When God closes a door for you, He also seals the windows, shuts off the water and electricity, disconnects the neighbor's WiFi you've been leeching, and makes your phone battery suddenly die, then He calls it: "to strengthen your bones, starve your body, weary your mind, and disrupt your actions, so that you may harden your resolve and improve your abilities."
…Ah. Sorry. Wrong script. That was one of the great truths Allen taught Harry during training.
Harry didn't enjoy hearing those words very much.
But saying them?
Oh, that felt wonderful.
But this currently had nothing to do with Dumbledore, he had not yet sunk to the point of monitoring what classes Allen was teaching Harry.
What was bothering him, though, was simple:
When the door closed, the window also closed.
After being driven off by Allen last night, Dumbledore returned today and waited once again in front of the Mirror of Erised.
He was waiting for a boy to arrive, prepared to speak to him as a professor, a headmaster, and even as a guardian.
To teach him his first lesson:
To drown in illusions and forget real life is meaningless.
He even prepared a separate speech for the other troublemaking Hufflepuff, the young wizard whose power was already top-tier among first-years.
He would tell him that imaginary wealth, fame, and powerful dark arts seen in the mirror were but fleeting fantasies, and that he should instead cherish his present, his friends, and those who love him.
Unfortunately, from lights-out until late into the night, not a single person came to the ruined room where the mirror stood.
Cold wind howled through the corridor, and inside the dim classroom, an old man with a long white beard sat alone, waiting to save the "lost lambs" of Hogwarts.
If someone took a picture, added a charity caption like "Lonely elder desperately waiting for family to return", it might receive a fortune in donations.
Sadly, Dumbledore was not in his office, otherwise the portraits would have told him:
Harry and Allen were both sleeping soundly.
Life… truly is full of traps.
After the previous night's incident, even though Harry still longed to see his family in the mirror, the shock of reality made him give up on going back, after all, Allen told him: "Indulging in illusions is never a good thing."
Of course, Harry still needed to vent.
So he directed all that frustration at Professor Snape.
He would definitely expose Snape, the same professor who had almost killed him in the Quidditch game!!!
A cold wind blew through the corridor.
Dumbledore, sitting on a chair, and Snape, lying in bed, both shivered at the same time…
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Having waited all night with no student in sight, Dumbledore finally accepted that his lesson would have to be postponed indefinitely, and the mirror would need to be moved.
As part of the final trap, it did not belong in this dusty room.
But meanwhile, in a normal classroom where Dumbledore did not know what was happening… Harry and Hermione had just dropped a question on Allen that left him stunned:
"Allen, do you know Nicolas Flamel?"
Of course Allen knew.
The richest man in the wizarding world, and not by a small margin.
The man literally owned a magical printing press for money, the Philosopher's Stone: Limited Edition. A treasure worth having.
Too bad he didn't let Allen play with it.
So Allen had no choice but to obtain income from the savior.
Cough. I mean collect tutoring fees.
But then Allen paused.
Should he tell them the truth, that Flamel was the creator of the stone?
That would technically break the plot.
Then he remembered:
What plot?
He had already messed the storyline beyond recognition.
So, under the admiring gaze of the two young wizards, their upperclassman, who seemed to know nearly everything, spoke after a thoughtful pause:
"Oh, you mean Nicolas Flamel? Yeah, I know him."
"But why are you looking him up? As far as I know, he hasn't appeared in the wizarding world for a very long time."
That part was absolutely true.
Allen had searched for everything about the legendary master, even if he couldn't get the real Philosopher's Stone, maybe he could make a budget version.
As long as it could produce gold, that was enough!
But no such convenient secrets were circulated in the wizarding world.
So Allen's resentment remained deep.
"Um… Allen, please don't get mad," Harry said timidly, like a child admitting to a crime.
"What is it? Go ahead." (Pretending not to know something you already know is exhausting…)
Harry then quickly explained everything, from his duel with Malfoy, to Fluffy the three-headed dog, to the hidden passage behind the door, and finally what they learned from Hagrid:
Dumbledore and Flamel's mysterious transaction.
After a dramatic pause, Allen spoke the conclusion:
"The Philosopher's Stone."
"The… Philosopher's Stone?"
"Yes. If I'm right, that's what Dumbledore and Flamel are protecting."
"What is it?" the duo asked in shock.
"A miraculous stone, the pinnacle of alchemy, a treasure among treasures. There are at least a dozen books praising its powers."
Allen spoke with deep affection.
The two could feel his reverence, so they leaned in, asking for more details.
"It has two functions," Allen said, raising two fingers.
"First, it is known as the Stone of Gold.
As the name suggests, it can produce unlimited gold."
He lowered one finger.
However…
Harry and Hermione merely blinked and nodded with mild interest.
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
Allen's soul hurt.
Indeed, trying to impress two rich wizards with money-related powers was pointless.
So he moved to the second point.
"Second, it can create the Elixir of Life." His voice rose dramatically.
The reaction?
Still mild.
Children do not fear death.
Immortality means nothing at eleven years old.
Allen felt despair.
How am I supposed to show off at this rate?!
How are we supposed to play this game if you don't react??
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
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