Smooth sailing.
Whether it was because Mr. Auror's preparations finally paid off, or because the other side never intended to intercept them along the way, the journey passed without incident. Not until Allen and the others used magic to quietly slip out of the cargo truck did the driver notice anything amiss.
After roughly half an hour of movement, they finally reached their destination.
The border checkpoint of the Japanese wizarding world.
This was a place that was usually pretty useless—any wizard strong enough could easily bypass its surveillance. Unless there was a large-scale wizarding entry or a sudden surge of people crossing at once, this place couldn't stop anyone at all.
That said, even though it was little more than a detection station, anyone seeking legal entry still had to register inside. Otherwise, like Allen's previous illegal entry, the Ministry of Magic could arrest you at any time.
To obtain legitimate status, the Auror and his group had no choice but to pass through here—Allen, of course, was the exception.
With skill came courage. After entering stealth, Allen simply followed behind the Auror, relying on extremely nimble movements and barely perceptible magic to evade the detection spells and instruments. This was the most dangerous moment—if too many of those bastards died here, he'd really have no face left to demand payment from the Auror later.
The wizard managing border entry and exit was short, and he stuttered badly. Whether it was deliberate or not, no one could say—but time ticked away second by second as he dragged things out.
Fortunately, he finished processing everything before the enemy arrived, handing over the exit documents to the group.
Once everything was done, he flashed them a smile and spoke fluently, without the slightest trace of a stutter.
"Wishing you a most unforgettable journey. Now, gentlemen, please leave. Otherwise, I'll have to report to my superiors that someone is illegally lingering at the border."
There was no doubt about it—this guy had intentionally wasted their time, and had almost certainly already informed Charlid that someone was leaving the country.
Unfortunately, even knowing this, Mr. Auror could do nothing about it. If he attacked the man, it would be regarded as an open provocation against the Japanese wizarding world. After all, the fellow had merely spoken unclearly—he hadn't attacked anyone.
Throwing him a just-you-wait glare, the Auror didn't hesitate for even a second before bolting forward. The four men followed close behind without slowing down at all. Everyone knew that right now, time was life. One misstep, one delay—and they'd be done for.
Earlier, when explaining the plan, the Auror had been very clear: he could only buy them a short window of time, during which they were to escape using an illegally placed Portkey at the border. If they were too slow and got traced back to it, then all they could do was blame their own lack of speed. As for how long he could stall—Mr. Auror had promised a quarter of an hour.
At the other end of the Portkey lay prepared Muggle clothes, money, and—most importantly—their wands. Purchasing wands inside Japan was something the Auror would never dare attempt; it was far too easy to leave a trail and be tracked down.
"Move, move, move! Stop dragging your feet, time's limited—you all know this. Once you're back, there's still a chance to live. But if you're marked, I will abandon you at the most dangerous moment. At worst, I'll be hidden away or even dismissed—don't expect me to trade my life for yours. But if you get caught, I guarantee your beloved Headmaster won't hesitate to wash away his humiliation with your blood!"
Urged on by the Auror, all four men pressed their hands onto a massive seashell at once. In the blink of an eye, they vanished—leaving behind only two belated spell attacks that struck the empty ground.
Just as the Auror had anticipated—the boss had arrived.
"Well. Very well indeed, Auror. You truly have courage. This is the second time you've slapped me in the face in public."
A tall, gaunt figure emerged amid a cluster of wizards. Headmaster Charlid's voice was calm—too calm.
Without any warning, dozens of spells shot toward the Auror at once. There was nothing left to say now—if they repelled or killed him, the Ilvermorny group could swiftly reach the Portkey's origin point and analyze its destination.
With such a hastily arranged Portkey, Charlid clearly couldn't secure one of those ancient, anti-tracking wizarding structures. Once the Auror was dead, the so-called "traitors" would soon be recovered—and executed.
For that goal, killing this Auror was an acceptable price. Given the school's standing within the American wizarding world, such an incident could easily be suppressed.
Several spells were dodged, but many still blasted the ground apart, sending sand flying everywhere. The rest slammed mercilessly into the Auror's shield.
BANG! BANG! BANG!—the sound rang out like a pounding drum.
As the smoke and explosive afterglow faded just enough to see clearly, the Auror stared in horror at his shield, now thin as cicada wings. Just a little more, and the enemy's magic would have hit him directly.
He'd overestimated himself. Though he was a battle-hardened Auror, he had still underestimated the professors Ilvermorny could mobilize. Even if they were pure academics, their combat strength was anything but weak.
At this rate, he doubted he could last even five minutes on his own. Thankfully, he still had backup—if that brat Allen stepped in, holding out for ten minutes shouldn't be a problem.
But now came the real issue—where the hell was that bastard?
The moment they crossed the border, the kid had vanished. Not by leaving, but by using concealment magic to evade the checkpoint's inspection.
He's probably preparing some large-scale spell, the Auror thought, rolling aside to dodge two incoming curses.
A violet, corrosive spell rapidly formed at the tip of his wand before being hurled straight at the wizard whose casting was the least refined. Right now, he had to buy Allen time and advantage—so Allen could buy him even more time… and get him out alive.
After all, he owed that bastard a huge sum of money. He didn't believe Allen would really abandon him.
Earlier, he'd still been confident he could escape. Now, though, if he saved strength for running, the enemy would probably finish him off in three minutes flat. He was already being driven into a desperate retreat, forced to completely abandon the defense of the Portkey area.
At this point, he was truly trading his life for time. Several lethal spells had missed his shield by a hair's breadth—if their power had been just a bit greater, he'd already be declared killed in the line of duty.
Finally, after his shield was shattered for the umpteenth time, the Auror couldn't hold back anymore and shouted,
"Mate! Get out here! If this keeps up, you'll have to ask Merlin himself to collect my money!"
At his shout, an overwhelming wave of magic crushed the incoming spells. Allen appeared—one hand holding a cup of hot cocoa, the other gripping his wand. His tone was relaxed.
"Hey, at least put in a bit of effort, will you? I've only finished half my drink."