Chapter 416: This Isn’t Fair

When there’s a problem, it has to be solved—especially when Allen currently had nothing better to do.

In simpler terms—he was bored out of his mind.

So, he took the initiative to approach the professor, who was still guiding the class, and asked softly:

"Professor, may I help my classmates?"

"Of course, child. That’s a commendable attitude—go ahead."

The professor wore a pleased expression, clearly impressed by Allen’s performance. He had conveniently forgotten their earlier "incident."

Well... when your grades are good enough, you really can get away with anything.

And so, the ever-helpful Allen began wandering around the classroom, offering guidance here and there, looking quite professional.

"Hey, you mixed that wrong—careful, it might explode. By the way, do you know what happened earlier?"

"Thanks. No idea—I was asleep too."

...

After hearing similar responses several times, Allen finally traced everything back to the source.

The one who had pointed him out earlier—

The traitor to the "cause"—

Was none other than a junior from their own house: Selma.

Apparently, she had even answered some of the professor’s questions successfully and earned a reward.

Amid the steam rising from the cauldrons, Allen listened as a fellow Hufflepuff complained to him. Meanwhile, Selma, sitting at the front, kept glancing back nervously.

The more he watched, the more a certain thought grew in his mind—

Yeah... I should definitely squeeze something out of her.

Clearly, the complaining student thought the same.

Selma was generally a good student—aside from being a bit careless, she didn’t have any major flaws. At least, that’s how her classmates saw her.

In reality?

She was the mastermind behind raiding the school’s herbology greenhouse and turning its contents into food.

Naturally, this meant she had excellent cooking skills—and some rather unique seasonings.

As a half-blood, she had access to certain rare herbs from the magical world.

Unfortunately, supplies were limited. After being used up by her housemates, she had no choice but to announce that her special dishes would only be made on important holidays.

After all, some of those ingredients were restricted—she could only smuggle small amounts in.

So—

Was it too much to extort a meal out of her at a time like this?

Not at all.

After subtly signaling the other student to keep quiet so they could "profit together," Allen made his way to the front.

Only then did he notice—there wasn’t just one person there.

Another girl was partially hidden behind the desk due to her height, which was why he hadn’t seen her earlier.

That was perfectly normal—at their age, growing several centimeters a year wasn’t unusual.

At the moment, she was hunched over the desk, rapidly copying a piece of parchment that looked very familiar to Allen.

It was identical to the one he had received as a reward—likely Selma’s prize from the professor.

Strange... how did these two end up together?

Not that it mattered.

Hermione was one of them—an ally. She would definitely help with the "negotiation."

Come to think of it, being appreciated by the professor... maybe they had answered the questions together?

Possible.

But irrelevant.

Allen tapped on Selma’s desk. Using the steam as cover, he put on a serious expression.

"Selma... I think you know what I’m about to say, don’t you?"

Guilt hit instantly.

The usually carefree girl shrank back, quickly tugging at her friend beside her for help.

The two had met while studying in the library, and today they had come to audit the class—only to run into this situation.

Unfortunately, when Hermione realized who had come over, she gave Selma a look that clearly said: You’re on your own.

After all, while the potion formula had been shared, the act of "betrayal" had nothing to do with her.

Besides, under the professor’s magic, she had been completely overlooked due to her height—she couldn’t exactly jump up and announce herself.

At this point, the potion in the cauldron was halfway complete.

The sea-blue liquid churned, releasing thick steam—

Making Allen’s "extortion face" look even more intimidating.

Even though she knew Allen probably wouldn’t push things too far, Selma still offered a high price:

"I’ll give you half my seasonings... and I owe you a favor. Let’s call it even, okay?"

Impressive.

Even in this situation, she managed to negotiate like a seasoned forager from the Forbidden Forest.

The offer was a bit steep—

But Allen didn’t mind at all.

Sure, he didn’t get the grand feast he had imagined, but with those seasonings, he could make one himself.

And the quantity? Very reasonable.

Satisfied, Allen left their shared cauldron and moved on—

Now recruiting others for dinner plans.

Without a doubt, this "redistribution of wealth" made everyone happy.

Originally, Allen had only planned to extort a single meal—but since Selma had gone all out...

Why not make it a full celebration?

And so, throughout the Potions class, Allen busied himself under the pretense of helping others—solving problems here and there.

Thanks to this misunderstanding, the professor’s impression of him improved dramatically.

By the end of class, even Allen’s remaining punishment had been completely wiped away.

This left Selma, the sole victim, rolling her eyes furiously.

Unfortunately, it didn’t help.

Allen, on the other hand, remained shameless as ever. Turning to Hermione, he asked:

"Hey, Hermione—aren’t first and second years supposed to be really busy? How do you even have time to audit classes?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Half the classes have been canceled. Right now, the main focus is the Quidditch tournament—Harry and the others are practically under Professor McGonagall’s 24-hour supervision."

That makes sense.

Especially after what had happened over the weekend, protecting the Quidditch teams had become a priority.

And with Gryffindor just one step away from the championship, it was only natural for Professor McGonagall—once an excellent player herself—to take things seriously.

As for Hermione...

Flying was already difficult for her, let alone playing Quidditch. She barely even understood the game.

This is what a true academic looks like...

Thinking about how he had once planned to audit classes—only to end up skipping more than anyone else—Allen felt a brief pang of guilt.

But it quickly vanished as everyone began discussing dinner plans.

Poor Selma was even dragged into cooking personally after being pressured by her friends—

She had practically sold herself and still had to smile about it.

At the entrance to the next classroom, the two auditing students parted ways with Allen and the others—they still had their own classes to attend.

Unlike Allen’s group, whose schedule was already free for the day.

"Guys! We’ve got nothing left today—let’s party!"

Marshall shouted energetically.

What he got in return—

Was a sea of exhausted stares.

And a weak, collective:

"...Oh."

Most of them hadn’t slept well. During class, they had managed to hold on—but now, all they wanted was to catch up on sleep.

A gentle breeze passed through the camp—

And soon...

The sound of snoring filled the air.

.....

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