77: Chapter 77 The White Light That Erases Memories

The firelight in the stone chamber stabilized again. Quirrell lay prone on the ground, the skin on the back of his neck split open, and the black mist had already burrowed into the wall cracks.

Harry stood leaning against the wall, his hand still pressed against his pocket, blood from his forehead streaming down the bridge of his nose.

"Allen."

Allen did not turn back, his wand pointed at the lingering dark magic on the ground.

"Don't come over."

"He ran away."

"I saw."

"Then why are you still standing here?"

"Cleaning up the scene."

Harry stared at his back, his voice tight.

"You stood in front of me just now."

"Yeah."

"That was the Killing Curse."

"You already said that."

"You didn't die."

"You said that too."

Harry shuffled forward a step, his shoe sole hitting gravel.

"Who exactly are you?"

Allen turned around and glanced at him.

"It's clearly written on the enrollment list."

"Don't be like that."

Harry wiped his forehead, the back of his hand covered in blood.

"You came down from the ceiling, blocked the Killing Curse, and drove Lord Voldemort away."

"Drove away?"

Allen looked toward the wall cracks.

"He fled fast enough on his own."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Then ask in a different way."

Harry gritted his teeth, his chest heaving.

"Have you known all along what was under the Third Floor?"

"I knew a part of it."

"And you knew Quirrell had issues?"

"Before you did."

"Then why didn't you tell Dumbledore?"

Allen looked down at the wand Quirrell had dropped by the mirror and lifted it with a Spatial Thin Layer.

"Do you think he would believe me if I told him?"

"He would investigate."

"Of course he would."

Allen suspended the wand in mid-air and shifted his gaze back to Harry's face.

"Investigate Quirrell, and investigate me too."

Harry froze for a moment.

"Are you afraid of him investigating you?"

"Afraid isn't the word; it's just troublesome."

"Dumbledore is on our side."

"Our?"

Allen repeated.

"Who is this 'our' you're referring to?"

Harry was rendered speechless for a moment.

"You saved me."

"That was to keep the situation from going bad."

"So I'm just part of the situation?"

"You'd better accept that explanation."

Harry gripped his wand tightly.

"I thought you would at least tell one truth."

"This is the truth."

"What have you been treating me as all this time?"

"A living bait."

Harry's face turned even paler.

"What did you say?"

Allen raised his hand and wiped the scorch marks off the surface of the stone floor.

"Lord Voldemort wants to kill you, Quirrell wants to take the stone, and the Professors are all watching you."

"With you standing in front, many people won't notice me."

Harry stared at him, his lips moving slightly.

"You thought this way from the very beginning?"

"Since Diagon Alley."

"Then you following us to the Third Floor was also to use me?"

"Yes."

"What about the time with the Troll?"

Allen did not answer.

Harry rushed forward half a step, then stopped beside Quirrell's corpse.

"Was that you in the Girls Bathroom too?"

Allen glanced at the wand in his hand.

"Don't guess wildly."

"Hermione said the way the Troll fell wasn't right."

"She is smarter than you."

"So it really was you."

"I said, don't guess wildly."

Harry gasped for breath, unable to keep his voice down.

"You saved us, but you don't let anyone know."

"The fewer people who know, the longer you live."

"That's not a reason."

"It's enough for me."

The sound of stone doors vibrating came from the distant corridor; the commotion of flames being pierced by magic grew closer.

Harry turned his head to look.

"Dumbledore is coming."

"So you should shut up."

"I won't tell him."

"You've already asked too much just now."

"I said I won't."

Allen looked at him and raised his wand.

Harry pressed his back against the wall.

"What are you doing?"

"Making you remember a little less."

Harry glared at him.

"No."

"You can't stop it."

"Allen, don't do this."

"If you keep this memory, Dumbledore will ask."

"I can lie."

"You won't."

"I will!"

Allen's wand tip stopped before his forehead.

"You can't even keep the stone in your pocket hidden."

Harry raised his hand to block his forehead.

"Then teach me what to say."

"There's no time."

"I don't want to forget."

"That's not important."

"It's important to me!"

Harry's eyes turned red, but he didn't back away.

"I thought I was a goner just now."

"And then you appeared."

"I don't know why you saved me, but you did."

"I should remember this."

Allen looked at him, the fabric of his sleeve still charred at the edges.

"And after you remember it?"

"I'll know I owe you one."

"I don't need it."

"Then, at least I'll know which side you're on."

"I've already told you."

"You're on your own side."

"Good memory."

"So don't take it away."

Allen took half a step forward, the wand tip touching Harry's forehead.

Harry's breathing became ragged.

"Are you really going to do this?"

"Yes."

"What's the difference between you and him?"

Allen paused for half a beat.

"There are many differences."

"He forces others too."

"You can hate me later."

"I hate you now."

"Then that's perfect."

Harry gritted his teeth, his wand half-raised.

"Expelliarmus."

The red light grazed past Allen's shoulder and dissipated against the stone wall.

Allen didn't even look at the spell.

"Want to try again?"

