The aftermath of the Forbidden Forest incident left a shadow that refused to fade from the Weasley twins' hearts.
They never spoke of it again.
The trademark spark in Fred and George's eyes — that constant glint of mischief, of plotting their next grand prank — had dimmed noticeably.
Alan didn't press them.
He knew all too well: some wounds heal slower the more you touch them.
Yet inside his ever-turning Mind Palace, the event was broken down, dissected, and analyzed — until all threads converged on one conclusion, highlighted in red:
The diary had only been a prototype, a "proof of concept."
The real danger — a deeper, more systemic security flaw — was still lurking somewhere in the very heart of Hogwarts.
One golden weekend afternoon, sunlight bathed the castle spires in amber light.
Alan carried a warm basket up the grassy slope to Hagrid's hut once more.
Inside were freshly baked rock cakes — though his version was nothing like the infamous tooth-breaking kind.
Alan had reworked the recipe with generous amounts of honey and butter, baked them to just the right softness — their aroma sweet and inviting.
A peace offering, or perhaps… an antidote.
The wooden door creaked open, and Hagrid's enormous frame nearly filled the doorway.
"Oh, Alan! Come in, come in!"
A gust of warmth greeted him — the mingled scents of woodsmoke, pine, and what could only be described as large dog.
Hagrid enveloped him in a bone-cracking hug that nearly squeezed the air from his lungs.
Soon, Alan was seated in front of the crackling fireplace, on a chair so large it could have held three first-years.
Flames danced merrily, reflecting off copper kettles and strings of dried meat that swayed above.
"Try this, Hagrid."
Alan handed over the basket.
Hagrid curiously picked up a rock cake — small enough to disappear between his fingers.
He sniffed it; the honeyed aroma made his bearded face light up.
He took a tentative bite, then his eyes widened with pure delight.
"By Merlin's beard! This—this is the best rock cake I've ever had!"
As Hagrid chewed happily and the conversation drifted to lighter things, Alan quietly observed, waiting for the right moment.
He couldn't bring up the twins, nor mention the cursed creature in the forest — the weight of guilt would crush the gentle half-giant completely.
He needed a different approach — one Hagrid might not fully grasp in technical detail, but would feel in his bones.
"Hagrid."
Alan's tone shifted. He set his teacup down and sat up straighter.
The firelight flickered in his eyes, reflecting a gravity far beyond his years.
"From some of the things that have happened lately… I've realized there's a frightening possibility."
Hagrid froze, halfway through grabbing another cake.
Sensing the change in tone, his expression grew uncertain, even wary.
"Imagine," Alan said quietly, "a truly dark wizard. One who doesn't want to dirty his own hands — but instead uses the creatures of the Forbidden Forest to attack students inside the castle. What would you say to that?"
"That's impossible!"
Hagrid's booming voice filled the hut, his teacup rattling on the table.
"Most of the creatures in the Forest are gentle! They wouldn't harm a soul unless provoked! I know how to handle 'em!"
"Yes. Normally, they wouldn't," Alan said, nodding.
His tone remained calm, but there was an edge of certainty in his voice that couldn't be dismissed.
"But what if that dark wizard… had learned how to—"
"A kind of magic we've never heard of before? Something that could be called… a malicious spell?"
Alan began his "sermon," every word carefully crafted and polished.
"He doesn't need a powerful offensive curse. He doesn't even need to step foot into the Forbidden Forest himself. All he needs is to disguise this spell — this program — as something the magical creatures most desire. For instance, an egg that could help the Acromantulas breed more offspring, or a block of salt rock that brings pleasure to a unicorn."
He paused, allowing Hagrid time to digest what he'd just said.
"Once a magical creature makes contact with this disguised 'program,' its instincts — its very mind — will be silently hijacked and controlled. They would become… Trojan curses, puppets that the dark wizard could control remotely, attacking anyone who dares to step into the forest."
"Trojan… virus?"
Hagrid's brows knit tightly together. His pure heart was clearly tangled in these strange, cold, unfamiliar words.
"You can think of it as a kind of Imperius Curse," Alan explained, his eyes sharpening as they locked onto Hagrid's. "But it's far more subtle, far more cunning — and yes, far more sinister. The Imperius Curse controls the will. This program… controls instinct. It leaves no magical trace behind — like a ghost that hides within the body itself."
Alan leaned forward, fingers interlocked over his knees, his tone suddenly grave — more than it had been all evening.
"Hagrid, you are the one person in all of Hogwarts who understands and loves magical creatures more than anyone else. That love of yours is their greatest protection — no one can deny that."
He paused — then spoke softly, but firmly:
"But I must warn you — your boundless kindness toward every magical creature could, in the wrong hands, become the greatest security vulnerability Hogwarts has ever known."
That last phrase struck Hagrid's heart like a cold iron spike.
He fell silent.
The fire still crackled in the hearth, but the warmth in the hut seemed to vanish. Hagrid's simple, good-hearted mind might not have grasped every technical term — "program," "vulnerability" — but he understood the chilling truth hidden beneath Alan's words.
For the first time, he realized that his proudest virtue — his unconditional love for all living things — could also become a deadly weapon turned against his own students. The very compassion meant to protect could be twisted into a blade.
His love could be corrupted.
"I… I understand, Alan."
Hagrid's deep voice, usually so full of hearty warmth, now carried a rare heaviness — a tone of duty and burden. His massive hands clenched unconsciously, knuckles whitening.
"Thank yeh for warnin' me. I'll reinforce the wards around the forest. I won't let another student walk in there so easily again."
Alan gave a small, approving nod.
He knew that his "security patch," as he called it, couldn't possibly stop every scheme Voldemort might weave, nor could it foresee every danger to come.
But at least, in Hagrid's heart, he had successfully planted one vital seed — a seed called vigilance.
And for now… that was enough.
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