"Alright, get up already. Was it really necessary to stay down that long?" Allen said, looking down at the empty spot where the other had disappeared, his expression serious as he turned to Mr. Auror.
"Tell me… does the headmaster have an obedient, cute daughter, and you whisked her away, making it hard for you to face your father-in-law?"
Of course, Allen was teasing Mr. Auror to lighten the mood. He knew full well that the Auror's past relationship with the former werewolf leader had ended only recently—there was no way he'd moved on so quickly, right?
Sure enough, Allen's joke made Mr. Auror straighten up immediately. He raised his left hand and swore solemnly: "I swear, in my heart there is only one woman—my wife, Shan. Anyone else I treat as a man. I will not spend nights out, nor casually approach women…"
Allen winced at the long string of vows—You married a werewolf, yes, but right now you look like you've been tamed into a dog.
Wait… married?
Impossible.
Knowing his nature, he would have surely informed Allen when getting married, just to extort a little from him. And even ignoring that, Allen was a witness to the beginning of their love—how could he be left out of the wedding?
Thinking this, Allen naturally asked: "Are you kidding? When did you get married? I witnessed the start of your love! What about my matchmaker's red envelope?"
As for a wedding gift? Haha. Allen wasn't about to hand one over—let's discuss the red envelope first, given how well they knew each other.
But even a casual question like that stunned Mr. Auror. He nearly covered his mouth in disbelief, a how did I just say that? expression crossing his face.
But what's said is said. Allen couldn't pretend he hadn't heard—he wasn't there to counsel, but to gossip!
Under Allen's sharp gaze and extended wand, Mr. Auror decisively yielded. Their marriage had indeed taken place, even with the Minister of Magic and the Auror team leader present to offer congratulations. But orders strictly forbade informing outsiders. Not only Allen, but most Auror colleagues—except for a few he regularly worked with—remained unaware. The secrecy was necessary.
Allen immediately guessed the reason: the werewolf's complete allegiance to the Ministry of Magic.
Such a significant alliance needed to be kept secret—if anything went wrong, it could be used strategically. Why tell Allen? Simple: he already knew bits and pieces, and with a little effort, could piece it together. Hiding it from him risked losing his future help.
Still, even after revealing the truth, Mr. Auror asked Allen not to blab—it could cause unnecessary trouble.
Allen rolled his eyes in agreement—he had no intention of reporting this to the Ministry. Though still on the same side, Allen wasn't about to deliver intelligence for them. And anyway, the U.S. Ministry of Magic wouldn't dare interfere.
Amid their mutual teasing, they both ignored one topic: why Allen had been able to utterly dominate the opponent in battle.
Of course Mr. Auror was curious—but who would ask such a question?
After some time, the two parted ways with mischievous smiles—the cooperation had gone smoothly.
Allen had been too formidable. Though he didn't hold the opponent for a full ten minutes as planned, by the fifth minute, he had nearly finished off the enemy Mr. Auror intended to fight.
This avoided countless complications: reconnaissance delays, last-minute misdirection, slow rescues of those "silly fools," and the need to abandon missions. Freed from these follow-ups, Allen returned to campus earlier than planned, safely arriving via a contact.
He even made it in time for the dinner he might have otherwise missed.
Approaching the table, Marshall moved aside with a mutter: "Allen, your experiment worked? You're nearly half an hour ahead of schedule—we were even planning to bring you some food."
"Of course! An unprecedented success! Look at my palm!"
Allen's words drew all eyes. He tapped his hand, opening it to reveal an empty palm.
Immediately, a seed sprouted, blooming into a pale blue flower. Allen flicked his left hand, petals scattering into fluttering butterflies across the table.
With another snap, more petals appeared, flying away—dozens of times. Soon, the table was alive with dancing butterflies, illuminated by magical lamps, creating a perfect scene that drew cheers from everyone.
Using "research magic" as his excuse, Allen showcased a convincing result. Clearly, it left his audience impressed.
The joyful atmosphere grew, even attracting students from other schools. Some in Japan brought out instruments, turning the dinner into an impromptu party—or even a dance.
Though young mischief-makers had caused trouble the previous night, they were either still incapacitated or insignificant—law not punishing the group held true, and the presence of four official scapegoats made minor conflicts irrelevant.
Everything seemed perfect—but joy is always fleeting.
Specifically, the ball hadn't even begun before it ended—and Allen would bear the responsibility, though no one knew it.
Hasty retreats and Mahoutokoro's protective measures meant Ilvermorny professors hadn't even targeted the campus during Apparition.
Meanwhile, as Allen enjoyed his meal, the half-disabled team returned after regrouping and exchanging information.