Ilvermorny, the pride of the American wizarding world, was currently locked in a power struggle with its own magical government.
In the wizarding world, there's no such thing as a war of independence, which means that technically, America's magical institutions should fall under the jurisdiction of Britain's.
But the word "technically" is doing a lot of heavy lifting here.
There's an old saying: "A tail so large the head can't control it." That about sums up the situation.
Even in the magical world, half a globe's worth of distance is no small matter. Distance, much like time, is one of the most powerful catalysts for change.
How many lovers have parted because of time and distance? Too many to count.
Likewise, the "romance" between the British and American magical communities had frayed over time, especially after a certain someone named Riddle decided he had a bone to pick with the status quo.
In Riddle's eyes, the gentle oppression of the current wizarding world was a symptom of its moral decay.
Purebloods were meant for glory!
So, young Tom, never mind the fact that he himself was a half-blood, firmly stood up and declared that history needed to roll in reverse!
That's right, anything less than pureblood was trash! Long live purebloods! Purebloods are supreme! Raise the banner high!
Unfortunately for Lord Voldemort, he didn't have a signature tiny mustache or a fashionable side-part.
And let's be real, adult Tom Riddle was just plain bald.
In some nameless pub, Voldemort and his loyal followers began building their own power base, the Death Eaters.
It didn't take long for this group to grow, mostly by recruiting pureblood wizards who couldn't keep up with the times and were clinging to old ideals with their last breath.
But you can't turn back the clock forever.
Just as Voldemort's power peaked, his legend was abruptly cut short. He vanished in the very place Gryffindor was born, Godric's Hollow.
Aside from a certain book, My Struggle, which Ginny Weasley once liked but Harry eventually destroyed, most of his "treasures" were lost to history.
Still, a scar-faced boy would later embark on a journey, guided by a white-bearded old man, to hunt down the legacy of the Dark Lord. But that's another story.
The British wizarding world, once the unrivaled leader, was deeply shaken by Voldemort's rise and fall. For a time, it even severed its ties with the outside world.
Meanwhile, the American wizarding community never let up. It kept pushing forward.
Sure, pureblood snobs still tried to suppress wizards from non-magical families, but in truth, the number of Muggle-born or half-blood wizards kept growing.
And with them came fresh ideas, ideas that transformed not only Ilvermorny, but the entire American magical landscape.
In their world, Britain wasn't number one anymore. The sun had long set on the British Empire.
And the country that had brought it down from its global throne? Their very own, America.
Naturally, when these young American witches and wizards found out that, in the magical world, they were still considered underlings to the Brits, well, that just didn't sit right.
As America gradually secured its dominance on the world stage, its magical community rose with it.
The best of the best were no longer just students, they were entering the magical legislature. Some even became council members.
There's an old proverb: "Better to be the head of a chicken than the tail of a phoenix."
And let's face it, modern-day Britain was no phoenix. It had already hit the ground and was looking more like a chicken anyway.
Unfortunately, what applied to the Muggle world didn't always translate to the magical one.
The British Ministry of Magic didn't rise to power through reason or eloquent debate. It didn't need fancy speeches or well-crafted arguments.
No, the Ministry's power came from one thing: presence. And with decades of heritage behind it, the British Ministry had no trouble reminding the Americans,
"You might be growing up, but your daddy is still your daddy."
As for the beatdown the MACUSA was getting? Allen didn't know a thing, and even if he did, it wouldn't change his plans.
Whether the Americans were begging or sobbing while calling Britain "Daddy," it didn't matter. The British Ministry would never let him freely access those forbidden texts, unless he sold his soul to them and joined the Aurors.
But Allen had no intention of doing that.
Just look at Mad-Eye Moody, clear proof that being an Auror was a high-risk job.
Allen would rather follow Dumbledore's path: become a teacher and help wrangle rowdy students.
And after seeing Professor Sigma in action, that plan seemed even more viable.
Of course, there was one thing he had to avoid at all costs: getting talked into teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Sure, Voldemort was already dead at this point, but still… that position was cursed!
At the moment, Allen expressionlessly tossed aside another book.
It described a powerful hypnosis spell, apparently so potent that one wizard once used it to enchant an entire castle.
A brave soul finally broke the spell with a kiss, waking everyone from the trance.
But here's the kicker: the book spent pages on pointless fluff without ever revealing the actual incantation or how to cast the spell.
Typical.
Same system, same nonsense.
With a sigh, Allen tossed it onto the growing pile of useless books and stretched his arms.
The entire morning had been a waste.
Among all those books, only one offered a half-decent spell, the rest were complete trash.
Ilvermorny's library might've looked impressive, but it was still a far cry from Hogwarts in terms of quality.
Looks like it was time to check out the restricted section and hope there was something worthwhile hidden there.
Carrying the heavy stack back to their original shelves, one level at a time, Allen overheard some whispers nearby.
No surprise there, they were definitely talking about him.
There weren't many transfer students at Ilvermorny not wearing school uniforms.
And Allen was easily the shortest among them, can't help it, he was younger.
He'd already stood out once with yesterday's little "performance," so of course people would remember him.
Not that he had time to care.
Calling over Annie, who was still deeply absorbed in a wizard fairy tale, Allen turned and left the library.
Time to see what classes were like in the afternoon.
According to the schedule, there was a Defense Against the Dark Arts class for fourth-years.
It was a bit advanced for him, but Allen figured he could manage.
As the two walked toward the dining hall, Allen had just one complaint:
Ilvermorny doesn't serve the foods he wanted. Big thumbs down.
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A/N: There's a lot of saying and proverbs in this fanfic so you might get confused. The phrase "a tail so large the head can't control it" is metaphorical and often used to describe a situation where a subordinate part of a system becomes so powerful or unwieldy that the central authority loses control.
The proverb "Better to be the head of a chicken than the tail of a phoenix" means it's better to be the leader of something small than to be a follower in something great.