When Allen returned, he noticed a small figure standing quietly outside his door. The figure wore pajamas and had deep pink hair, it was Annie.
"Allen? Is that you?" she asked softly. A small flame flickered in her palm, not large, but certainly not something any wizard could afford to ignore if it struck.
"It's me, Annie. It's late, go back to bed!" Allen whispered sharply, half scolding her.
The little girl shook her head and spoke in a quiet but determined voice.
"Why didn't you take me with you? Annie knew you went out. Couldn't I help?"
Allen's heart twitched. He gently ruffled her hair. "Alright, don't be upset. Go get some rest. Next time, if you can help, I'll take you with me."
"No," Annie insisted, stepping forward, her eyes serious. "You smell like blood, Onii-chan. If there was a fight, why didn't you bring me? Annie's strong, you know! And no matter what anyone else thinks, Annie is always on your side."
Allen blinked, then gave her a soft smile. "Okay, okay. Next time, I promise I'll bring you. But for now, off to bed!"
Under Allen's gentle but firm persuasion, Annie finally turned around and obediently went back to her room, leaving Allen alone in the hallway.
Always on my side, huh?
He chuckled quietly to himself. Not necessary, Annie. Even if I sometimes feel burdened by knowing things in advance and not being able to tell anyone… I can handle it.
But still… having someone who will always stand by you... that's not a bad feeling.
Lying on the familiar bed he hadn't seen in a while, Allen let his thoughts drift as a peaceful smile crept onto his face, and soon, he fell into a deep, restful sleep.
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Once everything with Annie had been settled, Allen's intense Hogwarts life resumed. Apart from his now-regular weekly letters and the departure of one Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, very little had changed.
Well, maybe some things had.
Ever since Professor Sigma's departure, the strange daily routine of gauging what kind of afternoon you'd have based on how miserable the other Houses looked at lunch had vanished completely. The day after the celebration, Dumbledore officially informed the students of the situation, which kicked off an unofficial, week-long private celebration among the students, most of whom had half-expected the news anyway.
Dumbledore's announcement was worded like this:
"It's with regret that we've lost another devoted and capable professor. While no harm has befallen him, we are quite certain of one thing, he will no longer be returning to teach at Hogwarts. Until further notice, Defense Against the Dark Arts classes will be replaced with supervised self-study. We expect to welcome a new professor after next summer."
Another one, huh?
So… Defense Against the Dark Arts Professors really are a consumable resource at Hogwarts.
Allen silently observed a moment of silence for the next poor soul destined to take the role, and, for good measure, gave an early condolence for Professor Quirrell, who was currently teaching Muggle Studies but would almost certainly become the new Defense teacher in third year.
Allen didn't plan on interfering with things, at least not until he was strong enough to face Voldemort directly.
As for sympathy toward Quirrell? None. The man wasn't under the Imperius Curse. He voluntarily let Voldemort possess him.
After the celebrations faded, the students slowly began to realize just how painfully boring Defense class had become without a proper teacher. Some even found themselves missing Professor Sigma.
But that nostalgia didn't last long.
Because the one thing stronger than sentiment is schoolwork.
Final exams were right around the corner.
Apparently, even wizards couldn't escape tests...
Seriously, who decided 60 was a passing score? Wouldn't 50 be fine?
…Oh right, Hogwarts used a grading scale instead.
The professors, sensing the end of term, started piling on homework with near-sadistic glee. It was as if they'd discovered the legendary "sea of questions" method from a distant land.
Only Allen, armed with lightning speed and years of test-taking trauma from his past life, had time to grumble about it. The others? As Marshall put it, "Our last drop of mental strength is being squeezed out and smeared onto parchment."
The summer heat didn't help either. Every spot in the library was taken, unless you arrived painfully early.
The castle lawns were packed with students sitting cross-legged in the grass, books and notes in hand. Even the Slytherins didn't have time to mess with Allen anymore.
Unfortunately, that just made room for other unhinged wizards, now on edge from exam stress. Occasionally, someone would lash out with a Banishing Charm at innocent passersby, Allen included. And of course, Allen didn't hesitate to retaliate. Fair's fair.
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Eventually, just when it felt like everyone's nerves were stretched to the breaking point…
The exams have arrived.
They came one after another, sparing no subject except for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Students were drained of every last ounce of energy.
The practical exams were manageable, Allen easily picked up on the professors' approving looks. They were clearly satisfied with his performance.
The real challenge, however, lay in the theoretical exams.
Especially History of Magic, Allen's personal Achilles' heel.
Stuffy heat, suffocating silence, and brain-breaking questions turned the exam hall into a scene straight out of hell.
When it was all over, Allen collapsed onto the sun-warmed grass outside the castle, exhausted. Lying nearby in a similar sprawl were the Weasley twins.
"Allen," Fred muttered, "if it weren't for these damn exams, we'd have already cracked that map wide open."
"George," Allen replied lazily, "I think exams might be a little more important than a secret map. How'd you do, anyway?"
"Oh, grades aren't everything…" George said vaguely. "But yeah, I think I passed everything. Probably."
"I mean, no matter how hard we try, we'll never beat Charlie and Bill," Fred chimed in. "And Percy, Merlin, that guy's a full-on study maniac. With brothers like that, no one expects us to be geniuses. So passing is good enough."
"Oh yeah, Allen, wanna come stay with us over the holidays?" George added casually.
"I think Mum would love to have you," Fred smirked. "Charlie basically filled his last letter with every compliment he could think of about you. Sooo, Allen, how'd those compliments feel?"
Allen gave them a perfectly serious look. "Charlie made a mistake."
That got the twins' attention. That didn't sound like the Allen they knew.
"He left out the most important one." Allen grinned and pointed to himself.
"The devastatingly handsome Allen."
In response, he got four middle fingers.
==========
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