Alan had executed nearly a thousand similar spell-casting iterations over the past month, relentlessly practicing every single day until both his magical reserves and physical stamina were utterly depleted.
In terms of absolute defense, Alan could now accurately position the solidified, invisible wall at any precise spatial coordinate. Furthermore, he could skillfully cast lower-density, slowing variations of the Impediment Jinx. He had even managed to develop a customized, mobile variant he dubbed the 'Impedimenta Shield'—a transparent, convex barrier roughly a meter in diameter that hovered directly in front of his wand tip. This tactical modification ensured a reliable degree of mobile defense while advancing or retreating. He could summon and dismiss this personal shield at will, no longer forced to awkwardly wait for the spell's duration to naturally expire.
"Phew, that should be enough for today." Alan wiped a heavy bead of sweat from his brow, feeling quite satisfied with his current operational progress. "If I continue to drill the Shield Charm under these parameters for a bit longer, I should be able to fully grasp its core mechanics. I have a strong feeling that it won't be much longer before I can successfully perform the barrier completely wandless."
Having finalized his training goals for the evening, Alan began to methodically tidy up the courtyard. Just as he was halfway through clearing away the splintered debris, the solid brick wall separating the courtyard from Diagon Alley suddenly began to shift and fold open. A colossal, burly man standing well over eight feet tall emerged from the archway. He wore a massive, heavily worn animal-hide overcoat, and a wild tangle of thick, dark hair and a bushy beard obscured most of his face. Each heavy, thudding step he took felt like the stride of a mountain giant, radiating an immense, almost oppressive physical presence.
"Mr. Hagrid. It has been a while. Are you just heading out of Diagon Alley?" Alan called out calmly.
Although the Leaky Cauldron wasn't exactly bustling with daily business, there was still a steady trickle of regular patrons, and several off-duty Aurors frequently chose to have a quiet drink in the pub after completing their tense patrols. Since Alan had been rigorously practicing his combat magic in the back courtyard every afternoon, he had naturally crossed paths with a few of the regulars.
Hagrid was one of those notable figures. According to Tom's intelligence, Rubeus Hagrid was the official Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, as well as the formidable gamekeeper who patrolled the dangerous fringes of the Forbidden Forest. He occasionally dropped into the pub for a strong drink or passed through to Diagon Alley to procure various heavy supplies for the school—or at least, that was the official reason Hagrid always gave.
"Oh, hello there, Mr. Wilson! Still out 'ere in the courtyard, eh?" Hagrid boomed genially. "I was originally supposed to be escortin' a new Muggle-born student to buy their school supplies today. But, as it turns out, the family wasn't entirely non-magical after all. The young lad's father was actually a Squib, see? He was already right familiar with the magical world and knew his way around the alley perfectly fine, so they didn't really need my help at all."
Alan stared up at the giant man, feeling mildly exasperated by the complete lack of operational logic. He had merely asked if Hagrid was coming *out* of the alley, not for a comprehensive debriefing of his daily itinerary. Alan had been running high-intensity drills in the courtyard all afternoon and hadn't seen a single soul pass through the brick wall. If his escort services weren't required, what exactly had he been doing loitering inside the alley for the entire day?
Alan wisely decided not to press the tactical inconsistency and smoothly redirected the conversation. "Is that so? Are you preparing to head back up to Hogwarts now, then?"
"Haha, well, I accompanied the parents into the alley right early this morning. When I figured out they didn't need my assistance, I decided to just take a little stroll down Knockturn Alley. Who'd have thought I'd end up wanderin' around until evening? I haven't even had a proper bite for lunch yet! I reckon I'll just grab a meal here and have myself a drink before heading back."
This massive man, in Alan's tactical assessment, was remarkably earnest and almost dangerously straightforward. Alan had only exchanged a couple of casual pleasantries, yet Hagrid was already entirely willing to volunteer detailed information about his daily movements.
Having just concluded his grueling daily practice, Alan fell into step beside the giant, chatting idly as they pushed through the heavy back door and entered the dim Leaky Cauldron. "So, Hagrid, did you manage to procure anything interesting while you were strolling around all day? That is quite a substantial package you've got there." Alan noted the heavy, oddly shaped bundle tucked under Hagrid's massive arm, his curiosity genuinely piqued.
"Ah, this? This right here is pure dragon liver, my boy!" Hagrid boasted happily, his beetle-black eyes crinkling with pride. "I managed to snag an absolute bargain today. Go on, take a guess at how much this whole pound of premium dragon liver cost me? You'll never guess in a million years! You won't find a deal this brilliant anywhere else, haha!"
Hagrid enthusiastically paraded his great find, and upon hearing the words 'dragon liver', Alan's culinary interest instantly peaked. "Dragon liver? You mean from an actual, literal dragon? I have never seen such a thing before. Do you mind if I take a look?"
"Course not, my friend, not a problem at all!" Hagrid agreed generously, carefully peeling back the thick butcher's paper to show Alan the contents.
"Incredible. It looks remarkably fresh! What exactly do you intend to do with it? Is it a rare ingredient for brewing advanced potions?" Alan studied the exposed meat. Although it was clearly only a small cross-section of a massive organ, the deep, rich burgundy color of the sliced meat remained vibrant and healthy.
