Alan possessed virtually no coherent memory of the finer details regarding Harry Potter's childhood story. He only vaguely recalled the broad strokes a friend had once summarized for him: the dark wizard Voldemort had violently broken into the Potter family's home, murdered Harry's parents in cold blood, and was then inexplicably destroyed by the infant Harry. He remained completely clueless about the intricacies of the actual plot, let alone the specific magical mechanics of how a helpless baby had managed to successfully counter-kill a dark lord.
Should he warn them?
Alan sat quietly at the iron-wrought table, deeply conflicted as he observed the radiant, untroubled happiness plastered across the young couple's faces.
Noticing the heavy, uncharacteristic frown pulling at the young boy's features, Lily leaned forward slightly, her green eyes full of gentle concern. "What is it, Alan? Are you feeling nervous about starting school? I am a Muggle-born witch myself, so I completely understand. When I first received my Hogwarts letter and realized magic was real, I was so overwhelmed I couldn't sleep for nights. But I promise you, once you walk through those castle doors, you absolutely will not regret it."
"I wonder which house the Sorting Hat will place you in!" James chimed in enthusiastically, effortlessly steering the conversation. "It would be brilliant if you ended up in Gryffindor. Of course, the other houses aren't entirely terrible either... well, except for Slytherin, perhaps." Although he tacked the insult on casually at the end, James's dismissive tone made his deep-seated disdain for Slytherin abundantly clear.
Lily rolled her eyes and gave her husband's arm another sharp pinch. "Do not listen to a word of his biased nonsense, Alan. Believe in yourself. Every single house possesses its own unique merits and characteristics. Regardless of where you are sorted, as long as you apply yourself diligently to your studies and maintain a clear understanding of the kind of person you wish to become, you can achieve greatness no matter which colors you wear!" She was clearly not a fan of James's highly prejudiced method of representing the school's houses.
"Thank you, Mrs. Potter. I will be sure to keep your advice in mind," Alan replied politely. Possessing the hardened, pragmatic soul of an adult soldier, he certainly wasn't losing any sleep over attending a boarding school. Still, seeing the genuine maternal kindness radiating from Lily, he had absolutely no desire to interrupt her well-meaning encouragement.
Internally, however, his tactical mind was racing. He simply couldn't directly warn the Potter family about their impending grim fate. What could he realistically say? *'Excuse me, but one day in the near future, the most dangerous dark wizard in the world is going to break into your house, murder both of you, and then accidentally blow himself up trying to kill your unborn son?'* Not only would they dismiss him as a highly disturbed, traumatized orphan, but they were also clearly active combatants already fighting against Voldemort's forces. They were undoubtedly already taking severe precautions to face the Dark Lord. A vague warning from an eleven-year-old stranger wouldn't change their tactical reality; it would only make him look suspicious.
"Alright, it is getting rather late, Alan. I must escort you back now. The streets simply are not safe once night falls," Professor McGonagall announced, snapping her pocket watch shut. She turned her stern gaze to the young couple. "That goes for the two of you as well, James, Lily. Please, head straight home."
"Yes, Professor McGonagall," they replied in unison.
Alan and Professor McGonagall pushed back their chairs and began gathering their newly purchased supplies. Before turning to leave the patio, Alan paused. He looked directly into Lily's eyes, his expression unusually solemn for a boy his age. "Mrs. Potter, please ensure that you and your family stay safe. I genuinely wish you and your unborn child nothing but the best. I have a feeling your son will undoubtedly become your greatest pride in the future."
*After all, your kid is literally the main protagonist of this entire universe,* Alan added silently.
He honestly didn't know what else he could possibly say. But facing this incredibly kind, doomed woman, his deeply buried human empathy overrode his soldier's detachment just enough to offer a sincere blessing. As for their violent future, his current level of power was far too weak to interfere with destiny.
"Thank you so much for the lovely blessing, Alan," Lily said softly. She looked at the stoic, polite young student and felt a profound, inexplicable sense of familiarity. Perhaps his quiet, intense demeanor reminded her of her own overwhelming introduction to the magical world, or perhaps he reminded her of a certain dark-haired boy she had once grown up alongside in Cokeworth.
"Wait a moment," Lily said, rummaging quickly through her enchanted handbag. "Here, this is a small trinket I crafted myself. Consider it a protective amulet. Think of it as an early gift to celebrate your enrollment. And please, feel free to write to me via owl if you ever need any advice navigating our world." She pulled her hand free and extended it toward him.
Alan accepted the object. Resting in his palm was a small, coin-sized copper piece, meticulously etched with the elegant, lifelike profile of a delicate female doe.
"Thank you for the thoughtful gift, Mrs. Potter. I will be sure to cherish it," Alan said, carefully slipping the copper doe into his secure inner pocket. He bid the Potter family a final, respectful farewell before following Professor McGonagall out of the alley.
Following another jarring round of Apparition, Alan found that having experienced the violent, compressive magical travel once before significantly lessened the physical toll. He didn't dry-heave this time. He simply shook his head to clear the lingering dizziness, vigorously rubbed some color back into his pale cheeks, formally thanked Professor McGonagall for her extensive assistance, and returned to the quiet confines of the orphanage alone.
