Watching that group over there gleefully struggling as if they'd won the lottery, Allen turned his head, his expression serious.
"Where did you find such a perfect scapegoat? How many Galleons did it cost?"
This was an important question. Someone willing to bear the blame like that was top-tier talent. You wouldn't mind paying a bit extra, just for the spirit they brought. Look at the young man in front, grinning a row of perfect white teeth at the professor, like he'd just won a championship. That smile alone could be worth five Sickles!
Fred shrugged and spread his hands, forcing a helpless grin as if someone were making him do it, though his tone said otherwise.
"Not a single Knut. To be exact, we only met this guy today."
Behind Fred, George nodded and added to his brother's explanation:
"Actually, we were ready to accept detention anyway. But while we were negotiating with the shopkeeper, he overheard. That guy, he said he needed a chance to shine and asked us to let him take credit for this in front of everyone."
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Allen could only think: Ilvermorny wizards really know how to play.
So that's why their wizard numbers were so low? Who knows. From the heroic stance of that young man and his companions, they clearly had no regrets, more like whoever tries to steal my glory will regret it. From the professors' pale expressions, Allen hoped they wouldn't cause any major trouble and that their smiles at the end would be peaceful.
This wasn't a curse, doing mischief privately and doing it in public are two different things. Genuine repentance and smug pride are also different. Any professor worth their salt wouldn't smile at this.
Although the "culprit" had been caught and the matter was drawing to a close, the spectators hadn't dispersed. The fireworks hadn't been extinguished by the arriving professors. Once deemed safe, the largest display lasted a full five minutes before finishing. Allen listened as the twins muttered quietly, counting under their breath:
"Eighty-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred ten…"
In the end, the total settled at one hundred fifty-four, probably the exact amount of Galleons they pocketed this time.
Allen thought: I want a deal like this, get paid and escape punishment. Who wouldn't say yes?
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Because of this substantial Galleon windfall, the twins were grinning happily, completely ignoring the looming danger.
Some people and some situations can't be solved just by someone taking the blame. For example, Hogwarts had a particularly strict deputy headmaster. Unfortunate enough, right? But worse still, the same deputy was also directly responsible for Gryffindor.
Professor McGonagall adjusted her square spectacles:
"Mr. Weasley, perhaps you can explain those fireworks requiring advanced alchemy? I highly doubt that flashy idiot could do this alone. Could you have some connection?"
"Oh, no, Professor, we've been very well-behaved today," they said.
"Yes, we spent the day with Allen and the others. That's undeniable."
The twins subtly signaled for cooperation with their eyes, and Allen and his group caught it perfectly.
Unfortunately, before they could respond, McGonagall nodded:
"It's fine, I just wanted to remark on it. I'm glad it wasn't you. Enjoy the weekend."
For once, she smiled. As she turned to leave, a low murmur floated back:
"Have we really been outdone in creativity by Ilvermorny? Why did they make such exquisite work?"
Something's fishy!
But it was too late.
For creators, such insults are unbearable. For students, the emotion is intolerable. Add a temporary Galleon bonus to dull high intelligence, and suddenly a traitor appears among the twins:
"Um, Professor, this…this is my, "
They stopped mid-sentence. Too late.
Old ginger still packs more punch. The twins were summoned for tea, no detention, since someone else took the blame, but a thorough scolding was unavoidable.
Watching McGonagall leave in a good mood, and the twins trailing with sour faces, Allen silently sent them a blessing. She wasn't truly angry; like she said, she simply hoped Hogwarts could keep the upper hand, reasonable, considering her lifelong devotion to the school.
Once the three disappeared from sight, Allen turned to invite the remaining students: dinner had ended early, and there was nothing to do. Time for a card game.
Just as he opened his mouth, a gentle peck on his ear made him look down. Valor had landed on his shoulder.
What now? Hungry?
There was plenty of food. The school provided ample rations daily, and Allen had stored extra for Valor. How could it suddenly be insufficient? If Valor wasn't full, it would just steal anyway, that's why he stocked it.
Before Allen could speculate further, Valor flew down, clutching something scrunched in its claws.
Treasure map? Money? Gems?
No. When Allen unrolled it, he had to cover his head in despair, it was an empty bag. Specifically, a dog food bag, the very one Valor had stolen earlier. Every last kibble was gone.
"You wanted this?" Allen's voice held a trace of hopelessness.
"Caw!" Valor chirped happily.