Let's see whose weekend is fully booked

Ah, Friday, a delightful day.

Friday.

What a wonderful word. Praise Frigg, goddess of love!

Allen strolled through the castle. Tonight would belong entirely to him.

True, he had a gathering with the Muggle-borns tomorrow afternoon, and an appointment to visit Hagrid with the Chosen One the afternoon after...

But none of that mattered!

At least he had two mornings to himself!

Ah, such was the Crown Prince's humble wish! After all, contentment brought happiness, didn't it?

Allen slowly made his way toward the Dungeons.

Suddenly, scarlet flames blazed before him. Once they vanished, a large crimson-and-gold bird appeared out of thin air.

The bird was as large as a swan, its fiery wings beating the air. Its crimson-and-gold crest looked quite magnificent, and its long beak and claws gleamed gold.

Most striking of all was its long, shining golden tail feather, which drifted with the rise and fall of its body.

A word surfaced in Allen's mind-

An immortal bird.

Or rather, a phoenix!

Allen stared at that tail until the great bird grew impatient and flapped its wings vigorously at him, snapping him out of his daze.

"Sorry."

Allen apologized reflexively. Only then did he notice the note held in the bird's beak.

He took the note, and the bird vanished in a burst of flame, just as it had arrived.

Allen stared at the spot where the phoenix had disappeared, recalling the description of the Dumbledore family in History of Magic-

Whenever a Dumbledore needed help, a phoenix would come to their side.

Supposedly, when the first Dark Lord had swept across Europe, a Dumbledore with a phoenix had accompanied him.

Allen slowly raised his eyes and pushed those thoughts aside before looking at the note. It read-

[Allen:

Would you be free to come to the Headmaster's Office for a chat on Sunday morning?

Incidentally, Sherbet Lemons are my favorite.

Albus Dumbledore]

Allen's face fell.

Wonderful. On this glorious weekend, he now had only one morning to himself!

Well, he really wasn't in the mood to wander around the castle anymore.

He hadn't expected even the Common Room to offer him no peace.

His left foot had barely crossed the threshold when a certain little peacock, sitting with his legs crossed and sipping Pumpkin Juice, gave a cold snort. "Oh, look who it is!" he said snidely.

"The Muggle Crown Prince himself! I thought someone had forgotten which house he actually belonged to!"

Allen: ...

I absolutely have to write to Father King and have him consult a psychologist!

Allen took a deep breath. Looking at the little peacock before him, he suddenly understood.

Oh...

The little peacock is angry because I went to the Gryffindor table?

Hmm...

Perhaps I could take turns visiting Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff over the next two days?

Allen dismissed that rather childish idea. During his first week, at least, he ought to stick with Slytherin a little more.

"What's wrong, Draco?" Allen sat down beside Draco and offered him a box of macarons.

The French treats successfully silenced Draco's snide remarks. The little peacock snatched the box and viciously bit into a pastry.

Allen looked at Crabbe.

The rather portly boy edged closer and whispered, "Malfoy just heard Harry Potter's been chosen as Gryffindor's Seeker! He's angry about it!"

He jerked his chin toward Draco.

So that's it...

Allen rubbed his brow.

No wonder Alger had scoffed at Wood's attempts at secrecy-Wood being the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.

Yes, Hogwarts had no secrets.

Clearly, the proud white peacock was furious at this outcome-

Harry Potter hadn't received any punishment. Instead, he had become the youngest Seeker in history.

What was more, Draco had, in a sense, indirectly brought this about himself.

Allen studied him for a long moment, then stood. "Come with me. We're going to the Headmaster's Office!"

Draco flung down the box of macarons, letting the colorful treats scatter across the floor. His voice trembled with tears. "I'm not going!"

Allen patted his shoulder. "Don't cry. You can become a Seeker too!"

Draco raised a hand to wipe his face, brushing away the tears he couldn't hold back, then looked up and said,

"Can you really do something? It's impossible. That old bee won't let first-years join the Quidditch teams!"