Once safely locked inside his small bedroom, Alan sat cross-legged on his neatly made bed and meticulously reviewed every single piece of tactical intelligence he had gathered that day. The sheer limitless potential of the magical world held an incredibly strong attraction for him, sparking a drive he hadn't felt since his military days.
However, his pragmatic nature refused to ignore the glaring, life-threatening red flags. In this current timeline, Voldemort was operating at the absolute height of his power, and a brutal shadow war was tearing the country apart. He had no concrete idea what the political or safety situation was like inside Hogwarts during this specific era. The environment was entirely too volatile, and Alan was absolutely not comfortable entrusting his personal safety to the hands of strangers—especially given his vulnerable status as a Muggle-born.
In a war-torn magical society, he fundamentally required the ability to protect himself. Otherwise, he ran the very real risk of being collateral damage, slaughtered by Voldemort's fanatical minions before he ever reached adulthood. Relying on the disjointed information he had extracted from Professor McGonagall, Alan's mind systematically summarized the current tactical landscape:
First: The Ministry of Magic was currently operating under extreme, wartime security protocols. Previously, underage wizards were only actively monitored by the Trace *after* they officially enrolled at Hogwarts. Now, however, the net had been widened; the moment a minor possessed a registered wand, they fell under the Ministry's strict detection range.
Second: The Trace functioned as an area-based monitoring system, not a pinpoint biological tracker. Therefore, the Ministry's sensors could not accurately isolate exactly *who* was casting a specific spell in densely populated magical zones, due to the high volume of ambient magical interference.
Third: Albus Dumbledore remained firmly in charge of the resistance, and the Ministry's Auror forces were actively fighting back. Consequently, heavily fortified wizarding hubs like Diagon Alley remained relatively safe, stable zones.
Having logically analyzed the data, Alan finalized his immediate course of action. He needed to permanently vacate the vulnerable Muggle orphanage as quickly as possible and establish a secure forward operating base directly inside Diagon Alley. He absolutely had to master basic magical self-defense and offensive combat casting before the school term began.
With his objective locked in, Alan reached into his robes and smoothly drew his newly purchased wand.
He studied the weapon intently. Crafted from thunderstruck ebony, it possessed a stunning, matte-black texture that absorbed the ambient light, feeling remarkably cool and dense in his grip. He traced his thumb over the smooth handle and sighed softly into the quiet room. "From now on, it is just the two of us out here. You need a proper call sign. I think I'll call you *Dark Painting*. Are you ready to show this magical world exactly what kind of power we possess?"
As if actively responding to its master's declaration, Alan felt *Dark Painting* violently tremble in his grasp. Several sharp, crackling arcs of blue electricity suddenly arched from the tip, illuminating the dark bedroom. The electrical discharge didn't burn or harm him in the slightest; rather, the sudden surge of energy only made him feel as though his deep, biological connection with the weapon had profoundly solidified.
His mind completely resolved, Alan efficiently packed away his new supplies and went to sleep early, mentally preparing his body to begin executing his aggressive new training regimen at dawn.
---
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles to the north, the ancient castle of Hogwarts stood against the night sky like a slumbering, stone leviathan—silent, imposing, and thrumming with raw, beautiful power.
Inside the castle, Professor McGonagall briskly ascended the spiraling brass staircase that led directly into the Headmaster's circular office.
"Albus, how did your interview conclude this evening? I sincerely hope you did not hire her. I hold very little hope for the validity of a Divination curriculum. You know as well as I do that the vast majority of individuals claiming the title of Seer in our world are nothing more than opportunistic frauds," Professor McGonagall stated plainly, looking across the room at Dumbledore, who was currently occupied with gently stroking the brilliant crimson plumage of his majestic phoenix, Fawkes.
"Then I am afraid I must deeply regret to inform you, Minerva, that we shall very soon be welcoming Hogwarts' first official Divination professor to the faculty," Dumbledore replied softly. His mind involuntarily flashed back to the chilling, astonishing prophecy he had just witnessed unfold in the dingy room above the Hog's Head Inn. He deliberately forced his racing thoughts to calm, raised a silver eyebrow, and smoothly changed the trajectory of the conversation. "But tell me, how did you find your meeting with the young Muggle-born student today? You appear to be in remarkably high spirits. If I recall correctly, his name was Al... Alan?"
"Alan. Alan Wilson," Professor McGonagall corrected, her stern posture relaxing slightly at the mention of the boy. "He is an exceptionally disciplined, mature, and remarkably polite young man. That is entirely evident both from my own direct observations and from the glowing background information I gathered from the staff at his welfare home. Oh, and we actually happened to run into the Potter family while touring the alley today. Lily's child is expected to arrive by the end of this month, and they seemed to form quite a fond impression of young Alan as well."
Seeing Dumbledore express genuine interest in the new student, Professor McGonagall did not hesitate to offer her highest praises. Amidst the encroaching darkness of the war, a bright, capable student like Alan Wilson had left a profoundly reassuring impression on her.