A peacock couldn't keep his tail up every day, could he?

Allen was in a decidedly foul mood.

Quirrell, pretending to be weak... Voldemort, possessing him... the Dark Lord, trying to lure me into darkness...

And Hogwarts was supposed to be the safest place in the world?

What on earth was Dumbledore doing?

The blond Crown Prince's eyes darkened, his expression turning sinister as he silently radiated an oppressive air.

This was a side of him he had never shown anyone, and must never show anyone.

Allen took a deep breath. He had almost let Voldemort lead him astray.

He was the Crown Prince, charged with protecting others, loved by Father King and adored by his people. Even his cautious maneuvering in the Wizarding World was for the sake of peace between the two worlds.

How could I be anything like that terrorist?

Allen stopped, composed a smile, raised his wrist to check his watch, and turned toward the Great Hall.

It was almost noon. His Majesty's owl would be arriving soon.

He still had Wound Salve to hand out to the young wizards!

In the Great Hall, all four long tables were laden with food, and the young wizards were noisily opening letters over lunch.

Watching Allen arrive late, Draco gleefully mocked him. "Well, saintly Crown Prince? Got what was coming to you, did you?"

"Behave, Draco!"

Allen refused to take the bait. He stroked Selene, who had rushed over the moment she saw him, sat beside Draco, and opened the exquisite box.

This salve was supplied exclusively to the Royal Family. Its packaging was exquisite, its effects remarkable, and, naturally, its price equally impressive.

The box was a cube roughly twenty centimeters across. Allen untied the ribbon on top and checked how much was inside.

It held three individually wrapped gift boxes, each containing twenty small individual packages, with elegantly printed instructions laid on top.

"Looks like there's enough." Allen chuckled.

Draco leaned over curiously. "What's that?"

"Wound Salve."

Allen gave an amused smile. Looking at the faint bruise on Draco's forehead, then glancing at the Little Snakes sneaking looks his way, he handed over a box. "Draco, would you mind handing these out to our first-year classmates?"

Draco raised his eyebrows, deftly took one small package, then handed the larger box to Crabbe and Goyle. "Go hand these out!"

The proud young master Malfoy certainly wasn't going to do a servant's work!

He quickly opened his small package. Looking at the sleek, intricately designed black glass jar inside, he suppressed the upward twitch of his lips. "Oh, it looks all right!"

Allen restrained the urge to snap back and stressed, "It's supplied exclusively to the Royal Family. It works very well!"

Ignoring the arrogant young master, he picked up another box and walked toward the Gryffindor table under the expectant gazes of the first-year Little Lions, nodding pleasantly. "Sorry for the wait!"

He handed the exquisite box to Harry, whose eyes were shining. "My Special Assistant, Mr. Chosen One, would you mind handing these out for me?"

Harry grinned and proudly lifted his head under the Little Lions' gazes, only for Hermione to promptly smack him on the head and urge him on in a low voice.

Allen chuckled softly. "There are instructions in every little package. Make sure you apply it on schedule. I hope to see you all spending this weekend healthy and handsome-yes, and beautiful!"

"Right, I'm going to have lunch! Enjoy yourselves!"

Allen turned and met Dumbledore's gentle gaze. The old man raised his goblet to him and gave a little wink.

Allen inclined his head, concealing the look in his eyes.

This headmaster certainly paid him a great deal of attention.

Allen returned to his seat, wrote a note, and had Tita deliver the remaining box of salve to Madam Pomfrey.

-I certainly don't want to climb up to the Seventh Floor again!

The magical world didn't even have an elevator!

After an entire lunch of Draco's incessant chatter, Flying Class finally arrived.

To Allen's frustration, he discovered that handling a broom really did depend on talent.

He thought he was beginning to understand how other children usually felt around him.

Harry called once and his broom obediently jumped into his hand; Draco succeeded on his second try.

Allen expressionlessly called "Up!" for the tenth time, but his broom still didn't budge.

Draco watched him with obvious glee.

"Well, it's only natural that a Muggle Crown Prince wouldn't be used to a broom!"

Allen narrowed his eyes. Ever since childhood, he had exercised for thirty minutes every day under Edward's supervision, and when he grew older, he had spent every summer training at a military base.

