The year-end feast roared through the Great Hall, amplified by magic into a tangible wave of sound that shook every inch of the vaulted ceiling.
Above, the starry sky that Dumbledore himself had enchanted shimmered more vividly than any real night sky. The Milky Way flowed slowly across the ceiling, constellations tracing distinct paths, and now and then, a tiny shooting star streaked silently, leaving a silver trail.
On the long tables of the four houses, food piled high, golden goblets brimming with pumpkin juice. The aroma of roasted turkey mixed with the sweet scent of butterbeer, creating a unique Hogwarts atmosphere that belonged to victory and farewell alike.
Gryffindor's red-and-gold banners draped from ceiling to wall, completely overshadowing Slytherin's green-and-silver. The lion house crest flickered in the candlelight as if a small fire danced upon it.
The final result left no room for doubt.
The Quidditch Cup belonged to Gryffindor, bringing them a hefty one hundred and fifty points.
And Alan Scott, a first-year who had just enrolled, received an unprecedentedly massive reward from all the professors, citing his "two special contributions to the school."
When Dumbledore's aged, resonant voice announced Gryffindor as the winner of this year's House Cup, the entire Great Hall ignited with energy.
"Gryffindor!"
The red-and-gold table erupted in a single, deafening cheer.
Countless pointed wizarding hats were tossed toward the enchanted starry ceiling, the cheers forming a torrent that seemed ready to lift the hall's roof. Harry and Ron hugged excitedly, and even Hermione, unusually letting go of her restraint, pumped her fists in the air.
The exuberant energy followed the students back to the common room.
Fred and George flanked Alan on either side, hoisting him up in excitement.
"Alan, our hero! Seriously, you've got to come by our place this summer!"
"Exactly!" George chimed in, eyes alight with a fanatical gleam. "We've already sketched out some preliminary ideas for that 'automatic poetry ink' project. We need your brain, buddy! Only the three of us together can turn it from a fun little toy into something that will shake all of Diagon Alley!"
Their talk of "mass production" was full of reckless Gryffindor daring and unrestrained enthusiasm.
Lee Jordan nodded vigorously beside them, as if he could already envision gold galleons cascading like a waterfall.
Alan, however, simply stopped walking, wearing a faint, apologetic smile.
He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he reached into an inner pocket of his robes and pulled out a thick envelope.
It was made of heavy parchment, sealed with a dark red wax stamp. Imprinted on the seal was a majestic eagle with wings spread wide, the official emblem of the German Ministry of Magic.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible, guys."
His voice was quiet but carried clearly over the surrounding chatter.
"This summer, I'm going to Germany for an academic exchange."
The words struck like a silent Petrificus Totalus.
Fred and George froze mid-smile, exchanging incredulous glances. Lee Jordan's mouth fell open, eyes wide in disbelief.
They knew Alan was talented.
They knew he was smart.
But they had never imagined that his abilities had already surpassed Hogwarts itself, even the borders of Britain.
A first-year student, formally invited by the Ministry of Magic of another country, via an official wax-sealed letter, for an "academic exchange"?
It sounded even more absurd than "a first-year caught a thousand-year-old basilisk."
At the end of the term, the last formal procedure was the summer signing of the Underage Magic Restrictions Agreement.
Professor McGonagall, serious-faced, handed out the parchment to each student, lingering for a moment on Alan. At the top of the parchment, in bold Gothic letters, was a stern warning regarding Trace:
Any underage witch or wizard found using magic in the Muggle world will be tracked and punished by the Ministry of Magic.
Alan picked up his quill, preparing to sign his name.
"By the way, Alan," George leaned closer, lowering his voice, curiosity overcoming his previous shock. "What exactly are you going to Germany to study with magic? The Trace… what's that all about?"
He pointed at the warning on the parchment.
"Isn't it supposed to monitor all underage wizards' magical activity? You can't exactly perform magic in front of German Ministry officials without being detected, can you?"
"Oh, that's not the case."
Alan calmly signed his name on the agreement, his smooth handwriting flowing across the parchment. He had clearly anticipated this question.
He treated this opportunity as a small-scale "legal education" for his closest allies.
"You all have a fundamental misunderstanding about the Trace," he said, fixing the twins and Lee Jordan with a serious gaze, speaking deliberately.
"You think the Trace is some kind of contract bound to a wizard's soul or magical core, following you wherever you go, right?"
The three nodded instinctively. This was the common assumption of nearly all Hogwarts students.
"Wrong." Alan shook a finger. "The Trace's 'underlying code' has a logical flaw. It's more like a 'localized alarm system' than a personal tracker."
His phrasing was unfamiliar to the twins, but they listened intently.
"What it monitors is not a 'specific person,' but rather a 'specific location.'"
Alan's voice carried the calm precision of someone analyzing machinery.
"More precisely, it's a known location marked by the Ministry as one where only underage wizards live. Usually, this is the family address you register at Hogwarts."
"That's why," he paused and delivered the conclusion, "it's most effective only in Muggle-born wizard households. Because when a magical fluctuation occurs at that address, the Ministry can be one hundred percent certain that the caster is that underage wizard. For example, Harry had to be extremely careful at the Dursleys'."
He glanced at Fred and George, eyes encouraging.
"If you perform magic in a household of adult wizards, like the Burrow… the Trace will still detect the magical fluctuation at that location, but it cannot determine whether it was you, or Mr. Weasley, or any other adult performing the magic."
"As long as you're not foolish enough to use advanced dark magic that carries Ministry-detectable magical signatures, you'll have no trouble. The Ministry won't send an Auror squad to interrogate your parents just because a Hover Charm or Mending Charm was cast at the Burrow."
The explanation was infused with icy technicality and airtight logic.
It was a key that instantly unlocked a dusty door in the minds of Fred, George, and Lee Jordan. The seemingly sacred, untouchable sword of Damocles hanging over all underage wizards had, in Alan's few words, been deconstructed into a system with clearly defined parameters and limitations.
The gates to a new world swung wide open.
The final farewell occurred at King's Cross Station, on the familiar, steam-filled, noisy Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
The scarlet Hogwarts Express sat quietly, the air heavy with the smell of coal and the bittersweet scent of separation.
Alan immediately spotted his waiting family amidst the crowd.
His father, Mr. Robert Scott, wore a neatly tailored Muggle suit, his face betraying unmistakable pride. His mother smiled warmly, eyes brimming with affection. His younger sister, Lilia, waved energetically, unable to contain her excitement.
He hugged Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the twins one last time.
"Germany! Awesome! Remember to send us a postcard!" Ron shouted.
"Stay safe, Alan," Hermione reminded him anxiously.
Amidst the farewells and waving hands, Alan and his family boarded the train.
They passed through the invisible magical barrier, leaving the familiar Hogwarts route behind, returning to the Muggle section of King's Cross Station. Another train waited for them there.
This was no train to Hogwarts, it was a journey across the Channel to Berlin, Germany, full of unknowns and anticipation.
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