Allen settled back into the comforting, slightly smoky atmosphere of the Leaky Cauldron. Before he had finished even half of his glass of surprisingly bitter, chilled raw gill juice—a traditional wizarding refreshment that tasted distinctly earthy—Harry's swift reply arrived via an ordinary brown owl. The message was concise, a few hurriedly scribbled words: Hagrid and I are going to the Leaky Cauldron now.
Now that the immediate pressure of the quest was off and he knew his friend was arriving, Allen felt immensely more relaxed. He ordered a generous array of traditional wizarding fare and snacks, preemptively adding extra portions since he knew the gargantuan appetite of Hagrid.
He also requested Tom, the genial, balding barman, to prepare a special, more traditional version of Pumpkin Juice. He watched as Tom meticulously worked: first, puréeing ripe pumpkin, crisp green apples, and sweet almonds.
Next, generous measures of cinnamon and pumpkin pie spice were folded into the thick purée, mixed until the spices were fully incorporated. Finally, water was added and stirred again. The resulting drink, Allen knew, would be far more complex and flavorful than the saccharine, bottled juice that Luna Lovegood would later remember enjoying.
"Allen! I'm here!" Harry called out, waving excitedly across the room.
Beside him stood a truly massive giant, Rubeus Hagrid. His face was almost entirely obscured by a shaggy, unkempt mane of hair and a thick, tangled beard, but his kind, black, beetle-like eyes shone brightly from beneath the foliage.
Both figures were laden with packages of various awkward sizes and shapes, and Harry held a large, snow-white owl, currently fast asleep, nestled securely in his arms.
Thankfully, there were few Muggle-born families currently passing through the Leaky Cauldron, otherwise such a monumental figure as Hagrid would have undoubtedly drawn immediate, unwanted attention.
"Allen, this is Rubeus Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, and Master of the Hunt," Harry cheerfully introduced Hagrid. It was clear that simply being in a familiar, friendly presence in an overwhelming, new world had animated Harry considerably. "Hagrid, this is one of my very best friends, Allen Harris."
"It's a great pleasure to meet you, Hagrid," Allen said smoothly, extending his hand with the confidence of an adult.
Hagrid blinked, carefully setting his bundles down on a nearby table. He rubbed his enormous hands against the coarse material of his great moleskin coat, then delicately, tentatively, shook Allen's small hand. "Nice to meet you too, Allen. Harry's told me a lot about you."
Tom the barman arrived with the food Allen had pre-ordered, and Allen quickly added a request for Hagrid—a giant mug of fish-flavored green ale, a strong, acquired taste that he knew his father often enjoyed. The table was soon groaning under the weight of delicious food, and the three of them ate heartily; after a busy day of shopping and unexpected quests, everyone was ravenous.
The comfortable silence didn't last long. Harry eventually set down his fork, the burden of his new reality clearly weighing on him.
"Allen, everyone keeps telling me I'm special," Harry confessed, his voice low with anxiety. "The people here in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander… but I don't know anything about magic. How can they expect me to achieve anything great? I'm famous, but I don't even remember the things that made me famous. That night with You-Know-Who—I mean, the night my parents died—I just don't know what happened."
Before Allen could formulate a response, Hagrid patted Harry gently on the head. Underneath his heavy brow and wild beard, the half-giant's expression was openly compassionate. "Don't you worry your head about it, Harry. You'll pick it up fast. Most wizards start from scratch at Hogwarts. You'll do brilliantly. Believe me. You'll have a wonderful time at Hogwarts, just like I did—and honestly, I had a great time, still do."
"Harry, believe me, most students from wizarding families don't know much more than you do right now. Trust Hagrid, you'll be incredible," Allen nodded in agreement, then gave Harry a quick, reassuring wink. "Besides, I think almost everyone forgets what happened when they were only a baby…"
"But you come from a wizarding family, and you're so extraordinary, picking up things so quickly," Harry argued, visibly frustrated. "Compared to you, I really feel like I'll be terrible." He clearly felt that if all young wizards possessed Allen's evident quickness and background, he would certainly be at the bottom of the class, and Hogwarts might regret accepting him.
