Wizards aren't like wild herbs or magical creatures that naturally grow on their own.
Every wizard follows a traceable path of growth. You need a wand, you need to know the spells, and whether born into a traditional magical family or trained in an academy, it requires years of study and practice to truly become powerful.
Whether it's the first Dark Lord or the second, their development paths can be traced—they don't just appear out of nowhere. A wizard's strength comes from the accumulation of knowledge. Without a solid magical foundation, what good is a wand?
For this reason, Charlid was certain that the person who attacked them today could be traced. First, this individual must have had some connection with that Auror and a reasonably good relationship; otherwise, they wouldn't have risked angering Ilvermorny to intervene.
Second, the two hadn't been in contact for a while—otherwise it would be hard to explain why that Auror, even with such powerful reinforcements, still risked himself to protect them for so long. Clearly, the attacker's own strength wasn't weak, and given that the Auror only prepared one backup plan, the attacker must have been confident the backup could hold long enough for the escape to succeed.
Third, the person was drinking hot cocoa at the time. This indicated that the individual was relatively young, and the style of the cup suggested Japanese cultural influence—meaning the attacker had been in Japan before taking action.
Other details were harder to confirm. The attacker's appearance was likely disguised; their features, body type, and even gender might be false. Yet one vulnerability remained: the identity of the body's original owner. Capturing it could reveal strange clues.
Finally—apply pressure domestically.
If those people returned home, Ilvermorny wouldn't dare eliminate them, but that didn't make them enemies. With sufficient incentives, enemies could shake hands. If Ilvermorny forgave them—or even issued graduation certificates—they could sway even one person to abandon their previous stance. Ilvermorny represented half of the American wizarding world; that wasn't an exaggeration.
Compared to the shame hanging over them, the students' misdeeds were trivial. A disgrace this severe could only be cleansed with blood.
In the cramped hospital ward, a web to track the culprit began to slowly spread.
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Meanwhile, Allen had no idea that a group of people was already attempting to trace him using scant evidence and deduction.
So, he was still walking with a group of companions toward the castle, brows furrowed in worry. If nothing unexpected happened, they would be spending a long time in sleeping bags within the castle.
Unexpectedly, the professors brought them good news, smiles on their faces.
Professor McGonagall didn't say much, but the sight of a stack of brand-new tents behind her caused the boys, previously scowling, to cheer wildly. The school had been this fast in preparing? Incredible.
However, as the students excitedly began setting up the tents on the allocated plots, they quickly discovered a problem—the first group to finish crawled inside and found no rooms, no toilets, no beds, no furniture, not even lights.
The interior was completely empty, and the space painfully cramped—no different from the outside appearance.
"Oh—don't be disappointed, gentlemen," Professor McGonagall said, silencing their complaints. "These are materials for magical tents. They accept magical modification far more easily than Muggle tents. These items were urgently transported here, with considerable effort from Ilvermorny. Soon, professional wizards will come to enchant them properly. Of course, if you wish, you may do it yourselves. This is Ilvermorny's gesture of generosity—these tents will not be reclaimed by the school afterward."
The announcement caused cheers. Clearly, Ilvermorny's efforts to earn goodwill were successful. And judging by these supplies, most likely funded by the American Ministry of Magic.
"However—I must warn you not to modify them recklessly, especially lower-year students. It's best to wait for the school's unified instructions," she added, though few actually heard her.
Compared to factory-made magical tents, customizing them fit the aesthetic of these mischievous students better—though most would need help from older students.
Seeing the students' excited faces, Professor McGonagall left promptly, leaving the little wizards to celebrate wildly on their own.
Yet, after half a day of cheer, a problem emerged. Though these were magical tent materials, modifying them was no simple task.
This required skill. Ilvermorny had sent semi-finished tents to quickly repair their image. Professional wizards would likely finish the work later, but for now, it was about restoring goodwill.
Even space-expanding magic alone wasn't something lower-year students could handle. Adding supportive equipment magically was even more complex.
Even Allen managed only to reveal the magically hidden carpets, expand the space slightly, and add some lighting. Others fared worse; only a few seventh-years achieved results comparable to his.
As expected, after exhausting themselves, Professor Flitwick arrived to bring the students back to the castle, where sleeping bags were ready.
Why did Hogwarts cooperate so thoroughly with Ilvermorny?
Because yesterday, the students had been wild. Their energy was overwhelming, and the school prepared tasks to keep them occupied, preventing further chaos.
But the administration had underestimated just how unstoppable these boys were—no one wanted to return.
Some even found books on magical tent studies and began experimenting, while others spontaneously organized to learn alongside them.
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