After Harry started it, the others began praising Allen endlessly, piling every impressive adjective they could think of onto him.
A compliment feels fresh the first time, delightful the second, but by the third or fourth, it becomes exhausting. Even worse, the praise wasn't focused on anything Allen himself took pride in. They couldn't even compliment his expression properly, and they still hoped to flatter him? Keep dreaming.
Amidst all the praise, Allen calmly opened his Herbology textbook and continued studying new plant properties. As the chatter buzzed in his ears, he suddenly looked up at Hermione and Neville.
"I remember you two were going to look for the toad," Allen said calmly. "Giving up so soon? Worried you'll die trying and want to make sure it's thorough?"
Neville was stunned. Then, his face turned pale.
"No! My Leif!" he cried out anxiously. "Why did I forget?! I need to find Leif!"
He dashed out of the compartment, and Hermione—who had promised to help him—followed with a guilty expression.
"Sorry, everyone, we have to leave for now," Hermione said, her eyes specifically lingering on Allen before she hurried after Neville.
Finally, the compartment quieted.
Allen returned to his book, fully immersed in the study of magical ingredients, while Harry quietly began chatting with Ronald.
Learning is difficult. Even when someone takes the lead, most give up halfway. But learning bad habits? That's far too easy. For those with weak willpower, even a bit of noise is enough to completely derail focus.
The steady sound of the train moving was like a lullaby, and as darkness fell, Harry and Ronald—after bickering much of the way—dozed off, sleeping side by side.
A long, low whistle sounded. Allen closed his book and glanced out the window at the dim, distant lights.
The train had arrived.
Finally?
Allen sighed with relief, tucked the textbook into his backpack, stood up, and stretched. His spine cracked with satisfying pops.
"Wake up. We're at the station," Allen said, patting Harry and Ronald on the shoulders.
The two stirred groggily. Still half-asleep, they grabbed their luggage and followed Allen out. As soon as they stepped off the train, the chill of October and the damp night air snapped them awake.
Of course, the weather was unkind. It had started raining just as the first-years got off the train. It wasn't a heavy rain, but enough to be deeply uncomfortable if you got wet.
Harry and Ronald rushed off the platform, looking at the rain with helpless expressions. All they could do was pull their robes tighter around them for warmth.
Allen calmly pulled out a windbreaker and put it on.
The moment it settled on his shoulders, a thin, transparent barrier formed around him. The rain slid off effortlessly, as though it couldn't touch him at all.
No one noticed, though. The freshmen quickly realized they were stranded on the platform—older students had vanished, and they didn't know what to do.
Just as panic began to spread, a calm, booming voice quieted the group.
"All firs'-year students, over here!" Hagrid held a kerosene lamp and stepped out of the rain, resembling a giant from a fairy tale. A huge raincoat draped over him, water running down the folds.
"Follow me, first-years—this way." Hagrid's gaze found Harry in the crowd and he nodded. But when his eyes landed on Allen, his expression changed instantly. He glared at Allen, then turned and stomped away into the rainy dusk.
The group of students quickly followed him. The sight looked like ducklings following a giant duck.
The path was slippery from the rain. Water splashed into faces, blocking vision. Hagrid was up ahead, trudging through deep puddles, while the students behind stumbled and slipped—some falling into the mud and turning into soggy, muddy messes.
Eventually, the group reached the lake, where small boats awaited them. Hagrid took one for himself, and once everyone else was seated, the boats—without paddles—began gliding silently toward the opposite shore.
Strangely, the rain ceased as they crossed the lake. The surface was smooth like black jade—mysterious, silent, and eerie.
"…This whole journey across the lake is symbolic! It's to commemorate the hardships faced by the four founders of Hogwarts!" Hermione's voice piped up from nowhere, clearly proud of her knowledge. "I read it in Hogwarts: A History!"
Allen smiled, curious to see the reactions to Hermione's "fun facts," but just then, he heard a strange sound.
It wasn't the usual lapping of water against the boat—more like something emerging from beneath the surface.
In the eerie silence of the pitch-black lake, the sound was chilling. It felt as though some monster had surfaced, lurking, ready to swallow them whole.
Allen tensed. He didn't recall any attacks happening during the original arrival scene, but now that he was here, deviations from the plot were expected.
Still, the boats docked without incident, and the students disembarked. Maybe it was just his imagination.
"All firs'-years—head up those steps. The professors'll be waitin' for ya," Hagrid said, gesturing toward the castle. Then, without another word, he left in a hurry.
Without a guide, the first-years climbed the steps to Hogwarts Castle, chattering excitedly. Soon, they reached the grand, ornate entrance hall.
