After confirming that Shunfeng fully understood his instructions, Alan sorted the letters on his desk, recast the Disillusionnt Charm on himself, and climbed out the window to disappear into the night.
Perhaps because the wizarding world had only recently returned to a state of peace, Diagon Alley was remarkably quiet at night. Aside from the occasional wizard walking briskly through the cobblestone streets, the area was deserted, and most shops had long since shuttered their doors.
The invisible Alan floated quietly a foot above the ground, drifting toward the house where the five Death Eaters were entrenched. The magical coffee shop and the beauty boutique were both dark, and Emline Vance, who had been monitoring the target earlier, was nowhere to be seen.
Unsure whether the Order mbers had finished their shift or were simply hidden nearby, Alan cautiously circled the block. Only after ruling out several likely surveillance vantage points did he feel a sense of relief.
Once he was certain he wouldn't be interrupted, he summoned a raven and sent it to the third-floor windowsill to observe. Of the five guest rooms, four had their curtains drawn and lamps extinguished. The remaining bedroom still held a faint glow; inside, Yaxley was sitting at a desk by the light of an oil lamp, folding a letter and sealing it in an envelope.
When he finished, Yaxley stretched tiredly, kicked off his shoes, and lay down on the bed without even changing his clothes. He extinguished the lamp with a flick of his wand and lazily levitated the curtains closed.
"Judging by his state, they must all be sleeping fully ard, ready to bolt the mont sothing feels off," Alan murmured. He remained under the Disillusionnt Charm, waiting patiently in the narrow alley beside the house.
In the dead of night, Alan waited another half hour to ensure they were all deep in sleep. He then activated his levitation spell, slowly rising to the roof of the stone building. He repeated his earlier tactic, summoning a second raven to fly down the chimney while Raven Number One remained on the windowsill as a lookout.
As Raven Number Two entered the third floor, it saw that the Foe-Glass from earlier had been moved upstairs. However, the device remained unresponsive to the summoned bird. Confirming the coast was clear, Alan directed the raven back up the flue.
"The night alert mode hasn't changed. Now for the delicate work," Alan whispered, taking a deep breath.
He began to carefully extract items from his spatial pouch. First was a large tal cylinder, resembling a dical oxygen tank, followed by a bundle of plastic hoses. He levitated the equipnt into the air and began the assembly. He attached a thick industrial hose to the tank with a splitter on the end, then slowly lowered the line down the chimney.
Imdiately after, Alan summoned several more ravens. So carried bundles of thin tubing as they dove into the chimney. Once on the third floor, the birds beca a frantic construction crew. Two ravens stabilized the main hose while the others connected the individual thin tubes to the splitter. Since the connections required tal nuts, the small birds had to use their beaks to painstakingly tighten each one.
The effort left Alan sweating profusely. Multitasking between several birds while maintaining absolute silence was a grueling ntal strain. When the preparation was finally complete, he let out a long, silent sigh of relief.
He directed the ravens to take the ends of the thin tubes to each bedroom door, carefully threading them through the gaps at the bottom. He moved with agonizing precision, completing one room at a ti to avoid accidentally brushing a door and triggering an alarm.
Once the lines were in place, Alan opened the valve on the gas tank. The contents quickly diffused through the pipes and into the bedrooms.
"Inhaling a specific concentration of ether should induce unconsciousness within three minutes," Alan noted, checking his pocket watch. "I'll wait four to be safe, but no longer. Too high a concentration could be fatal, and I need them alive. I just hope none of them have underlying heart conditions, or this plan fails before it starts."
During his initial scouting, he had noticed the doors didn't fit their fras perfectly—a side effect of rooms being hastily partitioned with magic. The gaps were much larger than normal, which had given him the idea for the anesthetic. He had spent his afternoon raiding a chemical warehouse, utilizing his invisibility and spatial magic to secure the volatile materials.
Four minutes passed. Alan precisely closed the valve and then directed a raven inside to peck gently at a door, intentionally triggering a minor alarm fluctuation to test the Death Eaters' reactions.
Silence. There was no movent from within the house.
Alan felt a surge of triumph. He quickly disassembled the tank and hoses, stowing them back in his pouch, and pulled on a gas mask. Even as the architect of the plan, he wasn't about to risk inhaling the toxic fus himself.
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