"Do you have an opinion?" Alan asked, his face hardening as he noticed Karkaroff's lingering hesitation.
"No, Master, I wouldn't dare." Karkaroff quickly plastered a fawning smile onto his face.
"What are your plans now? Given your reputation, it isn't suitable for me to take you in openly. I imagine you can't stay in the British Isles much longer, can you? The Light wizards loathe you, and the Dark wizards want you dead." Alan poured a butterbeer from a nearby cabinet and handed it to the man.
"Thank you, Master." Karkaroff took the drink awkwardly. "My brother teaches at the Durmstrang Institute in Northern Europe. While I was considering my options these past few days—following your orders, of course—I thought of him. He sent word that he would be happy to take me in. If you allow it, I would like to join him."
"The school that remains tolerant of the Dark Arts? It suits you perfectly." Alan nodded, then pulled a letter and a fresh piece of parchment from his robes.
"Going to Northern Europe will allow you to escape the immediate reach of the Death Eaters. However, you will need to handle a few matters for me once you arrive. This letter is the one Yaxley intended for his brother. Once you reach the continent, use it to track him. Monitor his movements. Prioritize your own safety, but I need to know his whereabouts at all times. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master." Karkaroff took the envelope with a sharp nod.
"This parchment lists the materials I require. Some are restricted or can only be obtained through smuggling in Britain. Collect as many as you can for me." Alan then handed over a heavy leather pouch. "There are five hundred Galleons here. Use them for the materials and your travel expenses. If you run low, send word—but do not dream of deceiving me. I know the market value of every item on that list."
"I understand, Master. You can rest assured." Karkaroff's tone was sweet, his eyes gleaming as he accepted the gold.
"Also, take this communication and tracking amulet. Keep it on your person. I will use it to locate you. If you lose it, I will be forced to find you through the device in your stomach. If that capsule happens to destabilize because I can't find you... well, that isn't my problem." Alan tossed the amulet to him.
Karkaroff's hands shook as he caught it. He quickly tucked it into his inner pocket, already planning to find a sturdy chain to wear it around his neck day and night.
"Pack your things and set off immediately. The local Dark wizards are lying low, but someone may still be watching you. Complete my tasks, Karkaroff. You know what I'm capable of. Don't try to play me." Alan's gaze was freezing.
"I guarantee the tasks will be done, Master. You have my word." Realizing his life still had utility to Alan, Karkaroff felt a wave of relief. He bowed low and slipped out through the fireplace.
Alan had a long-term plan that involved moving into mainland Europe eventually; letting Karkaroff scout the territory was a logical opening move. With that settled, Alan turned his attention to his own research.
He headed to the second bedroom on the third floor, which he had converted into a private study and laboratory. He also intended to reinforce the basement as a secondary, secret lab for more volatile experiments. After locking the door, he eagerly produced the metal magic book. He turned directly to the page containing the primordial lightning rune, ready to begin a formal analysis.
He had never attempted to deconstruct a primordial mark before. Under Professor Bones's guidance, he had analyzed many standard runes, but this was different. Analysis requires a wizard to extend their magic and make direct contact with the rune's core. Subtle structures are often invisible to the eye; only by sensing the internal geometry with magic can one hope to replicate it.
Scholars who could restore such marks from ancient ruins were essentially creators, often spending decades on a single symbol. However, analyzing unknown primordial runes was inherently dangerous. No one could predict the reaction when a foreign magic signature touched such raw power.
Alan prepared meticulously. He cleared the room of all unnecessary furniture and lined his workbench with potions: Dittany, Invigoration Draughts, anti-scald salves, and a vial of Felix Felicis. He kept them within arm's reach rather than in a spatial bag, fearing that a sudden drain on his strength might make retrieving them from a pocket difficult. Finally, he donned a suit of thick plastic protective gear, covering himself from head to toe except for his wand hand. Lightning, after all, still obeyed the laws of physics; non-conductive layers would mitigate the risk of a secondary surge.
With a steady hand, Alan extended his wand toward the shimmering rune.
*Zzzzt! Zzzzt!*
An anomaly occurred instantly. Before he could even begin to output his own magic, a static charge jumped from the page to his wand. Alan flinched but held his ground. As he watched, the current didn't burn; it seemed attracted to the wand, flowing into the wood through the intricate carvings on the handle.
*Dark Depiction*, his wand of Thunderbird feather and Thunderwood, began to pulse with a soft, silver-blue light along its grain. Alan felt no pain—only a strange, humming resonance.
"Resonance? It must be the material compatibility," Alan mused. "It doesn't seem hostile. Perhaps the Thunderbird core is recognizing the source."
Encouraged, he began to slowly channel his own magic into the connection.
"Ah!"
As his magic finally fused with the lightning rune, Alan didn't feel a shock. Instead, a wave of profound, invigorating clarity washed over him, and he couldn't help but let out a long, comfortable sigh.