"Once you've seen the great ocean, other waters no longer satisfy; Apart from the clouds of Mount Wu, no others are worthy of notice."
Poetic, isn't it?
But no, Allen wasn't getting philosophical or sentimental. He was just grumbling, specifically, about the Ministry of Magic and their utterly brain-dead rules.
Why, you ask?
Because at this very moment, Allen was hanging up his blanket to dry. Yes, just drying his blanket. Nothing mysterious, no dream about wetting the bed, no bizarre mishap. Just good old-fashioned sun-drying.
To be fair, London did have plenty of dryers. But Allen never really got used to them, especially not after inheriting the legacy of the Goddess of Dawn.
Yes, it sounded ridiculous. But seriously, once you've slept under a blanket dried in pure sunlight, you'd never want to go back. That fresh, warm scent, it was simply divine.
So divine, in fact, that it almost felt like a sin to use the power of a priceless magical legacy... to dry your bedding.
Leona might cry if she knew.
But ever since Allen got used to sun-dried blankets, he couldn't stand anything else. So after returning to the orphanage, he found himself restless, especially because, according to Ministry rules, underage wizards were strictly forbidden from using magic.
After carefully laying his blanket out to dry, Allen headed off to do some chores.
The staircase in one of the orphanage buildings had broken down. To save money, most of the simple repairs fell to the older kids, children like Allen. Even though he'd anonymously donated some funds, the orphanage was still scraping by.
The kind of tasks he could've finished in minutes with a flick of his wand ended up taking him and his friends nearly half an hour. No surprise, he silently cursed the Ministry again.
As the kids finished their chores and sat around chatting with water bottles in hand, Annie suddenly came running in, her eyes wide in surprise.
"Allen, Allen, quick! Your blanket grew something!"
But Allen wasn't focused on anything or anyone. His mind was stuck on one question:
"I've only been gone for half an hour. What the heck could've happened?"
It had only been thirty minutes. How could a blanket possibly "grow" something?
Even if the unpredictable London weather had suddenly dumped rain on it, it wouldn't make anything grow!
Curious and alarmed, Allen quickly followed Annie. When he turned the corner and reached the spot where he'd laid out his blanket, his eyes instantly locked onto something strange.
Annie wasn't lying. Something had grown on it.
Only, it wasn't mold.
It was a cat.
Yes. His blanket had "grown" a cat.
A scruffy, orange one at that, curled up into a tight ball, purring softly as it basked in the sun on Allen's blanket.
Sighing at the new black paw prints now marking his once-pristine bedding, Allen turned and headed to the kitchen. Time to find something to feed this uninvited guest. And then he'd have to wash the blanket, again. Even if it was a lightweight summer one, it was still a pain.
So yeah, screw the Ministry.
By the time Allen came back with some salted fish, he found Annie already bonding with the furry freeloader.
Now there was a trail of paw prints across the blanket, and the orange cat was nuzzling Annie's hand, thoroughly enjoying her head pats.
"Big bro, can we keep it?" Annie looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.
Just as she spoke, the cat, who had just been melting into Annie's touch, stood up and began rubbing against Allen's leg.
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••One Month Later…
Same dingy old bar.
Same skinny old bartender, Tom.
"Oh hey, kid. You're Allen, right? Your pet's looking great!" Tom gave a slightly confused pause, then chuckled as he spoke.
Damn it…
Allen knew this would happen.
Grumbling, he gave the lump in his arms a shake. The "lump" yawned lazily and snuggled deeper into his robes, refusing to budge.
"Two drinks please, Mr. Tom. One Butterbeer, one juice."
Finally setting the cat, now known as Butternut, on the table, Allen stretched. They had been traveling for hours, and Allen had carried the cat the entire way.
Age-wise, Butternut was still a kitten, technically.
But only technically.
Because she was now far too big for Annie to carry with one arm anymore. In fact, Allen was starting to think Butternut might soon rival Tibbers in size.
To keep the hyperactive furball from running off, Allen had no choice but to carry her the whole way here. Otherwise, their journey would've taken twice as long.
After some intense pleading from Annie, they had adopted her. Thankfully, the cat turned out to be unusually well-behaved, she didn't scratch, didn't fight baths, and wasn't picky with food.
There was just one problem.
She was getting fat.
Way too fast.
The vet had warned them: orange tabby cats are notorious for gaining weight.
Allen hadn't thought much of it... until one day while tutoring Annie, she offered Butternut the other half of her Chocolate Frog.
Allen blinked.
Wait. Aren't cats not supposed to eat chocolate?
But Annie insisted, that's how she always fed her. No issues at all.
Forget about how Annie was burning through his snack budget. Allen suddenly realized something else:
Wizard pets are not like ordinary pets.
Think about it, normal people don't have perfectly obedient owls, or unusually smart rats, or relaxed frogs.
And Muggle cats? They certainly don't eat wizard food.
That realization prompted a change in their plans. Originally, the siblings had only come to Diagon Alley to buy new schoolbooks. But now they had another urgent task: take Butternut to a pet shop and make sure she wasn't mutating into something... problematic.
Ignoring the cat's pleading eyes and blocking Annie from trying to share her juice, Allen stood up, feeling they'd rested enough.
Time to get moving. He still needed to buy a wizard robe, one size larger this year.
Tom the bartender was just getting into a good story, but Allen quietly placed the coins on the table and tried to slip out with a simple farewell.
But just then, he noticed something odd.
The Leaky Cauldron was already dimly lit, but suddenly, most of its light seemed to disappear, blocked out by something, or someone, at the entrance.
Allen instinctively turned around.
And sure enough, there was only one person who could cast such a large shadow.
Everyone in the bar turned to greet him, except Allen.
Allen's eyes weren't on the towering figure itself, but on the boy beside him. The boy who was looking around the bar with curious, wide-eyed wonder.
Because unless Allen was very much mistaken, that boy…
was Harry Potter.
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
A/N: The boy who live chosen one is here…