Only then did many of them realize how wet and uncomfortable they were. Most were soaked and muddy.
Yet Allen stood out.
He was dry, clean, and composed—completely untouched by the rain and mud.
And of course, special people attract attention.
"Are you Allen Cecil?" a voice asked behind him.
Allen turned. A boy with light golden hair, thinning despite his age, stood there arrogantly, flanked by two taller boys who clearly weren't chosen for their brains.
Allen instantly recognized him.
Draco Malfoy? Why wasn't he over there awkwardly introducing himself to Harry?
"I am Allen Cecil. What's the matter?" Allen asked, eyeing the smug boy in front of him.
"I'm Draco Malfoy—the future heir of the noble Malfoy family," Draco said, puffing out his chest. "I think your cooking is decent. I'll give you a chance. Come be my family's chef after school. Don't worry—we'll pay you."
Allen stared at the carrot-topped aristocrat, and a single word from his Huaxia vocabulary popped into his head.
"Retarded."
He spoke the word clearly and firmly.
Draco blinked, not understanding a word—but the contempt in Allen's tone and face was unmistakable.
How dare this orphan look down on him? Draco thought furiously. He was offering the boy a job, and this was how he repaid him?
Draco had tasted Allen's food before—his father had praised it, even. Learning that Allen would be attending Hogwarts as a first-year, Draco had decided to "recruit" him, imagining the approval he'd earn from his father.
Now, Allen had insulted him in front of everyone.
Just as Draco's anger was about to erupt, a voice interrupted.
"What are you trying to do, Malfoy?" Ronald Weasley stepped forward, looking indignant. Harry joined him.
"Red hair?" Draco sneered. "You're a Weasley, and you want to play hero?"
"Don't even think about bullying people," Ron snapped. "I, Ronald Weasley, won't allow it!"
Draco smirked. "How terrifying."
His lackeys laughed obediently.
"You? A red-haired Weasley? What can you do?" Draco said, turning to Harry—and froze when he saw the lightning-shaped scar.
"Harry Potter!" Draco gasped. "You should be more careful about the company you keep. Don't associate with people who have no future."
Harry met his gaze coolly. "I have the right to choose my friends. It's unfortunate for you that the people you insulted are mine."
Allen, still behind them, scratched his ears as the drama escalated. Where was Professor McGonagall? She was supposed to show up by now and end this scene…
But the professor remained absent, and the argument intensified.
"Enough," Allen said suddenly, stepping forward.
He brushed past Harry and Ron and stared at Draco. "Are you proud?"
Draco stood taller. "Of course. I'm a Malfoy."
Allen's eyes gleamed. "Then let's test that. Are you proud of your intelligence? Physical strength?"
"Both!" Draco declared.
"Then how about a wager?" Allen said, a wicked smile curling his lips.
"What kind of wager?" Draco asked.
"A challenge that tests both. If you succeed, you win. If not, you lose."
"What's the stake?"
"Our wands," Allen said. "The loser hands over their wand to the winner—for a full week. And no backing out. Swear on your family name."
"I agree!" Draco snapped. "You'll regret this!"
Allen had no real attachment to his surname—it came from the orphanage where he'd grown up. For him, this was a risk-free bet. Draco, on the other hand, would do anything to protect the Malfoy name.
"Here's the question," Allen said. "Is there something here and now that I can defeat, but you never could?"
Draco was stunned. He turned to his two silent followers for help. Useless.
He looked around anxiously.
Allen smirked. "Don't stall, Malfoy. Or are all Malfoys cowards?"
"This isn't fair!" Draco snapped. "You're setting me up. I know the answer—but it would mean violating school rules to prove it!"
"Oh? Let's hear your answer anyway," Allen said lazily.
"It's any of the students here," Draco said. "You can say you could defeat them, but I'd have to actually do it. That breaks the rules."
Some students nodded—clever answer.
Allen shrugged. "Unfortunately… that's the wrong answer."
"What?" Draco sputtered.
"Wrong. I promised it wouldn't violate the rules," Allen said. "I'll even give you another try—unless you want to admit the Malfoy name means nothing."
Students whispered. Draco sweated.
"Give up," Allen said calmly. "Or wait for the professors to arrive and break your promise. Is that the Malfoy way?"
Ronald grinned, adding, "Wow, can't even answer one question. So much for nobility."
"Shut up, Weasley!" Draco roared. "If you're so smart, you answer it!"
Ron raised an eyebrow. "Why should I help you?"
Draco looked ready to faint.
Allen gave Ron a secret thumbs-up. Excellent trolling.
[
For more chapters
patreon.com/Albert213