34: Chapter 34 The Secret of the Three-Headed Dog

The next day after dinner, Gryffindor was still talking about Quidditch.

The fact that Harry Potter caught the Golden Snitch with his mouth wouldn't be forgotten anytime soon. Ron was gesturing wildly while recounting it in the Great Hall, while Hermione sat beside him, her expression stiff, though her ears were red.

The air pressure at the Slytherin table was low.

Draco poked at the potatoes on his plate with a fork for three minutes.

Crabbe couldn't watch it anymore: "If you're not eating, give it to me?"

Draco pushed the plate aside.

Crabbe took it quickly.

Goyle looked at his own plate, then at Crabbe: "Didn't you already eat?"

"That was mine," Crabbe said, "This is Draco's."

Goyle nodded seriously: "That makes sense."

Draco couldn't be bothered to scold them and turned to look at Allen: "Are you still going to the Library tonight?"

Allen pushed his pumpkin juice away: "No."

Draco breathed a sigh of relief.

The next sentence came.

"Going to the Third Floor."

Draco's hand stopped: "The Third Floor? Professor McGonagall said on the first night of school that the corridor on the right side of the Third Floor is out of bounds."

"That's why I'm going."

Draco stared at him, holding it in for a long time: "You usually tell me not to do stupid things."

Allen glanced at him: "I'm going to verify, not to throw my life away."

"What's the difference between the two?"

"The former will return."

Crabbe looked up: "And the latter?"

Goyle answered for him: "Won't return."

Crabbe thought for a moment: "Then the former is better."

Draco rubbed his temples. He finally understood that the most exhausting part of talking to Allen wasn't being mocked, but that you could never tell when he was joking.

Allen didn't explain further.

He should have gone to take a look at the corridor on the right side of the Third Floor long ago.

The Philosopher's Stone was hidden in Hogwarts, guarded by Cerberus, with obstacles set up by various Professors below. The original plot would push Harry there step by step. Allen had no interest in grabbing the stone, nor did he intend to clear away Lord Voldemort's remnant soul for Dumbledore.

But the timeline must be correct.

If the Cerberus wasn't there, or the seal was wrong, it would mean someone had acted in advance.

That would be the real trouble.

After resting for the night, the Dungeon slowly quieted down. There was still light inside Draco's bed curtains; he was probably looking at his family directory again, or pretending to.

Allen changed into his robes, the old leather suitcase sitting by the bed as a decoration.

He raised his hand and opened a very narrow Portable Space opening.

The blackthorn wand slid into his sleeve, and the void walker coiled on the stone slab, raising its silver vertical pupils. The cracked pocket watch lay in the ebony box, its blue light very faint.

"Keep watch," Allen whispered.

The void walker flicked its tongue.

It couldn't understand human speech, but it could understand spatial fluctuations. That was enough.

Allen pushed open the dormitory door.

Draco's voice came from behind the bed curtains: "Don't get all of Slytherin's points deducted."

Allen paused for half a step: "You can worry after you wake up."

"I'm not worried about you."

"Mm, you're worried about the points."

There was no sound from behind the bed curtains.

The stone corridor was cold. The walls of the Dungeon were seeping with dampness, and the shadows of the Black Lake pressed back and forth on the ceiling. Allen didn't light a lamp and walked up along the corridor.

Hogwarts was harder to navigate at night than during the day.

Staircases changed direction, portraits swapped places, and armor along the walls occasionally made metallic grinding sounds. The Castle didn't welcome students wandering at night, but it wasn't really trying to catch anyone either. It was more like a screening process: the stupid were handed over to Filch, the bold to the Professors, and the very few remaining were qualified to encounter the real secrets.

Allen didn't like this system.

Education and traps mixed together—it sounded very much like the wizarding world.

At the corner of the second floor, Filch's lantern light swung over.

"Who's there?"

Allen stopped, Spatial Displacement pressing half an inch to his side. The position where his body was located was gently pushed aside, and when the line of sight fell over, it would miss the corners.

Madam Norris crawled out from the other side, her nose tip sniffing against the ground.

Cats were more troublesome than Filch.

Allen moved his fingers, sending out half of the licorice wand that Crabbe had dropped earlier in the day from his Portable Space, dropping it at the end of the corridor.

A small sound echoed.

Madam Norris turned her head and ran over.

Filch followed with the lantern: "Who is throwing things around again? Let me catch him, and I'll make him scrub the whole corridor!"

Allen passed behind him.

Worth half a licorice wand.

If Crabbe asked, he would just say it was stolen by a rat. There were many rats in Hogwarts, and they were very experienced at being scapegoats.

