35: Chapter 35 Snape's Injured Leg

The morning after the Quidditch match, the low pressure at the Slytherin table had not dissipated.

Draco broke open his bread, then threw it back onto the plate.

"Gryffindor is still talking about Harry."

Crabbe looked up.

"Catching the ball with his mouth?"

Goyle corrected him.

"The Golden Snitch."

Draco glared at him.

"Don't mention that again."

Allen pushed away his pumpkin juice and flipped through his textbook.

"They'll keep talking about it for a few more days."

"Aren't you annoyed?"

"As long as they're talking about Harry, no one is talking about you."

Draco's expression improved slightly.

"That's not bad."

Crabbe casually took the bread.

"So you're not eating this?"

Draco couldn't be bothered to look at him.

"Take it."

Goyle asked Allen.

"Are you going to sleep today?"

"Not before class."

Draco immediately looked up.

"Where are you going?"

"The corridor."

"What's in the corridor?"

"People."

"You might as well have said nothing."

Allen closed his book and stood up.

"It's more useful than your question."

Draco took two steps after him, then stopped at the edge of the long table.

"Don't go to the Third Floor again."

Allen looked back.

"You're getting more and more concerned about points."

"I'm concerned about you making a scene in front of the Dean."

Crabbe asked with his mouth full of bread.

"Will the Dean deduct our points?"

Goyle thought about it.

"If Allen gets caught, they'll deduct his."

Draco gritted his teeth.

"Shut up."

Allen left the Great Hall and walked along the first-floor corridor.

He didn't go to the Third Floor.

After confirming the location last night, getting close again today would only bring trouble.

Beside the stone steps leading to the Dungeon, the sound of fabric dragging on the floor approached from afar.

The footsteps were uneven, one heavy and one light.

Allen stopped in the shadow of a suit of armor, clutching his book to his chest.

Snape walked from the other end of the corridor, his black robes trailing, his right leg landing a half-beat late.

Filch followed beside him, clutching bandages in his hand.

"Professor, that kind of place should have three more locks added, then students wouldn't be wandering around."

Snape didn't look at him.

"I want the bandages, not your management advice."

Filch hugged the bandages tighter.

"If the Principal would allow me to hang up a few night-roaming students, the Castle would be much more peaceful."

Snape tilted his head.

"You can tell that to Dumbledore yourself."

Filch immediately changed his tune.

"I naturally respect the Principal."

Snape had already spotted Allen.

Those black eyes swept over his face, then fell onto the textbook.

"Potter."

Allen looked up.

"Professor."

"Breakfast time is over. What are you doing here?"

"Going to the classroom."

"The Potion Class is not on this route."

"I don't have Potion Class first period today."

Filch interrupted.

"Students always find excuses; they can even turn getting lost into studying."

Allen looked at him.

"I can go back to the Great Hall and take another route."

Filch was silenced.

Snape stared at Allen.

"You're quick at remembering routes."

"From the Dungeon to the Great Hall, and from the Great Hall to the classroom, it's not hard."

Snape's fingers rested on the edge of his robe; his right leg didn't move.

"Keep walking; don't loiter in the corridor."

"Yes, Professor."

Allen stepped aside. When he passed by Snape, his wand in his sleeve didn't move.

His Spatial Perception spread out along the ground, retracting as soon as it touched the residual magic near the right leg.

The smell of blood was covered by Potion, and the wound had been treated.

But the residue remained.

The tooth marks carried the restless magic of a magical creature; the tearing points were scattered, and the bite range was wide. Ordinary dogs couldn't leave such marks.

That Cerberus behind the door was just right.

Snape suddenly spoke.

"Potter."

Allen stopped and turned around.

"Professor?"

"What were you looking at just now?"

Filch turned his head as well.

"He was looking, Professor; I told you he was just loitering."

Allen looked at the hem of Snape's robe.

"Your robe is covered in dust."

Filch looked down to search.

"Where?"

Snape didn't look down.

"You're quite concerned about a Professor's robe."

"If I said I wasn't, you would think I was lying."

Filch immediately chimed in.

