Basic mastery of magic—this seemingly ordinary enhancement—had completely transformed Allen into a prodigy. With it, he no longer needed repeated practice or tedious memorization. Allen found that he could absorb spells as though he had been born with an instinct for them; reading through a single description once was enough for him to understand and reproduce the magic.
Though the spells he had grasped were still only at the lowest E-level, the significance was undeniable: Allen could now use them with competence. More importantly, this accomplishment confirmed one thing beyond doubt—he had fully completed the study of the book in his hands.
There was only one drawback. Despite his impressive mastery, Allen noticed that his hunting level remained fixed at Level 39. Learning these basic spells, as useful as they were, did not increase his overall rank. This realization left him slightly disappointed.
For Penelope, however, Allen's rapid progress was nothing short of astonishing.
She had been skeptical at first, but after witnessing Allen flawlessly perform the Disillusionment Charm—a spell considered difficult even among standard incantations—her disbelief gave way to genuine shock.
Though Allen's version of the charm still had rough edges, with slight flaws in concealment, the fact that he had succeeded at all on his first serious attempt was incredible.
"My God, Allen…" Penelope breathed, eyes widening. "You really should have been sorted into Ravenclaw. I've never seen anyone so ridiculously talented at magic." Her tone was half exasperated, half admiring. "You don't seem to have any weaknesses at all—except perhaps for a little lack of polish, and some incomplete details in how you wield the spells."
Allen raised his chin proudly. Though his words carried modesty, his expression betrayed his satisfaction. "Isn't lack of detail the biggest shortcoming, though? I think I still have plenty of room to improve."
"You're right about that," Penelope replied, her eyes sparkling as she studied him. "There's always room for improvement. But you've already achieved more than most students ever dream of. You can afford to be proud." A playful smile tugged at her lips. "Why don't I help you refine those details next?"
"You want to teach me?" Allen asked, tilting his head, surprised.
"Of course. It would be my honor to teach a genius," Penelope teased. "And when you eventually challenge Professor Dumbledore and make yourself famous, I'll be able to boast that I was your tutor. People will be impressed just by association."
Her words were delivered in jest, but deep down, Penelope felt an unexpected seriousness. Allen's growth was so rapid, his potential so startling, that she could not dismiss the thought: perhaps one day, he really might stand on equal footing with Dumbledore.
Allen chuckled. "Then it's my honor to be your student." He reached into his satchel and produced a small cloth bag. "By the way, senior sister, would you like some candy? I made it myself."
"Made by you?" Penelope's eyebrows rose with curiosity. "That sounds worth looking forward to. The noodles you cooked yesterday were delicious. If your candy is even half as good, then I'm in for a treat."
Without hesitation, she accepted a piece from Allen's outstretched hand and popped it into her mouth. The moment the sweetness melted on her tongue, she froze.
Allen's extraordinary talent extended beyond magic—his natural aptitude made even the simplest ingredients sing under his craftsmanship. But ordinary ingredients could only partially showcase his skill. When he applied his creativity to magical sweets, the results were nothing short of overwhelming.
Penelope had never tasted anything like it. The candy was so exquisite it felt almost enchanted, though Allen had not imbued it with a single spell. For more than half a minute, she sat in a daze, savoring the rich flavor, before she finally blinked herself back to awareness. Her cheeks flushed faintly with embarrassment.
"I—I'm sorry," she stammered. "Why is this candy so delicious?"
"Because I made it," Allen replied with mock arrogance. Normally such boasting would sound insufferable, but coming from him, it was oddly endearing—especially since the candy truly was one of a kind.
"If you like it, then take the whole bag," Allen said, pushing the packet toward her.
"This… isn't that too much?" Penelope hesitated, torn between courtesy and desire. She wanted to refuse, but the fragrant sweetness that lingered in the air tempted her irresistibly.
Even Professor McGonagall would not have been able to resist such a gift. For a young woman like Penelope, the struggle was hopeless.
"It's a gift," Allen assured her. "Friends exchange gifts all the time. Besides, you've given me your time to tutor me. Consider this my way of saying thank you."
"Then… for your candy," Penelope said softly, her hand hovering over the bag before she finally took it, "I'll have to be extra careful in teaching you. Otherwise I'll feel too guilty." She pressed a hand lightly against her chest as if to calm herself, though in truth it was the sweetness of the moment that had unsettled her.
The morning passed quietly in this rhythm of spellcasting and correction, theory and laughter. By the time the bell for lunch echoed through the castle, Penelope had finished her lesson.
"My goodness," she exclaimed as she stretched, the graceful curve of her figure emphasized in the motion. "Allen, you're even more talented than I thought. Without realizing it, I've already taught you material up to the level of a fifth-year."
In the span of a single morning, Allen had absorbed five years' worth of spellwork—something that would sound laughable if told to others. But Penelope knew the truth, because she had been there to witness it with her own eyes.
She felt a quiet relief that her own grades had always been excellent. Had she been an ordinary student, she would have been utterly incapable of guiding someone like Allen.
Allen, meanwhile, was equally satisfied. Not only had he learned efficiently, but Penelope's teaching style was structured, patient, and remarkably clear. With her help, all his spells—except for Transfiguration—had advanced to D-level proficiency, including the ones he had only just encountered that morning.
"Senior sister, you'd better keep working hard," Allen teased, smiling slyly. "At this rate, you might be the one coming to me for advice soon."
"Don't get complacent." Penelope wagged a finger at him gently. "What you're studying now are still basic subjects. You haven't touched the elective courses yet—and those are far more important in the long run. Not only are they difficult, but they demand both practical skill and theoretical knowledge. Talent alone won't carry you through them."
Her warning was not harsh but earnest, like a senior guiding a younger sibling.
"Thank you for the reminder, senior sister," Allen replied with a faint smile. He had grown fond of her soft-spoken cautions; they felt warm rather than critical.
The two left the Room of Requirement together. Penelope glanced back, watching as the ornate door slowly faded into the blank wall behind them. A sigh escaped her lips.
"This room…" she murmured. "I can't even begin to understand the kind of magic behind it. It's so mysterious—so beautiful in its complexity."
Her scholarly nature shone through. Where Allen simply saw convenience, Penelope yearned to unravel the mysteries.
To Allen, the principle was irrelevant. What mattered was that the room served his purposes. Still, he respected her curiosity, even if he had no intention of delving into research himself.
"By the way," Allen said casually, lowering his voice, "let's keep what happened here between us."
If it had been Martha, Allen might have softened his request with a playful tone, acting spoiled to coax her agreement. But with Penelope, such an approach would clash with the reliable, mature image he wanted to maintain.
"A secret…" Penelope considered for only a moment before nodding. "Of course. I don't want other people intruding when I use this place either."
"Then this will be our shared secret," Allen said with satisfaction. "But there's one more thing: if you plan to use the Room of Requirement, you'll need to write to me first. Tell me the details of the room you enter—otherwise, I might not be able to go in. And if I want to use it, I'll do the same for you."
Penelope paused, weighing his request, then nodded again. It was perfectly reasonable, after all.
Thus, a subtle bond was forged between them, strengthened not only by lessons and laughter but also by the quiet promise of shared secrecy. Step by step, Allen was drawing closer to Penelope—not through grand gestures, but through small, thoughtful exchanges.
As for Percy Weasley, Penelope's official boyfriend and constant shadow, Allen's eyes glinted with a spark of mischief. One way or another, Percy would learn that standing in his way carried consequences.
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