The Headmaster's office always felt like a place existing outside of time. Circular, filled with the gentle whirring of silver instruments and the soft snores of past headmasters in their portraits, it was the ultimate sanctuary of Hogwarts.
Albus Dumbledore sat behind his claw-footed desk, his long, silver beard tucked into his belt. He wasn't looking at Allen with the piercing, soul-searching gaze he usually employed. Instead, he looked genuinely fascinated as Allen recounted a carefully edited version of the Chamber's finale.
"It was mostly a stroke of luck, Professor," Allen said, maintaining a humble posture. "I'd been spending some time near the Forbidden Forest—purely for observational purposes, of course—and noticed some unusual migratory patterns among the spiders. But honestly, I can't take all the credit. Maggie was the one who spotted the subtle shifts in the stone and guided me through the more... treacherous parts of the encounter."
Allen shifted the narrative weight onto his new House-elf. It was safer that way. A prodigy student was one thing, but a student who could solo a thousand-year-old King of Serpents was a student who got followed by Ministry spies.
"Maggie?" Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up toward his receding hairline. "The House-elf you mentioned? Truly remarkable, Allen. Most wizards see their elves as little more than animated furniture, but their magic is ancient, deep, and often far more direct than our own. To have one with such... initiative? You have a rare companion indeed."
Allen reached into his robes and pulled out Salazar Slytherin's ancient, leather-bound journal. He placed it on the desk between them. The air in the room seemed to hum as the book made contact with the wood.
Dumbledore's thin fingers trembled slightly as he opened the cover. He flipped through the pages, his eyes darting behind his half-moon spectacles. "Incredible... peerless. Salazar's understanding of the cross-breeding of magical chimeras was centuries ahead of its time. I have only ever known one other man with this kind of intuitive grasp of the beast world—though his heart was set on the preservation of the natural, rather than the creation of the unnatural."
Newt Scamander, Allen thought immediately. The legendary magizoologist was likely the only person Dumbledore would compare to a Founder in that field.
"This is a gift to the school that cannot be measured in gold, Allen," Dumbledore said, finally closing the book and looking at the boy with a warmth that felt almost paternal. "Two hundred points feels like a pittance for such a service. I shall be recommending you for the Special Award for Services to the School. It's a rare distinction, one that stays on your permanent record forever."
As Allen thanked him and prepared to leave, he caught a flicker of something in Dumbledore's eyes. It was a look of profound relief. Dumbledore had spent years watching brilliant, handsome, and popular boys come through these halls, often fearing they would turn into the next Tom Riddle. But in Allen, he saw a boy who handed over a priceless artifact of dark power without a second thought, a boy who chose tea and pastries over world domination. To Dumbledore, Allen was the "Good Version" of the nightmare he had lived through decades ago.
The final week of term was a sun-drenched blur. Without the looming shadow of exams, the castle turned into a playground. Even the professors seemed to have checked out mentally, assigning "light reading" that everyone ignored in favor of lounging by the Black Lake.
The only person who seemed to be having a miserable time was Draco Malfoy. The blonde Slytherin looked like he'd been sucking on lemons for a week straight. Between his father being kicked off the Board of Governors and the loss of their family House-elf, Dobby, the Malfoy prestige had taken a massive hit. Draco no longer strutted; he slinked, his pale face twisted in a permanent scowl as he watched Harry and Allen receive the accolades he felt belonged to him.
Meanwhile, Ginny Weasley had undergone a total transformation. The pale, ghost-like girl of the previous months was gone, replaced by a fiery, energetic young witch who seemed to have developed a secondary hero-worship.
"He's like a prince in a storybook," Allen overheard her telling a group of giggling second-year girls in the library. "He didn't even care about the danger. He just walked in and saved us. Harry is amazing, obviously, but Allen... Allen has this way of making everything seem like it's under control."
When the time came to board the Hogwarts Express, the platform was a riot of steam and shouting. Allen found a quiet compartment near the back of the train. Before he could even settle in, Penelope Clearwater appeared at the door, her Prefect badge gleaming on her chest.
"Skipping the Prefect carriage today?" Allen asked with a smirk as she slid the door shut and sat opposite him.
"It's dreadfully boring in there," she replied, tossing her hair back. "Mostly Percy Weasley talking about the importance of cauldron bottom thickness and how he's going to reorganize the filing system for the library. I'd much rather have a conversation with someone who actually fought a monster this term."
