"Intent Rune."
"Erumpent horn powder."
These two seemingly unrelated entries were highlighted within his mind palace, connected by a golden thread of logic. They pointed not to a simple act of "acquisition," but rather to a vast shadow forgotten by the wizarding world—monopolization of knowledge. And even more terrifying—the loss of knowledge.
On Saturday afternoon, the sunlight filtered through thick clouds, casting soft and hazy shadows across the stone walls of Hogwarts. Alan did not head toward Hagrid's hut. Instead, he turned around, walking with clear purpose toward the other end of the castle.
He needed a true authority. A scholar both erudite and respectful toward the very essence of magic.
He needed to test the mad conjecture that had taken shape in his mind palace.
Professor of Charms, Filius Flitwick.
Inside Professor Flitwick's office, the air was filled with the dry scent of ancient parchment, mingled with a faint sweetness from some peculiar magical potion. Books towered in piles, stretching from the floor to the ceiling, like a labyrinth constructed from knowledge itself.
Alan did not dive straight into the topic. His mind palace had already rehearsed countless conversational scenarios. To directly inquire about a magic lost for nearly five centuries would only trigger Flitwick's highest level of vigilance. That would be the most foolish move.
Instead, he chose an indirect, more sophisticated path.
"Good afternoon, Professor."
Alan's voice was calm and steady. He gently placed a cup of red tea he had brought with him onto the tiny scrap of desk space left uncovered by books. The golden hue of honey swirled faintly within the tea.
"While studying ancient runes recently, I came up with a rather immature hypothesis—about information transmission."
He deliberately paused, watching for the professor's reaction.
"Oh? Information transmission?"
Flitwick's small frame leaned forward, and a sudden spark of keen interest lit his bright eyes. That phrase had clearly touched upon a particular node in his vast knowledge.
"Yes."
At that very moment, Alan's mind palace was projecting the complete theoretical model into the deepest layer of his consciousness. Every word he spoke had been polished through countless cycles of calculation and selection.
"Professor, don't you think that modern spells are rather like open-source code?"
He used a term Flitwick had never heard before—yet one whose meaning he would instantly grasp.
"Their structure, pronunciation, and effects are all open, standardized. Anyone who follows the rules can arrive at a relatively fixed result."
Flitwick frowned in puzzlement, instinctively lifting the teacup and taking a sip.
Alan knew the crucial moment had arrived. He released his true core theory—the bombshell he had refined through tens of thousands of simulations in his mind palace, one that could shake the very foundations of modern spellcraft.
"I hypothesize that in the ancient magical system, there might have existed a more efficient, more secure method of information encryption."
"Those lost runes of old—they might not merely have been symbols representing power."
His gaze locked onto Flitwick's, his tone firm, carrying not a shred of hesitation.
"They may well have been a way to encode the caster's extraordinarily complex intent—"
Here, he placed deliberate weight on the word.
"—For example, 'Guard this door until mountains crumble and heaven and earth unite'—compressed into an extremely efficient magical packet, impossible to decipher by conventional means."
"The act of inscribing runes is essentially the process of encoding."
"Activating the runes is the execution of this encrypted program."
"This, as I understand it, is the true reason why ancient magic was so powerful."
Silence.
The office was plunged into absolute silence.
Alan's theory—laden with the Muggle-world concepts of information encryption and program compilation—was like a silent bolt of lightning, splitting open Professor Flitwick's mind, a mind filled with spells and rules.
And then came the explosion.
He stared blankly at the student before him, at that slight figure which seemed to contain an entirely new world beyond his comprehension. The teacup in his hand trembled violently, hot liquid splashing out in drops, yet he did not even notice.
Decades.
He had taught charms for decades.
He had studied ancient magic for a lifetime.
But this—he had never heard before.
Never had anyone, from any perspective, attempted to dissect the very essence of magic in this way!
This was not the conjecture of a mere student.
This was… an entirely new worldview. A perspective from another dimension, powerful enough to shake the very foundations of modern spellcraft.
"Child…"
Flitwick spoke at last, his voice hoarse, rasping with shock.
"You…"
He seemed to want to say more, but words failed him. In his wise eyes, storms raged, crashing and surging with awe.
"You have touched upon… a core domain of magic that has been forgotten by modern spellcraft for nearly five centuries!"
In that moment, the way he looked at Alan completely changed.
It was no longer the gaze of a professor toward a student.
It was the gaze of a scholar meeting another equal, perhaps even a visionary capable of offering revelations that could overturn his own knowledge.
That afternoon, Professor Flitwick made a monumental decision—one that could even be said to violate certain Hogwarts regulations.
Without another word, he stood and gestured firmly for Alan to follow.
He personally led Alan into the hidden space behind his office—his private study, a place never opened to outsiders, not even to most fellow professors.
With a soft click of hidden gears, an entire wall of bookshelves slid silently aside, revealing a shadowed chamber steeped in the aura of ancient magic.
The air smelled of parchment and the passage of time.
Here, Professor Flitwick granted Alan full access to the treasures he had safeguarded for a lifetime—his collection of rare and unique tomes on ancient runic magic.
And that was not all.
He and Alan engaged in a profound discussion on a topic that would have left even the entire Department of Magical Theory at the Ministry of Magic in awe—
the logical framework of Hogwarts' overall defensive enchantments.
During this exchange, Flitwick even revealed a few "theoretical backdoors," weaknesses within the castle's defense system that had been passed down through generations of Charms professors.
It was an academic exchange that lasted for three whole hours.
By the time Alan finally stepped out of Flitwick's office, his mind palace was undergoing a violent, transformative reconstruction.
The old model of Hogwarts' magical systems was collapsing piece by piece, shattering into fragments.
In its place rose a new framework—rebuilt from the deepest layer of logic, exquisitely intricate, vast and complex, a dazzling new understanding of magic.