Fred and George ultimately took five hundred Galleons in sponsorship and promised Allen thirty percent of the profits.
As the two of them put it,
"Our little prince who knows nothing of worldly concerns, five thousand Galleons would be enough for us to open a shop in Diagon Alley!"
Allen could only say, "If you need investment to open a shop, you can come to me for that too."
For once, the Weasley Twins were not their usual boisterous selves. They exchanged a glance, looked at Allen, and gently shook their heads with almost tender smiles.
-Let us show some respect for a mountain of gold!
-Especially such a generous mountain of gold!
-The god of jokes salutes you!
The twins left on unsteady legs. They floated back to their seats, laughing as they teased their Prefect brother, Percy.
The first-year Muggle-born Little Lions seized their chance, gathering in front of Allen one by one to let him inspect their bruises, which had faded considerably.
Allen obligingly examined each of them, praising their self-control.
"Do we get a reward?"
The Little Lions asked boldly.
Allen chuckled and took chocolates and macarons from his pocket. "This is all I brought. Share them!"
A chorus of "Ah..." rose from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. Even the older Muggle-born students in Gryffindor looked over with some envy.
Where Allen could not see, a young lady from Ravenclaw exchanged glances with two young gentlemen from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.
And so, before long...
A tall, older Gryffindor student approached, giving the first-years a rather stern look.
He was lean and tall, over six feet by the look of him, with curly tawny hair falling across his forehead and brown eyes as keen as a hawk's.
The Muggle-born Little Lions seemed rather guilty. One by one, they dutifully said goodbye to Allen and reluctantly returned to their seats to eat their dinner.
The older lion bowed to Allen with a hand over his heart-his form was unexpectedly impeccable.
"Alger Philip, at your service, Your Highness!" he said.
Allen remembered him: Gryffindor's relay point for Muggle-born correspondence, now in his sixth year.
With someone so capable and so little trouble, Allen was kindness itself. He nodded gently and gestured for him to sit beside him.
Alger hesitated before stepping over the bench and sitting down.
He seemed somewhat embarrassed, his lips pressed tightly together. "I'm sorry, Your Highness! I haven't kept these children in line... They're always troubling you."
Allen gently shook his head, wearing a perfect smile. "You needn't blame yourself, Mr. Philip. I'm very grateful for your efforts."
A faint blush rose to Alger's face. He cleared his throat before continuing,
"Today is Friday. Miss Diana Sharp asked me to seek your wishes. When might we hold a gathering?"
Perhaps afraid that Allen would reproach him, Alger quickly added, "Please don't take offense. Everyone is simply so eager to see you. Of course..."
He discreetly watched Allen's expression. "If you already have plans..."
For a fleeting moment, Allen thought he could see Sir Albert's golden retriever.
Come to think of it, Sir Albert's surname was Philip too...
He asked, "Sir Albert Philip is your..."
"My father."
Alger Philip answered immediately.
Allen understood. So this was a case of a pet resembling its owner. He chuckled. "I remember your family's golden retriever. He's adorable!"
Alger's face suddenly turned scarlet, though he quickly brought it under control. "It's an honor that Eddie has won your favor."
He ventured cautiously, "If you grant us another audience, we could bring Eddie along."
Allen nodded. "Of course!"
Alger inwardly flashed himself a victory sign. He had successfully secured an audience; his father would be beside himself with delight!
Visibly more relaxed, he asked, "Then, the time for the gathering?"
"Saturday," Allen answered. "I'll keep Saturday afternoon and evening free for you. Sorry for the trouble, but please choose a venue."
"Of course!"
Alger answered swiftly, afraid Allen might change his mind. "You'll receive our letter before bedtime."
And just like that, the older lion stayed seated beside Allen as though it were perfectly natural.
He tried to take a deep breath without making it obvious, then summoned his courage. "Would you like steak or lamb chops?"
The poor lion was so nervous that even his voice sounded different.
Allen gave him an amused glance but did not expose his little wish to dine together. He nodded. "Lamb chops, please. Pass me some fried potatoes too. Thank you."
Alger attended to him with painstaking care. He did not quite dare ask Allen what he wanted to drink, so he discreetly moved every sort of beverage within Allen's reach.
By the time Allen looked up, no fewer than ten different drinks stood before him.
"That's quite enough, Mr. Philip!"
Allen raised a hand to stop him from passing over yet another drink. "I prefer black tea with just a little sugar. Thank you!"
As though granted a reprieve, Alger immediately handed him a cup of black tea and moved the collection of drinks away.
"Relax, Mr. Philip." Allen smiled at him. "We'll be spending plenty of time together from now on!"
Alger nodded stiffly. Looking at Allen's friendly smile, he said in a trembling voice, "Yes, Your Highness!"
Allen took a small sip of black tea and praised it. "Just the right amount of sugar. Thank you, Mr. Philip."
Alger finally summoned his courage and said rapidly, "...You may call me Alger, Your Highness!"
The speed of his speech, as though Sherlock Holmes had come to life, made Allen pause. "Pardon?" he asked.
Poor young Philip took a deep breath and tried to speak more slowly. "...You may call me Alger."
Allen lowered his eyes with a smile and nodded gently. "Very well, Alger!"
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