The journey back to London was peaceful, though Allen noticed a certain red-headed Prefect passing by their compartment door at least six times in the first hour. Percy would look through the glass, puff out his chest, and then keep walking as if he'd forgotten something in the next car.
"I get the feeling Percy has a bit of a crush on you," Allen remarked, amused by the older boy's lack of subtlety. "He looks like he wants to challenge me to a duel every time he sees us together."
Penelope laughed, a bright, musical sound. "Percy is... diligent. But he's a bit too focused on the rules of the world to actually live in it. Why? Does it bother you, Allen? Are you feeling protective?"
She leaned forward, her eyes dancing with mischief. Allen just gave her a knowing smile and didn't take the bait. Instead, he pulled out a box of Filibuster Fireworks she'd bought at Hogsmeade, and they spent the rest of the trip letting off "No-Heat" sparks that filled the compartment with dancing blue and silver lights.
When the train pulled into King's Cross, Penelope gave him a quick, tight hug that smelled of jasmine and old books. "Your parents are going to be insufferable when they see that Special Award medal," she whispered. "Try to keep your ego in check."
She disappeared into the crowd, leaving Allen to find his father on the platform.
Back at the Harris home, the news of Allen's "Special Award" hit like a lightning bolt. Mrs. Harris didn't just tell the neighbors; she practically took out an ad in the Daily Prophet. For three days, the house was flooded with owls carrying congratulatory letters, boxes of enchanted chocolates, and even a very confused bouquet of singing lilies from an aunt in Wales.
Just as the excitement was starting to simmer down, a knock came at the door.
"The Weasleys are here!" Mrs. Harris cried, her wand flying through the air as she magically scrubbed the hallway for the third time that hour. "Arthur and Molly! One of the oldest lineages in Britain, even if they are a bit... eccentric. We must be on our best behavior!"
Mr. Harris, ever the calm soul, opened the door to find the entire Weasley brood standing on the porch. Arthur was clutching two bottles of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, and Molly was holding a basket of pastries that smelled so good the neighbors' dog started barking.
The afternoon was a resounding success. Mrs. Harris and Molly Weasley hit it off instantly, disappearing into the kitchen to trade secrets on "Domestic Charms" and "Self-Stirring Cake Batter." Meanwhile, Mr. Harris and Arthur Weasley sat in the garden, bonding over their shared fascination with Muggle artifacts—though Arthur was particularly confused by the Harris family's toaster.
"I won the Grand Prize Draw!" Arthur announced suddenly, his face glowing with excitement. "A thousand Galleons! We've decided to use it for a family trip to Egypt. Our eldest, Bill, is a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts over there. He's been begging us to visit."
He looked at Allen, then at Mr. Harris. "Actually... we were wondering. Given how much Allen helped Ginny and Ron this year... would you consider letting him join us? It's a wonderful opportunity to see some ancient magic firsthand. Bill could show him the pyramids from the inside!"
Allen's heart raced. Egypt. The birthplace of some of the most powerful necromancy and architectural magic in human history. He looked at his father with eyes that were practically pleading.
Mr. Harris laughed, patting Allen on the shoulder. "If you're sure he won't be a burden, Arthur, I think it would be a crime to say no. The boy has spent enough time in dark basements this year; a bit of desert sun would do him good."
The plan was set. They would leave in a week for a month-long trek across the sands.
Before they left, Mrs. Harris pulled Allen aside and pressed a heavy pouch into his hand. "This is the gold you earned during that New York 'internship' you told us about," she said, her voice softening. "Spend it wisely. Buy something that will keep you safe."
The transition to the Weasley household, The Burrow, for the final preparations was seamless. Rescuing Ginny had made Allen an honorary member of the family in Molly's eyes. She treated him like another son, constantly piling his plate with extra bacon and fussing over his hair.
The only dark spot was Percy. While the rest of the brothers treated Allen like a hero, Percy treated him like a rival. He spent most of the time at The Burrow polishing his Head Boy badge (which he had just received) and making snide comments about "shortcuts to fame."
"Some people think that getting a medal makes them above the rules," Percy remarked one morning at breakfast, pointedly looking at Allen.
"And some people think a badge makes them interesting," Fred whispered loudly to George, who snorted into his porridge.
Molly's glare was enough to silence Percy for the rest of the day. As the group gathered their trunks to head for the Portkey that would take them to the land of Pharaohs, Allen looked at the horizon. The Chamber of Secrets was behind him, but the world was getting much, much bigger.