Carrying 400 fresh, shiny, dazzling Galleons and a few paper bags gifted by friendship, Allen found a secluded spot soon after leaving the shop to stash the gold; he had no intention of letting it multiply.
After that, all his tasks for the night would be done with just one "Return to Base" spell.
Looking up at the moon hanging high in the sky, Allen suddenly realized he might have joined some kind of immortal cultivation sect, staying up this late, was he going to become a cultivator?
Eh, Allen shook his head hard, trying to banish that absurd thought. What a joke! The situation was chaotic enough already!
But when he triggered the Return to Base spell, Allen noticed something was off, he hadn't gotten around to giving his roommate any auxiliary sleep therapy. And now, one roommate, Marshall Jeffrey, the kind of guy who always made people behind him worry he'd get stuck in the common room entrance, was still awake! Fortunately, the common room door was sturdier than expected.
"Ah? Allen, you're back?" Marshall looked even more flustered than Allen, hurriedly shoving a book under his covers.
So, what should Allen do?
What choice? Strike first or be struck!
Before Marshall could react further, Allen jumped off the bed and flicked his wand, the tightly clutched book shot out.
Huh? One Hundred Years of Solitude?
Although Allen hadn't read the famous classic, he knew the title well.
But wait, that's a Muggle book!
Marshall, who knew you were ? Sneaking around reading non-textbooks at night, not only trying to be a top student but also reading Muggle literature! Couldn't you at least crack open some Dark Arts book? Or failing that, a gossip magazine? Or at least a pocket novel? But no, you're reading a Muggle classic, and at midnight, no less!
Are you cultivating immortality or what?
Wait, Marshall's face doesn't look like someone caught reading a classic!
Allen flipped open the book as Marshall begged with pleading eyes. The book was well-preserved, loaded with bookmarks and neat feather-pen underlines on key passages.
Wow. Don't judge a book by its cover, Marshall's study level could easily replace Ron's dad's. If you don't get an A+ in Muggle Studies, you'd be cheating yourself.
But as Allen scanned the highlighted sections, he was stunned.
Damn, Marshall! You treat a classic like a pocketbook!
Taking notes! Using bookmarks! Does your bedside table also have tissues?
Marshall got off the bed, cheeks flushed, looking like a wronged three-hundred-pound kid, well, he was a kid, and nowhere near three hundred pounds.
"Uh, Allen, it's not that I didn't want to share, it's just they don't let me." Marshall whispered.
Wait, that's not the point! Who cares? And who's they? Do you guys have secret societies?
"Don't worry, Allen. Tomorrow I'll recommend you to join the exchange club, they'll definitely accept you," Marshall declared firmly.
Hey, Professor! There's an illegal organization here! I'm reporting you!
"Uh, Allen, can I finish reading this first? It'll be quick! Your turn… soon…" Marshall gathered courage and pleaded.
Suddenly, a paper bag fell out of Allen's robe,
"Allen, sorry, your stuff…" Before Allen could stop him, Marshall snatched the spilled items, glanced at them instinctively.
You can dodge the first day of the month, but not the fifteenth…
Then, a voice of deep respect whispered in his ear,
"Boss Allen!" Marshall repeated as if afraid Allen hadn't heard.
"This is the core book of our exchange club. I only got to peek when I joined!"
So, what exactly do you exchange in this club? Hey, Professor! Forget it, just don't come!
Allen suddenly realized he'd probably been discovered.
Well, that made things easy.
The spell shot from Allen's wand. Marshall, better rest well, we're wizards, no immortality cultivation needed.
After a Floating Charm, Marshall was back in bed. If it weren't for the severe consequences of the Obliviate Charm, Allen would have used it too. What? No blanket? Don't worry, Marshall, stupid people don't catch colds.
Still, the next morning Allen woke to see a sniffly Marshall standing beside the bed.
His first reaction? Grab the wand, "Stupefy" or "Petrificus Totalus"?
No use, the spell was "Petrificus Totalus."
Floating Charm sent Marshall back to bed.
Allen whispered lowly: "I put the book under your covers. If you tell anyone it's mine, I'll hex you every day!"
Ignoring Marshall's frozen protest, unable to blink even, Allen left the dorm.
Ah, those days of passing pocket novels around… nostalgia! Wait, no! And Marshall, you're way too mature for your age!
Whatever, better safe than sorry.
Looking at sunlight flooding the common room, today promised good weather.
The hefty pile of Galleons he just got looked festive, way better than the game coins earned from daily wins.
After all, getting 6300 coins to exchange for a hero was quite the meme…
Looking at his still-under-three-digit game coins and his heavily nerfed yet same-priced equipment wages, Allen imagined countless alpacas stampeding in his mind, so, Slytherin friends, keep loving those sneak attacks!
As for what to do with the big pile of gold coins, he'd have to find time to plan carefully, no more slipping up! So, sorry Professor Binns…
Everything was going smoothly, except for some labor duty and a minor mishap, until Allen got to Filch's office.
Opening the door, he recalled a classic phrase: "How old are you?", Why is it always you?
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