Although Allen had grasped the general picture of the situation, what troubled him most was that he still didn't know the most important part, who did it.
Even someone like Detective Conan needed multiple clues before he could dramatically declare, "There's only one truth!" Allen really wanted to pull off that kind of cool moment himself, but, unfortunately, he had no clue who the culprit was.
The gloomy atmosphere in the Great Hall only grew heavier. The whispered discussions among the young wizards brought no vitality, no hope, only a suffocating silence that seemed to wrap around the room like a shroud.
That silence was finally broken when Dumbledore returned, accompanied by the family of the victim.
Behind the woman, who had clearly composed herself after a complete emotional breakdown, was the small Slytherin boy. But unlike before, when he might have walked into the hall with a bit of pride, he now hid behind his mother like a frightened mouse, shielding himself from the world.
"It's alright, Green. Don't be afraid. Mommy's here," the mother said gently, forcing a smile through tear-reddened eyes as she patted her son's head. He had regressed to the state of a helpless child.
Then, this resolute woman turned to Dumbledore and made a request that shocked everyone present.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Please forgive a mother for her selfishness and desperation, but I've made my decision. I want to personally find the one who hurt my son."
She took a deep breath and stated her wish clearly.
"From today on, I hope the school can provide us a place to stay. We'll care for our son while we search for the person who did this to him."
Then she bowed deeply to Dumbledore in a rare and sincere gesture of respect.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Dumbledore's calm voice broke the silence. "Very well. Young Green is a strong child. You may use one of the vacant staff lounges. But I still suggest you consider the hospital wing, it would be far more suitable for his recovery."
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
As the couple had said, they soon joined the night patrols at Hogwarts. Sometimes the husband went, sometimes the wife. One always stayed behind to care for Green, while the other scoured the castle through the night.
But it was all in vain.
No matter how hard they searched, they found nothing.
The attacker seemed both unconscious and deliberate, as if committing the act in a frenzy, then vanishing like a shadow. There were no traces. Nothing to track.
But the horror of the crime didn't fade with time. The two tireless parents, patrolling each night, were a constant reminder to the rest of the school: a tragedy had recently taken place here, one no one should forget.
Allen wanted to help. He really did. But he had even more questions than they did.
This time was different.
Unlike the diary, where the soul fragment of a young Tom Riddle had acted like an immature child, only capable of opening the Chamber of Secrets, this time, the soul inside the diadem had been created at the peak of Voldemort's power.
Logically, he should have known that such a brutal attack at Hogwarts would only bring unnecessary attention, Dumbledore was still around, after all.
If he really wanted to kill the boy, wouldn't the Killing Curse have been quicker and more efficient?
So why torment him instead, to the point of madness?
Allen had no answer.
He eventually gave up trying to understand. There were no clues, and he couldn't make sense of Voldemort's twisted logic. Even though he knew this might be a breakthrough, he had no choice but to let it go.
So, Allen turned to the twins.
Fred and George were eager to help and happily agreed to lend him the Marauder's Map to help find the culprit, on one condition: Allen had to bring them along when the time came to catch the attacker.
Allen was nearly driven mad by the deal. These two reckless kids had no idea what fear even meant. They once had the nerve to pelt the Dark Lord with snowballs!
So, Allen faked a smile and agreed, knowing full well he had no intention of dragging those two into danger. He just hoped to solve this before they could interfere.
But the Marauder's Map showed nothing.
No matter how often Allen checked it during his free time, there was no trace of any suspicious activity. No mysterious names. No unusual movement.
The whole situation had ground to a halt.
Until, one week after the attack, a shocking development finally broke the stalemate.
It happened during lunch. Just as everyone was enjoying their meal, a massive figure appeared in the doorway, blocking the entrance to the Great Hall.
The man was a giant of a human, his face almost completely hidden behind wild, tangled hair and a thick, messy beard. Yet from beneath it all, his black, beetle-like eyes still shone brightly.
He was a half-giant, Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.
He was one of the few people at Hogwarts who had absolute trust in Dumbledore, and in return, was one of Dumbledore's most trusted allies.
He had been directly involved in the plan to raise Harry Potter. He was the one Dumbledore had sent to protect the boy in his earliest years, the one who introduced him to the magical world, and who remained his loyal friend throughout his time at school.
A clumsy, kind-hearted man with a unique talent for caring for magical creatures, Hagrid was the guardian of every being in the Forbidden Forest.
Now, he looked panicked. As if he had just received a devastating piece of news.
Only when he saw Dumbledore seated calmly at the staff table did he manage to steady himself enough to speak.
"Something terrible's happened, Dumbledore... Five unicorns have been killed in the Forbidden Forest!"
The announcement sent a shockwave through the Great Hall. Half the students gasped aloud, and the other half, though slower to react, soon understood the gravity of the situation from their horrified classmates.
Unicorns, beloved creatures of the magical world. They were pure, gentle beings, considered sacred by many.
And their blood, if taken by force, was cursed. Drinking it would taint one's soul, condemning the drinker to a cursed, half-life existence. Even their bodies became useless, the blood corrupted everything.
In an age where even the most powerful wizards relied on naturally shed unicorn hairs, five murdered unicorns could mean only one thing:
The person who did this... was utterly deranged.
It also meant something else:
The killer was still out there.
Yet Allen remained unmoved by the rising tide of panic.
If he remembered correctly, a Horcrux didn't require blood or sacrifices to revive. At least not in the case of the diary, it had only needed the willing sacrifice of a young wizard. That alone had been enough.
For someone like Voldemort, manipulating a child into that kind of devotion was child's play.
As the young wizards around him babbled in confusion and terror, Allen sat deep in thought.
Voldemort… What exactly are you planning?
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