Chapter 18: Punishment and Daydreaming

Professor Snape nodded expressionlessly to Professor McGonagall and said, "Let us begin!"

At this moment, Professor McGonagall, who had been silent for a long time, pushed up her glasses, her gaze sweeping back and forth over the six people.

"Now, who will explain to me exactly what happened?" Professor McGonagall said.

The six people kept their heads down, daring not to speak; Allen opened his mouth, feeling as though a large stone were lodged in his throat, unable to make a single sound.

"Draco, you tell us what happened, do not be afraid!" Professor Snape said slowly and deliberately.

Malfoy skated over the serious parts of the whole matter, but he was quickly interrupted by Harry: "Malfoy, there were many witnesses!"

Malfoy had no choice but to readjust his account, yet he still downplayed Allen's fall.

Ron could finally hold back no longer and loudly recounted the events; Professor McGonagall grew increasingly serious as she listened, her eyes filled with fear of what might have been.

"Professor Snape, what do you think?" Professor McGonagall said sternly.

"I believe the matter was caused by youthful impulsiveness; no one suffered serious injury in the entire incident, and Crabbe has already paid the price for his impulsiveness. I suggest deducting twenty points from Mr. Crabbe, and ten points each from Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Goyle; how about deducting ten points each from Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Finis as well?" Professor Snape continued to speak slowly and deliberately.

Professor McGonagall pressed her lips tightly together, which meant her mood was rapidly worsening.

"I think this will not do; Crabbe's behavior was too despicable, too dangerous! If anyone else had been on that out-of-control broom today, someone would have truly died; Hogwarts has not had a student death in fifty years!" Professor McGonagall said sternly, "Therefore, Crabbe must receive a severe punishment: deduct one hundred points, and deduct twenty points each from the remaining five people!"

Professor Snape wanted to speak, but he was interrupted by Ron; who could blame him for speaking with such a long lead-in, always so slow and rigid?

"Professor! They three are the true wrongdoers; why deduct so many points from us?" Ron demanded loudly.

"Mr. Weasley, this is the final decision!" Professor McGonagall did not even look at Snape.

Ron still wanted to continue arguing, but after a fierce glare from Professor McGonagall, he stammered and could not speak.

Professor Snape snorted and walked out; passing Harry and Allen, he glared at them expressionlessly, then led the students of his house away without saying a word.

Harry and Allen were filled with the relief of having survived; they thought they would be expelled today, yet they had passed through it like this, but they dared not show it because Professor McGonagall was still nearby.

"Now, hurry back to your dormitories to rest; I will have dinner sent to you." Professor McGonagall said to the three of them.

The three in Allen's group felt a wave of relief and quickly thanked Professor McGonagall.

"Hurry back! Do not bother me here; seeing you makes me angry!" Professor McGonagall issued the dismissal order once more.

When Allen lay down on his four-poster bed again, he felt a sense of unreality; so many things had happened that day, it felt as long as a year.

Neville had already been returned from the hospital; he was now fast asleep, and the brand-new Remembrant was carefully placed at the head of his bed, gleaming under the light.

"Allen, good night!" Harry's head poked out from behind his canopy.

"Allen, Harry, good night!" Ron also poked his head out from behind his canopy, yawning.

"You two, good night too!" Allen said to them with a bright smile.

The three looked at one another, each finding in the other's eyes what they wanted to see.

The three laughed happily, as though something invisible had been broken, and everyone had become closer...

Allen lay on his bed once more (mainly because he could not lie flat),

his mind flashing rapidly through everything that had happened today: from the fear at first seeing the wings, to the fury after being insulted, to fighting side by side soaring through the sky, to the struggle for survival falling from great heights, to returning from the brink and wreaking havoc; scene after scene flowed through his heart, finally freezing on the moment of the three diving.

Allen adjusted his posture to lie more comfortably; surviving death today made him deeply realize the preciousness of life once again; truly, his last death was like Zhu Zhu Bajie eating the ginseng fruit—he had not even savored the flavor before he was gone, nothing as memorable as today's struggle for survival.

But now he felt something that, in some sense, was more important than life, and this was the first time in this world.

"Is it friendship?" Allen buried his face in the pillow, murmuring softly.

"Perhaps love will come later?" he added softly in his heart, but he instantly felt the ambiguity in that sentence, shook his head, and cast the thought from his mind.

Allen reached out to touch the wings on his back that were somewhat in the way; thinking that they would disappear once he fell asleep, and not knowing when they would appear again, he found himself feeling a bit reluctant to let them go.

He drew out his wand and examined it carefully, his mind pondering Dumbledore's words from that morning.

Should he continue sleeping with his wand tonight?

This had indeed been a problem before.

But after Dumbledore's guidance today and having truly walked between life and death this afternoon, it was no longer a problem.

Allen's heart became stronger than ever before; he decided to face the fear in his own heart.

He also remembered Dumbledore saying that his transformation would be influenced by his subconscious.

If he used his wand to perform his innate transformation, the effect would be enhanced, likely causing a random part of his body or an organ to transform; what would be better to become?

He must think this over carefully; perhaps thinking enough would make him become the form he wanted!

Allen's thoughts began to scatter, various knowledge from his past life flashing through his mind.

Suddenly an idea popped into Allen's mind: Could my entire lower body be transformed? For example, my lower body becoming that of a fish—would that make me a mermaid? Perhaps it would become that of a snake; that would seem to make me a descendant of Nuwa; perhaps Slytherin would like that.

Allen slapped his head hard, trying to cast the thought away, but once thoughts take hold, they are not so easily interrupted.

Allen thought again: if my lower body became that of a fish or a snake, wouldn't my own be gone? That was a terrifying question!

At this moment, Allen could no longer control the situation within his brain; his mind continued downward: would it randomly select an animal?

The strange and odd knowledge Allen had seen on Bilibili and Zhihu in his past life suddenly surged up: what use is randomly selecting an animal?

A voice in his mind whispered softly:!

Another voice appeared:!

Allen was stunned by his own wild imagination and the reserve of strange knowledge he possessed! How did a healthy exercise in divergent thinking turn into this?

Quickly, he slammed on the brakes in his mind, trying to empty his brain!

But it was too late; the speed was simply too great!

Only one thought remained in his mind: what if it randomly selected a pig?

Allen painfully covered his face: What did I do wrong? How did the situation develop to this point?

He smiled bitterly at the wand in his hand; this was indeed a world of idealism! And his own ability would be influenced by his subconscious, and now his mind was full of pigs.

If he slept with his wand tonight, would he really transform into a pig tomorrow?

It seemed very likely!

Just a moment ago, his mind had been filled with grand reflections on life and friendship; how had it now come down to pigs?

Forget it!

He angrily threw the wand into the bedside drawer, pulled the blanket over his head, and prepared to sleep.

Bullshit!

With this eleven-year-old body!

He would truly be reduced to ashes!