41: Chapter 41 Pumpkin Lanterns and the Unsettling Smell

At the end of October, Hogwarts began to get noisy.

It wasn't the students; it was the Castle itself.

Pumpkin lanterns were hung in the corridors, bats fluttered wildly beneath the ceilings, and strings of orange ribbons that tied themselves into knots appeared beside the suits of armor.

Half-human-high piles of pumpkins were stacked at the entrance to the Great Hall, the House-elf changed the displays every day, and even the Dungeon didn't escape.

On the stone wall outside the Slytherin Common Room, someone had hung two blinking pumpkin lanterns.

Draco stared at them for a long time, giving a low rating.

"Why would anyone put this kind of thing at the entrance to Slytherin?"

Crabbe stared at the pumpkin lanterns: "Can you eat them?"

Goyle reached out to touch one, and the pumpkin lantern puffed a mouthful of smoke at him.

He stepped back two paces: "Can't eat it."

Allen passed by, clutching books in his hands.

Draco followed him: "Why have you been running upstairs so often lately?"

"Classes."

"You aren't usually that diligent with classes."

"That's because you haven't been observing enough."

Draco was stumped and didn't press further.

Allen had indeed been moving around a lot these past few days.

It wasn't for the pumpkin lanterns, nor for the Halloween candy.

The void in his Portable Space was acting strange.

This black snake was usually very quiet; aside from staring at the cracked pocket watch, it would just coil beside the copied pages of "void walking."

But starting three days ago, it would lift its head every day, its silver vertical pupils fixed in a certain direction above the Castle.

At first, it was the Great Hall.

Later, it was the Fourth Floor.

This morning, it stared toward the corridor near the Girls Bathroom on the Second Floor.

Allen entered this into his records.

The void was no ordinary pet.

Its reaction to spatial fluctuations was earlier and more detailed than his own.

On the day of Quidditch, it had helped him lock onto the source of the spell on the Professor's podium.

On the night of the Cerberus, it could distinguish the multi-layered protective seals beneath the Third Floor.

Now, it was on alert.

Halloween.

Troll.

Quirrell.

With these three words laid out on the parchment, the clues were uncomfortably clean.

In the afternoon, during Charms Class, Professor Flitwick had them continue practicing the Levitation Charm.

Hermione was the first to make her feather float steadily, and Flitwick was so happy he nearly fell off his stack of books.

Ron, sitting in the back row, muttered: "It's no wonder no one can stand her."

The voice wasn't loud, but Hermione heard it.

Her hand froze in mid-air, and the feather fell back onto the desk.

Harry nudged Ron.

Ron whispered: "I didn't say anything wrong."

Allen sat on the other side, his feather half a foot off the desk, swaying very sincerely.

Draco lowered his voice: "Granger is going to cry this time."

"Are you happy about that?"

"She made Slytherin lose points."

"That's because you didn't practice well enough."

Draco slammed his wand onto the desk: "Can you stop speaking up for her?"

"I am speaking up for the facts."

Crabbe looked at his own feather: "Can the facts help me get this thing up?"

Goyle added seriously: "Mine won't go up either."

Allen glanced at them: "The facts have their limits too."

After class, Hermione didn't leave with Harry and Ron.

She clutched her books and walked away quickly with her head down.

Allen didn't follow.

He only added a line to his parchment: Hermione, emotional irregularity, risk of leaving the group on Halloween.

Draco caught a glimpse of half the name: "Why are you writing down Granger?"

"She's smart."

"Is being smart worth noting?"

"The stupid ones don't need to be noted; they usually run into things on their own."

Crabbe stopped in his tracks: "Who are you talking about?"

Goyle patted him: "Probably not us."

Draco watched Allen put the parchment away, his brow furrowing: "What are you waiting for again?"

Allen didn't answer.

He was waiting for Quirrell.

Before dinner, Allen went near the Third Floor.

This time, he didn't approach the right corridor, just circled to the stairwell to confirm the Professors' patrol routes.

