Hogwarts: Legacy of the Necromancer

The moment Alan McMichael realized that Edith Cushing was in danger, he rushed from America without hesitation.

He took boats, cars, even rode horseback, traveling nonstop toward his destination—Crimson Peak.

In the midst of a blizzard, the dark red mountains were blanketed in white snow. White always appears pure, able to mask the scent of blood. But snow is also cold, cold enough to freeze a person solid.

When Alan McMichael finally reached the town at the foot of the mountain, he was once again caught in the blizzard. The innkeeper refused to provide a carriage—traveling in such weather was far too dangerous. Accidents were almost guaranteed. Horses could die, and carriages would be wrecked.

"What should I do? I must reach Crimson Peak. There's someone very important to me up there."

He had already made it this far, only to be trapped in the inn by the storm. Alan McMichael refused to give up so close to his goal.

"You can walk straight in that direction. It should take about four hours to reach the manor on foot. I'm sorry, I can't offer you any more help. In this weather, no one's willing to go outside. You could just stay here and leave after the blizzard clears tomorrow."

Amid the howling storm, the innkeeper shouted his advice. But walking four hours in this kind of weather—well, that would depend entirely on luck.

"I have to go. I've already called the police. As soon as the storm clears, bring them to Crimson Peak to find me."

Alan McMichael ignored the innkeeper's warning and plunged into the blizzard, making his way up the mountain path.

Milla Jovovich gave high praise to this sequence. Although the blizzard obscured much of the performance, audiences would still applaud a man like this within the story.

This is how a man should be—brave and fearless. Not even a raging snowstorm could stop his advance.

When Alan McMichael reached Crimson Peak, he struggled to push open the heavy front doors—just in time to witness Edith Cushing falling from above.

In that moment, his heart sank. He had made it. He had overcome every obstacle, fought through the blizzard... only to see the woman he loved plunge to her death?

Alan McMichael stepped into the hall, devastated, while the storm behind him swept in like a phantom, following his every step.

A sorrowful, grim, and despairing aura clung to him, making him appear like some kind of noble snow prince.

Seeing Edith Cushing lying unconscious on the snow, Alan McMichael looked up. Lucille Sharpe and Thomas Sharpe stood on the upper floor, peering down. They hadn't expected anyone to appear at a time like this.

Under Alan McMichael's gaze, both of them felt a chill to the bone.

"Ah! It hurts..."

From the snowdrift, Edith Cushing let out a weak cry. The three of them had assumed she was dead—but she was still alive.

The hall's floor, exposed to the elements due to a missing roof, was already layered with thick snow. That soft, powdery snow had provided just enough cushioning to let someone survive a fall from the fourth floor.

"What do we do? The paperwork transferring her assets still hasn't been signed."

Lucille Sharpe's first thought was of the inheritance. With wealth, her brother Thomas could continue his research.

"Don't be like this, Lucille. Let's go down and check on Edith first."

Thomas didn't have the right to criticize his sister, but this time, he had genuinely fallen for the woman he had married.

Alan McMichael didn't care whether the Sharpe siblings came down or not. He first gave Edith a quick checkup, then gently lifted her and placed her beside the fireplace on the first floor.

"It was an accident."

"How is Edith?"

As soon as the Sharpe siblings descended, Lucille rushed to explain that it was all an accident, while Thomas seemed more genuinely concerned about his wife.

Alan McMichael took in their behavior silently. But once the storm cleared and the police arrived, whoever the real culprit was—it wouldn't be his concern. His only responsibility was to protect Edith Cushing until the authorities got there.

"Luckily, the snow was thick and soft enough. Otherwise, she would've never survived. The railings are completely rotted—just like everything else in this manor."

Although Alan McMichael planned to guard Edith for the time being, he didn't need to be overly courteous to the Sharpe siblings. Thomas Sharpe had stolen the woman he loved—being too polite would only arouse suspicion.

Thomas Sharpe looked extremely awkward. He knew full well the relationship Alan McMichael once had with Edith Cushing. Given that, he couldn't blame his rival for being hostile.

Why would Alan show up in weather like this, in the middle of a blizzard? What was his purpose in coming here?These were the questions the Sharp siblings needed to figure out—otherwise, they couldn't move forward with any decisions.

Killing someone was easy. Just a single stab would do it. But the consequences might be unbearable.

That's why all of Thomas's ex-wives had died from ingesting an excessive amount of Crimson Peak clay, succumbing to the corpse poison it contained.

Alan McMichael had been tending to Edith Cushing the whole time, completely ignoring the Sharp siblings behind him. He displayed the calm composure expected of a romantic rival.

"You're right—the railing was old, that's why it broke."

Thomas Sharpe held the broken piece of railing, a thick wooden stick just big enough to grip with both hands. Casting a sidelong glance at Alan McMichael's back, he walked over and set it down beside the fireplace.

"I hope you don't mind if I call you Alan? Did you eat anything on your way here? Let me make you some hot soup."

Lucille Sharpe was fiddling with knives on the kitchen table. The sharp glint of the blades reflected directly into Edith Cushing's eyes.

It was a warning—a signal for her to keep quiet. If she dared to say anything to Alan McMichael, it would only endanger him. This was how Lucille Sharpe threatened Edith Cushing: without words, but unmistakably.

"There's not much coal left. We'll just burn this instead."

Thomas Sharpe began splitting the broken railing with an axe, throwing the pieces into the fireplace.

Originally, Edith Cushing had wanted to believe in her husband. But after witnessing the secret meeting between the Sharp siblings, that trust began to waver. Now, seeing Thomas swing the axe at the wood, she couldn't help but assume he, like his sister, was threatening her into silence.

If the blizzard outside stopped, Edith would beg Alan to take her away immediately. But the storm was at its peak—even Alan was now trapped here. She couldn't risk doing anything that might put him in danger.

"Alan! Thank you for coming to see me. I'm fine—I just fell by accident."

Edith Cushing spoke weakly to Alan, not daring to ask why he had come.

God knows, walking from the town to the manor takes four hours on foot—and in a howling blizzard, no less!

If it weren't for something important, why would Alan McMichael come in weather like this?

"Edith! You're injured. The fall caused internal trauma. If you suffer serious internal bleeding, I won't be able to operate with the limited resources here."

Alan McMichael took Edith's hand as he explained.

"Oh, come on! You're just an ophthalmologist."

Edith Cushing laughed at his concern. An eye doctor talking about surgery?

"Ophthalmology is just my specialty. I'm trained in basic surgery too—I graduated top of my class in medical school."

Alan McMichael firmly countered her doubts.

In fact, that wasn't originally part of his character. It had been ad-libbed by Regulus Black during the performance—and the director ended up keeping it in.

As a viewer, Milla Jovovich could feel the unspoken intimacy between the two characters, the wordless exchange of glances. Both Regulus Black and Richard Theron delivered strong performances.

"The hot soup is ready. You both should have some."

Lucille Sharpe brought over a tray with two bowls of golden pumpkin soup.

"I'm not hungry. I don't want any."

Edith Cushing refused the soup outright. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten or even had water. Her weakness wasn't just from the earlier poisoning—hunger was also taking its toll.

Alan McMichael understood the look in her eyes. She was silently pleading with him not to eat it either. But they still needed to buy time.

Stirring the soup with his spoon, Alan McMichael carefully tried to identify the taste.

"If you won't eat, that's fine. But if I don't eat, I'll starve—and I won't have the strength to take care of you."

With a forced smile, Alan McMichael drank the tampered pumpkin soup.

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