Allen precisely controlled the amount of ground herb added, the temperature of the crucible beneath the cauldron, and the intensity of the stirring, watching the tell-tale smoke curl slowly upward. He was in his element.
Professor Snape glided up silently behind Allen, observing the potion slowly achieving its perfect, intended viscosity and color. He abruptly broke the silence, his voice low and cutting: "Allen Harris, is your brew finally ready?"
"Yes, Professor. It is complete," Allen replied calmly. He carefully decanted the perfectly colored, top-quality potion into a presentation vial and held it out to Professor Snape for final inspection.
In truth, by the time Allen had finished, Professor Snape had already mentally confirmed that Allen had achieved complete mastery of the potion's preparation. However, his quill hesitated above the parchment, unwilling to immediately commit to a score.
Before Professor Snape could voice any inevitable critique, the ever-prepared Allen produced another vial from the folds of his wizard robes—the improved version of the headache-soothing potion he had prepared for Harry earlier.
Professor Snape took the new vial, examined its murky contents, shook it slightly, uncapped it, sniffed it carefully, and then poured a few drops into his mouth to sample the strange flavour.
"It contains Motra mouse juice, aconite, and wormwood…" What genuinely surprised Allen was that the Professor not only correctly identified the highly complex and disguised ingredients but also seemed entirely unbothered by the potion's bizarre taste. "This preparation does not merely soothe emotions, but actively eases pain caused by Dark Magic residue. It is a surprisingly advanced modification."
Edward, who was frantically attempting to salvage his own bubbling potion nearby, couldn't believe his ears. Was this truly Professor Snape, the notoriously sharp-tongued and meticulous Potions Master, offering something that sounded suspiciously like praise?
"Attend to your mixture, boy," Professor Snape instructed, his expression still icy and his voice dangerously cold, snapping Edward back to attention. But Edward was still utterly bewildered. Had Allen somehow administered a mind-altering drug to the Professor? Why was the professor's demeanor so drastically different from his usual venomous attitude?
Edward was desperately trying to save his ruinous potion while his mind was racing with wild theories about Allen's influence.
Allen's eyesight was, as usual, impeccable; he clearly saw Professor Snape award him a maximum, perfect score next to his name on the manifest. Satisfied with the results of his little side-experiment, Allen thanked Professor Snape and left the gloomy Potions dungeon.
If there was one truly easy test, it was undeniably the Flying Exam. Allen's raw talent was clearly demonstrated by his performance during Quidditch practices. Before awarding Allen a flawless score, Madam Hooch merely instructed him to symbolically trace a single circle around the field.
The most tedious task for all the young wizards, of course, was the History of Magic exam. Despite the vast number of questions covering obscure details on the parchment, Allen, blessed with a near-photographic memory and meticulous note-taking habits, found the test trivial. Furthermore, history was a genuinely interesting subject for Allen; he often utilized historical anecdotes as mental diversions during monotonous tasks.
While many of his classmates were agonizing over which obscure wizard had invented the self-stirring cauldron, Allen had already completed his entire examination paper with remarkable fluency and elegant handwriting. However, Allen did not turn in his paper early. Instead, he sat quietly in his seat, seemingly lost in thought, but in reality, he was meticulously reviewing and confirming the contents of the historical texts he had committed to memory after just one reading.
The entire class erupted in a deafening cheer when Professor Binns, in his ghostly, wispy form, instructed them to put down their anti-cheating quills and fold their parchment. They were finally finished! All their exams were complete; they were free! Now they had a full week of relaxation and play before the dreaded results were announced!
Moved by the collective joy, Allen, too, felt the desire for a break, so he joined the throng of students pouring outside onto the sun-drenched lawn.
The Great Lake in the distance rippled invitingly in the sunlight, and a gentle, cool breeze blew across the grounds—a truly refreshing sight. Allen descended the slope toward the water's edge. When he reached the shore, he saw Harry sitting under a sprawling tree, waving and smiling at him, accompanied by Ron and Hermione.
Allen cheerfully greeted them and sat down beside Harry.
"Harry, how have you been feeling since you took the potion?" Even though Allen wasn't a doctor and had supreme confidence in the efficacy of his tailored remedy, he genuinely wanted an update on Harry's condition.
"Since I took the medicine, my headache is totally gone, and I haven't had a single nightmare," Harry said gratefully, looking at Allen with sincere admiration. After a momentary hesitation, however, he added, "But I still can't shake the feeling that I've forgotten something… something really important."
"It's just the exam stress, Harry. It does that to you," Hermione said with deep sympathy. "I woke up last night, frantically reviewing my Transfiguration notes, before realizing we'd already taken that test."
But Harry was certain this growing unease had nothing to do with schoolwork. His eyes tracked an owl fluttering lazily toward the school through the clear blue sky, carrying a rolled note in its beak.
"Human intuition is powerful, Harry, especially a wizard's. Perhaps you have forgotten something vital. Aside from the headaches and nightmares, what else has been nagging at you lately?" Allen patiently guided him, sensing the proximity of a crucial realization.
"My biggest concern is... Flamel, the Philosopher's Stone, Hagrid's secret..." Harry suddenly leaped to his feet, his face pale with sudden, stark clarity.
"Where are you running off to?" Ron asked sleepily, half-sprawled on the grass.
"I've just remembered something essential," Harry announced, his complexion turning to ash. "We have to go find Hagrid right now."
"Why the rush?" Hermione asked breathlessly, scrambling to catch up as Harry started moving.
"Don't you realize how odd this is?" Harry said, hurrying down the grassy slope toward the woods. "Hagrid's greatest lifelong wish is to own a dragon, and a complete stranger just happens to have a dragon egg in his pocket? How many people walk around carrying illegal dragon eggs? And they just happened to stumble across Hagrid? How could I have never thought of this absurdity before?"
"What exactly are you trying to figure out?" Ron asked, but Harry was already sprinting across the field toward the trees and didn't answer.
Allen followed with an easy stride and a relaxed smile on his face. He knew exactly where this was leading.
In front of Hagrid's cabin, Harry quickly ascertained the truth: Hagrid had, in his excitement over the dragon egg, unwittingly revealed the specific method for defeating Fluffy, the three-headed dog, to a malicious, unknown stranger.
Allen, Harry, and the others next embarked on a quest to find the Headmaster, only to discover Dumbledore was conveniently absent. They learned from Professor McGonagall that the note carried by the owl that had just flown overhead was an urgent summons for Dumbledore from the Ministry of Magic.
The group immediately realized this was a blatant stalling tactic to lure Dumbledore away. They then attempted to access the forbidden corridor on the fourth floor, only to be intercepted by Professor McGonagall and summarily sent back. Everything seemed to be conspiring against them.
Harry was electrified by the urgency and declared immediately that he would sneak out that night to reach the Philosopher's Stone. Allen had no choice but to join Ron and Hermione in voicing their unified determination to face the challenge together: "It would be fascinating to see Nicholas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone up close."
After setting a firm time and place to meet that evening, the group reluctantly split up to "prepare" for the momentous event ahead.
Allen, walking back to Ravenclaw Tower, mused on what preparation he could possibly make. Destroy Voldemort? He knew that Voldemort, with his seven Horcruxes, was functionally immortal at this stage.
Ah, correction: Including Nagini, who wasn't yet a Horcrux, only six major Horcruxes remained, since the soul fragment in Ravenclaw's Diadem had already been safely converted into energy for his University Wonders System.
While Allen was lost in deep strategic thought on his way toward Ravenclaw Tower, he unexpectedly encountered Professor Snape standing directly in front of the entrance.