The next morning, Allen found himself in a luxurious state of semi-sleep, fighting a losing battle against the irresistible comfort of his Ravenclaw dormitory bed. It was simply too comfortable, a silken cloud that whispered sweet promises of prolonged rest.
His long-held habit of discipline finally won out. Allen reluctantly forced himself out from under the sky-blue silk quilt. He was immediately startled to see a pristine piece of parchment—his first-year class schedule—resting silently on his nightstand. How had this letter appeared without a sound? Allen thought wryly. Perhaps a bed too comfortable was a subtle magical trap after all.
He glanced over at Edward, who remained deeply asleep, a picture of profound exhaustion, and slowly unrolled the schedule. This term included eight main subjects: Astronomy, Herbology, Charms, Transfiguration, and more.
Generally, he had one class in the morning, two in the afternoon, and only Astronomy scheduled late in the evening. Most classes were two hours long. Contrary to some old records, Ravenclaw would share most core classes with Hufflepuff, though some subjects, like Transfiguration, were scheduled with Gryffindor.
"Excellent. No classes on Friday afternoon, and a full two days off on Saturday and Sunday," Allen mused, pleased. This gave him ample time for his personal studies and projects. Crucially, the first class didn't start until nine a.m., leaving him a generous window to perform his demanding physical training, take a much-needed shower, and grab a rushed breakfast.
The immediate problem, therefore, was finding a practice spot for the Mage Body Hardening Technique. If some of the necessary movements weren't so unconventional and frankly, embarrassing to be seen doing, he wouldn't need to go to such lengths for privacy.
Allen quietly dressed, ran to the bathroom to freshen up, and then slipped out of Ravenclaw Tower. He ensured he carried all the textbooks required for the day's lessons, keen to avoid any annoying philosophical interrogation from the Eagle Knocker upon his return.
He remembered the legend of the Room of Requirement, a secret chamber within Hogwarts Castle. The room was fabled to appear only when a person truly needed it, always configuring itself precisely to meet the seeker's immediate needs. Furthermore, the Room and its contents were completely undetectable by the Marauder's Map, and the names of those inside were erased from its parchment. If Allen could find it, he would secure a perfectly private sanctuary, safe from prying eyes and unwarranted attention.
After confirming Edward was still blissfully asleep, Allen checked his attire and then deliberately activated the Invisibility Charm woven into his bespoke wizard robes.
It was still before 6:00 a.m., well past curfew but still early. Allen sought anonymity not just from Filch or the various ghosts, but from anyone who might demand explanations for his early rising. Being seen, even innocuously, inevitably wasted time and easily attracted unnecessary attention.
Relying on his deep familiarity with the castle layout, Allen ascended to the seventh floor (not the eighth as he misremembered, correcting himself in thought), locating the tapestry of the Trolls Beating Barnabas the Barmy. Directly opposite this tapestry was where the Room of Requirement typically manifested.
Twelve minutes later, Allen successfully found the correct location. Looking around, he confirmed that not even the ancient portraits lining the walls seemed to notice his presence. The invisible young wizard held his breath, focused his mind, and thought simply, "I need a private place to exercise without being disturbed, with all the necessary equipment."
Allen walked past the bare section of wall across from the tapestry three times, then reversed, and walked three times again. Suddenly, a very neat, unadorned door appeared before him.
Allen flung the door open, slipped inside, and immediately slammed it shut. Peeking through the crack, he confirmed that the interior of the Room of Requirement seemed to exist on a different spatial plane than the rest of Hogwarts. It appeared to be a temporary pocket dimension connected to the castle at the user's request. The intricate spatial magic involved was far beyond Allen's current comprehension. All he could grasp was that the principle was fundamentally different from the Perfect Extension Charm favored by modern wizards for expanding space.
Calming his thoughts, Allen surveyed the room. It was configured as a wizarding-style gymnasium. It was large and well-ventilated, but the equipment inside was bizarre; some were worn, strange antiques, likely dating back to the Middle Ages.
Allen even spotted a thick, iron cauldron filled with large, smooth stones stained with dried, blackened blood. He recognized it immediately as an implement used in a centuries-old broomstick game called "Heads to the Cauldron," a Scottish sport once considered the most dangerous of all broomstick activities.
According to an 11th-century poem, only two wizards out of twelve were expected to survive such a match. Legend even held that Godric Gryffindor himself had participated in and won the competition during a carnival.
Due to its lethality, it had been outlawed in 1762. Fortunately, with the existence of Quidditch, only the most reckless wizards still bothered to practice it illegally.
The room even featured a simple but functional bathroom, allowing him to clean up immediately after his intense workout—a truly practical consideration.
After finishing his strenuous routine and showering, he felt refreshed and energized.
"When I'm low on spending money during the holidays, I should visit the version of this room where unwanted items are kept and pick a few things to sell… I can't understand why some wizards, even upon finding this place, still choose to commit dangerous crimes outside when they're broke… They could just take a few unwanted items, sell them off, and be careful not to draw too much attention." After muttering these sarcastic words to himself, Allen glanced at the time, confirming he still had ample minutes before classes. He walked out, ensuring the door vanished behind him. The location was far from the main routes of the Houses, minimizing the chance of being seen.
Arriving at the Great Hall, many students were already enjoying breakfast, buzzing with nervous excitement for their first day of classes.
"Allen, over here! There's an empty seat next to me!"
Fogg Brown, ever reckless, shouted across the Hall. Allen smiled, pointed to the bronze-and-blue Ravenclaw crest on his robe, shrugged helplessly to indicate his loyalties, and walked over to the long Ravenclaw table.
Fogg immediately realized his mistake, scratched his head sheepishly, and sat down.