Cars, military vehicles, tanks, motorboats, yachts, jet skis-he had even handled a helicopter's controls!

Of course, Edward would never have allowed him to pilot one. He had only played with the controls briefly under the staff's supervision.

And yet a broom had defeated him!

He took a deep breath and stared at the broom, its twigs sticking out every which way. "If you don't get up, I'll burn you!"

The broom trembled and obediently jumped into his hand.

Draco gave him a peculiar look.

I'd thought this Muggle Crown Prince was a complete pushover. So he had a temper after all!

Lying in his pocket, Salazar heard those words and was deeply gratified.

He had been worrying about how to teach Dark Magic to this overly gentle young descendant of his. Now he could finally relax!

Once everyone had picked up their brooms, Madam Hooch said,

"Next, when you hear my whistle, kick hard off the ground. Keep your balance, hover for a moment, then lean slightly forward and return to the ground.

"On my whistle. Three, two, one!"

But before she could blow her whistle, a round-faced boy had already left the ground. He seemed to panic, and his broom kept climbing.

Madam Hooch shouted, "Mr. Longbottom!"

Harry yelled, "Neville!"

Straddling his broom, Allen glanced sideways. He had long since memorized the twenty-eight pure-blood surnames, and Longbottom was one of them.

Since the boy wasn't a Muggle-born young wizard, he was none of Allen's concern.

So he merely glanced at Neville as he rose higher and higher, spun a full three hundred and sixty degrees in midair, slammed into the wall and folded like a hula hoop, then finally snagged on a castle statue's spear.

Soon, his robes could no longer bear his weight, and Neville fell to the ground after all.

Allen calmly looked away.

He glanced at the trembling broom he had casually tossed onto the ground and decided it was more dangerous than a helicopter.

Madam Hooch took poor little Neville to the Hospital Wing, so Allen looked for somewhere shady where he could enjoy a little peace.

In the brief time he wasn't paying attention, trouble broke out nearby.

Draco picked up the Remembrall Neville had dropped and sneered,

"Did you see that idiot? If the fat lump had remembered to squeeze this Remembrall, he'd have known to land on his fleshy backside."

Anger flared in Harry's green eyes. He stepped forward. "Give me the Remembrall, Malfoy!"

Draco turned with a frown. "No chance. I'm trying to decide where to hide it for Longbottom to find!"

Just as Allen looked over, Draco stepped onto his upright broom and spun up into the sky.

The little peacock soared smoothly into the air and steadied himself with ease.

Allen was surprised. So he really was good on a broom. It hadn't all been bragging!

The little peacock arrogantly tossed the Remembrall in the air and called, "How about the roof? What's wrong, Potter? Can't reach it?"

Harry glared furiously at Draco in the air and flew up after him, ignoring Hermione's attempts to stop him.

All right, The Chosen One really did have some special talents.

Allen looked at the broom at his feet and narrowed his eyes dangerously.

-I'll have to see if there's some sort of Flying Charm!

Up in the air, Draco threw the Remembrall away.

A chorus of gasps rose from the young wizards.

Yet, to everyone's surprise, Harry dived fifty feet and caught the Remembrall.

He flew back toward the others with the Remembrall held aloft, like a victorious general, looking toward Allen for praise.

Allen smiled from a distance and gave an approving nod.

A certain Chosen One was practically strutting with pride!

Draco looked rather unhappy. Over lunch, he had boasted about his skill on a broom, and nearly everyone knew about it.

Yet in their very first Flying Class, Harry-a boy who had never touched a broom before-had surpassed him!

Before long, all of Hogwarts would probably know!

Crabbe and Goyle kept their mouths firmly shut, afraid of upsetting the young master.

A moment later, Professor McGonagall called Harry away with a stern expression, and Draco looked even more unhappy.

After all, he was only a spoiled child, not truly malicious. Though he didn't want to be outdone and humiliated, he didn't want Harry to be expelled either!

Allen handed him a chocolate, then popped one into his own mouth.

It would do this young master good to learn a lesson!

A peacock couldn't keep his tail up every day, could he?