Seeing Harry's genuine distress, Allen focused on tangible solutions. "Listen, you can write to me frequently this holiday with the beautiful snowy owl Hagrid gave you. I'll tell you everything you want to know about the wizarding world. You can start studying your textbooks ahead of time, too. In fact, many Muggle-born wizards often outperform pure-bloods, especially in academic subjects, early in the year, precisely because they study the textbooks so hard beforehand. The advantage of the pure-bloods, apart from a few families who maintain powerful lineage, is mostly just pre-existing knowledge."
He paused, offering the final, strategic move. "If you'd like, my father actually asked me to extend an invitation for you to stay at our house before school starts. Then we can go to Hogwarts together."
Allen's strategy of distraction and practical planning was highly successful. Harry's face brightened instantly. "Really? That's amazing! That means I can leave my uncle's house even sooner!"
After a hearty meal, Hagrid, slightly embarrassed by the sheer amount of food the children had treated him to, insisted on escorting Harry back. Harry, visibly much more relaxed and buoyed by the prospect of escaping the Dursleys, exchanged sincere goodbyes with Allen. Allen remained, waiting for his family to complete their lengthy shopping expedition at the Leaky Cauldron.
Finally, his mother, father, sister, and brother returned, thoroughly exhausted and laden with bags and packages. The Harris family used the Portkey to return to their secluded home, immediately setting about unpacking their numerous belongings. Allen took his own items to his bedroom, finally securing the quiet time necessary to properly examine his quest rewards.
The Magic Orb of the Goddess of Fortune, Fowles, rested silently in the system's storage area, emitting a steady, warm glow. Allen knew this orb offered a significant, passive defensive advantage against all forms of negative magical effects and curses—a potent shield against the Dark Arts.
Next were the Alchemical Notes from the Ancient Alchemist Jeber. A thick stack of aged, rolled scrolls lay neatly bundled in his storage space. Allen summoned the top scroll, and an aura of immense historical weight and arcane knowledge emanated from the parchment.
After flipping through the first few pages, the deceptively simple text exploded with complex information, including detailed lists of rare magical artifacts, powerful spells, and bizarre ingredient requirements. Allen mentally pushed Jeber's notes aside. "This is certainly not something that can be easily understood or mastered overnight. Even obtaining the more common-sounding herbs, like Mystic Grain and Fern, not to mention the fundamental raw materials, requires immense time and extraordinary luck."
His gaze settled on the vial of Magical Potential Potion. He thought of the legendary figures: Albus Dumbledore, Gellert Grindelwald, and even himself in his past life as the Mystic; their magical reserves and innate power were far superior to any ordinary wizard.
School was approaching, and the most pressing order of business was to reinforce his mental defenses. More importantly, he needed to consume this potent potion immediately. Doing so now would ensure its mysterious, high-level origins could never be traced or questioned later.
With this in mind, Allen withdrew his copy of the Encyclopedia of Magic and began intense, focused study.
Occlumency, the core of mental defense, was defined as the magical art of resisting external mental intrusion. Its counterpart, Legilimency, was the sealing of the mind against magical invasion and influence. Those skilled in the former were called Occlumens.
Not only could they resist Legilimens attacks, but the most talented could actively deceive their opponent by convincing the Legilimens that the illusions they created in their minds were their genuine thoughts and feelings.
Allen knew that Severus Snape, the Potions Professor at Hogwarts, was an extremely skilled Occlumens. He maintained his cover as a double agent right under the nose of the Void Man—if that monstrosity counted as a nose—who was himself a potent Legilimens. Allen also had good reason to harbor profound doubts about Snape's ultimate loyalty.
Dumbledore was also a recognized master Occlumens and could have easily instructed Harry, had he chosen to. Instead, Harry only received rudimentary theory and made disastrously slow progress against attempted Legilimency.
Allen knew that even if Harry had mastered Occlumency, the success would likely be severely limited by his connection to Voldemort. When the Dark Lord was subjected to the rebounded Killing Curse—a direct mirror of the ancient protective charm cast by Lily Potter—he unknowingly transferred a fragment of his soul into Harry, transforming him into a unique, living Horcrux.
This powerful magical link directly bypassed and influenced Harry's psyche, giving Voldemort access that went far beyond typical Legilimency. Allen realized that his own practice of Occlumency must be absolute, ensuring no one could ever perceive his true knowledge or the existence of the System. He decided to begin immediately.