"First period is Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class. We have to hurry; absolutely cannot be late," Allen reminded himself mentally, already consuming a large portion of scrambled eggs and a bowl of steaming oatmeal. He looked around and realized he had forgotten his roommate.
"Edward? He hasn't come down for breakfast yet. Is he still asleep?" Allen quickly grabbed a couple of paper-wrapped Danishes, took a large gulp of pumpkin juice, and hurried back toward Ravenclaw Tower, internally groaning about the unnecessary detour. He knew he had to maintain this seven-year relationship with his roommate.
As he rushed toward the tower, he passed a slightly studious little witch who was yawning as she left the Common Room. Allen sighed with relief—he had managed to slip into the Common Room without having to answer the Eagle Knocker's riddle. He flew up to his dormitory; Edward was indeed still deeply asleep.
"Wake up, Edward! We're going to be late!" Realizing this gentle approach wouldn't work, Allen finally resorted to a quick, harmless spray of cold, clean water from his wand onto his roommate's face.
"Ah, Allen, morning!" Edward, still incredibly groggy, didn't seem to mind the water. Allen often wondered what made his friend so perpetually tired yet strangely energetic when awake.
When the two finally arrived at the Transfiguration classroom, they found they were far from the last. Many students were already seated, chatting and laughing loudly, completely oblivious to the silent, spotted cat perched motionless on the professor's desk.
"Allen, let's grab a seat near the back so the Professor doesn't call on us… Ow! Why did you kick me?" Edward started to suggest, only for Allen to deliver a sharp kick to his shin. Allen quickly noted the spotted cat on the podium staring intently at Edward.
Allen quickly bowed respectfully towards the cat, then quietly pulled Edward to a seat near the middle. Edward wondered why Allen was bowing to a cat. He glanced back at the animal on the podium and whispered, "What's wrong with that cat?"
"That is Professor McGonagall. There were only seven registered Animagi in the 20th century, and she's one of them. Look closely, the markings around her eyes match the exact shape of Professor McGonagall's spectacles," Allen replied softly, impressed that his friend showed at least some intellectual curiosity.
Hearing this, Edward sat bolt upright, holding his breath. Although slightly uneasy about being caught whispering by his own professor, he couldn't help but shoot a smug glance at the unsuspecting students who were still misbehaving while the teacher was 'away.'
Allen recalled that in the canon, Hermione tried to pet the cat's head after entering, but Professor McGonagall, still in cat form, twitched away the moment Hermione's hand approached. Poor, cat-loving girl, Allen thought, feeling a twinge of sympathy, though he resolved to closely study the Wise Lady's expressions later.
"Harry, fantastic! Thank goodness Professor McGonagall hasn't arrived yet!" Ron shouted happily as he and Fogg burst into the room.
Fogg and Harry exchanged sighs of relief, settling into their seats.
At that very moment, the spotted cat on the podium leaped down and, mid-air, transformed seamlessly into the tall, severe-looking woman, landing gracefully.
"Professor McGonagall!" Ron gasped in genuine surprise, leaning back in his chair. "That was absolutely incredible!"
"Professor McGonagall—Good morning! Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, Mr. Brown, you are all late, and therefore you each lose five points! And thank you for your assessment, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps it would be more useful if I Transfigured you or Mr. Potter into a pocket watch? That way, perhaps one of you three could finally keep track of time," Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor and Professor of Transfiguration, stated, her eyes sharp behind her glasses.
Five points deducted on the first day! Truly horrifying!
"We got lost…" Harry attempted to explain.
"Maps are useful things, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said dismissively, shaking her head. "I presume you did not require a map to find your way into this classroom, did you?"
The three boys quickly and shamefacedly obeyed Professor McGonagall's instruction to sit down. Professor McGonagall had clearly decided to spare the poor, wide-eyed Hermione Granger, whose mouth was slightly agape, her front teeth barely visible.
"Return to your seats." All three complied shyly.
"Mr. Harris, your powers of observation are excellent. It seems you have been thoroughly studying your lessons beforehand. You are the only first-year student this year to recognize my true identity, and for that, five points to Ravenclaw." Professor McGonagall nodded briefly to Allen, then walked to the center of the podium, her tartan robes swishing. "Transfiguration is the most complex and dangerous branch of magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Any frivolous behavior in my class will result in immediate removal, with no possibility of return. I have warned you."
She then Transfigured her desk into a pig, and back again. The students were mesmerized and eager to learn, but they soon realized that turning furniture into animals would be a long-term goal. After instructing them to take detailed notes on the difficult concepts, she distributed a match to each student and asked them to attempt to Transfigure it into a needle.
Having diligently prepared during the summer, Allen completed the task almost instantly. Unlike Muggle-born wizards, tracking down silk for practice wasn't a major hurdle for a child from a pure-blood family, provided a competent adult wizard was willing to help.
"That is highly commendable, Mr. Harris. It is rare for a young wizard to achieve this in their very first lesson. An extra five points to Ravenclaw." Professor McGonagall looked genuinely surprised. While first-years successfully completing the challenge wasn't unheard of in her career, achieving it so deftly and effortlessly on the very first try in class was exceptionally rare, even if they had practiced at home. "Mr. Harris, would you kindly demonstrate for the class?"
As the entire freshmen class from both Houses stared intently, Allen remained perfectly composed. As a former teacher, he was accustomed to standing before students every day.
By the end of the lesson, only a few Ravenclaw pure-bloods, besides Allen, and Hermione Granger from Gryffindor had managed to Transfigure their matchsticks.
Allen continued to rack up points for Ravenclaw not only in Transfiguration but in almost every subject, rapidly establishing himself as a notable figure among the new students at Hogwarts.