Chapter 11: Mutation

Allen felt as though he had endured an exceedingly long dream, in which he had grown a pair of pristine white wings and flown about the sky, only to fly so high that his wings melted, causing him to plummet from the heavens, falling continuously until he jolted awake.

After waking, Allen found himself lying prone on his bed; with eyes closed, he savored the lingering sensation of the dream, reluctant to awaken from the feeling of free flight, but soon he sensed something amiss with his body.

Opening his eyes, the first thing he saw was his hand resting on his wand atop the bedpost, yet he could not bother to tidy his most precious possession, for he felt something additional upon his back, vaguely sensing it to be enormous.

"Could it be that today I randomly manifested an especially large organ that is now dangling from my head down my back?" Allen thought silently.

As he grew increasingly alert, he quickly realized something was wrong; it felt as though an extra pair of limbs had appeared on his back, and his brain could control them.

Cautiously, he issued a command to the limbs behind him to spread, then reached back to inspect his head, but he halted abruptly upon seeing a pair of wings slowly unfurling behind him...

Even though Allen was well-traveled and knowledgeable, these wings still stunned him; once startled, people tend to react instinctively, and Allen's wings snapped open with a swish...

The wingspan is very wide, was Allen's first thought.

Immediately followed a crackling din, for Allen's wings had pierced through the deep red flannel bed curtains, knocking into his dormmates' belongings and sending them clattering to the floor.

The sound of falling objects startled the roommates awake, and they too were dumbstruck by the massive wings; Ron even shrieked in fright, while Harry, the first to regain composure, bravely drew open Allen's curtains to assess his condition: "Allen, are you alright?"

"I'm fine; I feel nothing unusual at the moment," Allen replied, his voice somewhat muffled.

Neville said nervously, "What's going on? We were just talking about flying yesterday, so how did you grow a pair of wings today?"

"I don't know either, but now is not the time to discuss this; I feel unable to assess my own condition, so could someone fetch a Prefect for me?" Allen rapidly calmed himself; these past few months of sprouting bizarre organs had made him experienced, and at least these wings did not exceed the bounds of his understanding.

"I'll go; Percy is my brother," Ron declared, and without even putting on socks, he stumbled barefoot out of the dormitory.

Soon, Ron returned with Percy, the Prefect, to their dormitory.

Percy too was dumbstruck by the enormous wings, momentarily at a loss for words.

"Prefect, I currently feel no discomfort, but it would be best to send me to Madam Pomfrey immediately; my innate talent may have undergone a mutation, and I am unclear how it will develop thereafter," Allen stated calmly.

"Also, please inform Professor McGonagall; perhaps Professor Dumbledore should be notified as well," Allen added, then began changing his clothes to prepare for departure.

Thus, Percy escorted Allen to the Hospital Wing, while Hedwig, who had early that morning flown to Harry's dormitory pecking at the window seeking food, was conscripted by Percy and dispatched to deliver a message explaining the situation to Professor McGonagall.

Along the way, early-rising Hogwarts students and staff were dumbstruck, all eager to crowd around and touch Allen's wings, but these curious onlookers were barred by Percy, forced merely to follow behind and watch; indeed, spectating seems to be human nature, wizards included.

Only now did Allen have the mood and space to fully extend his wings for observation; the wingspan felt to exceed five meters, the massive wings making Allen appear even slighter, their color a pristine white without a single speck of impurity.

Seeing this color, Allen could not help but recall the wings crafted by Geng the Artisan, though those were a size larger than these.

The wings were not heavy,

one might even say quite light, yet they were so large that when extended, air resistance became immense, making walking difficult, while folding them posed its own problems; if Allen walked upright with folded wings, they would drag along the ground.

For some reason, Allen felt it improper for such pristine white wings to drag on the floor, yet if he wished to walk without them touching the ground while folded, he would have to stick out his rear and hunch his waist, angling the folded wings sharply against the floor, a posture both undignified and exhausting.

After attempting to walk this way for a few steps, Allen belatedly realized: isn't this precisely how birds normally walk!

However, walking in such a manner was still quite strenuous, so he simply tried his best to hold his wings elevated, striving not to brush against Hogwarts' flowers and plants.

Thus, Allen struggled his way to the Hospital Wing, where Professor McGonagall had also arrived; at this juncture, Madam Pomfrey displayed exemplary professionalism, maintaining calm and conducting her inquiry and examination normally despite such a bizarre scene, while Professor McGonagall continually observed Allen's wings, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

After a period of inquiry and examination, Madam Pomfrey rendered her final diagnosis: Allen suffered from no ailment, though as a precaution, he should consume some potions to bolster his vitality.

She then administered a bottle of dark brown potion to Allen; upon drinking it, he felt only a sour taste lingering in his mouth, and just as he began doubting whether the potion had spoiled, a surge of heat suddenly erupted from his stomach, rushing upward to his forehead, then blasting two plumes of white steam from his ears like a train whistle, while simultaneously a wave of strength coursed through his body, sweeping away all fatigue.

"We must go see Professor Dumbledore," Professor McGonagall told Allen.

She then led Allen to the Headmaster's office; chanting the password, "Chocolate Frog," she guided him inside, and ascending the long spiral staircase, Allen and Professor McGonagall entered the Headmaster's office, which was piled high with various books and alchemical artifacts, while portraits of successive Hogwarts Headmasters adorned the walls.

On one side of the Headmaster's desk, a phoenix rested with eyes closed in a light slumber.

Professor Dumbledore, clad in his nightclothes, leaned over his desk reading the Daily Prophet, the entire office exceedingly quiet.

"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore!" Professor McGonagall greeted, and with her speaking, the room instantly came alive.

The Headmasters' portraits all opened their eyes, gazing at Allen, pointing and whispering among themselves.

One portrait reacted with extreme exaggeration, "Ha! What do I see! A bird-man!"

Allen strove to ignore these portraits and bowed respectfully to Professor Dumbledore.

At this moment, Professor Dumbledore finally raised his head; he possessed an appearance quite distinct from ordinary men, with a silvery-white beard trailing long down to his chest, robes worn somewhat disheveled, and half-moon spectacles perched upon his nose.

Yet none of this compared to his eyes; they were exceptionally bright, his sapphire-blue pupils seeming to shimmer with light.

"Ah, ah! It is Mr. Finis," Professor Dumbledore exclaimed, rising and striding over with vigorous steps; "I am already aware of your situation and have been specifically awaiting your arrival."

Allen shook the Headmaster's hand with slight awkwardness; toward this most powerful of white wizards, Allen still felt a trace of apprehension, for what the Sorting Hat could not accomplish, Dumbledore might well achieve, and should he be discovered as a transmigrator, what then?