Chapter 206: The Aftermath of the Exposed Trump Card

After disembarking, they boarded the carriage pulled by Night Steeds; the carriage rumbled forward toward a pair of magnificent cast-iron gates flanked by numerous Shi Zhu, each topped with winged boars. Allen saw two more tall, hooded Dementors standing guard on either side of the entrance.

The two Dementors, excited by so much fresh, delicious happiness, kept sniffing as the young wizards passing through the gates huddled back inside their carriages...

The next moment, Allen felt Harry tug at his robe hem; turning his head, he found Harry's face had turned pale again—it seemed the Dementors affected Harry far more than ordinary people.

Seeing this, Allen sighed; he truly hadn't wanted to be so conspicuous, but since things had come to this, he could only accept reality.

By now he had found some knack for controlling the unicorn horn atop his head; soon the horn began emitting pulses of milky-white light that enveloped their carriage, and he heard Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the same carriage all breathe a sigh of relief.

As they passed the gates, the two Dementors reluctantly slid backward a considerable distance to escape the radiance emanating from the unicorn horn...

The carriage picked up speed along the long sloping drive, rolling all the way to the castle; Hermione leaned out the window, watching numerous turrets and towers draw nearer.

Finally, the carriage swayed to a halt, and Hermione and Ron climbed down.

"Thank you, Allen," Harry suddenly said just as Allen was about to disembark.

Allen said nothing, merely giving Harry's shoulder a light pat before leaping from the carriage, his eight walking legs striking the ground with a crisp clatter.

Allen discovered one advantage of having eight legs: exceptional stability; he jumped down from the carriage without so much as a wobble.

Because of Allen's random transfiguration, he was the focus of attention wherever he went, especially today; the young wizards around him cast all manner of glances his way, noticing how different he looked and whispering incessantly among themselves.

Allen even spotted Malfoy in the crowd, pointing at him.

He was long accustomed to this; ignoring everyone's stares, he strode across the castle's flagstone paths.

Pitiful were the first-year wizards just enrolled; at the sight of Allen, each shrank back like a quail, unable to imagine how one person could simultaneously grow a holy, pristine horn and eight somewhat sinister walking legs.

Hopefully today's Allen wouldn't leave any shadow over them, though if one thought about it, Allen seemed to have left some kind of shadow over every cohort of students, more or less...

The Sorting Ceremony took place in the resplendent Great Hall, a sea of pointed black hats; every long table was packed with students, their faces illuminated by thousands of candles hovering in midair above the tables.

Allen was somewhat delighted to find that the pointed wizard hat happened to cover the horn on his head, but the next moment his eyes met Professor McGonagall's from the staff table...

Professor McGonagall was watching him sternly; from her gaze, it was clear she already knew about Allen's condition today.

Allen couldn't help but lament inwardly, yet what must come will come; he could only hope to bluff his way past Professor McGonagall today.

Encountering the Dementors today had truly caught him off guard; due to insufficient understanding of Dementors, he had mistakenly revealed one of his trump cards, and now he could only bear the consequences of that exposure.

Next, Professor Dumbledore welcomed all the students and announced that Dementors would be stationed at Hogwarts to carry out Ministry of Magic business.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the school grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they remain here, I must make it clear that no one is to leave the school without permission. Dementors cannot be fooled by tricks or disguises—not even by an Invisibility Cloak," he added expressionlessly.

The four of them exchanged glances.

"Dementors do not understand pleading or excuses, so I warn each and every one of you: do not give them any reason to harm you." Professor Dumbledore surveyed the Great Hall with grave seriousness; no one moved, no one made a sound.

It was the first time Allen had ever seen Professor Dumbledore wear such a solemn expression.

Then Professor Dumbledore announced the addition of two new professors this year: Professor Lupin for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Hagrid for Care of Magical Creatures.

Then a grand feast began—a sumptuous banquet—with laughter, cheerful voices, and the clatter of knives and forks echoing through the Great Hall.

After the meal, Harry and the other two went to congratulate Hagrid on his new post; Allen had originally intended to slip away quietly to the dormitories to avoid Professor McGonagall, but on second thought, showing guilt over this matter would only arouse her suspicion further, so he changed his mind on the spot.

After all, he knew that evasion solved nothing.

He caught up with Harry and the other two, first offering congratulations to Hagrid, then making his way toward Professor McGonagall.

Today, Allen's appearance astonished even the well-traveled professors at the staff table; they watched his every move closely, and Allen heard Professor Flitwick let out a gasp.

"Professor McGonagall, I think we need to talk; I believe something has gone wrong with my talent," Allen said softly to Professor McGonagall, removing the wizard hat from his head.

Professor Flitwick gasped again, covering his mouth as he stared at Allen's horn.

"I also have matters to discuss with you, Mr. Finis," Professor McGonagall said, her stern expression softening slightly.

"I believe it necessary for me to join your conversation as well," a gentle voice suddenly came from nearby; it was Professor Dumbledore, watching Allen with keen interest.

This situation had been within Allen's expectations; he knew Professor Dumbledore had always paid considerable attention to him, and today's condition would certainly pique the professor's curiosity.

"Let us talk in my office! Someone recently sent me some tea leaves; we might as well taste them together," Professor Dumbledore said lightly, projecting great affability.

Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore exchanged a glance, then nodded slightly. "Very well, let us discuss this in the Headmaster's office."

After bidding farewell to Harry and the other two, Allen followed Professor Dumbledore to the Headmaster's office.

This time, the portraits in the Headmaster's office were all asleep; no portrait spoke up to mock Allen.

Professor Dumbledore skillfully brewed a pot of tea, and after sampling the infusion, the formal conversation began.

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