At this moment, the only person who could appear at this location was Allen and his friends' headmaster, the one whose name is so long that J.K. Rowling made everyone think she was just padding word count: Albus Dumbledore.
Awkward.
Theoretically, Allen should have been tucked safely in his dorm, asleep, instead of loudly criticizing his headmaster in this trashed room.
A normal person would already be full of guilt, preparing to apologize profusely to their kind and gentle headmaster.
But Allen's choice was different. With a smile, he turned and revealed just the right amount of "what a coincidence, it's you" expression:
"Headmaster, sorry for breaking school rules, but the night is rather lovely, isn't it?"
Dumbledore looked up at the enclosed, windowless roof, thoughts swirling…
If he were well-versed in philosophies, perhaps he could have said a famous line here, "I have never seen such shamelessness in a person!"
Unfortunately, he did not.
So, Dumbledore politely addressed a young wizard with zero self-awareness:
"Ahem, Allen, while I am glad to see you so energetic, I am more interested in, why are you here at this hour? As far as I know, school rules dictate that you should be in the Hufflepuff dormitory, not in this dimly lit hut."
Allen let out a long sigh, at least he wasn't being scolded behind his back; the rest was easy enough.
"Well, Headmaster, I came back to clean up some things. This afternoon, I accidentally left a few items here, " Allen pointed to the remaining metal blocks on the floor, innocence painted across his face. "I forgot at the time, but just remembered now. I didn't want to disrupt the setup, so I came back to retrieve them."
A peculiar gaze shot through Dumbledore's glasses perched on his hooked nose, he clearly didn't buy Allen's story.
Allen felt wronged, he was telling the truth, just not the whole truth.
See? The items were his, yes?
He stayed up late to clean them up, right?
Didn't he actually collect them? That heavy stuff in his pocket, did it magically move there on its own?
Where has basic human trust gone?
It doesn't exist.
At least because of the pile of steel on the floor, Dumbledore did not trust Allen, unless he had thoughts of using the Philosopher's Stone, why would anyone bother with such a pile of metal?
So, Dumbledore changed tack:
"Very well, Allen, are you familiar with the Philosopher's Stone?"
Allen's blunt honesty exceeded Dumbledore's expectations. With a perfectly reasonable expression, he replied:
"Of course! Otherwise, why would I have made so many metal ingots?"
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Dumbledore felt slightly exhausted, today, this conversation can't continue.
Either Allen could keep pretending, or he could simply be honest, and say he wanted to use the Stone to turn metal into gold, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"So, you know everything?" Dumbledore asked.
"Of course! Even a first-year could crack such a simple contraption."
"So the Philosopher's Stone is in your hands now?"
Allen gave a pitiful look:
"Headmaster, you gave us a fake Stone, and now you ask?"
Dumbledore froze, how did Allen know? But glancing at the metal on the floor, he immediately understood. Based on Allen's behavior, once he got the Stone, he surely experimented with the metal immediately, of course, he could tell it was fake.
"Very well, I must regretfully inform you, Allen, you have violated nearly half the school rules today. But fortunately, no real danger occurred, this kind of risky game is perhaps too advanced for a child your age," Dumbledore blinked, he didn't feel like adding punishment.
"Alright, everything is over. Hand over the fake Philosopher's Stone, though it is dazzling, it is not a mere decoration. Mishandled, it could cause a severe explosion." Dumbledore spread his hands, deciding to close the matter.
But trouble had a habit of showing up uninvited. From Allen's mouth, Dumbledore heard a familiar name:
"But that fake gem isn't with me. Harry said he would personally keep it and give it to you."
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Nothing is ever simple! Dumbledore finally realized why his plan hadn't been carried out.
Harry, aided by extra abilities, had cleared the dungeon early, turning Quirrell, who should have been an easy target, into someone who could only be killed if Dumbledore fought Voldemort directly.
Was it Allen's fault?
No, it was just exhausting for Dumbledore.
But misfortune never comes alone. Just as Dumbledore was preparing to return to his office for a mug of mead, a tremendous noise erupted from the penultimate stage of the dungeon.
While Allen and Dumbledore froze, a familiar red stone flew toward them, and suddenly a cute little stuffed bear appeared in midair.
Then Harry's voice rang out:
"Die, Snape!"
Finally, Allen remembered what he had forgotten during the day, everyone had been too dejected, and Allen had neglected one key detail: none of the large cauldrons originally tied to Professor Snape had been dropped.
Given Harry's boldness in the original story, a first-year ready to enter second-year level clearly feared nothing. He knew Snape was below but still dared to confront him directly, especially with teammates and treasures present.
As for the fake Stone, Allen had jokingly suggested making it into a bomb to retaliate against the bathroom.
Who could have predicted that Harry would end up detonating the stone on Allen's side instead? Perhaps a lesson in letting disciples starve their masters.*
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Five minutes later, Dumbledore's expression remained unchanged, but everyone else, except Allen, crouched against the wall in reflection, attacking the headmaster is no minor crime.
"Alright, it's late. I think you should return to your dormitories and enjoy your beds," Dumbledore said.
The statement was met with nods of agreement, but the next half-sentence crushed the enthusiasm of several excited wizards:
"Tomorrow, you will report to Filch to receive your punishment for this incident."
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
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