What was it like to have an exceptionally gifted, clever descendant who never gave you any trouble?
Lying in the pocket of Allen's outer robe, which Allen had enchanted with a Space Charm, Salazar felt eminently qualified to answer.
The Space Charm, also known as the Undetectable Extension Charm, could create an enormous space within a tiny area. The spell itself was not difficult; the challenge lay in its abstruse theory. Few people could understand the logic behind it.
And yet...
In just half an hour, Allen had successfully opened up a small space.
At first, it was only the size of a fist. But soon, that space expanded rapidly like a balloon being inflated, growing to the size of a hat, then a chair...
Within an hour, Allen could expertly create a space measuring one square meter.
This descendant has an extraordinary gift for theory!
So Salazar thought.
The boy had grasped the very nature of space and summed up the Space Charm as "folding and connecting spatial energy fields."
...Wisdom from Muggles truly is astonishing.
So Salazar thought.
Or perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a threat from Muggles.
Wasn't it precisely because I understood the threat Muggles posed a thousand years ago that I advocated pure-blood lineage so firmly?
In any case, even during the wars of a thousand years ago, this spell had been strictly controlled to preserve order among wizards.
As Crown Prince, Allen had been following one rule or another since the day he was born, from laws to the Royal Family's rules.
He had therefore long understood the importance of knowing the rules.
Among the large batch of books he had bought in Diagon Alley, he had specifically made sure to purchase the regulations issued by every department of the Ministry of Magic.
The Undetectable Extension Charm was strictly restricted. It could not be used for private purposes, only in the production of certain approved items, such as the six school trunks Allen had bought.
Clearly, Allen knew all of this.
But he did not care.
Who could prove he had used it illegally?
The Slytherins looked out for themselves. Even if they discovered it, fear of his strength would keep their mouths shut.
The Wizarding World was nothing like the Muggle World.
In the Ordinary World, even privileged classes were cloaked in the flowery ideal of equality, constrained by law and morality, or quietly flourishing where the light could not reach.
But in the Wizarding World, increasing one's strength was the only truth that mattered.
Grindelwald, who had swept across Europe, Voldemort, who had cast the shadow of death over the Wizarding World of the United Kingdom for half a century, and Dumbledore, who now stood guard over Hogwarts...
Were they not all proof of that principle?
Allen had to admit that he was tempted.
I don't want politicians arranging every part of my life. I don't want to exercise a king's authority only to sign every fool's appointment papers and let them make a complete mess of the country!
Allen stared at the ghost professor with his monotonous voice, then lowered his eyes to conceal the look in them.
Take it slowly!
Don't rush!
He rubbed his Fountain Pen and continued taking notes.
Unlike the sparse handfuls of words he jotted down in other classes, which only he could understand, his notes for this class were neatly organized. Key points, difficult material, and likely exam topics were carefully marked, with annotations included.
There was no helping it. None of the young wizards liked this class, so he had to think of the children's final exams.
Salazar had not expected this to be the Professor Binns he had known back then. When Rowena had invited Binns to teach, he had sat in on a few lessons himself.
Professor Binns had possessed a tremendous dedication to and enthusiasm for teaching.
His explanations had been lively and engaging, his research solid and extensive. He could even recreate historical scenes, immersing his students in the era.
A thousand years have passed, and even Binns has become a ghost...
Salazar had only just sunk into his memories with a touch of melancholy when Defense Against the Dark Arts infuriated him beyond endurance.
Can someone tell me why Hogwarts has such an incompetent fraud teaching here?
A thousand years ago, I would have thrown him into the Slytherin Dungeons and locked him up!
Allen quietly twirled his wand and cast a nonverbal freshening charm around himself, shutting out the lethal mixture of garlic and decay.
He listened expressionlessly as Professor Quirrell stammered his way through the textbook, sorely missing his specially hired tutors, with their gentle manner and incisive explanations.
At this point, never mind the other young wizards.
Even he had no idea what notes he was supposed to take in this professor's class.
All he could do was mark the sections Quirrell had read aloud.
Quirrell stood at the front, stammering through the textbook. Seeing all the young wizards lower their eyes in boredom, his timid gaze suddenly sharpened for an instant and flicked toward that gleaming blond hair.
Even in the gloomy classroom, that golden hair had lost none of its luster.
The powerful figure on the back of his head spoke in a hiss, his voice flowing straight into Quirrell's mind.
[A freshening charm... a Nonverbal Spell... what a rare talent...]
[Let's see how Dumbledore handles this Muggle Crown Prince...]
Quirrell did not understand the Dark Lord's peculiar interest in the Muggle Crown Prince. Talented though the prince might be, Harry Potter was the Dark Lord's mortal enemy, after all.
[What do you know!] The voice turned shrill, making his head feel as though it would split apart, and his reading became even more halting.
This change only made the young wizards more impatient, leaving them waiting ever more desperately for class to end.
Allen looked up in puzzlement. Seeing Quirrell's pale face and the way he seemed to be enduring immense pain, he raised his hand and said,
"Professor, are you feeling unwell? Should you go to the Hospital Wing?"
Quirrell froze, then stammered, "Oh, oh... M-Mr. Cornwall... I..."
Before he could finish, the young lions interrupted him "enthusiastically." "Yes, Professor! Hurry to the Hospital Wing! Go on, hurry!"
In a daze, he was pushed out of the classroom by the children, then watched the Gryffindors cheer as they packed their bags and ran past him through the door, one after another.
Including Harry Potter.
The platinum-haired Malfoy also strode briskly out, remembering to turn back and call to the unhurried Crown Prince.
Allen strolled to the doorway and asked with concern, "Professor? Do you need me to take you to the Hospital Wing?"
Quirrell shook his head and stammered, "N-no..."
Allen nodded calmly and was about to walk around him when a hand suddenly seized his arm.
Quirrell looked at him in terror and stammered, "Y-yes..."
Allen: ...
Salazar, who had thought he was finally free of it all inside the pocket: ...
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