It wasn't really any of his business, but Allen couldn't help feeling nosy about the intense feud between the MACUSA of Magic and Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He even felt the urge to grab some popcorn for the drama.
From what he could see, neither side seemed to think very highly of Hogwarts. Not even the usual "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" mindset was present. Still, their hostility toward Hogwarts seemed to have some underlying reason. Allen didn't know the full story, but it was clear that, for now, Hogwarts and Ilvermorny were in the same camp, though both clearly harbored thoughts of stabbing each other in the back the moment it was convenient.
Judging from the entrance of the American Aurors, the magical community in the U.S. was far from stable.
The headmaster of Ilvermorny, America's premier training ground for magical talent, practically their version of a military academy, was clearly at odds with the Ministry's way of doing things.
This presented a huge gap in the system, a vulnerability that the British Ministry of Magic was now eagerly exploiting. Unlike the long-established magical society of Britain, America's magical world was a cheap knockoff, a high-end imitation lacking depth or tradition.
Allen didn't know what the British Ministry had gained exactly, but it must've been substantial, otherwise, why would they have invested so heavily in arranging this exchange program?
But what sort of price did it take to get Dumbledore to allow the Ministry's involvement in the first place?
That remained a mystery.
Allen didn't get much time to ponder it, however, as the headmaster named Charlid presented him with an offer that was hard to refuse: both he and Annie were invited to enroll at Ilvermorny, and each would receive a generous scholarship, 500 Galleons.
Clearly, the offer had been tailored based on the state of their clothing. Though Allen could still manage their basic food, shelter, and clothing expenses, the ability to afford any of the accessories that pure-blood families so loved? That was already pushing his limit.
Five hundred Galleons, just like that! Allen felt like he could hear the sound of his own heart breaking. How many Forbidden Forest spiders would I have to kill to earn that much? Hagrid would be in tears!
"I'm sorry," Allen replied with a polite smile. "We're already used to life at Hogwarts. As tempting as your offer sounds, I'll have to decline."
He very much wanted to whip out a dagger and give this man, who clearly had designs on recruiting Annie, a good old-fashioned Demacian beatdown. But Allen reminded himself to stay elegant and composed.
As for Annie? Her answer was simple and sweet:
"Wherever my brother goes, I go."
To Allen's surprise, the headmaster remained calm despite the rejection. Clearly, his earlier emotional reaction had been caused by the spectacle Annie had created, not the rejection itself.
"Even though Miss Annie already has a wand, I still recommend visiting our Wand Hall," the headmaster said graciously. "You might just find a gift better suited to you."
Led by the headmaster, since Annie refused to go alone, the two were taken to a massive hall while the other students followed a professor toward the dining area.
It was obvious this headmaster was deeply drawn to Annie's extraordinary talent. After all, a young witch who could attract the attention of all four house statues at once, under the gaze of America's most famous former Minister of Magic, no less, was too valuable to ignore.
Inside the hall, Allen finally understood why Ilvermorny dared to speak with such confidence even when confronting the Magical Congress.
Before him lay tens of thousands of wands displayed under protective enchantments, each one pristine, as if freshly made.
Layer upon layer of wand shelves stretched across the space, comparable only to Ollivander's collection. The wands lay silently as if asleep, waiting for the right young witch or wizard to awaken them with a figurative "prince's kiss."
"You're free to wander and see which wand calls to you, or rather, which wand chooses you," the headmaster said. "I can assure you, this is the most complete wand vault in the United States. Over 80% of wands in the country come from here."
But Allen had already tuned out.
All he could think was, if this place doesn't rebel against the Ministry, they're wasting their natural advantages!
Think about it: they had enough trained wizards, practically all of America's elite witches and wizards came from here.
They had deep knowledge reserves, in a country where magical history was shallow, this school was the cornerstone.
And they had the most dangerous asset of all: a complete wand production and distribution line.
In other words, they had the magical equivalent of both a conventional weapons factory and a nuclear arsenal.
Forget the MACUSA, even the British Ministry couldn't suppress them if it tried!
Ilvermorny was practically a self-sufficient magical micro-nation!
If Allen were in the Magical Congress, his first instinct would be to restrict this kind of power. Give them a strong-willed headmaster, and they could flip the entire Congress within hours!
Honestly, if Tom Riddle had chosen to stop butting heads with Dumbledore and came here instead, he'd probably have started a war against the Magical Congress within half a year, and by the next day, Voldemort would be brainstorming names for his new departments!
To be fair, Headmaster Charlid was extremely generous, having brought them straight into his own wand vault. But even after an extended search, neither Allen nor Annie found a wand that suited them.
This essentially ruined the headmaster's entire pitch. On the bright side, it also reaffirmed just how legendary Ollivander truly was, clearly, as the descendant of the original wandmaker, his skill was still unmatched by anything these students could produce.
Because they spent so much time looking through the wands, by the time they made it to the dining hall, the main course was already more or less over.
Allen was left grinding his teeth.
What's the most convenient travel food?
That's right, pastries. Good hot or cold, packed with sugar and calories, and a reliable mood booster.
They came second only to that ultimate staple of dorm life: instant noodles. Sadly, in this era, instant noodles hadn't become a thing yet, so Allen had to let go of that idea.
What comes after the main course?
Dessert.
Already feeling halfway sick of what he'd eaten, Allen simply grabbed a few leftovers still on the table. As for dessert, no thanks, he was too annoyed to enjoy it.
Once they were done eating, or half-eating, the headmaster finally began his official welcome speech.
After a lot of filler talk, he eventually got to the point:
"To give our guests from Hogwarts some time to rest, the official exchange will begin this weekend. The interschool Quidditch match will be held then, and we hope, "
The rest of his words faded into the background, because at that moment…
Two conflicting auras of murderous intent suddenly filled the dining hall.
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