Despair. Utter despair.
Right now, Allen felt as though the entire world was out to get him. This year alone, he'd somehow ended up cursed by a pharaoh, had his inheritance stolen, and nearly bankrupted himself trying to take down Voldemort, only to fail at reclaiming the inheritance afterward.
And just when he thought things might settle down, he was ready to lie low, quietly wait for Harry to return to school, bide his time, and strike when Voldemort showed up, of course, something had to ruin his plans. The damned Ministry of Magic decided to organize some kind of student exchange program!
Fine. An exchange is whatever. But why drag him into it? If they had so much money to burn, couldn't they at least offer him a bigger stipend? The few Galleons he got each year weren't even enough to buy a full set of legal textbooks!
So why was Allen in such despair?
To explain, we have to go back to the summer six months ago, a beautiful period in which Allen had managed to get his hands on a decent amount of money, a troublesome stone tablet, and a half-read potions notebook that was already proving to be more headache than help.
Oh, and most importantly, he picked up one massive problem.
That problem was a friendly, generous gentleman who had offered Allen a whopping 50 Galleons. A refined man, highly skilled in magic, and an important officer in the American Department of Magic, an honored Auror.
Everything would've been fine... if that Auror hadn't been trying to throw Allen in jail.
Even though Allen had taken some precautions to disguise himself, there's only so much you can do, your body type doesn't change. Originally, Allen had planned never to set foot in America for years.
He didn't know how that Auror was doing these days, but one thing was certain: the man definitely hadn't forgotten about him.
So Merlin, please. Allen prayed. Please let that Auror be swept off by a giantess. Or maybe caught the eye of a female troll? Even Cupid's arrow hitting him and a werewolf girl would be fine!
Hell, even a male werewolf, Allen would still sincerely wish him well. Look into his eyes. He meant that.
But it was all wishful thinking. Reality hit hard: Allen had officially been signed up for an all-expenses-paid, ugh, exchange program. And even his usual excuse, "I want to stay and keep an eye on my sister," had been shut down. Dumbledore had conveniently used Ministry funds to get himself a brand-new pageboy for some ceremony or another...
Thus, Allen came up with a new strategy: stay invisible. Stay quiet. Don't attract attention. Early birds get eaten by worms. He'd rather not be the one missing when the group returned home after the "friendly exchange."
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Unlike the last exchange, where students were scrambling for information, this time no one was in much of a rush. After all, it was America. If nothing else, at least there wouldn't be any language barrier.
You see, the American Department of Magic had been established by offshoots from Britain's magical society. From the perspective of the ancient British wizarding world, the MACUSA was essentially a colony.
Hogwarts dated back to 933 AD. The American Magical Congress? Founded in 1693.
Among wizards, the most subtle form of discrimination often began with blood status. But even among purebloods, there were still unspoken ranks, wealth, influence, and history.
Why did Umbridge claim that the Slytherin locket was a family heirloom? Because in the wizarding world, a long family history was a mark of pride.
In the Muggle world, there's a joke about the three thinnest books:
The History of America
British Cuisine
German Jokes
In wizarding society, America's magical history was just as thin as its Muggle counterpart. You can imagine how those ancient wizarding families viewed American wizards.
Of course, "long history" was a relative concept. When poor, people "collaborate to survive." When rich, they claim "this land has been ours since time immemorial."
Well, in the wizarding world, that logic didn't even apply. Whether rich or poor, everyone said they'd always been here. Voldemort's grandfather was proud of nothing more than his ring and family locket, always boasting about how wealthy his ancestors had once been. He and his son both died tragic deaths.
In contrast, Tom Riddle made the right moves. Not only did he reclaim his family heirlooms, he also collected the treasured artifacts of several other families. If Godric Gryffindor's sword hadn't been hidden inside the Sorting Hat, and the hat hadn't looked so filthy, Tom probably would've stolen it too.
But that's beside the point. The real issue was this: not a single young witch or wizard gave a damn about the American exchange students. Their thoughts were consumed by one thing, Quidditch.
Last year's tournament had already been canceled once due to the exchange program. What if it got postponed again?
As for the visiting school? Please. Their Ministry followed British systems. What real difference could there be? This was just sightseeing.
What unique traits could they possibly offer? Those nouveau riche upstarts? Criminal wizards who couldn't make it in Britain?
Back in the day, America had been a haven for magical criminals, witches and wizards fleeing Azkaban had fled there en masse.
The original form of America's Magical Congress had been created by British Aurors just to hunt down fugitives. Their entire system was modeled on Britain's Ministry of Magic. It's said that, at the beginning, they couldn't even fend off Muggles and had to keep relocating their headquarters.
With those conditions, how could they possibly have good schools? They didn't even have enough books. Hogwarts' library, in contrast, had tomes dating back to its founding. Without books, how could they have anything worth learning?
So why should anyone care? That was the unspoken consensus among the Hogwarts students.
Even Allen, who'd originally planned to look into the American Aurors' combat strength, just in case he needed to make a quick getaway, was eventually influenced by this thinking.
Unfortunately, the increasing intensity of the internal team competition meant Allen had to dedicate most of his time to Quidditch.
Technically, the strongest player was supposed to be the last one to play, but the pressure was enormous this year. Even the Heads of House weren't confident, they demanded that Allen show up for daily practice.
After all, they'd gone all out and commissioned an entire extra set of broomsticks for the team.
Thankfully, that wasn't a huge burden for Allen. He loved flying. The feeling of chasing the sun through the sky had hooked him from the very beginning.
And so, with everyone's hard work and high expectations, the mid-year Quidditch tournament, originally delayed to accommodate the exchange, finally arrived.
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