"Harry Potter has been officially appointed Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and he's actually going to play!" Roger Davies burst into the crowded Ravenclaw common room, utterly breathless, to announce the news.
A wave of excited chatter swept through the room.
"I wonder how strong his skills really are?"
"If he wasn't good, they wouldn't make a special exception for a first-year, famous or not."
"Is it all because he's famous, though?"
"Don't be ridiculous! You know the Trophy Room on the fourth floor, down the left corridor? It's filled with cups, shields, medals, and statues displayed in those crystal cases, and it has the names of all the Hogwarts Head Boys and Girls, plus major sports winners," Padma Patil, one of the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor twin set, deliberately raised her voice to capture the attention of her Housemates. "My sister, Parvati, in Gryffindor, said that the Know-it-all—Hermione—found Harry Potter's father's name, James Potter, listed there. He helped Gryffindor win the Quidditch Cup as a Seeker!"
Allen's expression remained impassive. He knew Harry would be a potent opponent, not just relying on fame. However, his focus was not on Harry's inherited talent, but rather on another, more significant name inscribed within those same crystal cases: Tom Riddle.
Thanks to his impeccable grades and exceptional conduct, Tom had been elected Prefect in his fifth year and Head Boy in his seventh. Throughout his time at school, he had accumulated every award imaginable, including the Outstanding Conduct Award and the Special Services to the School Award. That ruthless ambition disguised as excellence was a far more compelling study than simple Quidditch history.
In the suddenly crowded common room, the quiet Allen seemed an anomaly, yet he radiated a calm, confident reliability. Roger, feeling the pressure of the upcoming season, couldn't help but seek Allen's opinion. "Allen, what's your take on Potter being chosen as Seeker?"
"My take is irrelevant. No matter who the opponent is, our victory belongs to Ravenclaw!" Allen's eyes held a fierce determination that revealed his competitive drive.
"That's right, victory will be ours!" Inspired by Allen's unwavering confidence, the entire Ravenclaw Quidditch team enthusiastically exited the common room and marched toward the locker room, ready to begin their rigorous daily practice.
The next morning broke clear and crisp. The Great Hall was filled with the enticing, savory aroma of frying sausages, and everyone was buzzing with excited chatter, anticipating the first major Quidditch match of the season.
As the morning mail delivery began, a flock of owls descended as usual, but everyone's attention was immediately seized by one particular delivery: a long, slender package carried by six powerful Long-Eared Owls. Given Harry Potter's recent fame and the rules violation that landed him on the team, almost every student immediately guessed it was a new racing broom—but the mystery was whose it was.
Seeing the owls heading his way, Allen quickly cleared the food from his immediate vicinity. Predictably, the six magnificent owls swooped down and landed right in front of Allen, their collective wings knocking over Edward's glass of pumpkin juice.
Lisa Turpin, a girl from a nearby table, quickly handed Allen the napkin she had prepared, but Allen didn't need it. Edward, however, was flustered, quickly trying to mop up the spill. These young wizards hadn't yet fully embraced the habit of relying on magic to solve every minor inconvenience.
"Ah, ah… this package must be yours…" Edward stammered, milk still clinging to his sweater. He had already guessed the contents, but before he could finish, he clamped his hand over his mouth. "Allen, don't open it here! Let's go back to the dormitory first!"
Allen agreed instantly, noting that consuming excessive food before intense physical exertion was indeed inadvisable.
Roger, who had been watching the spectacle from the Captain's table, jumped to his feet the moment he saw Allen and Edward stand up. Completely lacking the dignity and reserve expected of an upperclassman, he quickly hurried to follow them.
After responding to the Eagle Ring's simple riddle—"Where do vanished objects go?"—and returning to their dormitory, Allen opened the package. Inside lay a broom of breathtaking quality.
Engraved with runes resembling the tentacles of the mythical Kraken, the broom featured smooth, aerodynamic lines, pronounced stabilizer fins at the tail, and perfectly maintained, soft, ergonomic hand-rests. It was, of course, Allen's custom-engineered Neptune.
"Oh my Merlin, Allen, you actually have the Neptune! The prototype Neptune!" Roger Davies stared at the broom with a look of genuine, breathless reverence.
"Allen, can I possibly borrow your broom for a quick spin after the match is over?" Edward asked cautiously. Though he was Muggle-born and still clumsy on a broom, that didn't diminish his enthusiasm for high-speed flight.
"Of course, you can. After the competition, you may fly this broom as much as you like," Allen agreed immediately. He then noticed the still-damp milk stains on Edward's trousers, and with a slight frown, cast a discrete, non-verbal Scouring Charm to instantly clean his roommate's pants.
"I have never been more certain that victory will belong to Ravenclaw," Roger declared, his confidence surging. He was utterly captivated by the Neptune, gazing at the broom as if it were a priceless treasure. He spread his hands, almost caressing the aerodynamic structure, and whispered to himself, "My precious broom… Jia Sha."
By eleven o'clock, the entire student body, along with a significant portion of the faculty, seemed to have congregated in the stands surrounding the Quidditch pitch. Many students had brought magical binoculars or used spell-enlarged spectacles, making their viewing points appear suspended in mid-air, yet getting a clear, unobstructed view of the fast-paced action remained a challenge.
Allen, accompanied by his Neptune and surrounded by Roger and the rest of his protective teammates, walked toward the locker rooms. There was a collective agreement that the Neptune was their secret weapon, and it needed to be safeguarded until the moment of the match.
"Listen up, team! Our Ravenclaw victory is within grasp! We are the finest team Ravenclaw has fielded in years, and with the Neptune, we are unstoppable!" Roger looked eagerly at Allen's broom, his voice rising to a crescendo. "Victory is ours to take! The moment has arrived—let's go embrace it together! Wish us luck! Tell me! What are we?"
"CHAMPIONS!" the team roared back, their voices charged with adrenaline.
The Ravenclaw Quidditch players followed their Captain, Roger, jogging out of the locker room and onto the roaring field. Allen felt a surging wave of pure excitement, devoid of any fear. He immediately spotted Edward in the stands. Edward had commissioned an enormous, house-sized banner that read "RAVENCLAW WILL WIN!" with the names of the seven players emblazoned around the central eagle emblem in bright, contrasting colours.
As expected of students advised by a Charms Master, the clever Ravenclaws didn't rely on brute strength, like the Gryffindors often did, to hoist the banner. Edward, having learned his lesson about the utility of magic, had used a carefully controlled Levitation Charm to lift the immense banner high above the Ravenclaw stands.
The fully unfurled fabric seemed to ripple gently in the cool breeze, blending seamlessly into the light blue and azure sky. The eagle on the giant banner, wings spread as if bursting from the sky, gave a powerful, three-dimensional effect, drawing all eyes to the Ravenclaw section.
"I want a fair and honest game from all of you," commanded Madam Hooch, the referee, standing sternly in the center of the pitch atop her own reliable broom as the players from both Houses gathered around her.
"Mount your broomsticks, please."
Allen swung his leg over the Neptune. The broom felt like an extension of his own will—light, powerful, and utterly responsive.
Madam Hooch raised her silver whistle and blew a powerful, piercing blast.
Fifteen broomsticks simultaneously shot up from the ground, soaring into the sky. The Quidditch competition had begun.