CRACK— the sound of wooden floorboards splitting came from beneath Allen's feet. He had just rolled off the bed and climbed down, yet his expression didn't change in the slightest. He bent down and touched the floor, and under the influence of magic, the broken planks instantly returned to their original state.
Mm. Very good. That's another expense saved.
After wrecking two guest rooms at Fox's place, he'd already paid nearly a hundred Galleons in compensation. Ordinary items were one thing, but anything even remotely related to magic—even mass-produced magical tools nowadays—was notoriously hard to repair.
And that idiot fox had actually charged him for it.
Especially with a butler watching the whole time, there was no way to delay payment. Allen had no doubt she was taking revenge for being slapped and sent flying.
It was only twice! Was that really worth being so petty?!
After carefully finishing a lavish breakfast, Allen began his daily basic training routine. Aside from the moment right after waking up—when his unconscious strength output was still too much—he made no mistakes today.
It could be said that his recovery training was basically complete. After all, he'd already put in a full week of effort.
Yes. An entire week.
It had taken him far longer than expected to regain full control of his strength in every aspect of daily life. He'd even had to ask Huaro to help him request leave from his professors again.
Thankfully, the professors approved it. Otherwise, things would've gotten ugly. Skipping classes was a serious offense—even in the wizarding world.
Now that he was mostly back to normal, occasional accidents could be remedied without causing major damage. That meant it was finally time to say goodbye.
After all, his current profession was student. If he kept asking for leave, even the professors would start having a problem with it.
After formally bidding farewell to Fox, Allen didn't even bother renting a seabird. He directly used magic to move to the teleportation point inside Mahoutokoro.
Those little creatures were just too cute—he was afraid he'd accidentally pat one to death…
To his surprise, there weren't many students around.
After he proved his identity, the professor in charge of the teleportation point merely nodded and let him through.
What's going on?
Isn't today the weekend? Why isn't there a single person on the road?
It didn't look like anything had gone wrong either.
What the hell is this?
Allen was full of questions, but clearly no one was around to answer them. As for the professor who'd been on guard earlier—Allen wasn't about to poke that hornet's nest.
Only now did he remember that this counted as illegal Apparition. The professor not noticing had already saved him from needing to cast a Confundus Charm. Going back would just be asking for trouble.
Fortunately, he didn't stay confused for long.
By the time he passed near the plaza, dusk had already fallen. Suddenly, massive crowds surged out alongside waves of cheering.
Only then did realization hit him.
Oh—there's a match today.
He'd been so busy these past few days that he'd nearly forgotten about the inter-school Quidditch matches. He wondered how the results were going.
Did Hufflepuff win…?
…Forget it. No expectations.
This year's team was made up entirely of freshmen. How could that lineup possibly win? Not getting completely crushed would already be a miracle.
Just as Allen was pondering the match results, a group of Hufflepuffs approached.
Mm. Familiar faces.
But those looks were highly illegal—they made Allen itch to punch someone.
Hey, brats, do you even know what it means to respect your seniors?!
Unfortunately, no such respect was forthcoming—because the ones who came over were Hufflepuff girls.
Amidst the contemptuous gazes, Allen really wanted to beat up Marshall.
Even though he'd had Huaro deliver his leave request and explanation letters that very day, there was no way that big mouth had stayed shut. The story had clearly spread before the letters arrived.
What? Other people were present too, so he couldn't just blame Marshall?
Allen didn't care.
If he didn't make Marshall bleed a few dinners' worth of money, how could this possibly be resolved?
As for everything else—Allen couldn't control that anyway. Too many people had seen it. If he could at least scam Marshall a bit for emotional compensation, that'd already be a win.
That's right.
Everything was Marshall's fault!
With that firmly in mind, Allen began scanning the crowded sea of people.
Marshall was pretty distinctive—he shouldn't be hard to find.
To avoid damaging anything important, Allen moved with extreme care, not daring to apply even a bit of extra force. This drew the attention of several upperclassmen.
Just as he was searching for Marshall, a potion bottle was quietly slipped into his hand.
The older student who handed it over wore an I've-been-there expression.
"Here. An Energy Potion I brewed myself. You should know how to use it—young people need to take care of their bodies."
The boys around him looked on with expressions of envy, burning passion, or paternal concern.
In short—not a single one of them looked normal.
Silently adding names to a mental list, Allen began asking them about the match.
To his surprise, the tournament had progressed very quickly.
Due to limited time for inter-school exchanges, they'd used a single-elimination format.
Lose once—and you're out.
That was understandable. There was only one champion, and everyone else got nothing anyway. This event was just a way to burn off excess energy from young wizards, not a competition tied to academic results.
And since these exchanges weren't held every year, there was no way to scale it into a large tournament.
Unexpectedly, Hufflepuff had only been eliminated after reaching the quarterfinals.
The semifinals were now set:
One Mahoutokoro club team,
Ilvermorny's Wampus House,
Hogwarts' Gryffindor,
and Slytherin.
At present, Slytherin was the most favored to win, while Gryffindor was widely considered the weakest.
The reason was simple—equipment.
Gryffindor's brooms were a mismatched mess of old and new, easily the worst setup. Slytherin, on the other hand, had a uniform lineup of Nimbus 2001s, completely crushing everyone else through sheer gear advantage.
However, the champion wouldn't be decided next week.
Apparently, a sponsor had thrown in two thousand Galleons to demand naming rights. Under his strong insistence, the remaining four teams would play an additional third-place match.
The rewards had also been increased.
As for the extra week—he planned to use it entirely for hype and promotion.
Shockingly, the school hadn't taken a single Galleon from the sponsorship, dumping it all into the prize pool.
Even Allen felt tempted.
So much money…
Of course, it was completely useless to him. He couldn't even scrape together a full team, let alone win the championship.
That said—the main culprit finally appeared.
Marshall arrived hand-in-hand with his beloved girlfriend, who flirts everywhere.
The moment he saw Allen, his first reaction was to instinctively dodge backward.
As expected.
You little bastard definitely didn't do anything good.
Allen strode forward. Even while restraining his strength, several small pits appeared in the ground.
Then his hand landed on Marshall's shoulder.
A faint crack of bones echoed.
Nothing was broken—but it definitely hurt.
"My dear brother Marshall," Allen said warmly, "it's been a whole week. I've missed you so much. How've you been lately?"
His hand lifted gently—then patted down again.
Marshall's shoulder was already numb.
Just as Allen was happily calculating how many meals Marshall would need to treat him to in order to heal his deeply wounded heart, a soft voice suddenly sounded beside him:
"Good evening, big brother—it's been over a week. Did you have fun this time?"