone changed into their pajamas, ready to face their first night at Hogwarts, a new kind of excitement began to quietly brew around the twins' beds.
"Hey, Alan."
George leaned over from his bed, lowering his voice, a conspiratorial gleam lighting his face.
"Once we've gotten familiar with the place in a few days, how about we sneak out and explore the castle? Those moving staircases look amazing!"
Lee Jordan leaned in too, his eyes glimmering with the same anticipation.
"Exploring is fine. But no need to wait a few days."
Alan's voice was not loud, yet it cut through the ears of the other three with perfect clarity. From his bedside table, he picked up a sheet of parchment he had just finished sketching with a quill.
Under the dim, yellow glow of the lamp, the parchment was covered in a dense web of lines, arrows, and meticulous notes.
The three boys craned their heads closer, curiosity pulling them in.
But with just one glance, the excitement froze on their faces.
It was a simplified map of the main staircase area. But unlike any ordinary map, this one was annotated with different colored inks, marking the movement paths of each staircase, their docking platforms, and long strings of numbers and symbols none of them could make sense of.
"This is…"
Lee Jordan's mouth hung open in an "O," unable to finish a single word.
"This is my preliminary analysis of the staircases' movement patterns."
Alan's tone was utterly matter-of-fact, not a trace of boasting in it—like a project manager briefing his team on the action plan about to be executed.
"According to my calculations, the magical tides of Hogwarts enter a trough every day between 4:15 and 4:45 in the morning."
His finger tapped on a time slot circled in red.
"During this thirty-minute 'stability window,' the magical supply driving the staircases becomes highly regular—at times even pausing completely for up to five minutes."
His fingertip traced across the map, linking one platform to another until a perfectly clear red route emerged, spanning several floors.
"If we act during this window, we can follow this preset 'optimal exploration route.' Without triggering any magical alarms, without wandering off course, we can explore all the public areas of the first through fourth floors with maximum efficiency."
He raised his head, his calm gaze sweeping across his three roommates, who were now utterly dumbfounded.
Then, with quiet finality, he drew the conclusion to this conversation:
"This is what I call exploration."
"Wandering aimlessly—that's what you call getting lost."
The air fell dead silent.
Fred and George's expressions shifted—from excitement, to curiosity, to stunned disbelief—all in less than a minute.
They looked at Alan's composed, unshaken face, then down at the parchment filled with cold logic and precise calculations, an "action plan" that had reduced what they thought would be a thrilling adventure into something that could be measured, managed, and even assigned an ROI.
For the first time in their lives, the Weasley twins—renowned for mischief and chaos—genuinely experienced what it meant to be utterly crushed by someone operating on an entirely different level.