"He admitted it, Professor."

Snape glanced at Filch.

Filch shut his mouth and hugged the bandages tighter.

"Stop wandering around the Castle, Potter."

"I will remember that."

"Remembering and doing are two different things."

"Then I will try my best to do it."

Snape turned and left, the hesitation in his right leg's landing even more obvious.

Filch chased after him, muttering.

"One Potter is trouble enough; now there's another."

Snape's voice came from ahead.

"Mr. Filch, if you continue to discuss students, I will suggest to the Principal that you clean the trophy room."

Filch immediately changed the subject.

"The bandages are here, Professor; would you like to go to the Hospital Wing?"

"No need."

"But your leg…"

"Filch."

"Alright, I won't ask."

Allen waited until the two turned into another corridor before continuing toward the classroom.

Outside the Transfiguration Class door, Draco was blocking the corridor.

Crabbe and Goyle stood beside him, occupying half the doorway.

Draco asked as soon as he spoke.

"Where did you go just now?"

"The corridor."

"I know it's the corridor."

"Then why ask?"

Draco suppressed his anger.

"I saw the Dean and Filch go by."

Crabbe added.

"Filch was holding bandages."

Goyle nodded.

"The Dean was walking strangely."

Draco glared at them.

"I didn't tell you to speak."

Allen looked at Goyle.

"You saw it?"

"Saw a little bit, the Dean was walking slowly."

Crabbe said.

"Or maybe he just didn't want to walk fast."

Draco asked in a low voice.

"Is the Dean injured?"

Allen took out his textbook.

"You can go ask him."

Draco's face changed.

"I'm not crazy yet."

"Then don't ask."

"Do you know the reason?"

Allen raised his eyes.

"I know that you shouldn't know."

Draco was silenced.

Crabbe asked in a low voice.

"Then we shouldn't know either?"

Goyle replied quickly.

"I can not know."

Draco still wouldn't give up.

"Does it have to do with yesterday's match?"

"Don't put everything on Harry."

"Then does it have to do with the Third Floor?"

Allen didn't answer.

Draco turned to look at the classroom door.

"Forget it, I didn't ask."

Professor McGonagall entered on time, with a row of matches on the podium.

"Today we continue practicing turning matches into needles. Whoever turns a match into a crooked silver stick again will have to flip their textbook back to the first page."

On the Gryffindor side, Ron muttered.

"She's definitely talking about me."

Hermione immediately replied.

"Because you did turn it into a crooked silver stick last time."

Harry smiled, then saw Allen sitting in the Slytherin seat and withdrew his smile.

Draco noticed Harry's gaze and was about to speak.

Allen tapped the leg of the chair with the toe of his shoe under the table.

Draco swallowed his words and picked up his wand.

Crabbe poked his match until it bent.

Goyle stared at his own match.

"Did it get shorter?"

Allen took a look.

"You shaved off a section."

"Does that count as changing?"

Draco scolded him in a low voice.

"That's called breaking it."

Allen waved his wand; the silver crawled halfway across the wood grain and stopped at the end, leaving half a piece of rough wood.

Professor McGonagall walked to the table.

"Mr. Potter, your control is steadier than last week."

"Thank you, Professor."

"If you slept less in class, it would be even steadier."

"I will try to change."

"I hope that's not just polite talk."

"I will try my best to make it not be."

Professor McGonagall went to check Draco's work.

Draco leaned in.

"Did you do that on purpose again?"

Allen looked at the half-silver, half-wood match.

"You have too much free time."

"No one gets stuck in the middle every time."

"Professor McGonagall didn't deduct points."

"You only look at that?"

"Don't lose points during class."

Draco looked down at his needle.

"What about the Dean's leg?"

Allen put down the match.

"Talk after class."

After the bell rang, the corridor was crowded with students.

Allen didn't return to the Dungeon; he followed the stairs toward the Hospital Wing.

Draco followed.

"Taking the long way again?"

"You don't have to follow."

Draco looked behind him.

"Crabbe, Goyle, you two go back to the Common Room first."

Crabbe asked.

