Chapter 36: Destination

Abandoned girls’ bathroom.

The farthest stall.

A white orb hovered slowly in midair, tracing a circle.

Allen was intently studying his textbook, quickly sorting out the meanings of each key in the translated cleaning spell values.

But unfortunately, these translated keys had little connection to the value-free key he had obtained today.

“Destination,” Allen mused, “why would this appear in a cleaning spell?” He was puzzled.

“Could Professor Quirrell’s ancient Runes translation be wrong?” Allen couldn’t help but doubt it.

“Forget it, let’s just try! Even if the cleaning spell fails, it won’t be dangerous!” Allen made up his mind.

He drew his wand, pointed it at a puddle on the floor, focused his mind on the image of the wastewater disappearing, while also setting the destination as Gryffindor Tower, then spoke the incantation:

“Scourgify!”

The puddle on the floor exploded, drenching Allen unexpectedly.

Allen stared at the disastrous scene, momentarily speechless—adding one wrong parameter to a simple household spell had caused such a mess; what if he messed up a more powerful spell?

Allen felt his reverence for magic deepen!

He had to pause his experiment and clean himself up first.

He cast several cleaning charms in succession on his robes, and soon they were clean again.

Looking at his clean robes, a thought he had never had before popped into his mind:

“Where did all that ‘dirt’ go?”

The moment this thought appeared, it took root and grew rapidly in his mind.

He pulled out his *Standard Spellwork, Beginner Level* and carefully reread the chapter on cleaning spells—there was no mention whatsoever of where the “dirt” went.

It seemed wizards never cared about the destination of “dirt.”

“Destination of dirt! Destination!” Allen silently pondered the two concepts, “They might be connected!” He grew excited.

“But why did it fail just now?” Allen pondered this question.

“Could the destination be too far?” The possibility grew stronger in his mind.

He quickly decided to try again.

He stepped out of the stall, pointed at a puddle on the floor, focused his mind on the image of the water being cleaned to a dry patch nearby, then whispered the incantation:

“Scourgify!”

This time, no explosion occurred—the water vanished smoothly, and a new puddle appeared instantly on the target spot.

Allen burst into joy—he had assumed the cleaning process with the “destination” parameter would be visible, but instead, the water vanished and reappeared out of thin air.

“Isn’t this just like spatial magic in fantasy novels?” he thought excitedly.

This was far more useful than the flashy but useless lighting charm—it was essentially a beggar’s version of teleportation!

Although the cleaning spell had narrow applications, the effect was more than enough.

Allen immediately conducted multiple experiments with his improved cleaning spell; after several failures, he summarized its basic parameters:

1. The destination must be within ten meters; beyond that, the spell target explodes, though the blast is weak.

2. The destination can be set in midair, but not inside an object.

3. The farther the destination, the weaker the cleaning effect.

Though the limitations were many, Allen already imagined his next duel with Malfoy:

Using this trick to catch him off guard, then shouting, “You’ve got shit on your head!”

Just thinking about it felt great! And this discovery might earn him a reward from the Ministry of Magic—his debt was one step closer to being paid off. How delightful!

Finally achieving breakthrough, Allen packed his things contentedly and prepared to return to Gryffindor Tower to sleep.

But after leaving the abandoned girls’ bathroom, he was startled to discover it was already past eleven at night—he had never stayed out this late in the castle before.

He began to regret it—if Filch caught him wandering at this hour, Gryffindor would lose many points; he’d already caused the house to lose so many points recently that many students were resentful toward him.

Most importantly, Professor McGonagall would be deeply disappointed—something he dreaded even more.

But he couldn’t stay away now; Harry and Ron would be frantic if he didn’t return, and he had nowhere else to go—the September weather in England was still cold.

Besides, as long as he didn’t head straight for Gryffindor Tower, he risked being caught.

Allen gritted his teeth and decided to risk returning to his dorm.

He pulled his robe tighter, hunched his body, scanned his surroundings, and only moved quickly once he confirmed it was safe.

He dared not walk down the center of the corridor, sticking to the walls and using statues as cover to advance toward Gryffindor Tower.

Fortunately, the portraits on the walls were all asleep and silent—he made it through without incident.

But his body froze suddenly—he saw a pair of glowing eyes fixed on him from the darkness.

He locked eyes with them!

It was Filch’s beloved cat—Mrs. Norris.

Allen felt his scalp prickle; he gazed at Mrs. Norris with pleading eyes and made a shushing gesture.

Mrs. Norris simply stared at Allen, serene and still.

Allen sighed in relief, thinking he’d gotten away with it—

Then Mrs. Norris let out a piercing, shrill scream, echoing far through the night; soon, Filch’s angry footsteps approached from that direction.

The situation turned dire.

As Filch’s footsteps drew closer, Allen made a quick decision—he spotted a puddle of water far ahead.

He drew his wand, pointed it at the puddle, imagined cleaning it, set the destination as Professor Snape’s office, and whispered the incantation:

As expected, the spell failed—the distant puddle exploded as predicted.

Mrs. Norris glanced at the explosion, then at Allen, looking uncertain…

But she quickly decided, lunging toward the source of the noise and letting out a warning cry.

Filch’s footsteps changed direction, moving farther away from Allen.

Allen exhaled deeply, seized the moment, and sprinted all the way back to Gryffindor Tower.

Harry and Ron thought he’d gone to duel Malfoy and were about to go out searching for him.

After thanking Harry and Ron for their concern, Allen climbed into his bed and soon fell into a deep sleep…

Before losing consciousness, Allen decided he would visit Professor Quirrell every Saturday for lessons.