The gift is a crow?
Allen had once guessed that someone like Professor McGonagall would probably give him a pet—an owl, perhaps, considering her personality and style. But he hadn't expected this. Instead of an owl, she gave him... a crow.
The difference was more than just feathers. A crow?
Allen couldn't help but recall the time he was wandering in the wild and had once hunted and eaten a crow. The meat had been sour, chewy, and far from delicious.
As if sensing his thoughts, the crow in the cage stared at him warily. Its shiny eyes darted around, and it jumped about restlessly, clearly disturbed.
"Quiet, quiet," McGonagall said as she glanced at the bird, sighing internally.
Originally, she had considered getting Allen an owl. But then she remembered the incident where Allen had grabbed a poor owl and nearly plucked it, ready to toss it into a pot. That horrifying memory quickly changed her mind. A crow might not inspire such... culinary curiosity.
"We'll need to get along with each other in the future. And don't eat it, understand?" Professor McGonagall said with solemn authority.
"You're joking," Allen replied with a smile. "You gave me this gift. No matter how greedy I am, I would never eat it."
McGonagall nodded, apparently satisfied, but then paused.
Wait… Does that mean he would eat a gift if it didn't come from me? Or is he still considering eating an owl? Her temples began to throb with the start of a headache.
She seriously contemplated pulling Allen aside and brainwashing him into understanding one critical truth of the wizarding world:
Owls. Are. Friends. Not. Food.
Unfortunately, there were still several Muggle families she had to visit, and her schedule didn't allow time for impromptu owl-rights seminars.
It's fine, she told herself. There's still plenty of time at Hogwarts. I can fix him later.
She didn't yet realize how much chaos this boy would eventually bring to Hogwarts.
…
After their meeting, McGonagall helped Allen book a room and even treated him to dinner. Before she left, she gave him a list of precautions to keep in mind:
The method for entering and exiting Diagon Alley
Don't wander around Diagon Alley without reason
And—most importantly—do not use your wand to practice offensive spells casually. If you break anything, you'll have to pay for it. That rule alone made Allen almost give up on learning spells altogether.
But perhaps her most strongly emphasized advice was:
Do. Not. Eat. Owls.
The crow in the cage looked particularly offended by that last instruction.
Crow: ...So? Why didn't she just say "Don't eat crows"?
In his rented room, Allen sat at the desk and reached out to tease the crow in the cage. He chuckled. "Professor McGonagall is being ridiculous. She warned me not to eat owls—but said nothing about you. Isn't that unfair?"
The crow flapped its wings and swatted his hand away with an indignant squawk, stretching its neck in frustration.
"Alright, alright, I'll stop messing with you," Allen said, unlocking the cage. "Let's give you a name. With a name, you'll feel more secure. Maybe then you'll stop thinking I'm going to eat you."
The crow—now free—poked its head out cautiously. Its sharp eyes darted around before it hopped onto the table.
Allen looked at it, thoughtfully observing how the sunlight reflected off its feathers. The plumage shimmered with a deep, metallic sheen that was actually quite beautiful.
"How about Robert?" Allen said finally, grinning. "Yeah, Robert sounds like a decent name for a clever crow."
"Gah!" the crow—now Robert—responded, tilting his head as if processing the name.
"Okay, Robert," Allen said, waving him aside, "go do whatever you want. Just stop pacing around."
He wasn't too worried about Robert holding a grudge. With his Eye of Analysis, Allen could see that Robert had a hunting level of 5—equal to that of a trained owl—and that he wasn't just any crow. He was a raven, a notably more intelligent breed. And this was no ordinary raven.
In fact, the English name of Ravenclaw House was derived from the raven itself. The intelligence of the raven had already been certified by one of the founders of Hogwarts. In a world brimming with magic, a creature like Robert could easily understand human language.
As expected, Robert didn't stay mad. He flapped his wings, landed gracefully on Allen's shoulder, and peered curiously at what Allen was doing next.
Allen reached into his supplies and took out the pewter crucible he had purchased earlier. He knocked gently on the outer wall and examined it.
It was made of pewter—common for beginners because it conducted heat slowly and safely. But it was also a tin alloy, often containing lead. In the Muggle world, this alloy was typically used for soldering pipes and wasn't exactly kitchen-safe.
"I saw some gold crucibles at the shop," Allen muttered. "Those were corrosion-resistant and probably used by master potion makers… definitely not something they'd sell to a rookie like me."
He stared at the crucible a little longer.
"Lead… yeah, forget it. Potions might be okay, but cooking with this? That's just suicidal. I'm wild, but not that wild."
Shaking his head, Allen set the crucible aside.
"Better to just check the system," he said, whispering to himself in a way that made Robert tilt his head even more.
Allen opened his status panel.
At first glance, nothing looked different. But after a moment, he noticed something new. A node on his skill tree was glowing—just one, but enough to catch his eye.
"General Strengthening, Basic Magic Mastery?" Allen read the words aloud.
It wasn't something he had before. Clearly, this was new—either from completing the previous stage of training or as part of the natural progress of the system.
He tapped on it mentally.
A surge of warm energy poured through him, like someone pouring hot tea into a cold metal pot. His muscles relaxed, but his mind sharpened, and he could almost feel his connection to magic growing stronger—subtly but definitely.
He read the descriptions in the skill panel carefully:
General Strengthening (Passive Skill):
Improves physical resilience and stamina by 5%. Enhances muscular coordination and reaction speed.
Basic Magic Mastery (Active/Passive Skill):
Improves magic control. Slightly increases spell casting success rate, especially for low-tier spells. Reduces wand energy leakage.
"Huh. Not bad," Allen said with a smirk. "I might actually survive Hogwarts."
Robert cawed approvingly—or maybe sarcastically. It was hard to tell.
Allen stood and grabbed his wand.
He pointed it at a quill on the desk. "Let's see how much this 'magic mastery' actually helps…"
He focused, took a deep breath, and whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa."
The quill twitched.
Allen's eyes widened. That had never happened before. Usually, the most he got was a tiny spark or a twitch in the wand itself. But this time, the object responded. The feather lifted slightly—barely a centimeter—before falling again.
It was still progress.
Robert clapped his wings as if to say, "Not bad, amateur."
Allen grinned. He took out his notebook and began jotting down spell notes and control feedback, muttering observations to himself as he wrote.
By the window, the sun slowly dipped below the edge of the city, casting golden light into the room. The shadows stretched, and the lamplight inside began to glow warm and cozy.
In the quiet that followed, Allen looked at the reflection of himself and Robert in the windowpane.
A boy and his raven. Strange beginnings, maybe—but promising ones.
There was still a long way to go, but at least he was finally on the path.
And no owls were eaten. Yet.