Meanwhile, Rozier exited Honeydukes with a bag of sweets in hand, only to run into Travers, eared flustered and agitated.

  “What’s wrong?” Rozier asked. “Weren’t you headed to Dervish and Bao buy windproof goggles? You’re back so soon, ay-handed.”

  “Fet it,” Travers grumbled, panting slightly. “That filthy Mudblood was in the shop. Just seeing him ruined my mood.”

  Rozier immediately uood who Travers meant. Since Christmas, Travers had been avoiding Alex like the pgue. While he obediently paid the monthly ‘prote fee,’ he couldn’t seem to go a day without cursing Alex under his breath. Rozier often joked privately that if stabbing voodoo dolls were popur in the wizarding world, Alex’s would look like a pincushion.

  Rhed. “Look, it’s better to avoid him. Don’t provoke him unless you want t trouble on yourself.”

  Rozier’s words, intended as friendly advice, had the opposite effect. Travers’s face twisted with anger. “Provoke him? Provoke him? That filthy Mudblood walks around like he owns the pce, and we’re the ones avoiding him? Have you fotten how he humiliated us?” Travers hissed, his voice rising.

  Rnervously around. “Keep your voice down, will you? Look, we were the ones who went after him first. He’s never go of his way to bother us. Haven’t you noticed? Every time we mess with him, we’re the ones who end up worse off. Just let it go.”

  “Let it go?!” Travers nearly shouted. “That ing bastard o be taught a lesson! If I ever get the ce, I’ll make sure he doesn’t have a grave to crawl into.”

  Rhed again, muttering, “Why do I even bother…” Before Rozier could say more, Travers froze mid-rant. His angry tirade had been interrupted by a voie that wasn’t Rozier’s.

  “Is it really that obvious?”

  Both men stiffeheir eyes darting around the snowy path outside the vilge. It was deserted, save for the surrounding woods. They were too far from Hogsmeade for there to be any other passersby. Just as they wondered if they’d imagihe voice, Alex appeared out of thin air, dispelling his Disillusio Charm.

  Alex had followed them silently, taking great care to avoid leaving footprints in the snow. Floating just above the ground, he had watched their entire versation unfold. As it turned out, his caution had been unnecessary; Travers and Rozier were so absorbed in their bickering that they hadn’t noticed a thing.

  Seeing Alex suddenly materialize, Travers’s first instinct was to draw his wand, his face twisted with rage. But Alex didn’t give him the ce. With a flick of his own wand, Travers’s robes came alive, ing tightly around his arms and legs and binding him like a mummy.

  “You didn’t even bother enting your robes against polymorphing? Pathetic,” Alex said coldly.

  Rozier, meanwhile, fumbled for his wand, pointing it at Alex with a shaky hand. “Don’t e any closer! What do you want?” he shouted.

  From inside his co of robes, Travers yelled, his voice muffled, “Shoot him, Rozier! Do it now!”

  Alex turned his attention to Rozier, his expression calm as he cast a simple charm. The spell hit Rozier squarely, sending him flying backward with a loud yelp. He nded in the snow, groaning dramatically.

  Alex ignored Rozier, who was dramatically lying in the snow, pretending to faint after his exaggerated somersault. Instead, Alex walked towards Travers, rithing on the ground like a worm, struggling helplessly. With a flick of his wand, the robes ed around Travers’ face loosened, revealing his torted expression.

  “I just need a favor from you today. Don’t worry—I’ll be gentle, good boy,” Alex said with a wicked grin.

  Travers tried to retort, but before he could utter a word, Alex pointed his wand, sealing his lips tightly. All that escaped was a muffled “Mmmph!”

  Rozier, still sprawled on the ground, watched Alex grab Travers by the colr and drag him into the shadowy woods by the road. Moments ter, faint, pitiful sounds of muffled cries drifted through the air.

  Rozier swallowed hard, a bizarre image f in his mind. Feeling uneasy, he shifted from lying on his stomach to lying ft on his back, as if the cold snow could somehow insute him from his thoughts.

  After some time, Alex emerged from the woods, a satisfied look on his face. Spotting Rozier still lounging theatrically on the ground, Alex felt a twinge of exasperation. Why is he still lying there? Isn’t he freezing?

  Not wanting to interrupt Rozier’s straion, Alex recast the Disillusio Charm on himself and headed back toward Hogsmeade unnoticed. Eventually, Rozier couldn’t take the chill any longer. He scrambled up and cautiously ventured into the woods, i on cheg on Travers.

  Ihe woods, he found Travers slumped on the ground, his clothes disheveled, sobbing quietly. The sight sent a shiver down Rozier’s spiravers, what happened? Are you okay?” Rozier asked, his voice tinged with .

  “Don’t… don’t ask!” Travers hissed, his bloodshot eyes gring at Rozier. g his teeth, he spat venomously, “I swear I’ll never let that Mudblood get away with this! aken aback by Travers’ furious state, Rozier instinctively recoiled. Not daring to provoke him further, he simply nodded along, silently resolving to steer clear of any involvement.Meanwhile, Alex, invisible to passersby, was jotting down notes in a small notebook as he strolled back toward the Three Broomsticks.

  “Let’s see… aside from magical depletion, the cursed subject shows signs of lowered body temperature, fatigue, muscle weakness, and possibly ay. Although, ay might be uo Travers… further testing o firm.” He scribbled furiously, his brows furrowed in thought.

  “Magical depletion rate… hmm. Based on observations, a standard third-year student cast roughly 60–70 ‘Expelliarmus’ spells secutively without resting. Using that as a base, let’s say 50 casts represent full magical reserves. The Incapacitating Curse seems to drain roughly 10 units per minute, meaning it takes about six seds to sap enough magic for one ‘Expelliarmus.’ Not very effit.”

  He sighed, scratg his head. “We really need a standardized measurement fical reserves. Why hasn’t the wizarding world addressed this? It’s su obvious problem…”Lost in thought, Alex tioward the Three Broomsticks, his mind swirling with calcutions and ideas.

  As he approached the vilge, something unusual caught his eye. A beetle had scuttled out from a crevi a nearby wall, moving surprisingly quickly across the street. “A beetle? In this season?” Alex muttered, narrowing his eyes.

  He watched as the beetle skittered into the shadows of a er, circled for a moment, and then—much to Alex’s astonishment—transformed into a young woman. She gnced around nervously before pulling out her wand and Apparating away.

  “Animagus?” Alex murmured, intrigued. He knew Animagus transformation was an incredibly advanced branch of Transfiguration. Professonagall was a registered Animagus, but the Ministry of Magic strictly reguted the practice due to the risks involved. All Animagi were required by w tister with the Ministry.