Generally speaking, exchanges only sent a small group of top students as representatives. After all, no school wanted to show off its weak points. But Dumbledore wasn't the type to play by the rules.
By dragging nearly the entire Hogwarts staff and student body along, he not only drained a fortune from the Ministry but also thoroughly overwhelmed the host school.
When the mobile fortress, which could hardly be called a miniature castle, emerged from underground and opened its gates, gasps of awe floated over from the outside. The structure might have been a little ugly, but its presence was undeniably imposing. Hogwarts wouldn't have used it as a showpiece otherwise.
In the spotlight, Allen, leading the witches and wizards, stepped forward with a calm, this-is-nothing expression, drawing admiring glances from everyone around, impossible.
Although Dumbledore was kind, this wasn't the moment for Allen to show off.
There was only one person who could lead a group of wizards out in that manner: Hogwarts' headmaster, Dumbledore. Even Professor McGonagall trailed a few steps behind.
Behind McGonagall stood the rest of Hogwarts' professors. Unfortunately, all the applause and cheers went to Dumbledore. His face had appeared in too many books, his world reputation commanded respect.
It wasn't until Dumbledore approached the Mahoutokoro headmaster to receive flowers and gifts from two child attendants that the applause subsided. Then, it was the turn of the child attendants to present flowers to Mahoutokoro's principal. He accepted the bouquet with a practiced smile, but the smile quickly shifted to shock.
He saw the lightning-shaped scar on the child's forehead.
Yes, Dumbledore had whimsically used Harry as a flower boy, and of course, it boosted Harry's fame in the process.
As expected, the shocked headmaster awkwardly pronounced in peculiar Japanese-English: "Harry, Potter?"
The name instantly caught the attention of the other students. Harry was, after all, incredibly famous. Within moments, the news spread through the neatly lined-up group.
To call them "rubbernecking monkeys" felt rude. Let's call them "giant pandas" instead, a rare breed, the only one in the world.
Allen noticed some students even using spells with telescope-like effects to get a better look at Harry. What a waste of magical talent, Allen thought, Harry's aptitude was really annoying.
Although unaware that Harry would be a flower boy, during yesterday's punishment card game, Harry drew a terrifying penalty: shaving his head. Allen and friends, of course, didn't let him off easily. After agreeing to make a wig from his hair, Harry tearfully accepted the spell. Ron laughed for ages, finally, he had company.
But unexpectedly, Harry's hair had grown back the next day, just out of his sleeping bag. If it weren't for the wig made yesterday, everyone might have suspected he magically reattached it.
Imagine if the wig had been removed while the peeping students were watching, then sunlight gleaming off Harry's scalp would've blinded them!
Unfortunately, the prefect interrupted Allen's fantasy: "Alright, fourth-year students, get ready. It's your turn to take the stage."
Take the stage? The Mahoutokoro students were stunned.
When the first-year students appeared, they were met with cheers and applause.
Second-years followed, with expressions of curiosity, how did Hogwarts manage so many wizards?
By the time the third-years walked out, their faces were stunned, why is Hogwarts sending so many? Are they here for an exchange or to start a fight?
By the time Allen's group stepped forward, the scene was awkward, everyone had already cycled through their expressions and hit an "expression cooldown."
When the seventh-years appeared, Allen could clearly see the black lines appearing on Mahoutokoro students' foreheads. Hogwarts had more people than them, were they here to exchange or to wage war?
Dumbledore's face, however, didn't change a bit. At 111 years old, he had seen it all, this awkwardness barely registered.
After a brief, friendly exchange, a cloud drifted over the sky. It hovered above Mahoutokoro and slowly descended. As it neared the ground, it dissipated, revealing a large ship. It stopped less than 0 centimeters above the ground, and dozens of wide planks extended downward.
As the planks touched the ground, a familiar face appeared at the front of the line, it was the Ilvermorny principal.
Five minutes later, nearly as many students as Hogwarts poured off the ship, only about a hundred fewer. Just like Hogwarts, Ilvermorny had sent its entire student body.
What was this? A pre-battle preparation to exhaust Mahoutokoro's budget?
No one knew, and mealtime hadn't arrived yet anyway.
Before Ilvermorny students disembarked, Allen took a moment to scrutinize the school. Marshall's intel was useless, better to rely on his own eyes.
Mahoutokoro students were, at best, average. Even if everyone attended, they numbered less than two-thirds of Hogwarts. Their robes were exquisite, color-coded to indicate hierarchy.
The less magically adept wore adorable pink robes, while the strongest, likely graduating students, wore pure gold robes. Knowing this detail was crucial; once Allen returned and shared it, everyone could gauge their relative power in future conflicts.
So, robes = visible combat strength. Should he even do this? Ah, whatever. Allen sensed a new presence.
It was an unfamiliar, yet strangely familiar aura. Not the same, but it exuded danger, as if something precious, like one's principles or dignity, were about to be crushed under its weight.
Strange… what exactly is it?