106: Chapter 106 The School's Hostility

"Don't go near him, he can talk to snakes."

Harry had just walked into the Great Hall when someone at the Hufflepuff table lowered their voice and spoke.

The voice wasn't loud, but it was enough for those nearby to hear. Silver forks clattered against plates, making crisp sounds. Several pairs of eyes lifted from behind pumpkin juice cups, then quickly looked away when Harry looked over.

Ron exploded on the spot. "Aren't you guys done yet? He saved Justin Finch-Fletchley last night!"

Ernie Macmillan stood up from the Hufflepuff table, his face turning red.

"Saved? Who have you ever seen hiss at a snake before saving someone? Malfoy released the snake, Potter made it obey, and then Finch-Fletchley was almost bitten. What do you expect me to think?"

"Use your brain."

Hermione held her books, standing next to Harry, her knuckles pressed against the spine. "The snake went towards Justin Finch-Fletchley after being startled, and Harry made it back off. Professor Snape also saw the snake back off."

"Professor Snape is the Head of Slytherin."

Ernie stared at her. "Granger, of course you'd speak up for Potter. You three are always hanging around the second floor; after the Chamber of Secrets was opened, you appeared faster than the Professors."

Ron stepped forward, but Hermione grabbed his sleeve. Harry stood between them, his lips moving, but finally he just said: "I didn't know I could speak Parseltongue."

"The Heir of Slytherin certainly wouldn't have it written on their forehead in advance," someone else at the Hufflepuff table chimed in.

The Great Hall went quiet for a moment.

Several students at the Gryffindor table couldn't sit still. Seamus frowned at Harry, Neville looked down, picking at his plate, and Dean wanted to speak but was tugged by someone's robe sleeve. At the teachers' table, Professor McGonagall stopped her knife and fork, and Snape glanced at Harry, his gaze then sweeping towards the Slytherin table.

The Slytherin table was quieter than usual. Flint and Adrian Pucey exchanged glances, their faces wearing uncontrollable excitement. Draco held his cup, his fingertips pausing on the edge of the silver cup. Just as he was about to speak, he was kicked under the table by Zabini.

Nott whispered: "Don't move."

Draco gritted his teeth. "They're throwing the blame onto Harry, and they'll throw it onto me while they're at it."

Allen sat by the wall, his book spread open next to his plate, his eyelids half-lowered. "So you shut up."

"I've already shut up for long enough last night."

"Shut up for another day."

Pansy whispered: "What if they say Slytherin is conspiring?"

Allen turned a page. "Let the older students worry first."

As he finished speaking, Flint stood up. He slammed his cup onto the table and looked at the Hufflepuff table. "You know now? Maybe the Heir of Slytherin is wearing red robes."

Professor McGonagall's voice came from the teachers' table. "Mr. Flint, sit down."

Flint shrugged, and when he sat back down, he glanced at Harry. That glance was like throwing a spark into a haystack. The Gryffindor table exploded instantly. Percy stood up to keep order, Ron's twin brothers sneered in the distance, and Lee Jordan slammed the table and shouted, "Slytherin, stop pretending to be innocent," only to be immediately deducted two points by Professor McGonagall.

Harry gripped his fork, his knuckles turning white. "I really just wanted to help him."

Hermione lowered her voice. "Eat first, don't argue with them."

Ron pushed his plate forward. "I can't eat. How about we go find Justin Finch-Fletchley and explain everything?"

Hermione looked towards the Hufflepuff side. Justin Finch-Fletchley was sitting in the innermost seat, surrounded by three people, with Ernie blocking the view like a wall. "If we go now, he'll be even more scared."

Harry lowered his head, the pumpkin juice in his cup unmoved. A few minutes later, he got up and left. Ron and Hermione immediately followed, but were stopped by Percy, who said Professor McGonagall wanted Gryffindor to stay for instructions on night discipline. Harry waved his hand and walked alone towards the side door.

At the Slytherin table, Draco watched Harry's departing back, his voice low. "He looks like he's been kicked out by the whole school."

Allen closed his book. "Don't sympathize too soon."

"I'm not sympathizing."

Zabini raised an eyebrow. "It's written quite clearly on your face."

Draco glared at him. "Shut up."

Nott opened a small notebook and wrote three lines under "Parseltongue Aftermath": "Hufflepuff attitude strongest, Gryffindor internal division starting, Ravenclaw observing. Professors are temporarily suppressing public opinion, but with limited effect."

Allen stood up. "Before the afternoon, write down Justin Finch-Fletchley's route."

Nott looked up. "You think something will happen to him?"

"Tom needs evidence."

Draco's face changed. "Again?"

"The cat isn't enough. After the Parseltongue incident, if someone else gets hurt, Harry will be pushed to the very front." Allen tucked the book under his arm. "For the diary, this is the best time to use it."

