When people talk about "my friend," "my classmate," or "my brother," it usually means one of two things, either they have something embarrassing they don't want to admit, or they're about to brag.
But this time, it's neither.
This time, it's not bragging, it's the real deal.
Just like kids tend to play with peers their own age, students from different Houses usually stick to their year groups. After hearing about a problem involving a first-year junior, the third-years from Gryffindor started sharing their memories of Allen.
As for their question about why Annie was so strong, the answer they got was simple: compared to her brother, who's basically a lunatic, Annie's strength is pretty normal, of course, that's assuming they hadn't seen Tibbers in action.
Unlike Allen, who regularly stirred up trouble every week, Annie always gave off the impression of a well-behaved little girl. On the other hand, Allen's chaotic reputation, flipping over every Slytherin in the year within his first month, became legendary blackmail material for the Slytherins.
So yeah, if you think Annie's impressive, you've got it backwards. The real powerhouse is her brother, legend says Allen once even took on a professor in America, which was truly wild and insanely cool.
After hearing this, the three first-years were left utterly baffled, why did it feel like their story was from a completely different universe?
"Ron, you said you know Allen, right?" Harry suddenly blurted out as Ron was about to head off to dinner.
"Yeah, he even came to our house once, though back then, I had no idea how strong he really was." Ron scooped up a big helping of roast and asked, "Why? What's up?"
"I want to know if he can teach me how to get stronger," Harry said plainly, nearly causing Ron to drop his plate.
"Mate, what are you thinking?" Ron whispered, glancing around like someone might overhear. "Let alone the fact you're a first-year and probably don't even need tutoring, you've got to understand how precious magical knowledge is, no one hands that stuff out freely, not even professors."
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Ron's warning didn't work, at least, not for now.
Allen munched on his snacks, watching the three awkward young wizards in front of him. They'd come to find him but hadn't yet said what they wanted.
"What? Training?" Allen pointed at himself in surprise. "You mean... me?"
All three nodded together.
What a joke, Allen could barely explain his own broken skills, how could he teach them? How was he supposed to say, "I'm basically cheating, you won't get it"?
Sure, he could guide them on regular magic, but if he wasn't spending his time grinding or finding ways to make money, what was the point in playing teacher?
This was a bad habit, not only were they basically strangers, but even friends wouldn't waste that much time.
Still, Allen clearly underestimated the generosity of the "savior" students, fifteen Galleons per lesson, once a week.
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Well played, rich kids.
"Harry, you're crazy!" Ron suddenly shouted when he heard the price. "Allen, don't do this! Harry doesn't have that kind of money!"
But to Ron's disbelief, Allen nodded. Though it might be a bit of a time sink, getting paid and having students eager to be "tortured" wasn't a bad deal.
Then the other young "rich kid" also confirmed he could afford it, after all, dentists make good money, and magic books aren't cheap.
"Fine, you're all nuts," Ron shook his head, then stood up and walked away.
Harry didn't stop his friend but whispered to Allen, "Hey, could you let Ron learn what we're learning?"
It wasn't that Harry couldn't pay extra; he just wanted to protect his friend's pride.
Allen shrugged. "Sure, but I hope you don't spread what I teach around, it's not exactly Ministry-approved knowledge."
While the two were still looking confused, Allen packed up his snacks.
"See you Saturday morning, eighth floor."
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The eighth floor, the "Room of Requirement." As two first-years stood awkwardly in front of a tapestry showing a troll being clubbed silly, Allen ran up, out of breath. He'd just gotten permission from Mr. Filch.
Opening the door to the Room of Requirement, the best practice spot, Allen settled into a conjured chair and asked, "So, you paid a lot, so I can't scam you. What do you want to learn?"
"Combat magic!" both answered in unison.
The reason was simple: their first-year Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was so weak, he hadn't taught them a single useful spell.
So, up till now, their combat power was basically zero. They couldn't expect to always have a foolish enemy swinging a big stick and knocking themselves out.
And as for Transfiguration, were they supposed to turn the enemy's buttons into beetles for laughs?
Other subjects were similar, combat magic was still far beyond the reach of first years.
"All right, as you wish." Allen spread his hands and conjured his wand, pointing it at Harry. "Hand over your weapon!"
Suddenly, a strong force hit, and Harry found he completely lost control of his wand. It flew straight to Allen.
"Whoa!" The wand's escape caused surprise. Apparently, this spell to turn opponents into toothless tigers really suited the "Savior", after all, Allen was the only one who'd maxed it out.
Think about it, even in the final battles, no one had dropped this spell. That's why Allen so mischievously taught it first.
"All right, here's the wand movement and incantation. You can practice with each other now." After explaining, Allen leaned back in his chair and pulled out his nearly finished potion notebook.
The two started sparring, an unusually peaceful scene.
But for some reason, it felt a bit like Allen was running a scam...••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
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