"Haha, no, nothing like that. I'm actually plannin' to mash it all up into a thick meat paste when I get back to my hut and give it a taste," Hagrid chuckled heartily.
"Are you certain this material is even safe for human consumption?" Alan asked skeptically. He reached out and lightly poked the dense slab of dragon liver with his index finger. To his sheer amazement, the flesh felt incredibly fresh and strangely warm, as if it had just been harvested from a living creature mere moments ago.
Hagrid let out a booming laugh. "Of course it is! I've even had the pleasure of eatin' roasted dragon meat before. But things are getting right chaotic out there these days, and not many merchants are willin' to risk sellin' these kinds of exotic goods anymore. And even when they do, there aren't many folks brave enough to actually buy 'em."
Alan analyzed the raw ingredient. Tactically speaking, the dense texture and rich iron scent didn't seem fundamentally all that different from high-quality lamb or calf liver. "Simply mashing such a premium ingredient into a crude paste seems like a massive culinary waste! Why don't you let me try enhancing its natural flavor profile? I can demonstrate my skills and whip up a proper batch of savory sautéed dragon liver with scallions for you to try." Alan reasoned that if he applied the exact same precise cooking techniques he used for standard Asian-style stir-fried liver, the resulting flavor should be phenomenal. Besides, his own curiosity to taste an actual mythical beast was far too strong to ignore.
"You're only eleven years old, aren't ya? Are you sure you actually know your way around a kitchen?" Hagrid asked, looking down at the boy with mild amusement.
"Do not underestimate him, Hagrid; Alan's culinary skills are absolutely exceptional," Tom, the hunched owner of the Leaky Cauldron, chimed in eagerly from behind the bar. "I have been eating his meals every single day for the past half-month, and honestly, I'm tempted to beg him to teach me a few of his tricks. If this lad ever decides to publish a magical cookbook, I guarantee it will become an instant, international bestseller."
Ever since Alan had secured his extended stay, Tom had entirely waived any additional fees for his daily meals, strictly on the highly beneficial condition that Alan personally handled the cooking for both of them.
Regarding the topic of magical cookbooks, Alan had actually conducted some field research by reading through a few of Tom's old volumes. From his analytical perspective, magical cooking was essentially akin to writing functional programming code using specific spells. The reader would simply cast a sequence of household charms step-by-step according to the recipe's algorithm, yielding a dish that was largely consistent with the instructions. It was undeniably convenient. However, to execute them properly, one first had to master a dozen mundane household spells, such as the Stirring Charm, the Culinary Cutting Charm, and the precise Timing Charm. More importantly, Alan had found that the resulting flavor profiles produced by these automated, magical shortcuts severely lacked the complex depth and soul of genuinely handcrafted, fire-cooked cuisine.
"Is that a fact? Well, in that case, go right ahead and give it your best shot, Alan," Hagrid agreed amiably. To him, the meat was just a cheap bargain anyway, so he had nothing to lose.
Alan confidently carried the heavy package of dragon liver into the cramped pub kitchen. It was only when he was fully supporting its weight that he truly realized the ingredient's profound uniqueness. According to Hagrid, this was supposed to be leftover, stale stock from a shady vendor down in Knockturn Alley, heavily discounted due to its age. Yet, the dense meat still radiated a distinct, residual magical warmth against his palms, carrying a sharp, uniquely metallic and wild scent.
Moving with practiced military precision, Alan swiftly retrieved his personal stash of ingredients. He expertly chopped a generous portion of the fresh scallions he had been growing in his room, then rapidly minced crisp onions and fresh ginger. He thinly sliced the dense dragon liver and tossed it into a bowl, marinating the meat in a rich mixture of premium soy sauce, sweet mirin, and sake to perfectly balance the wild, gamey flavor. He then fired up the heavy iron skillet and rapidly stir-fried the ingredients over a roaring flame. Taking Hagrid's colossal physique and massive caloric needs into consideration, Alan also efficiently whipped up several savory side dishes to accompany the main course, arranging the feast neatly on the serving counter.
Hagrid and Tom, who had both been practically drooling as the incredible, savory aroma drifted out into the pub, stared intensely at the steaming platters of food Alan carried out, eyeing the dishes as though they were priceless alchemical treasures.
The moment they finally dug in, Hagrid's dark eyes instantly lit up. After just a single, massive bite, he loudly praised the incredible depth of flavor. Alan picked up a pair of chopsticks and thoughtfully tasted a piece himself. The flavor profile was distinctly richer and far more complex than ordinary livestock; it was wonderfully mellow and savory on the palate, yet it possessed a surprisingly satisfying, crisp texture when chewed, lacking any of the usual chalkiness.
Both Hagrid and Tom were in phenomenally high spirits. The atmosphere was so joyous that Tom even completely abandoned his usual stinginess, disappearing into the cellar to bring out a highly prized, dusty bottle of vintage redcurrant rum to share with the gamekeeper. In no time at all, both of the older men were comfortably tipsy, their faces flushed as Hagrid continuously and boisterously praised young Alan's unmatched culinary genius.