Photographic Memory

After reuniting with Lenn and Daisy, Mr. Harris bid farewell to the Weasley family along with his own.

"Allen, we must keep in touch!"

Ron was reluctant to part with his newly made friend. This new companion was simply too cool.

"Of course, Ron." Allen was also happy to have met such an enthusiastic little guy.

Passing through the magical lamppost once more, Allen felt a complex mix of emotions, though primarily, he was filled with anticipation.

That's right, even more so than when he was heading to Diagon Alley. He was looking forward to the functions of the Scholar System; it felt like having bought a new toy, and he couldn't help but want to tinker with it for a long while.

What's more, this Scholar System would undoubtedly add much brilliance to his future life.

Back home, the first thing Mr. and Mrs. Harris did wasn't to store away the expensive broomstick, but to look at their youngest son with concern.

"Allen, I know you usually love to read, but I never expected you to be so capable without making a sound!" Mr. Harris exclaimed in admiration.

"Allen, I've never seen you be this impressive before. You haven't even started school yet, so how did you know all that knowledge? Did you know the answers beforehand?" Lenn was absolutely stunned! Lenn had never once thought of his younger brother as a straight-A student.

"Allen, how did you do it?" Mrs. Harris stroked her youngest son's hair.

"Mom, Allen reads a lot in his spare time. I believe he's capable of this." This was Emily, who believed in her brother unconditionally.

"I don't think Allen could have known the answers in advance. After all, he couldn't have gone to Diagon Alley on his own, and these questions aren't usually recorded in standard wizarding books. Was it taught at a Muggle school?" After saying this, Mr. Harris patted Allen's cheek.

"But we are very curious, Allen. When did you become so brilliant?" The eldest sister, Daisy, couldn't help but ask.

The reason Allen was silent was that the moment he arrived home, he heard the notification chime of the Scholar System.

It was that ethereal, pleasant voice: "Congratulations to the host for completing the novice trial mission and successfully obtaining the grand prize. The system rewards you with one lucky draw and one copy of Primary Spell Application Strategies."

"Does the host wish to draw now?"

"Of course." Allen couldn't wait.

A giant spinning wheel appeared in his mind, featuring seven colors: red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and purple. The areas corresponding to the seven colors decreased in size in that order, and a bronze-colored pointer was fixed at the top center of the wheel.

"Start draw." The pointer spun rapidly. "Stop!" The pointer landed on the purple section, which had the smallest area.

"What great luck." Allen felt a surge of joy; the smallest area represented the most generous reward.

A purple treasure chest popped up. "Open." A line of golden text slowly appeared above it.

"Photographic Memory!" Allen asked the system in surprise, "Does that mean I remember everything I see?"

"Of course, but what the host has obtained now is the primary version of Photographic Memory, which only applies to text."

"Any text?"

"Correct, any text."

This was truly a surprise. Allen knew very well how much time this ability would save him during his studies.

"Perhaps we haven't paid enough attention to you, to think we didn't know our son was far more outstanding than we realized!" Mr. Harris gripped Allen's hand.

"Dad, I like reading because my memory is excellent. I can memorize the text in books completely after reading them a few times."

Allen offered the explanation he had been brewing for a while.

"Wow, that's truly incredible." Emily ran back to her room excitedly and came running back out with a rhythmic thumping.

"Brother Allen, try this book and prove it to them." Emily struggled as she carried a book over.

"The Tales of Beedle the Bard." Allen, who had heard of this book before, flipped open the cover with great interest.

"Just the story of The Tale of the Three Brothers." Emily turned the book to the longest story.

Allen scanned the story quickly, feeling as if every word were being scanned into his mind.

Allen handed the book to Emily. "There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, the brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across the bridge when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure..."

Allen's family members were absolutely stunned. From Emily's excited, jumping demeanor, it was clear that Allen had recited every word correctly.

They never expected that the one with the most potential in the family was actually Allen.

"And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life."

Allen finished reciting the story smoothly and looked at the overwhelmed Mrs. Harris. "Mom, I'm thirsty."

"Oh, of course. Oh, my dear, you've been talking for so long!"

Even in her excitement, Mrs. Harris could skillfully cast a silent spell with her wand.

The kettle flew automatically into the sink, clear water gushed from the tap into the pot, and the kettle flew back onto the stove, where flames ignited automatically beneath it.

"Oh, Allen, you truly make your mother proud." Mrs. Harris stroked Allen's head affectionately.

"It's so late, you must be hungry. Daisy, come and help. I think we should make something hearty—a steak and kidney pie, haggis..."

Mrs. Harris walked briskly toward the kitchen, dragging Daisy, who had been watching Allen's recitation with great interest, along with her.

Mr. Harris and Lenn were already surrounding the "Neptune" broomstick, talking endlessly about maintenance methods.

What pure-blood wizard could resist the charm of a top-tier broomstick? Even Allen, who had merged with the memories, felt his blood boil for the sport.

His little sister, Emily, was still circling Allen, asking one question after another; she felt her brother was more magical than magic itself.

Fed and satisfied, lying in bed before drifting off to sleep, Allen couldn't help but think: "What a wonderful day. Also, my sister is a true godsend!"