Professor McGonagall often walked the east side of the Second Floor, Filch liked to circle up from the armor corridor, and Snape mostly moved between the Dungeon and the Fourth Floor.

Dumbledore didn't count.

The old Principal's appearances were irregular; calculating them was a waste of time.

Allen walked slowly along the Second Floor corridor, stopping for half a second when passing the entrance to the Girls Bathroom.

There was no one inside.

Water dripped, and there was a smell of old rust in the pipes.

The void lifted its head in the Portable Space, its tail tip pressing against the stone fragment, its silver vertical pupils fixed on the same direction.

Allen noted down the distance, the corners, and available cover.

On the left was a portrait of a knight; on the right was a narrow window, with a half-human-high stone pillar beneath the sill.

The end of the corridor connected to the stairs, and the other side led toward the Great Hall.

If the Troll came from that way, the sound would reach the corner first.

He didn't intend to save anyone and show off.

Harry and Ron would come.

Hermione would be inside.

The Professors would be lured away by Quirrell's mention of the "Dungeon."

Allen only needed to confirm one thing: how Quirrell would escape, how the Troll entered the Castle, and if there were other hands behind it.

At dusk, he returned to the Dungeon.

Draco was sitting in the Common Room writing a reply, with Lucius's letter on the table.

He crossed out each line as he wrote, his face looking worse than Neville's in Potion Class.

"Where did you go?" Draco asked.

"For a walk."

"You can walk for an hour?"

"Hogwarts is big."

Draco put down his quill: "Tomorrow is the Halloween feast. You'd better not cause any trouble; the Dean has been watching very closely lately."

Allen looked at him: "Are you warning me?"

"I'm warning Slytherin not to lose points."

"Good reason."

Crabbe looked up from the side: "Is there roast chicken at the feast?"

Goyle said: "And pumpkin pies."

Draco rubbed his temples: "Do you two only think about eating?"

Crabbe thought for a moment: "And pudding."

Goyle nodded: "Can't forget that."

Allen sat in the corner and opened his book.

Draco was still watching him.

"Potter."

"Speak."

"You haven't been right lately."

Allen turned the page: "I've never been right."

"That's true."

Draco choked on his own words after saying that.

Allen flattened the page: "Don't run around after the feast tomorrow night."

Draco frowned: "Why?"

"There are too many people on Halloween, few Professors, and Filch is in a bad mood."

"That doesn't sound like a reason."

"Then take it as a prophecy."

Draco stared at him: "When did you learn that Trelawney trick?"

"No crystal ball, and it's cheap."

Crabbe became interested: "How much?"

Goyle felt his pocket: "I have two Knuts."

Draco slapped the parchment onto the table: "No one is buying his prophecy!"

Allen didn't speak again.

He stood the book up, using the cover to block the movements of his hands.

A small piece of parchment was sent into the Portable Space.

On it were only a few lines:

Halloween feast.

Quirrell reports the news.

Dungeon is a fake target.

Girls Bathroom corridor, occupy the spot in advance.

Do not expose spatial abilities.

The void crawled beside the parchment, its tail tip gently pressing against the last line.

Allen closed his eyes.

The fluctuations above the Castle were still there.

Not very strong, but dirty, mixed with the scent of strange creatures and routes deliberately disrupted by someone.

Quirrell's work was crude, but his goal was clear enough.

He wanted to lure the Professors away from their true positions.

Harry would rush over.

Ron would follow.

Hermione would be trapped in the Girls Bathroom.

The original timeline was still playing out.

Allen only needed to stand in the shadows and see clearly the direction from which that hand was reaching out.

The Halloween pumpkin lanterns swayed with light at the entrance of the Common Room, casting a yellowish glow on the stone walls.

Draco was still writing his letter, while Crabbe and Goyle discussed whether they could get two extra pies tomorrow night.

Allen leaned back into his chair, sleepiness pressing down on him, but he didn't fall into a deep sleep.

In the Portable Space, the void raised its head, staring at the top of the Castle.

It didn't close its eyes all night.