These days, there are far too many clever people, and not enough fools to go around.
Although the entire sequence of events had been bizarre and convoluted—practically a complete reversal of expectations—many of those watching were able to guess the outcome almost correctly.
Still, guessing and accepting are two entirely different matters.
For the eager staff of Ilvermorny, who were important participants in this whole incident, the moment they understood what was happening, it felt like biting into an apple only to find half a worm inside.
The script unfolding before them was completely beyond their imagination.
Wasn't the plan for Hogwarts to lose an adult? Weren't they supposed to step in as champions of justice and have a little face-slapping fun?
Why, then, were two of their own professors being hoisted and beaten by a Hogwarts student? And worse, why had their positions subtly shifted in the process?
The supposed "agents of justice" had become like monkeys in the middle of this farce.
Setting aside the instant overturning of the kidnapping and murder allegations, had they been running around all this time just for the sake of a fox?
What a joke!
Even Ilvermorny's headmaster could imagine the disgusted, mocking faces of the Ministry officials back home.
"Oh, those fools—they're completely embarrassing us American wizards. They have no clue what's going on and yet they're at the very front, like stupid baboons!"
Such thoughts ran through Headmaster Charide's mind repeatedly, but he managed to rein in his anger and frustration, replacing it with a polite smile.
He turned to the wizard beside him and called out, loud enough for everyone to hear:
"Still standing there, Sam? Go help our professors. Now that the misunderstanding is cleared up, I imagine the Hogwarts student won't be attacking the professors recklessly anymore, right?"
After a quick reminder that the Hogwarts student had indeed struck their professors, the headmaster spun around with exaggerated enthusiasm and called to Dumbledore:
"Oh—Albus, you have no idea how happy I am! When I first heard that someone from your school had done something so terrifying, I refused to believe it. But thankfully, everything has been handled perfectly, and your school no longer has to worry about producing a demon that could destabilize the entire wizarding world. Oh heavens, Merlin above, I cannot tell you how relieved I am!"
His words were a mixture of congratulations and veiled ridicule, hinting that perhaps the Dark Lord incident was partly Hogwarts' fault. Yet he skillfully shifted the blame away from himself while maintaining that pristine smile.
There's no denying it—this headmaster was a master of verbal manipulation.
Dumbledore, however, kept his gentle smile.
"Oh, it's quite alright. In such circumstances, ordinary wizards would struggle to control their emotions and might act irrationally. Fortunately, Allen, as an outstanding Hogwarts student, has sufficient self-protection skills, so no tragedy ensued. That's truly fortunate.
I wonder if your professors sustained any serious injuries? Young people, after all, can't always measure the strength of their actions. It's understandable, isn't it?"
Dumbledore's seemingly sympathetic words were actually a classic Old Dumbledore Truth Bomb—each sentence delivered a subtle jab.
Calling the opposing wizards mediocre, their handling immature, their professors unable to match his students' strength… every remark hit hard.
Yet all they could do was forgive Dumbledore—reason or force, they held no advantage at that moment.
Meanwhile, Allen—who had felt secure until now—suddenly winced.
Given the other party's high status, the usual courtesy would have been to offer several thousand Galleons just for the sake of her niece's noble lineage.
But as the woman began rummaging across the floor, a reflective bag caught Allen's full attention.
It was the leftover from Valor's feeding—the dog food packaging.
Judging from her expression, Allen had every reason to believe she was searching for this item.
A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. Director, the script is wrong!
His niece had been found—healthy, unscathed, even a little chubbier. A small token of thanks would suffice, and everyone could walk away happy. Why investigate further?
Even if it's just dog food, didn't his older schoolmates enjoy it plenty? Being so pedantic over nothing seemed pointless.
Allen wasn't sure whether she, upon confirming her niece's safety, would also discover that her little princess had been treated like a pet and gleefully note down the dog food brand—ideally, that would be the best outcome, though its likelihood was low.
Fortunately, Sam, the Ilvermorny wizard, arrived just then.
The vines scorched by fire were far harder to manage than he expected, and he needed help from the instigator.
As he gently tapped Allen to start a conversation, the unexpected happened—
The little wizard, who hadn't been subdued by several people, collapsed with a plop under the lightest touch.
"What just happened? He was fierce just moments ago! I swear, Merlin, I didn't cast a spell!"
The honest, dispatched wizard panicked. Allen's suspicion was cleared, yet here he was, apparently stealing an attack on a student!
Thankfully, the fox stood nearby.
With a graceful gesture, she slowed Allen's descent, making him land as lightly as a feather.
Hogwarts' Head of House was first to rush over.
After a brief check, Professor Sprout relaxed and called out:
"Nothing serious. He fainted due to excessive magical exertion."
Upon learning this, the hearts of many Ilvermorny wizards sank two big stones:
First, no need to worry that Dumbledore would flip and take action.
Second, that little pervert had already reached his limit—he wasn't some terrifying, uncontrollable wizard.
With the aid of several invigorating herbal juices, the feigning-sleep Allen opened his eyes.
He had just stored all his magic in the Tears of the Goddess, successfully pulling off the trick.
At the moment the woman was about to discover the packaging bag, he had thought of this contingency, and serendipitously collided into her—hardly his fault, right?
Still, he could at least give her some face.
After all, with their pride slightly dented, and Dumbledore unlikely to easily relent, letting her vent a little seemed fair enough.
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