At Hogwarts, Allen's familiar, Valor, was practically a rare species. After all, everyone else had owls. You know that saying, "Did you really think hiding would keep me from noticing you? Impossible! A bird as outstanding as you would still shine even among a flock of owls, like a firefly in the dark."
That lively gaze, that glossy plumage, the proud way he walked, and the casual stance of holding a piece of owl feed stolen from the one next door, absolutely mesmerizing.
So then, the question is: since Valor is one of a kind, where exactly did this messenger bird come from?
The answer was very simple, it came from Africa.
Back in Allen's first year, he had participated in one of Hogwarts' true cultural exchange events, and made quite a few friends at the Wizarding Academy in Uganda.
Most of them have already graduated, but among them, the one closest to Allen happened to be a pure-blood wizard from Africa.
Unlike the wizarding world in Britain, most African wizards were tied to powerful family clans, clans that controlled entire Muggle tribes.
So even though Allen made it clear that this event he was organizing was extremely dangerous, possibly even deadly, he still managed to hire helpers with just a few sets of magical research documents he obtained from America.
Strong helper-level wizards, at that.
After all… human life is cheap over there, even wizard lives.
According to the letter, those wizards were ecstatic after seeing the documents. The so-called danger? Completely forgotten. To them, that knowledge was like a key to a new world, the price of knowledge among wizards!!!
Voldemort nearly crowned himself king after Dumbledore's death.
So now, oh great European Lord Voldemort, come and taste the wrath of a true unlucky African!!!
However, just as Allen finished reading the letter and was thinking whether the team needed another person, the bird on his shoulder grew impatient. It began pecking at his fingers, indicating that one piece of fish was not enough to fill its empty stomach.
You little brat, do you even know how chicken is made?
Before Allen could respond, the others were even faster. A group of students rushed over with a huge platter of fish, lining up eagerly to feed Valor.
A bunch of hopeless looks-over-personality addicts!
Ignoring the crowd, Allen quickly left the dining hall, he still needed to prepare Christmas gifts, after all. He already had plans for the holiday… such as clearing a dungeon run.
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Inside the Room of Requirement, Harry and Hermione had come to discuss continuing their special lessons during the Christmas break, only to be disappointed by the news that lessons would be paused.
"Why though? I think we should really use this holiday well, I feel like I'm this close to finishing this spell." Harry stared at Allen with a look of longing, very much like Mrs. Norris staring at Filch.
When Allen and the others were missing, their cat Pudding had started clinging to Filch, and Mrs. Norris stared exactly like that, "So you've found another cat outside, have you?", while glaring at Pudding stealing her food.
That look made Allen feel like he owed Harry money. If not because he needed to collect another debt, he would never give up such a great holiday earning opportunity!
This troublesome spell had a very corny and dusty name, the Protego Shield Charm.
As the name suggests, the spell creates a thin protective barrier, enough to block many basic curses.
Let's call this the Shield Spell 1.0.
Its defense strength is limited, its coverage is narrow, and its mana consumption is high. Basically, a bug-infested beta version with no patches.
Yet even such a flawed spell was not something everyone could learn. Even in the Ministry of Magic, there were tons of wizards who couldn't cast it.
Why? Simple.
Knowledge restriction.
This spell wasn't taught in core classes, just like Umbridge's "peace and harmony, no need to actually use your wand, theory is enough" nonsense.
Allen didn't hesitate to teach everything he knew, but unfortunately, the spell was simply too difficult.
Not everyone had the overwhelming mana reserves he and Annie had. But fortunately, both Harry and Hermione had enough talent to grasp at least a bit, so lessons progressed slowly but steadily.
As for why they had to learn it, the story goes back a bit.
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
It was mid-November, the day of Harry's first Quidditch match.
Although November in the UK wasn't cold enough to make iron bars taste sweet yet, it wasn't far off. Heavy snow covered the school grounds, and even the lake's surface had frozen solid.
Allen and Annie had been reading inside the Room of Requirement, because, while the library was ideal for reading, you couldn't enjoy hot drinks there. And leaning against fluffy Tibbers was absolutely forbidden.
In short, Allen had spoiled this room thoroughly, and Harry and the others were already corrupted into loving it too.
"Hey, Allen, please, my match is tomorrow. Can you come watch?" Harry asked earnestly, clearly considering Allen a real friend, since he didn't have many.
Allen didn't particularly care about Quidditch matches between other Houses, but he didn't refuse.
Now then… what was the outcome of that match again…?
From Allen's faint memory, the Savior practically never lost.
At least, not in a normal match.
Unfortunately, no matter how long Allen looked, he couldn't find anyone running betting odds, did students not gamble on Quidditch anymore?!
No matter how he complained, the long-awaited match still began.