Chapter 80

For the next week, Malfoy’s hidden, malicious smile made Harry, Ron, and Hermione deeply uneasy.

Allen, meanwhile, was lost in his own troubles—he still hadn’t found a way to break the Unbreakable Vow; the dream-talking method had been too inefficient, and he’d abandoned it.

Harry and the others noticed Allen’s change—he had always been cheerful when with them, but for the past week he’d been gloomy, distracted, and visibly worn down.

They found a moment to corner him in a corner of the library.

“What’s wrong with you lately?” Hermione asked first.

Seeing his friends’ sincere and concerned gazes, Allen hesitated, then decided to approach his situation indirectly.

“I’ve been worried that Snape will try to steal the Philosopher’s Stone!” Allen carefully chose his words.

Harry and Ron visibly relaxed.

Ron said casually, “I thought it was something serious—Snape can’t even get past Fluffy yet, and there are other professors’ protections in place!”

“The Philosopher’s Stone is still safe, and Hagrid said it’s about to be moved—you don’t need to worry so much,” Hermione added, trying to comfort Allen.

Only then did Allen realize he’d been obsessing over something beyond his control—why should he stress over a problem clearly outside his ability? Besides, he hadn’t helped Quirrell steal the Stone. Suddenly, it all made sense to him.

He’d been tricked by Professor Quirrell into taking the Unbreakable Vow—but if he hadn’t, he never would’ve discovered Quirrell was the true villain! Not taking the vow meant he’d know nothing; taking it meant he knew but couldn’t speak—either way, the outcome was the same.

From this perspective, he hadn’t done anything wrong. Let the stronger professors handle the Stone’s safety! Thinking this way, Allen’s mood finally lifted.

“Oh, you’re right—I’ve been acting foolish about this for so long…” Allen smiled, ending the topic, and his demeanor grew noticeably lighter.

Yet a faint unease lingered in his heart—he remembered the three extraordinary grains of qi he’d placed on Quirrell’s purple turban during Halloween.

Had Quirrell been faking unconsciousness—or had he truly passed out? Allen wasn’t sure anymore.

If he’d been faking, then Allen had just made an enemy of Voldemort’s minion… A shadow darkened his thoughts again…

But Allen was soon distracted by another matter…

The four of them had been urging Hagrid to send the dragon away, but Hagrid kept avoiding the issue—he’d even named the hatchling Norbert.

In just a week, the dragon had tripled in length; puffs of smoke billowed from its nostrils. Hagrid had abandoned his duties guarding the Forbidden Forest, overwhelmed by the dragon’s demands—the floor was littered with empty brandy bottles and chicken feathers.

Allen had to take on more of Hagrid’s work—he took Fang to patrol the edge of the Forbidden Forest on Friday.

Finally, after their persistent urging, Hagrid reluctantly agreed to let Ron write to his brother Charlie in Romania, who studied dragons, to ask if he could take the hatchling.

The next week dragged on like an eternity.

On Wednesday night, after everyone else had gone to bed, Hermione and Harry sat in the common room. The clock on the wall had just struck twelve when the portrait hole suddenly swung open.

Allen slipped off Harry’s Invisibility Cloak as if descending from the sky—he’d just gone to Hagrid’s hut to feed Norbert, who now ate dead rats packed in wooden crates.

“It bit me!” Allen said, showing them his hand, wrapped in a bloodstained handkerchief; his rabbit ears trembled from pain.

Hermione carefully unwrapped the cloth—Norbert had bitten Allen multiple times; the teeth marks were razor-sharp, and in places the flesh was torn clear down to the bone.

“You must go to Madam Pomfrey!” Hermione said firmly, her eyes filled with worry.

“No—” Allen said weakly, “Hagrid’s been kind to me, helped me so much. Just hold on a few more days—Charlie will reply soon, and we might find Norbert a good home.”

“I can’t explain these wounds to Madam Pomfrey—it would expose Norbert. If Norbert’s found out, Hagrid’s ruined—he might even lose his job. I can’t let that happen.”

“Maybe the wound will heal by tomorrow. Maybe I just won’t be able to hold a quill for a week,” Allen smiled at Hermione, though the pain twisted his expression.

Hermione was convinced—but she studied his hand with lingering doubt. “Your wound is still bleeding, and the blood clots slowly—Norbert’s teeth might be poisonous…”

“It’s slow, but it’s clotting. I bet it’ll stop bleeding by morning,” Allen said optimistically, his voice strained with pain.

After saying that, Allen rewrapped his hand and returned to his dormitory.

But the next morning, things grew worse—Allen’s bleeding had stopped, but the injured fingers had swollen to twice their size, turning a sickly green. Norbert’s teeth were indeed poisonous.

Harry and Ron helped the weak Allen out of his dormitory, determined to force him to the hospital wing—when they met Hermione in the common room.

Hermione had clearly been waiting there a long time.

Seeing Harry and the others emerge, she asked anxiously, “How is Allen?”

“It’s terrible! He won’t let us take him to the hospital wing!” Harry said angrily, helping Allen sit in a corner of the room.

Allen sat slumped in the chair, silent, his rabbit ears limp and drooping.

Hermione immediately noticed. She knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Allen, listen to me—did you perform your Talent Transformation last night?”

Allen didn’t understand. He whispered hoarsely, “No—it hurt too much. I didn’t sleep at all…”

“Then that’s perfect! I’ve thought of a way to help you—without going to Madam Pomfrey!” Hermione said quickly.

Allen perked up, hopeful eyes fixed on her.

“If you could use your Talent Transformation to create an animal’s claw, wouldn’t that let the creature’s natural healing ability mend your wound?”

“Allen’s Talent Transformation can’t remove injuries,” Harry objected.

Hermione shot him a sharp look. “What if he transforms into the claw of a magical creature? Then it could use the creature’s innate healing power to heal the wound!”

Harry was instantly convinced. Allen also thought it feasible—the cost of trying was low. He only needed to sleep and see what happened; if it failed, he could still go to the hospital wing.

Then Ron, who had been silent until now, spoke up:

“Why use a claw at all? A unicorn’s hoof is the perfect choice!”