Believe it or not, Allen believed it first.
But Hermione glanced down at the unconscious Harry and asked a question that almost petrified Allen, "Um, Allen, maybe wake Harry up first?"
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Silence. Allen suddenly felt awkward, he was used to knocking people out, not waking them up. He'd knocked out Slytherin boys more times than he could count, but never once managed to wake anyone up...
Maybe some fresh water? Or cold water? Eh, forget it.
But wasn't Hermione supposed to be the know-it-all genius? Allen turned to her with a questioning look, only to see her equally clueless eyes, which made him give up the idea. Looks like she hadn't studied this stuff either.
"Well then, while we wait, we can discuss why you can't cast the Disarming Charm properly," Allen shrugged. Looks like Harry would have to wake up naturally.
When Hermione cautiously succeeded in casting her first Disarming Charm, Allen nonchalantly flicked his wand, lightly "watered down", and it flew out of his hand into a surprised Hermione's. She was genuinely shocked, having prepared herself for mockery.
Then came Allen's applause. "Nice work, that's already top-tier watered-down technique. Back when Professor Sigma taught us, many students didn't even grasp this spell by the third lesson."
Listening to this, a newly awakened Harry grumbled silently, I paid for this too, why didn't I get this treatment...?
Anyway, both sides were happy after the first lesson. After all, it was the first time Harry and the others truly mastered magic for combat, not just the everyday stuff.
Before leaving, Harry finally voiced his burning question: "Um, Allen, sorry, can I ask how you were when you first learned this?"
Allen's expression flickered, then he quickly replied, "Uh, about the same speed as you. Well, it's late, I need to get to Filch's office."
After a hurried goodbye, Allen dashed to Filch's office. His face was still a little pale, there was no denying the horror of what had just happened.
Even though he breezed through Professor Sigma's test, the memory was still painfully vivid, they had been tasked to take a letter so deadly it could be called a weapon.
The letter was carved onto a wooden stick, covered with the most nauseatingly polite writing, and carried by a creature that spoke human language but looked disgustingly magical.
They were told to snatch that stick using the Disarming Charm, and until they succeeded, the creature would call out their names and read the letter aloud...
Allen had grabbed it early on, but that didn't erase his lingering dread, the word "dear" had already been said, and half of Allen's name pronounced...
As for the unlucky ones who couldn't cast their spells no matter what, Allen shook his head and shoved those awful memories aside. Best to forget those eye-burning scenes.
Filch's office was no problem. Since Allen got on good terms with Mrs. Norris, he could dodge almost all punishments.
Too bad not all punishments meant staying in Filch's office.
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The basement was dim and reeked of potions, making the students' enthusiasm for potions class almost zero, largely thanks to Professor Snape himself.
The tides had turned. After Allen was sentenced to hard labor, Professor Snape took over as the new "boss."
It was easy to guess Snape's opinion of Allen, every professor knew about the weekly student who came just to grind experience in their classes, and Allen had been at it for nearly three weeks.
Ignoring him wasn't an option, but that didn't mean Snape would go easy on Allen, right in front of him was a huge bucket full of African horned toads.
Their guts were the next potions ingredient, and to preserve the ingredients, magic couldn't be used to handle them.
Allen wanted to spit blood on that bucket, it was huge enough to be called a tank...
Not only would this be used in class, but the amount was enough to sell for at least ten days. Snape was clearly taking personal revenge.
Protesting was pointless, and Allen didn't even try. Want to argue with Snape? Save yourself.
He glared at the twitching toads and limping Snape leg, wishing the professor had been a bit rougher when dealing with that three-headed dog. If Snape got hospitalized, Allen might skip this punishment, but no such luck.
Just as he put on protective gloves, preparing to face this miserable reality, the basement door suddenly opened, and a small head peeked in.
"Who's there? Don't you know it's the weekend? Classrooms are closed!"
Snape's voice startled the small wizard.
The boy timidly delivered a message that felt like a lifeline to Allen: "Sorry, Professor, but there's a notice for Allen."
"Allen might not be available to hear it. He's paying for his stupidity. And if you don't leave soon, I suspect you're here to help him."
"Sorry, Professor. This is from Dumbledore. The headmaster wants Allen to come to his office immediately. Here's the office key and a note." The boy looked scared, nearly dropping the parchment.
Allen wanted to hug this lifesaver, Snape's expression suddenly improved after checking the note. After a long pause, he decided to let Allen off the hook...
Unfortunately, the little wizard didn't quite read the situation. Instead of leaving, he looked expectantly at Snape: "Um, Professor, can I keep this note from Dumbledore?"
Snape handed it over as if he had swallowed a fly. The boy dashed out, making Allen almost laugh.
Allen quickly followed him, he didn't want to face an angry Snape.
But for some reckless reason, Allen had a very tempting idea, he turned his head, stuck out his tongue at Snape, and went "nuh-uh, nuh-uh..."
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