No matter the school, clashes between students and administration were nothing new, even at Hogwarts.
Students and schools are naturally on opposite sides, especially in secondary school.
These teenage troublemakers, barely hitting middle school age, hated rules more than anything, whether in the Muggle world or the wizarding one.
So when Harry and Ron returned to their dormitory, they were treated like heroes, so much so that Harry could have sworn he'd won another Quidditch Cup.
But, as the saying goes, for every injustice, there's someone to shovel the path; for every display of bravado, there's a risk of a slap back. That karmic reckoning arrived the very next morning.
While Allen leisurely enjoyed a breakfast delivered by his own house-elves, a flurry of owls streaked across the sky.
This was typical in the first few days of school, late textbooks, potion ingredients, or any urgently needed items being delivered.
But today, one particularly lucky wizard received a truly magical gift, a letter in a red envelope.
Almost anyone receiving this would blush deeply, yet this letter was not the type of love confession from a cute girl that some might imagine. Its purpose was obvious from the start.
A Howler, as the name suggested, was a letter that shouted.
And indeed, it lived up to its name. At first, Allen sipped his porridge peacefully. Moments later, a tremendous BOOM of sound erupted from the Gryffindor table, echoing throughout the Great Hall.
Not just heard, felt. Mrs. Weasley's shrill yelling made the entire room tremble. Silverware clanged under the force of the sound waves, owls mid-flight had to grab onto something for stability, and even the sturdy walls quivered. It was like someone had unleashed a lion's roar.
Kids who prank their parents can hardly blame their mother when the tables turn, they're just the byproduct of the marriage, not the main event… and you're certainly not the only one.
Though the wizarding world didn't hand out phone credits with children, one couldn't rule out promotional potions with a freebie thrown in.
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For Harry, the Howler stirred more unease than a direct blow like Ron had received. But unfortunately, the flying car incident was far from over.
During their first extra-curricular lesson, the tiny practice room had no food for training breaks, a rare sight. Instead, the room had been drastically altered. The previously flat floor had turned into thick mud, and Allen stood atop a lotus blossom floating in the mire.
Upon entering, Harry noticed that even the floor at the doorway had transformed into a giant leaf, soft underfoot and surprisingly comfortable.
"Oh, Harry, you're here! Today, we'll learn something special," Allen greeted, then glanced at Hermione. "Some of today's material isn't quite suitable for you. I think you can rest over there for now."
Following Allen's gesture, Hermione looked toward a small corner where a tiny table sat on a patch of ice. Annie rested there, reading, occasionally snacking from a nearby plate.
With a snap of Allen's fingers, the enormous leaf carrying Hermione glided smoothly over the muddy floor.
Seeing Hermione arrive, Annie made a few gestures, creating a small hole in the ice dome just large enough for her to slip inside.
Once the dome was restored, Allen squinted at Harry.
"All right, Harry, I think today's lesson will be very interesting." He paused, searching his pockets.
After a long search, Allen finally retrieved what he needed, a flying broom he had spent two hours preparing.
The broom looked sharp and well-worn. Other brooms required constant maintenance of the tail bristles to keep a steady flight, with proper air cutting critical for stability. But for this broom, all those concerns were irrelevant.
Allen had originally sought a broom as old and simple as possible, but Madame Hooch insisted on delivering this one. In her words, it was one step from falling apart.
The bristles were stubby, the handle patched together, the kind of broom no one would touch if discarded.
In gaming terms, this broom was barely gray-quality equipment. For Harry, who had just flown on the high-end Nimbus 2000, this seemed shockingly primitive.
Yet Allen showed no hesitation. He treated the broom as if it were merely a wand, without shame.
"Harry, take it, and show me what you can do in this small room," Allen said, holding out a fire rod as an incentive.
Harry hesitated, but ultimately trusted Allen, he rarely steered them wrong.
This time, he was wrong.
Allen had no intention of holding back in this exercise.
Without more hesitation, Harry mounted the experimental broom. To his surprise, it was not unwieldy. The broom responded smoothly to his movements, agile in midair. A premonition struck him: compared to his Nimbus 2000, this broom was no worse.
Smooth speed, super-responsive, precise turning control, it was impressively agile.
Its only flaw might be its unattractive appearance, but Harry didn't care.
He spun, flipped, and performed a few risky Quidditch moves midair to express his boundless joy. To his delight, the broom held perfectly.
"Allen, where did you get this broom?" Harry asked sheepishly. Allen chuckled, pretending ignorance.
Nothing wrong with that. But can't you take it for a spin a couple of times?