Gaia watched the space where Tina and her hatchling had just been, her large, liquid eyes reflecting a mixture of awe and bewilderment. The air still hummed with the residual vibration of Allen's pocket dimension.
"You wizards never cease to amaze me," Gaia murmured, her voice like wind through silver chimes. "To fold the world like a piece of parchment and carry a sanctuary in your pocket... it is a power few could dream of. If the fates allow, I would very much like to walk through those fields one day."
Allen bowed his head slightly, a gesture of genuine respect. "You would always be a welcome guest, Gaia. But for now, the forest needs its guardian. I should head back before the castle's wards start looking for me."
He turned to leave, his boots squelching in the mud, but Gaia's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Allen, wait! Don't be in such a hurry to face the darkness alone."
Before he could ask what she meant, the unicorn spun around and vanished into the thick white mist of the glade. She was gone for barely a minute, returning with a large, woven basket held firmly in her mouth. Perched precariously on top of a mound of glowing forest fruits was a singular object that made Allen's breath hitch: a pure white, ivory-like unicorn horn. It pulsed with a soft, rhythmic light, looking more like a piece of fallen star than a biological growth.
"The air in that stone castle is thick with a different kind of rot now," Gaia said, placing the basket at Allen's feet. "The 'Bane' Tina spoke of... it leaves a trail of venom that burns the spirit before it touches the flesh. This horn was shed by an elder long ago. If you grind it into a fine powder, it can neutralize almost any toxin known to our world. Take it. Use it for your defense, or for those who aren't as strong as you."
"Gaia... this is too much," Allen said, staring at the priceless artifact. A single unicorn horn was worth more than a fleet of Nimbus 2001s on the black market.
"It is a gift from the forest to its friend," Gaia replied simply, her eyes fixed on his. "In the coming days, you may find that its value is not in gold, but in lives."
Allen didn't argue further. He understood the weight of the gift. He carefully stowed the basket into his storage space, gave Gaia a final nod, and began the long trek back to the Ravenclaw common room.
By the time he climbed through the eagle-guarded entrance, the castle was eerily silent. He managed a quick, hot scrub to get the spider guts off his skin, and the moment his head hit the pillow, the world began to fade. But before sleep could claim him, a crisp, mechanical chime echoed in his mind.
[Congratulations, Host! You have successfully completed the hidden sudden task: 'Guardian of the Forbidden Depths'.]
[Quest Reward: 1x Super Lucky Draw Ticket.]
[Would you like to initiate the draw now?]
Allen sat up, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "Do it," he whispered into the darkness.
A massive, translucent lottery wheel materialized in his mind's eye, spinning with a blur of neon colors. He thought about his luck today—saving Malfoy and Marcus, securing Tina, and receiving a gift from Gaia. He felt like he was riding a winning streak.
The wheel slowed, clicking past icons of legendary wands and ancient potions, finally landing on a scroll tied with a shimmering gold ribbon.
[Item Received: Spatial Growth Command (Legendary).]
[Effect: The Host may select one existing system-provided space and instantly double its capacity and environmental complexity.]
Allen leaned back against his headboard, thinking hard. He had two main sectors: his Storage Area and his Pet World. His storage was already massive, and thanks to his mastery of the Undetectable Extension Charm, he could technically expand his physical trunks and pockets almost indefinitely.
But the Pet World... that was different. It wasn't just about volume; it was about the ecosystem. With Tina and the hatchling now resident, the space was getting specialized. Doubling it would allow for more diverse habitats and better growth for the magical beasts.
"Apply it to the Pet World," Allen commanded.
Immediately, he felt a surge of magical feedback. In his mental map, the borders of the Pet World pushed outward into the void. The forest where Tina lived grew taller, more ancient; the streams branched into rivers, and the sky above the miniature world took on a deeper, more realistic hue. It was no longer just a 'compartment'; it was becoming a true realm.
Satisfied, Allen pulled Merlin's Jewel from his bedside table and pressed the cool, glowing gem to his forehead. The restless energy in his veins smoothed out, replaced by a profound, meditative calm. He fell into a dreamless sleep within seconds.
The next morning, the Great Hall was buzzing, but the energy was different. It wasn't just the excitement for the upcoming Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff Quidditch match. There was a sharp edge of anxiety cutting through the usual morning chatter.
At the Ravenclaw table, the team was in high spirits. They were confident, almost arrogant, fueled by Allen's consistent performance. They were already discussing the post-game party and how many points they'd be leading the house cup by evening.
Across the hall, the Hufflepuff table was a sea of grim determination. They weren't loud, but there was a fire in their eyes. They had seen Gryffindor take down the Slytherin giants, and they were clearly looking to pull off a similar miracle against the 'Blue Eagles.'
Allen watched them, a small smile playing on his lips. "They're ready for a fight," he murmured to himself. "Good. A hollow victory isn't worth the broom it's won on."
But the sporting rivalry was suddenly eclipsed. The morning's news hit the tables like a physical blow: Eleanor Branstone, a bright-eyed Hufflepuff, had been attacked the night before. She had been found petrified, slumped against a massive window that overlooked the grounds.
"I heard the scene was a mess," Edward whispered, his face pale as he picked at a sandwich he clearly didn't want. "She was on her way to see Professor Lockhart to deliver some heart-shaped chocolates she'd made. The sweets were scattered everywhere, like tiny red broken hearts. Filch was furious—apparently, he spent an hour scrubbing the floor while complaining that 'petrified students don't make the mess, it's their luggage that does.'"
"It's the Chamber," another student chimed in, leaning closer. "The Gryffindors are saying that a secret room was built by Salazar Slytherin himself. They say when the True Heir returns, they'll purge the school of anyone who isn't 'pure.' They want to get rid of anyone with Muggle blood."
Edward gulped, his eyes darting toward the exit. "I'm Muggle-born, Allen. Does that mean... am I a target?"
The fear in the hall was becoming palpable. You could see it in the way students huddled in groups, the way they jumped at the sound of a dropped spoon. Even the older students looked uneasy.
Allen set his pumpkin juice down firmly, the sound drawing the attention of those nearby. His voice was calm, steady, and lacked even a hint of the panic that was infecting the room.
"Listen to me, Edward. And the rest of you," Allen said, his gaze sweeping across his housemates. "Fear is exactly what the 'Heir' wants. They want us looking over our shoulders instead of focusing on our magic. But look at the facts. No one has died. They're petrified, not gone."
He leaned in, pitching his voice to be reassuring but authoritative. "Professor Sprout is currently cultivating a crop of Mandrakes. They're a bit noisy and temperamental right now, but once they mature, they provide the core ingredient for a restorative draught that can reverse any petrification. This isn't an end; it's a temporary setback. Stay in groups, keep your wands ready, and don't let a ghost story ruin your day. We have a game to win, and Ravenclaws don't let rumors cloud their logic."
As he spoke, the tension in the immediate area seemed to evaporate. The Ravenclaws shifted in their seats, their backs straightening. Logic and preparation—that was their language. If there was a cure, there was a solution. If there was a solution, there was no need for terror.
Edward took a hesitant bite of his sandwich. "A restorative draught? You're sure?"
"I'm positive," Allen said, standing up and grabbing his broom. "Now, let's go show Hufflepuff that Ravenclaws are just as dangerous on the pitch as we are in the library."