Ding! Your cheat has arrived

At half past seven that evening, Allen returned to the Slytherin Dungeons, his face pale.

Draco was lounging alone on a long sofa, laughing and chatting animatedly with the girls sitting opposite him.

Crabbe and Goyle stood behind him like two walls, neither saying a word.

At the sound of the Common Room door opening, Draco glanced up. Seeing Allen's pale face and unsteady steps, as though he were severely dehydrated, he rolled over and sat up, about to rise. "Allen, are you all right?"

The girls protested, tugging at him.

Draco turned back and courteously asked them to return to their Dormitory.

His courtesy lasted only a moment, however. He soon pushed the clinging girls aside impatiently and strode toward Allen.

The girls stamped their feet in anger and stormed back to their Bedroom.

There were hardly any people left in the Common Room. The older Slytherins had plenty of homework and often spent their time in the library.

The younger students, unwilling to provoke Malfoy, had long since found somewhere else to go-and Draco had just chased away the remaining girls.

Only after making sure there were no outsiders around did Allen weakly press a hand against Draco's, bracing his other hand feebly against the wall.

At the oil-painting-like texture beneath his hand, the wand inside his outer robe immediately began to twitch, seemingly excited. Allen froze for a moment, cutting off the words he had yet to say.

Draco followed his gaze, but all he saw was a black wall, leaving him utterly puzzled.

Allen bent forward slightly. His legs were trembling, but he still narrowed his eyes and examined that section of wall closely.

He touched it with both hands, then turned to Draco. "Could you please get me a lamp?"

Though puzzled, Draco turned to Crabbe. "Bring a lamp over."

Taking advantage of his height, Crabbe picked up the lamp on the bookshelf behind him and handed it over.

Allen tried to take the lamp, but Draco looked at his trembling fingers and frowned in disdain. He pushed Allen's hand down and held the lamp closer to the wall, saying scornfully,

"If I give it to you, you'll probably drop it straight away. This lamp isn't cheap."

That awkward show of concern made Allen chuckle. "Thank you for your concern, young master."

His eyes remained fixed on that section of wall. After examining it carefully, he straightened up. "This seems to be a painting."

"A painting?"

Draco's brow furrowed deeply.

Allen said nothing. Ever since his fingers had touched that section of wall, his wand had been trembling incessantly.

As its owner, he could naturally sense the wand's delight.

He had no choice but to take out his wand. Guided by its pull, he touched the "painting" with almost eager haste.

Before their eyes, the unidentified object peeled away and fell straight into Allen's hand.

Draco immediately grabbed Allen and pulled him back, anger rising on his face. "You Muggle-born! Hasn't anyone ever told you not to touch strange things?"

Warmth filled Allen's heart, and he chuckled. "It should be fine-my wand found it, and it's very happy right now. Besides, I'm perfectly all right, aren't I?"

He raised the piece of cloth in his hand and spread it out. It was completely black, as though the painter had simply painted a black backdrop.

Draco snorted coldly. He was about to turn and leave, but instead dragged the pale-faced Allen back to the Bedroom and dumped him onto his bed, saying mockingly,

"Who knew His Highness the Crown Prince could stand for so long when he was that exhausted? Think you could manage a duel, too?"

Allen looked at him helplessly. "A duel is out of the question. Have mercy on me, young master."

Draco gave a quiet huff, poured him a cup of warm milk, and insisted that he rest before leaving, gently closing the door behind him.

Allen leaned against the headboard and sipped his way through more than half the milk. The discomfort in his stomach finally eased, and some color returned to his face.

He spread out the painting Draco had flicked aside with his wand, then picked up his own wand and tapped it. "This really does seem to be nothing but a black background," he said, puzzled.

He looked at his wand. "Why are you so excited?"

Had anyone else been there, they would surely have been frightened by the eerie sight-

Beside the dark green bed curtains, a blond boy leaned against the headboard with a black canvas spread before him, hissing at his own wand.

As though summoned, a figure slowly emerged from the Black Cloth, the corners of his lips lifting as he regarded the wary boy.