Meanwhile, Rozier exited Honeydukes with a bag of sweets in hand, only to run into Travers, who appeared flustered and agitated.
"What's wrong?" Rozier asked. "Weren't you headed to Dervish and Banges to buy windproof goggles? You're back so soon, and empty-handed."
"Forget it," Travers grumbled, panting slightly. "That filthy Mudblood was in the shop. Just seeing him ruined my mood."
Rozier immediately understood who Travers meant. Since Christmas, Travers had been avoiding Alex like the plague. While he obediently paid the monthly 'protection 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 popular in the wizarding world, Alex's would look like a pincushion.
Rozier sighed. "Look, it's better to avoid him. Don't provoke him unless you want to bring 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 place, and we're the ones avoiding him? Have you forgotten how he humiliated us?" Travers hissed, his voice rising.
Rozier glanced nervously around. "Keep your voice down, will you? Look, we were the ones who went after him first. He's never gone out 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 cunning bastard needs to be taught a lesson! If I ever get the chance, I'll make sure he doesn't have a grave to crawl into."
Rozier sighed again, muttering, "Why do I even bother…" Before Rozier could say more, Travers froze mid-rant. His angry tirade had been interrupted by a voice—one that wasn't Rozier's.
"Is it really that obvious?"
Both men stiffened, their eyes darting around the snowy path outside the village. 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 imagined the voice, Alex appeared out of thin air, dispelling his Disillusionment 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 conversation 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 chance. With a flick of his own wand, Travers's robes came alive, wrapping tightly around his arms and legs and binding him like a mummy.
"You didn't even bother enchanting your robes against polymorphing? Pathetic," Alex said coldly.
Rozier, meanwhile, fumbled for his wand, pointing it at Alex with a shaky hand. "Don't come any closer! What do you want?" he shouted.
From inside his cocoon 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 landed 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, who was writhing on the ground like a worm, struggling helplessly. With a flick of his wand, the robes wrapped around Travers' face loosened, revealing his contorted 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 collar and drag him into the shadowy woods by the road. Moments later, faint, pitiful sounds of muffled cries drifted through the air.
Rozier swallowed hard, a bizarre image forming in his mind. Feeling uneasy, he shifted from lying on his stomach to lying flat on his back, as if the cold snow could somehow insulate 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 strange action, Alex recast the Disillusionment 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, intent on checking on Travers.
Inside the woods, he found Travers slumped on the ground, his clothes disheveled, sobbing quietly. The sight sent a shiver down Rozier's spine. "Travers, what happened? Are you okay?" Rozier asked, his voice tinged with concern.
"Don't… don't ask!" Travers hissed, his bloodshot eyes glaring at Rozier. Clenching his teeth, he spat venomously, "I swear I'll never let that Mudblood get away with this! Never!"
Taken 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 anxiety. Although, anxiety might be unique to Travers… further testing needed to confirm." He scribbled furiously, his brows furrowed in thought.
"Magical depletion rate… hmm. Based on observations, a standard third-year student can cast roughly 60–70 'Expelliarmus' spells consecutively 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 seconds to sap enough magic for one 'Expelliarmus.' Not very efficient."
He sighed, scratching his head. "We really need a standardized measurement for magical reserves. Why hasn't the wizarding world addressed this? It's such an obvious problem…"
Lost in thought, Alex continued toward the Three Broomsticks, his mind swirling with calculations and ideas.
As he approached the village, something unusual caught his eye. A beetle had scuttled out from a crevice in 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 corner, circled for a moment, and then—much to Alex's astonishment—transformed into a young woman. She glanced 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. Professor McGonagall was a registered Animagus, but the Ministry of Magic strictly regulated the practice due to the risks involved. All Animagi were required by law to register with the Ministry.