Allen felt helpless.

How had Lucius Malfoy, such a shrewd politician and businessman, raised such a naive, awkward child?

He couldn't even analyze the situation.

"That was true before," Allen explained, "but now Harry has set a precedent."

Draco looked at him, apparently catching on. His gray-blue eyes gradually brightened. He sprang to his feet, grabbed Allen, and ran toward Snape's office.

"Mr. Cornwall..."

The black-robed professor paced slowly beside Allen, his low, silky voice resonating like a cello.

"You will need to provide some sound, reliable grounds for this whimsical request of yours, so that your poor Head of House can make an appropriate judgment..."

Not everyone spent as much time around powerful people as Allen did, and thus acquired immunity to the serpent king's venom.

Draco was now watching Allen warily, already beginning to regret coming.

Yet he was far too conspicuous. His platinum hair, plastered with gel, caught the light even in the gloomy Dungeons. There was nowhere for him to hide.

Allen gave a perfect smile. "Professor, Quidditch matches are a major school event, and our house team is highly enthusiastic.

"However, I hear Harry Potter has been made an exception and appointed Gryffindor House's Seeker because he dived fifty feet to catch a Remembrall during Flying Class."

Seeing Snape pause, he knew he was getting somewhere.

After all, the professor's hatred of Harry was no mere talk-whenever he saw Harry, he inevitably found a reason to deduct a few points.

Allen continued, "Clearly, our Seeker, Terence Higgs, has been worn out lately by his N.E.W.T. exams and cannot devote himself fully to training.

"Therefore, bringing fresh blood into the team would be a very wise decision."

"Mr. Cornwall believes..."

Snape glanced at Draco. Seeing the little peacock tuck his tail in, he raised an eyebrow at Allen from above. "That Mr. Malfoy would be suitable?"

"Yes, Professor!"

Allen met his gaze without flinching. "Draco's knowledge of broomsticks is certainly no worse than that of someone who's only handled one for a single lesson!"

Snape said nothing.

Allen carefully watched the black-robed professor's expression, recalling what Dumbledore had said-

Harry looked exactly like his father, except for his eyes, which were just like his mother's.

Confident of victory, Allen's lips curved into a faint smile. He raised his eyes and said,

"The Potter Family isn't the only one with a gift for flying."

"Very good, Mr. Cornwall."

Snape narrowed his eyes dangerously, scribbled out a permission slip, and handed it to Allen.

"From now on, you will come here every Monday for private Potions lessons..." His eyebrow rose subtly. "To help you overcome certain... difficulties."

Allen's expression stiffened. He hadn't forgotten those slimy slugs!

He swiftly took the small piece of parchment from Snape, grabbed Draco, and hastily made his farewells.

Still rather dazed, Draco was dragged out of the Potions Office. Then a note was thrust into his hand. It read,

[I, Severus Snape, grant Draco Malfoy permission to try out for the Slytherin Quidditch Team ahead of the usual age requirement.]

He jumped up and threw his arms around Allen. "You're brilliant!"

Allen pushed him away without expression, as though he could already see his "bright future" of kneading slugs.

Meanwhile, the little peacock beside him was ecstatic.

The blond Crown Prince couldn't help smiling bitterly. He was just about to suggest going back for a rest when the exuberant Draco dragged him off to find Flint.

Draco was positively radiant.

"Hmph! Let that Potter show off! It's only being a Seeker, isn't it? I refuse to believe some bloke who grew up in the Muggle world can beat me!"

Allen: ...

My one and only Friday evening!

It's fine. It's fine!

Allen did his best to convince himself-he still had tomorrow morning!

Until Flint told Draco that his tryout would be held the next morning...

And Draco patted Allen's shoulder, "instructing" him to be sure to come...

Allen slowly broke into a smile.

Wonderful. Now I don't have a single moment to myself!