Norris still vividly remembered the look on that professor's face, that twisted mix of despair, helplessness, and fury.
Most of his hair had been singed off. His wizarding robes were scorched and tattered. His body was tightly bound in layers of magical thorns, making him look utterly ridiculous.
So ridiculous, in fact, that Norris nearly failed to notice the small first-year Slytherin girl leaning quietly against the wall, idly fiddling with her ever-present stuffed bear.
Then, to his utter shock, the little Slytherin prodigy's eyes began to redden, and a faint sound of sobbing escaped her lips.
At that same moment, the Hufflepuff boy began tearing jagged cuts into his own clothes.
Norris, then the only other person still standing, met the young wizard Allen's gaze.
A simple glance.
Ordinarily, Norris would never have thought twice about such a thing. He'd always believed eye contact was merely a tool, sometimes even a flirtatious one. After all, he'd once won over his current girlfriend with nothing but a well-timed look.
Never had he imagined that a mere glance could carry such suffocating pressure.
He swore on Merlin's name, the last time he'd felt this kind of fear, he'd still been a child, listening to terrifying bedtime stories about the Dark Lord at the height of his power.
As for what happened after that…?
He didn't remember.
Truly, I completely didn't remember. Even when Professor McGonagall questioned him afterward, he'd only nodded blankly.
In the end, the incident was smoothed over.
Ilvermorny withdrew from the exchange program, cancelling all further joint activities. As for Allen? His only punishment was a week's detention.
And that was that.
The matter was buried. The official explanation given to the other students was that Allen had been caught attacking a group of Ilvermorny students and was punished accordingly.
As for Norris himself, he had been explicitly warned not to breathe a word about what he saw.
Not that he had the energy to tell anyone anyway.
The fear still hadn't faded, and the crushing realization that all his carefully laid plans had come to nothing only deepened his despair.
Thankfully, the Minister of Magic had given him one final chance, a lifeline that might still allow him to turn things around.
Logically, he should have been focusing all his efforts on planning this new mission and putting all irrelevant thoughts behind him. Yet here he sat, staring blankly at a scrap of parchment on his desk, unable to look away.
Because of the name signed at the bottom.
The message was simple:
"Come alone tonight. We need to talk, Allen."
Before the recent disaster, Norris would have scoffed, torn the note to shreds, and tossed it into the fireplace, spitting curses about filthy Mudbloods daring to send him messages.
But now?
Now, he could do nothing but wait.
Even if the professors hadn't grown quietly suspicious of him, Allen could easily use the incident as a pretext to cover any real reason for meeting. And none of the teachers would question it.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Three deliberate knocks echoed through the room.
Before Norris could even say, "Come in," the door swung open with a flick of magic.
The boy who entered was none other than the wizard who had left that searing impression on Norris's mind.
Allen was smiling.
But Norris, having seen that smile before, had no intention of returning it.
"Come in, then. I got your note. What do you want?" Norris straightened up, doing his best to suppress the fear bubbling in his chest and maintain the dignity of a pure-blood wizard.
But that dignity was shattered moments later, by his own hand.
Allen didn't bother answering. He simply pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket and slapped it onto the desk.
To be honest, Allen had almost used that paper as a tissue earlier, it had been that close. Why not? It wasn't like this fool would pay a Knut more for a clean copy. And if a bit of disgust kept him on edge, all the better.
After all, Allen wasn't the one using it.
What he hadn't expected was just how desperately the Slytherin would lunge for it.
The moment Norris saw the travel permit seal on the parchment, he practically dove across the desk.
If Allen hadn't reacted with a quick Shield Charm, sending him sprawling onto the floor, the man would've snatched the letter right then and there.
Sure, Allen could've overpowered him in the end, but why bother with the trouble?
"You, how do you have a permit?! The passes were just handed over to Professor McGonagall today!"
Allen didn't even dignify the outburst with a response.
Seller's market. Take it or leave it.
Meanwhile, far away, Ilvermorny's headmaster was on the verge of a breakdown.
Only after transferring the permits to Hogwarts had he learned the bitter truth from his recently-recovered Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
On the very first day of the exchange, before any permits had officially changed hands… that very same professor had secretly issued a pass, to Allen.
Which meant Hogwarts didn't have nine keys.
They had ten.
And the worst part?
That extra permit had been given to the last person it should have been.
To that blasted Hogwarts student.
The one who dared to defy his will.
The one who humiliated Ilvermorny during the Quidditch match.
The one who hospitalized their most esteemed Transfiguration professor.
And now… that little bastard had even stolen a piece of Ilvermorny's sacred legacy!
Clang!
With a furious crash, the headmaster hurled the ornate goblin-forged sword Hogwarts had gifted him onto the ground.
"Fine then. Send in Ibb."
The rage in his voice had stripped it of its usual honeyed charm.
"You're insane, Headmaster Charlid! Hogwarts will go mad!"
As Ilvermorny's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, he knew exactly what Ibb was capable of.
Sure, the boy had almost straight O's in every subject, and while he seemed average at a glance, in the dark arts, he was nothing short of a genius.
He had once nearly killed a fellow student during a black magic experiment, and even then, he was still considered the top student in his year.
Now, unleashing someone like Ibb…?
It was practically a death sentence for that Hogwarts boy.
Even if Allen had managed to take down a professor with the help of another student and the element of surprise, he wouldn't stand a chance against Ibb in a head-on fight.
"He won't die," Charlid said coldly, "as long as they find enough valuable items to make up for it."
"And don't forget, that place was once Salazar Slytherin's lab, not a playground. Back in the day, even the Triwizard Tournament claimed lives. A few student deaths during a dangerous exploration? Perfectly acceptable."
"And you think I'll just let them walk off with our heritage? Every one of those letters contains traceable magic. If I have to give up a surprise attack to let them grab another treasure… so be it. One dead student won't even make a ripple."
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