Fishing is a wonderfully relaxing activity, especially when a big catch bites—it can make a person involuntarily light up with joy.
But there's a catch—literally. That is, what if the "fish" you hook is a crocodile? Not just any crocodile, but one of those ancient, man-eating ones.
A dimly lit area favoring the defenders, a group of club members coordinating perfectly—tsk tsk, by all appearances, these are experts at ambush!
Under these circumstances—Allen's first victory is practically guaranteed!!!
Being out in the world allows him to see different landscapes, meet new people, and study different types of magic. But there's one annoying thing—the Slytherins' sense of honor makes them hold back from their usual daily attacks on Allen.
Allen wasn't touched by this at all. A person's worth lies in consistency, you know?
Unfortunately, the Slytherins still hadn't given him a proper challenge, so he'd been idle for a while—until today, when international guests finally showed up to provide some action!
The tricky part for Allen now was deciding how to respond—should he strike hard so the others feel beaten and retaliate later, or strike lightly to give them hope so they keep improving? This was a serious consideration, as it affected the potential timeline of his first victory.
As Allen led his group past a few small huts, they arrived at the main activity room—the lighting was poor, which would give the other side an advantage if they suddenly went on the offensive.
Perfect—that's exactly the scenario Allen wanted! He even decided to hold a shield up, giving them the confidence to continue their "attack."
Seeing the figure at the center, almost certainly the leader, Allen confirmed that they were here to pick a fight. Although he didn't remember this kid's name, he was among those Allen had thoroughly dominated before.
Clearly, they were here to make a stand—commendable spirit.
Unfortunately, the opponent didn't slam a goblet down or dim the lights dramatically. Instead, the whole group bowed in unison, giving Allen the impression he'd suddenly become the boss of a… less-friendly organization.
"Allen-san—welcome! Though the school tried to limit the spread of news about that day, as members of the same club, we shared the information quickly. Therefore, it is our honor to receive you today."
…
Goddammit, idiots, just hit me already!
Allen was speechless. What logic is this? After getting beaten, they come back and worship me? Of course, he was forgetting the context—he had lightly hung a group of wizards in midair and beaten them without mercy.
When the gap is small, you strive to catch up; but when it's beyond imagination, admiration often replaces resentment. That lesson had naturally morphed into guidance in their minds.
It wasn't strange that a highly skilled wizard visiting the club received a warm welcome, especially with the club president openly praising him.
Some were initially resistant, but upon learning that Allen had matched the professor in a morning discussion without losing ground, they completely gave up—all while knowing the professor had a high reputation in professional magical knowledge. Allen's magical research ability was naturally evident.
The only one not exactly happy? Allen himself. I'm holding my wand, and you all want to play this game with me?
But he wouldn't strike just to score a first victory—it would be beneath him. Plus, their eyes were sincere, making it hard to justify attacking.
Still, a question remained—what should he say?
"Comrades, thank you for your hard work"? No—that slogan wasn't suitable.
"You may relax your courtesy"? Probably would make them upset.
Fortunately, the club had no intention of punishing him. After the bowing, the professor who had been severely defeated last time approached—he was the club's mentor.
To be precise, he had been trained by the previous mentor and taken over the role.
Unlike other clubs, this one occupied a remote yet huge space mainly because of its long-standing traditions and formal practices—though on the surface it looked like a puzzle-solving club.
The reason was simple: the club had a professor—a privilege within the school.
Even under Hogwarts' strict management, a potion professor like Slughorn couldn't resist forming circles. Similarly, the club's professor ensured stable funding and maintained high standards, occasionally giving special guidance to students.
Envy from outsiders was useless—the entry standards were strict, and they rejected many applications yearly. The professor introduced the club to Allen with such enthusiasm that even Allen felt awkward, sensing near-fanatic admiration.
The professor even explained the club's traditional culture: they believed that many ancient magical inheritances or items were hidden in ruins or even Muggle artifacts, waiting for wizards to rediscover them. So, members collected mysterious objects wherever they went, preserving them in the room for future generations—until someone could uncover the secrets hidden within.
It was a touching story demonstrating perseverance. Allen decided not to reveal that some of the objects were replicas rather than genuinely ancient…
Even he had seen male wizards wearing Muggle women's pants—convincing wizards to buy Muggle items was a nightmare.
After a long introduction, Allen felt more like a visitor than a participant. The professor, eager to open all resources, was thankfully stopped by other sensible members—they adhered to tradition: new members must undergo a test.
Especially since Allen was an outsider and the school was relatively old, the test was designed to be highly challenging.
"Apologies, Allen-san. While I have complete trust in your abilities, rules are rules. I cannot break them easily, but I'm confident you can easily overcome these challenges."
As he spoke, the wizards presented a scattered collection of objects for testing purposes.
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