Pansy whispered: "Then do we stop it?"

Allen looked outside the Great Hall door. "Stop what? A monster that can move through pipes, or a dead person who hides in a girl's bookbag?"

No one answered. Crabbe swallowed the last bite of his pie and whispered: "Sounds like neither is easy to stop."

"So don't go to the second floor." Allen left the table. "To graduate alive is already winning over many people."

The afternoon corridors were emptier than usual. Students walked in groups, and the portraits were more talkative than usual. A knight portrait looked down and saw Harry, immediately holding its spear across its chest, while a nun portrait nearby whispered prayers. As Harry walked by, several first-years behind him immediately stuck to the wall to go around him.

Harry stopped. "I can hear you."

The students turned pale and ran away. Harry stood there, his shoulders slumping. Ron and Hermione hurried from the staircase, Ron panting, holding a roll of parchment.

"Professor McGonagall asked questions for ages, so annoying." Ron saw Harry's face and his voice immediately lowered. "Are they talking about you again?"

Harry shook his head. "Forget it."

Hermione hugged her books tighter. "We're almost there with the Basilisk. If the Chamber of Secrets monster is related to snakes, the fact that you can hear the sounds actually proves you're investigating."

Ron widened his eyes. "Hermione, are you sure that's comforting?"

Harry tugged at the corner of his mouth. "At least you guys still believe me."

"Duh." Ron patted his shoulder. "If you were the Heir of Slytherin, you would have let Cerberus eat me last year."

Hermione was about to say something when her gaze crossed over Harry and she saw someone at the other end of the corridor. Allen walked out of the shadows, holding a roll of old parchment, his steps slow, his eyelids bearing their usual sleepiness.

Ron was immediately alert. "What are you here for?"

Allen didn't even look at him. "Just passing by."

Harry looked at him and suddenly spoke: "Allen."

Allen stopped.

Only the faint vibration of armor in the distance remained in the corridor. Hermione glanced at Harry, Ron frowned but didn't interrupt. Harry stood up straight, as if gathering courage, or as if backed into a corner.

"Do you also think I'm the Heir of Slytherin?"

Allen raised his eyes. The two stood a few steps apart, one pushed into the spotlight by the whole school, the other standing at the edge of the shadows. There was weariness in Harry's green eyes, and a bit of unwillingness. He waited for an answer, his fingers gripping his sleeve, his fingertips white.

Ron immediately said: "Of course he won't say anything nice."

Hermione stopped Ron. She knew better than anyone that if Allen was willing to speak, his words often hid the key.

Allen was silent for two seconds, his gaze sweeping over the scar on Harry's forehead, then over his empty hands.

"If you were, I would have died long ago."

Harry froze. Ron froze too. "What?"

Allen had already turned around. "Don't ask stupid questions. It's a waste of time."

He walked down the stairs, the hem of his robe brushing against the stone steps, and soon disappeared around the corner. Harry stood where he was, confusion on his face at first, then it was as if someone had moved the stone pressing on his chest a little. He repeated softly: "If I were, he would have died long ago."

Hermione's eyes flickered. "He's talking about last year."

Ron scratched his head. "Last year what?"

Hermione didn't answer. But Harry understood. The night of the Philosopher's Stone last year, there was a flash of silver light in his memory, too blurry to grasp. He had always thought it was a dream, but Allen's words just now were like handing him a thread from the mist.

Ron watched Harry's expression soften and couldn't help muttering: "His way of comforting people is like hitting them with ice cubes."

Harry exhaled. "But it works."

Below the corner, Draco leaned against the wall, his expression strange. Allen walked past him without stopping.

Draco followed. "Were you comforting him just now?"

Allen corrected. "Denial."

"Sounds about the same."

"It's a big difference."

Nott came down from the other staircase and handed over a piece of paper. "Justin Finch-Fletchley went to the Library this afternoon and borrowed 'Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection'. He might return to the Hufflepuff common room via the second-floor corridor before dinner. Nearly Headless Nick will be on the same floor after a ghost gathering nearby."

Allen took the paper, his steps pausing for a beat.

Draco's face darkened. "You just said Tom needs evidence."

Nott's pen tip pressed onto the paper. "The two routes overlap."

Zabini came down from above the stairs and whispered: "Filch just sealed off the outside of the second-floor bathroom, but the portraits say the sound of water rang out again."

Allen folded the parchment, his fingertips pressing on the corners. Inside the Portable Space, the void slowly raised its head, silver vertical pupils aimed at the golden pattern on the north side. Beside the ebony box, the cracked pocket watch didn't light up, but a faint "click" sound came from it.

Allen looked towards the second floor.

"Tonight, don't go near water."