Chapter 81: Left Green Dragon, Right White Horse?

All three were stunned by Ron’s wild idea.

“Yes! Unicorns are famous for their healing abilities! Transforming into a unicorn’s hoof is definitely the best choice!” Hermione exclaimed excitedly.

Allen raised his hands, unable to imagine what his own hands would look like as hooves—it just felt utterly absurd...

But he knew this was still the best option.

“You go rest! I’ll get you excused from this morning’s class!” Hermione said quickly.

“Thanks, Hermione!” Allen struggled to stand up, and Harry and Ron immediately supported him.

Harry and Ron helped Allen to his bed.

Allen gripped his wand, closed his eyes, and filled his mind with the image of transforming into a unicorn’s hoof.

But after a long while, he still couldn’t sleep—his hand hurt too much...

Then Ron’s voice came from outside the curtain: “Allen, want me to sing you a lullaby?”

“No!” Allen snapped back irritably.

He continued his earlier visualization, trying to fall asleep quickly, but his hand grew even more painful, keeping him wide awake.

Suddenly, Allen—who had been obsessing over unicorns—remembered the few strands of unicorn hair he’d picked up and stored in the drawer beside his bed.

Maybe those strands of unicorn hair could increase my chance of transforming into a unicorn’s hoof! he thought silently.

He pulled out the strands of unicorn hair—they still glowed faintly white and felt warm in his grip.

A sudden idea struck him: he wrapped the unicorn hair around his injured fingers.

Then he realized his wounded hand could now feel the warmth of the unicorn hair, and that warmth greatly reduced the pain.

Freed from the pain, Allen fell asleep shortly after.

Outside the curtain, Harry and Ron listened to Allen’s steady breathing, then quietly left the dormitory for class.

He slept until noon, feeling he’d had an excellent rest—one that made him forget many of his troubles.

He stretched contentedly, but then heard the sound of fabric tearing...

He noticed five neat slashes on the left side of his curtain—clearly made by some sharp blade.

Allen quickly lifted his left hand—and saw it had turned into a claw...

He examined his left claw closely: it was covered in fine scales, its nails sharp and keen, and spines grew along the back of the claw...

Allen recognized this claw instantly—he’d seen it every day for the past few days—it was a dragon’s claw, an exact replica of Norbert’s, especially those spines on the back, a hallmark of the Norwegian Ridgeback.

So the unicorn hoof transformation had failed—but a dragon’s claw wasn’t bad either. It had strong healing properties, and most importantly, it was perfectly suited to his injury. Allen felt a flicker of delight.

But he was too quick to rejoice—he suddenly realized he couldn’t feel his right fingers at all. He lifted his right hand to his eyes.

And saw a pure white hoof...

The hoof was translucent and flawless; his forearm had transformed into the front leg of a horse, covered in short, silky white fur that radiated warmth and holiness.

Though he’d never seen a unicorn in person, Allen was certain—this was a unicorn’s hoof.

His right hoof no longer hurt—he’d been bitten on the right hand yesterday, yet now he felt nothing. Upon closer inspection, he even spotted Norbert’s tooth marks on it. This lifted his spirits slightly.

But staring at his left claw and right hoof, Allen’s head throbbed—this appearance was far too bizarre.

How was he supposed to show himself to anyone?

In his past life, he’d always heard “left green dragon, right white tiger”—now he had a left green dragon and a right white horse.

Could his random transformation talent really work like this? A patchwork transformation?

Allen’s mind instantly exploded with possibilities—if he could figure out the pattern of this patchwork transformation, could he eventually transform into a Chinese dragon?

After all, ancient texts described the Chinese dragon as having nine resemblances: head like a camel, horns like a deer, eyes like a rabbit, ears like an ox, neck like a snake, belly like a shen, scales like a carp, claws like an eagle, and paws like a tiger.

In short, it was a patchwork of nine creatures—and his own patchwork transformation seemed capable of the same thing!

If he could combine two, maybe he could combine nine.

What would happen if he appeared in the Muggle world as a Chinese dragon?

Allen couldn’t help indulging in a few daydreams—but he quickly snapped back to reality; these fantasies helped nothing with his current situation.

His immediate problem was how to go out like this—but then again, he’d already endured so many social deaths that he’d developed a thick skin—he was immune to mockery.

A left claw and right hoof were far easier to hide than a turtle shell—just wear a long-sleeved coat.

With that thought, Allen relaxed. Then he noticed his face felt sticky—he realized he hadn’t washed his face since last night.

He jumped up and rushed into the bathroom—luckily, the door wasn’t locked, so he didn’t need to open it.

But after using his dragon claw to turn on the faucet, he was stumped again—how was he supposed to wash his face?

Washing with a claw would be like disfiguring himself—he could only use the hoof. Fortunately, the hoof was clean, its surface smooth and fine except for the bite marks.

Using the hoof to wash his face wouldn’t hurt him, Allen was certain.

He quickly did so—placing the hoof under the running water, wetting the short white fur, then rubbing it over his face. The soft white hairs gliding across his skin felt pleasant.

But he still hadn’t adjusted to the hoof—he kept losing control of its direction, and his handsome face paid the price. Looking at the bizarre reflection in the mirror, a thought suddenly popped into his head:

Am I mentally kicked by a donkey?

It seemed... probably... yes... he reluctantly shoved that absurd thought out of his mind.

After the bumpy facial, Allen felt his face was wonderfully refreshed. Looking at himself in the mirror, he suddenly noticed his skin seemed improved.

Though he’d been getting handsomer every day, today’s change was noticeably stronger—could this white donkey hoof have beauty-enhancing properties? But given the books’ descriptions of unicorns, such a trait seemed perfectly normal. Allen’s thoughts drifted again.

If this were brought to his past world, he’d become rich overnight!

After washing his face, Allen prepared to use the toilet and then head out—then he froze.

How the hell was he supposed to use the toilet with a left claw and right hoof?