The Third Floor was quieter than below.

There were no students at the entrance of the corridor on the right side of the Third Floor, and the warning sign next to the doorplate hung very straight. The straighter it was, the more it indicated that the things inside were not ordinary.

Allen didn't get close to the door crack.

He stopped seven steps away from the door, his wand hidden in his sleeve, his other hand pressed against the wall.

Spatial Perception spread forward.

This wasn't opening the door, nor was it peeking. He was just using the gaps in the wall to send a thin line of spatial energy through.

What was fed back from behind the door first were living things.

Very big.

Three breathing points, separated at different heights. The heartbeats were heavy, the frequencies uneven. When the claws scraped against the floor, the wooden boards groaned under the pressure. There was also an animal scent that could make one frown even through the door.

Cerberus was inside.

Allen continued to probe downward.

There was a seal beneath the floor. It wasn't a single spell, but a layered defensive structure. The upper layer was responsible for concealment, and underneath was the real passageway. Further down the passage, space had been artificially elongated and pressed down in layers. The folded structure of Hogwarts itself had also been utilized.

Dumbledore hadn't hidden the Philosopher's Stone in an ordinary basement.

He had used a portion of the space of the entire Castle as a box.

This method was old, and stable.

Allen withdrew his perception, not going any deeper.

If he probed further, the risk would be high. The Castle's barriers were not inanimate objects, and the Professors' defenses were not just for show. Especially an old fox like Dumbledore, who might very well notice anomalies on the spatial level.

A low dog growl suddenly came from inside the door.

The floor shook slightly.

Allen didn't move.

That thing had a very good sense of smell. The fluctuation left behind when the spatial line was withdrawn was too fine for ordinary animals to catch, but for a magical creature, it was hard to say.

Three heads moved behind the door, chains dragging across the ground.

Allen pressed his body into the shadows of the corridor corner, and conveniently lowered the Spatial Displacement a bit more.

Behind the door panel, Cerberus stopped.

It was sniffing.

A few seconds later, snorting sounds came from inside, followed by claws scraping the floor. It didn't ram the door.

Very good.

At least Hagrid hadn't starved it crazy.

Allen glanced at that door.

The timeline hadn't deviated.

Cerberus was there, the seal was there, the passage was there. The Philosopher's Stone incident would proceed along the original path. Harry would sooner or later be sent here by various "coincidences," and Ron and Hermione would follow. Quirrell would dig down, Snape would continue to take the blame, and Dumbledore would most likely leave the school at the appropriate time.

This arrangement couldn't be called brilliant, but it was very effective.

Children would grow.

Enemies would be exposed.

Bystanders would misjudge.

Who would bear the cost wasn't written on the plan.

Allen had no interest in this method of education.

He only confirmed two things.

First, the Philosopher's Stone hadn't had any problems yet.

Second, the corridor on the right side of the Third Floor didn't need his intervention for the time being.

Enough.

Footsteps came from the other end of the corridor, not Filch's. The steps were light, the rhythm short.

Allen didn't wait for anyone to appear and turned to leave.

When he passed the staircase, the stairs began to move. He didn't stop, utilizing the half-second gap before the stairs changed direction to step onto the side platform, avoiding the direction leading to the fourth floor.

If it were Harry, he would probably be sent by the stairs to a place he shouldn't be, and then run into a pile of trouble.

That was the treatment for The Chosen One.

Allen declined.

When he returned to the Slytherin dormitory, only the sound of Crabbe's snoring and Goyle turning over and pressing on a snack bag remained.

Draco wasn't asleep yet.

"Back?" he lowered his voice.

"Mm."

"What did you see?"

"The Third Floor is very suitable for losing points."

Draco was silent for a few seconds behind the bed curtains: "You really went?"

"You've asked that once already."

"I'm confirming you haven't gone crazy."

Allen took off his outer robe: "Finished confirming?"

"Not yet."

"Then sleep."

Draco didn't press further.

Allen pulled the bed curtains shut and opened his Portable Space. The void walker was still coiled on the stone slab, its tail tip pressing on the copied page of "void walking." The cracked pocket watch in the ebony box was quiet, with no extra reaction.

He wrote the results of the night on a piece of parchment.

Third Floor right corridor: Cerberus exists.

The seal below is stable.

No intervention for now.

After writing, the parchment was tucked into the depths of the space.

Allen lay down, and sleepiness finally washed over him.

Prying into taboos, stopping here was just right.

One step more, it would be curiosity.

One step less, it would be ignorance.

He wanted neither.