Harry's arm trembled.

"I can't let you do this."

"You can barely stand right now."

"Still no."

"Harry."

Allen said his name for the first time.

"If you want to survive and hand over the stone, don't force me to use a rougher method."

Harry's Adam's apple bobbed.

"Will you hurt me?"

"It won't leave a mark."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"A practical one."

The cry of a Phoenix came from the corridor, audible even through the door.

Harry panicked.

"He's arriving soon."

"So it ends."

White light lit up the tip of the wand; the light wasn't blinding, but it sliced Harry's vision into blank segments.

Harry reached out to grab Allen's sleeve.

"Don't."

Allen caught his wrist and pressed his hand back against his chest.

"Sleep for a while."

"Allen."

"When you wake up, you will only remember that Quirrell wanted to kill you."

"You resisted."

"You touched him."

"He fell."

"Then there was a silver light."

Harry gasped, his words beginning to break apart.

"No."

"Yes."

"You blocked the curse."

"No."

"I saw it."

"You saw wrong."

"I didn't..."

The white light sank into his forehead, Harry's gaze scattered, and the wand in his hand dropped to the ground.

Allen didn't let go immediately.

"The Philosopher's Stone is in your pocket."

"Yes."

"Dumbledore will come."

"Yes."

"You don't know I was here."

Harry's lips moved.

"Silver light."

"Yes."

"Quirrell fell."

"Yes."

"What about Allen?"

"There is no Allen."

Harry's shoulders slumped, and his body tipped forward.

Allen caught him and laid him on the stone floor, avoiding the dark magic residue left by Quirrell.

Inside the Portable Space, Peter pressed against the cage bars, a muffled wheezing sound squeezing from his throat.

Allen did not turn back.

"Quiet."

Void coiled beside the ebony box, its silver eyes fixed on Peter.

Peter retreated into the corner.

Allen crouched down and took the Philosopher's Stone from Harry's pocket.

The red stone landed in his palm, still warm.

"For this thing, you almost died twice."

Harry's eyes were closed, offering no response.

Allen placed the stone back on the stone pedestal in the center of the chamber and raised his wand to slice open a layer of Spatial Thin Layer.

"You'd better not touch it again after you wake up."

The silver button on the ground was lifted up and landed in Allen's palm.

He glanced at it and tucked it into his sleeve.

"A button burnt off your invisibility cloak; that should be enough to give you a headache."

Quirrell's wand hung nearby.

Allen looked at it.

"Leave it for Dumbledore."

The wand landed by Quirrell's hand, its position adjusted to where Harry would be able to see it after waking up.

Allen raised his hand, and the scorch marks in the stone chamber receded bit by bit into the spatial fold.

The traces of the shockwave from the Killing Curse were wiped away, the torn pieces of school robes disappeared from the floor, and the residue belonging to the blackthorn wand was also folded into the thin layer.

Peter let out a muffled groan in the space.

Allen turned his head.

"Want to say something?"

Peter opened his mouth, but couldn't make a sound.

Allen looked at the cage.

"You want to ask me why I didn't take the Philosopher's Stone?"

Peter nodded halfway, then stopped.

Allen isolated the residual dark magic.

"Take it, and Dumbledore will turn Hogwarts upside down."

"Leave it here, and he will only suspect that Quirrell failed too cleanly."

Peter pressed against the bars, his eyes full of fear.

Allen continued.

"You also want to ask why I didn't kill Harry to silence him?"

Peter shrank back.

Allen withdrew his gaze.

"He is more useful alive than dead."

Harry lay on the ground, the wound on his forehead still bleeding.

Allen used the Spatial Thin Layer to brush away the blood, making the wound look more like a combat graze.

"The Chosen One fainted, Quirrell fell, and the stone is still there."

"That's enough."

The footsteps in the corridor were already very close.

An aged voice came through the black fire.

"Harry?"

Allen looked up; the Principal's magic was closing in.

He pressed the last wisp of spatial fluctuation back into his palm.

Harry's fingers twitched.

"Silver light..."

Allen leaned over to check his memory anchor one last time.

"Yes, silver light."

"Quirrell..."

"Fell."

"The stone..."

"Is on the pedestal."

Harry's breathing deepened.

Allen stood up and looked at the mirror of erised.

There was still no reflection of him in the mirror.

He spoke in a low voice.

"It's lucky for you that you can't reflect me."

Outside the black fire, the cry of the Phoenix was clearer.

Dumbledore's footsteps stopped at the door.

"Harry, can you hear me?"

Allen did not respond; the knut in his sleeve lit up.

A spatial fold opened behind him.

Inside the Portable Space, Void raised its head.

Peter hugged his knees, not daring to touch the bars again.

Before Allen stepped into the fold, he looked back at Harry.

"Don't leave your life to luck again."

The knut shattered into powder, and the light receded from the ground.

Only the unconscious Harry, the fallen Quirrell, the Philosopher's Stone on the pedestal, and a memory altered by white light remained in the stone chamber.

Before the black fire was pushed aside, Allen's figure had already vanished.