After brooding for quite a while, Mr. Auror still didn't voice what was truly on his mind. Allen, on the other hand, was refreshingly straightforward.
"Then it's settled. Before you leave, let me know—I'll disguise myself and see you off. Oh, and sentiment is sentiment, business is business. Since we're all so familiar with each other, no need for a deposit. So… how are you planning to pay me?"
Mr. Auror felt as if a knife had suddenly stabbed into his heart. This was not a small sum. At the very least, he would have to pay out over a hundred Galleons himself. With how badly this mission had gone, there was no way his superiors would reimburse such a huge expense.
However, just as the words reached the tip of his tongue, he saw Allen's warm, enthusiastic smile—one that clearly said: If you dare suggest cutting my pay, I'll turn hostile immediately.
Enduring the pain in his heart, Mr. Auror replied at once, "Money won't be a problem. I don't have that much cash on me right now, but once I return to my country, I'll mobilize the Ministry of Magic and have someone in Britain issue you a Muggle cheque. Converting it into Galleons shouldn't be too difficult for you, right?"
"Of course not. Then, my old friend—pleasant cooperation?" Allen said with a grin as he extended his hand. He wasn't worried in the slightest that the other party might dare to owe him money.
Mr. Auror's mouth visibly twitched, but he still reached out and shook Allen's hand.
——
More than ten minutes later, Allen returned to the camp in high spirits, humming a little tune—only to be struck by a bolt from the blue.
At this moment, the tents that had once stood densely in the Hogwarts camp were now scattered sparsely, as if the area had suffered some kind of disaster. The spot where Allen's tent had been set up had reverted entirely to its original grassy state, causing the corner of his mouth to twitch uncontrollably.
After a long while, once he had finally accepted reality, Allen casually grabbed someone familiar nearby.
"Hey—Willy, good evening."
"Oh, Allen. Evening. Finished packing your things?"
"Packing what? Where did our tent go?"
"You didn't know? Most of our tents were donated. Aside from those used personally by the girls, and the tents that boys below third year are allowed to keep, all the others were donated to the girls from Ilvermorny. Tsk tsk, this was a decision the prefects made privately. Professor McGonagall was even quite pleased that they were being so considerate at a time like this. So we're all moving into the castle now. You'd better go pack up too." Willy winked at Allen, showing not the slightest distress over the donated tent.
Allen soon understood why—because this wasn't an official donation, but mutual aid between students.
As such, the activity wasn't mandatory, but voluntary. In other words, if you didn't want to donate your tent, you could simply opt out. Of course, if you did want to donate, you could personally deliver the tent yourself.
For example, Allen's tent had been given to a dormitory belonging to a girl Shane knew. At this very moment, Shane still had a vacant, dazed look in his eyes. According to eyewitness accounts, that girl had given him a passionate kiss—and the kid had been stunned senseless ever since…
Now lying on the castle floor in a sleeping bag alongside his roommates, Allen seriously began to doubt whether he had saved a fake disaster. He had clearly stopped that group of lunatics—so why was he the one squeezed inside the castle, sleeping in a sleeping bag?
——
The next evening, Allen quietly slipped away from the crowd alone. Under the guidance of someone he didn't recognize, he weaved through the campus in twists and turns, bypassing its protective measures. Clearly, this person was a covert operative planted by the American Ministry of Magic in Japan.
After leading Allen to a patch of woodland, the man left without saying a single word, evidently unwilling to let Allen learn any more about him.
Not long after, Allen spotted Mr. Auror and the four wizards. Their injuries hadn't fully healed yet, though their spirits had improved somewhat. At present, however, they were completely unarmed—their wands had been confiscated by the Headmistress of Ilvermorny during the handover that day. According to her, she intended to personally handle these wands, allowing those who had lost theirs in the disaster to gain their recognition. As for these criminals—letting them live was already a courtesy extended for the Ministry of Magic's sake.
Allen, wearing a face even he himself didn't recognize, spoke in a slightly hoarse voice. "Why the rush? It hasn't even been a full day yet. At least let these burdens recover from their injuries first!"
"There's no time for that. I underestimated how deeply Charlid has controlled the school over the years. Someone has already nearly tracked down my hiding place—a lower-year wizard. If he'd had more experience, I might've had to flee in disgrace on the spot. If Charlid had blocked me there, you'd probably be reading my obituary by now, saying I died in the line of duty."
Mr. Auror hadn't disguised himself. After all, he still needed to show his face to cross borders, and with four people in tow, he simply didn't have enough potions to stay hidden. Once discovered, it would practically be an instant GG.
Allen's words clearly irritated the four men. The one in the lead looked indignant, as if he wanted to argue—but after instinctively reaching for his wand and finding nothing there, he decisively gave up. With the knife in another's hand and the fish on the chopping board, he still had that much judgment.
"So we're leaving now? Do these guys even have enough magic left to Apparate?"
"How could they? Their bodies haven't recovered at all yet. Besides, this isn't a crisis moment. The most dangerous part is crossing the border. Once we report in, I'm certain Charlid will Apparate over immediately. At that point, the two of us will have to hold off the pursuers so these four have time to escape. I've already arranged routes and money for them. After they lie low for a while, I'll regroup with them. That's how we'll get through."
Wait—something's not right. Allen realized what Mr. Auror was planning. He was going to let these guys go? Let them cross the border on their own? If it were Allen, he'd have run for the ends of the earth—no way would he obediently go back.
But he quickly realized his mistake. For these four, running away would actually be courting death.
They had practically been bailed out by the Ministry of Magic by force. Leaving aside the pursuit within the school, those who had nearly lost everything in that massive fire would never let them off easily—and not all of those people were powerless nobodies. Moreover, under Ilvermorny's system, who knew how many graduated wizards would be willing to "solve" this problem for their alma mater? Escaping the Ministry's control would be tantamount to suicide. At present, the Ministry of Magic was the only force that could protect them. After all, having paid such a heavy price, the Ministry certainly hadn't saved them just to kill them afterward.
Still, Allen discreetly glanced at the four of them. As far as he knew, the three had powerful backgrounds.
Which meant that one of them would inevitably become the scapegoat. I wonder if that guy has realized it yet.
But—what did that have to do with him? He was just doing his job for the money.