Yulia had a penchant for tucking valuable volus into the dusty corners of the highest or lowest shelves—a childish tactic, really—or hiding a rare text in the middle of a row of books with identical spines. But as long as a book passed through Alan's hands, it was unlikely to be overlooked.
Sitting nearby, Yulia was a bundle of raw nerves. Her carefully disguised treasures were being unearthed one by one, and she was terrified that he would stumble upon the family's crown jewel.
After more than six hours of searching, Alan had examined nearly every shelf, setting aside over three hundred valuable docunts. He had even taken a quick, functional al right there in the library. Logically, he should have narrowed his selection down to the two hundred and ninety-five highest-priority books to stay within his limit, but a nagging sensation told him he was missing sothing.
He knew from Torquil that a specific spellbook existed within the Travers collection—one that contained the complete Slytherin ntal Protection Spell. Yet, despite a granular search of every volu with a magical signature, the spell remained elusive. He had even perford a structural check for hidden compartnts or secret chambers, but the walls and floors remained stubbornly silent.
"What is that book called? It's a pity Torquil's mind was so heavily shielded; I couldn't dig deep enough. Did I overlook sothing obvious?" Alan pondered, his frustration beginning to simr.
Seeing Alan reach the end of the final shelf, Yulia stepped forward, her voice tight with anxious urgency. "You've picked through every book in this library. Hurry up and choose your three hundred so you can leave. I don't have all day to waste playing host to you."
Alan caught the tremor in her voice. Her impatience only served to confirm his suspicions; she was far too eager to see him go. He must have missed the prize. He ntally retraced his steps, searching for an anomaly, but nothing stood out.
"Right. I still have that," Alan murmured, reaching into his spatial pouch.
Yulia watched as he pulled out a small wooden box. When the lid flipped open to reveal a bottle of Felix Felicis, her heart hamred against her ribs. *Oh no. Has he figured it out?*
Alan didn't hesitate. He unstoppered the vial and took a single, asured sip. He knew the risks of overindulgence—the reckless arrogance that ca with the gold—but a small dose was exactly what he needed. The world instantly sharpened. Colors seed more vibrant, his thoughts raced with crystalline precision, and his intuition humd like a tuned instrunt.
Following a sudden, inexplicable pull, Alan wandered back into the maze of shelves.
Yulia began to regret her outburst. Perhaps she had alerted him by pushing too hard. She tried to steady her breathing, telling herself, *It's fine. Even with Liquid Luck, it's just an ordinary notebook to the naked eye. He didn't suspect it before.*
Suddenly, her pulse spiked. Alan had stopped in front of a specific shelf and was already reaching for the volus.
His interest wasn't purely intuitive; he had felt a lingering sense of "wrongness" every ti he passed this section. There was a row of blank notebooks on the bottom shelf. He had checked them earlier, fearing a skin-changing charm or an illusion, but when he had found an entire row of identical, empty journals, he had dismissed them. This was a family library, after all; seeing old study notes or blank ledgers wasn't unusual.
But under the influence of the potion, a fleeting thought he'd had hours ago resurfaced with total clarity.
"The cover," Alan whispered, pulling one specific notebook from the middle of the stack.
As a student of alchemy who had spent years assisting Hagrid with magical creatures, Alan could identify almost any biological hide or parchnt on sight. But the texture of this cover? He had absolutely no idea what it was.
Yulia sat perfectly still, her face a mask of aristocratic calm, while internally she felt as though her heart were being squeezed. *He found it. What do I do?* She wanted to lung for him, but she knew that acting now would be a neon sign pointing to the book's importance. *Stay calm. He doesn't know how to open it. It looks like a common diary.*
Alan was indeed stumped. He was certain the notebook was the key, but it radiated zero magical energy. He tried a barrage of spells.
"Finite! Aparecium! Revelio! Specialis Revelio!"
The notebook remained inert. It wasn't a concealnt charm, it wasn't a transformation, and it wasn't an illusion.
"Magic isn't working. Let's try a physical solution."
Alan reached into his robes and pulled out a heavy, specialized hamr. He raised it high, preparing to bring it down on the spine with enough force to shatter the binding.
"Stop! What are you doing!" Yulia scread, leaping up to grab his arm.
Alan lowered the hamr and looked at her with a wide, knowing grin. "I suppose this book really is a problem, then."
"This...!" Yulia realized her panic had betrayed her. Seeing there was no point in further deception, she dropped the act. "Fine! But what is wrong with you? If you can't figure it out, you're just going to destroy it? I won't let you smash a family heirloom out of spite!"
"Then how about this: tell how to open it, and I won't have to break it," Alan suggested, his voice light and conversational.
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