"What about lunch?"

"You won't get lost."

Goyle added seriously.

"We'll be hungry."

Allen glanced at them.

"The kitchen is not this way."

Crabbe immediately turned around.

"Then we're leaving."

Draco followed Allen around the corridor.

"The Hospital Wing?"

Allen didn't deny it.

"Is the Dean badly injured?"

"You can send flowers."

"Are you trying to get me killed?"

Madam Pomfrey's voice came from the end of the corridor.

"Severus, this kind of wound cannot be treated with just ordinary bandages."

Snape spoke through the door panel.

"I have already treated it."

"Treating it doesn't mean it's healed; at least sit down."

"Give me the hemostatic Potion."

"You always have time to get yourself hurt."

Draco stopped at the corner.

"The Dean is inside."

Allen leaned against the wall, his fingers resting on the spine of the book.

"Listen."

Snape's voice was colder.

"Madam Pomfrey, I don't need students to know about this."

"Then don't drag your leg while walking in the corridor."

The bottle stopper was pulled out.

Allen used the gap in the wall to send his Spatial Perception to the door of the Hospital Wing.

The smell of Potion was thick, the bloodstains had been cleaned, but the residue of the biting remained on the magical level.

Beast.

Large.

Multiple bites.

There was no such thing under the Black Lake, and Forbidden Forest creatures wouldn't appear on the Third Floor. In the Castle, the only thing that fit the criteria was that Cerberus behind the door.

Draco stared at him.

"What did you hear?"

"He doesn't want people to know."

"Anyone could hear that."

"Enough."

"You came all the way here for this?"

Allen turned and left.

"To confirm."

Draco caught up.

"Confirm what?"

"The Dean wouldn't get hurt for no reason."

"Professors encounter many things."

"Yes."

"Then why are you investigating?"

"Professors also block attacks."

Draco slowed his pace.

"Blocking for whom?"

Allen looked toward the stairs.

"You asked a similar question yesterday."

Draco changed his way of asking.

"Does it have to do with Harry?"

"Don't say it out loud."

"So it really does have to do with him?"

"Draco."

Draco shut his mouth.

The two returned to the Dungeon; Crabbe and Goyle were already eating in the Common Room.

Crabbe looked up.

"Did you go to the Hospital Wing?"

Draco sat down.

"No."

Goyle asked.

"Then where did you go?"

Allen put the book on the table.

"Taking the long way."

Crabbe nodded.

"Taking the long way makes you hungry."

Draco ignored them.

"About the Dean, no one mention it."

Crabbe nodded immediately.

"We don't know."

Goyle nodded along.

"Yes, we don't know."

Allen glanced at Draco.

"You've improved."

Draco snorted coldly.

"Don't talk to me in that tone."

"Then keep it up."

"What exactly did you find out?"

Allen spread out the parchment and dipped his quill in ink.

"You don't need to see."

"I just want to know if the Dean is in trouble."

"He can handle it himself."

"Then why are you writing it down?"

Allen wrote down, Snape.

"Because trouble will lead to other places."

Draco stared at the tip of the pen.

"You always only say half."

Allen wrote down, Fluffy.

"If I told you everything, you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from looking."

Draco's expression was ugly.

"I'm not that stupid."

Allen wrote down, Philosopher's Stone.

Draco saw the last few words, his breath hitched for a half-beat, then he looked away.

"I didn't see anything."

Crabbe leaned over.

"What?"

Draco pushed his head back.

"Eat your food."

Goyle asked.

"We didn't see anything either?"

Allen put down the quill.

"You had better not have even heard it."

Crabbe nodded.

"I'm eating."

Goyle nodded.

"I'm chewing."

Allen folded the parchment, opened the entrance to his Portable Space, and the paper disappeared in front of his palm.

In the Portable Space, the Void raised its silver slit pupils and touched the newly inserted paper with the tip of its tail.

Allen closed his book, and drowsiness welled up.

Another piece of the puzzle was filled in.

The Cerberus guarding the door, Snape getting injured, the Philosopher's Stone still at the end of that line.