Three-headed Dog

"Where had we run to?" Flag bent over, gasping for breath as he asked in terror.

"Fourth Floor, near the Charms Class classroom." Allen answered calmly. Though he had been sprinting too, his physical fitness was far superior, and he was not worried about being caught.

"I think we shook him off," Harry said, panting heavily. He leaned against the cold wall and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"I—I—I told—you," Hermione said breathlessly, clutching the front of her robes. "I—I—I told—you."

"We have to get back to Gryffindor Tower," Ron said. "As quickly as possible."

"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "Do you see now? He never intended to meet you there at all—Filch knew someone was going to the Trophy Room. Malfoy must have tipped him off."

Harry had to admit Hermione was right, but he did not want to say anything at the moment.

"That filthy Malfoy! I'll make him pay tomorrow." Flag's face was bright red. No one had ever played him like that before. Even Dudley seemed adorable compared to Malfoy.

"Naughty first-years, wandering around in the middle of the night. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Naughty, naughty—you'll be caught." Peeves shrieked gleefully, cackling with laughter.

"Move." Allen stopped Hermione, who was about to plead with him. He grabbed her and ran forward.

"Students aren't sleeping!" Peeves roared. "Students aren't sleeping, in the Charms Class corridor!"

They seemed to hear Filch's footsteps. No longer caring about concealing their own, they fled forward desperately until they reached the end of the corridor.

"The door's locked..." Ron whimpered hopelessly. Flag shoved at the door with all his strength, hoping to smash it open.

"Move aside." Allen yanked Flag away, drew his wand, tapped the lock, and murmured, "Alohomora." The lock clicked, and the door suddenly opened—they rushed inside, quickly shut it, and pressed their ears against it to listen.

Peeves truly was Peeves; he never did anything useful. He ignored Filch's pleas, and Filch stamped his feet in fury before finally leaving helplessly.

"We should be safe now." Harry let out a long breath, slid down the door, and sat on the floor.

"A-A-Allen, Allen..." Flag's teeth chattered lightly and rapidly. He trembled all over, repeatedly tugging at Allen's sleeve.

"Ah!" Hermione let out a thin, brief, but not particularly loud scream. When people were terrified beyond measure, they often could not make a sound.

What kind of sight was this? Not even nightmares could describe it—a Three-headed Dog from Hell stood before them.

They were staring into the eyes of a monstrous dog so huge it filled the entire space from ceiling to floor. It had three heads, three pairs of fiercely rolling eyes, and three noses—twitching and trembling in their direction—as well as three drooling mouths. Slobber hung from its yellowed fangs like sticky ropes.

It stood completely still, all six eyes fixed on them.

Allen knew that music could put this ferocious beast to sleep, and he also knew that beneath the Three-headed Dog was the trapdoor leading to the Sorcerer's Stone. But he believed this was Dumbledore's test for Harry, and there was no need to disrupt it now. Otherwise, why would Dumbledore bother protecting the Sorcerer's Stone when he could simply destroy it?

Click. Hermione had turned the handle and opened the door. They swiftly fled, fortunate that the Three-headed Dog was chained up and could only roar madly behind them.

Harry and the other three ran for their lives, not stopping until they reached the Fat Lady's portrait on the Seventh Floor.

"Where's Allen? Did any of you see where Allen went?" Harry suddenly asked. They looked at one another, unable to say when Allen had left.

"Don't worry. I'm certain he was still there when we left the Fourth Floor. With his skills, there's no way he'd get caught." Flag grabbed Harry, who was about to turn back and search for him.

Leaving aside the discussion and argument that followed among Harry and the others, and their unhappy parting, where had Allen gone?

Allen knew there would be no more trouble for them tonight. Having seen the mighty Three-headed Dog, he suddenly developed a great interest in magical creatures. After completing the system's mission, I should properly study these strange creatures. Watching Harry and the others safely return to Gryffindor Tower, Allen encouraged himself.

He returned safely to Ravenclaw Tower. Along the way, Allen saw Filch wandering around on patrol. "Damn it, I didn't catch Potter! Damn that Peeves, he wouldn't tell me where they were hiding, and there's still so much armor to repair!"

Watching the old man's hunched back, Allen found him rather pitiful. In a magical castle, he could only use Muggle tools to clean.

A person who yearned for magic yet had been born a Squib—this truly was a tragedy. Perhaps he would have been happier if he knew nothing at all! Harry's aunt Petunia was the same. The distortion of human nature always had its root causes. Filch's harshness toward young wizards stemmed from nothing more than jealousy. He never dared act that way toward professors; whenever he encountered one, he became timid and withdrawn. For instance, after Professor McGonagall called him a "Fool, sure," he shut his mouth and did not dare say another word.

With that thought, Allen returned to the Trophy Room. "Reparo." His wand emitted a gentle orange glow. The scattered suits of armor instantly returned to their places, and the broken spears fused back together, without a trace that they had ever been snapped.

"Truly perfect, child. Not only is your magic impressive, but your character is even more commendable." An aged voice came from behind Allen.

I knew you wouldn't let Harry wander around the castle unchecked. Everything was under your control, wasn't it, Dumbledore? Allen thought to himself.

"Good evening, Professor." Allen showed none of the embarrassment of being caught red-handed and greeted him openly.

"Good evening, child. What marvelous clothing! If I had not learned of your little mischief tonight, I would not have had the chance to witness such marvelous attire." Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon glasses. Behind them, his sharp, bright blue eyes were intensely piercing.

"Yes, Professor, it truly is marvelous. It is my treasure." Allen did not conceal it. Clothes that could turn one invisible were not unusual in the Magical World; what was truly precious was an Invisibility Cloak like Harry's, which could remain invisible forever without any time limit.

"Compared to your marvelous clothing, your actions are even more admirable. Helping the weak without losing your compassion and mercy is a rare quality."

There was no doubt that Professor Dumbledore was a gifted, insightful, and wise man. He had seen through Allen's motives.