"Allen, we knew we'd find you here."
That evening, Fogg, Ron, and Harry approached Allen's secluded corner in the library. Allen's life had settled into a rigorous routine lately; outside of class, he was invariably found either in the Great Hall during mealtimes or deep within the Hogwarts Library.
Allen slowly set down his Potions book—a dense, leather-bound volume detailing complex herbal infusions—and looked up at his three 'old' friends from before the term started. "Hey, it's been a while. You haven't dropped by to harass me."
"We barely have any classes together, except for Transfiguration, and our other classes always seem to clash with those awful Slytherins," Fogg complained, looking slightly wounded. "This library has practically become your permanent residence. I never saw you work this hard at Muggle school… I think in Gryffindor, only that arrogant know-it-all girl runs into you very often."
"I've actually heard quite a bit about your recent adventures," Allen admitted, leaning back slightly. "For instance, Harry performed admirably today, helping Longbottom retrieve his Memory Orb from Malfoy." He'd heard the whole saga repeated in loud whispers earlier, leading Madam Pince to swoop in with her feather duster several times.
"Yeah, you have no idea how amazing Harry was today…" Fogg launched into the story, grinning broadly as if he had been the one to glide fifty feet and snatch the gleaming glass sphere. "He swooped down from nearly fifty feet and caught Neville's Remembrall!"
"By the way, Neville's Memory Orb glowed bright red the moment he picked it up. What exactly had he forgotten?" Allen asked, genuinely curious about the small boy's lapse.
"He forgot to put on his Hogwarts robes," Ron shrugged dismissively, though his high-pitched voice was louder than necessary. (Ron, of course, wore a hand-me-down robe, but Neville, in the film's version, was fully robed.)
"Ahem! Silence! This is a library!" Madam Pince suddenly appeared, waving her feather duster menacingly at the Gryffindor table.
"But Malfoy challenged us to a wizard's duel tonight. And Allen, you know I'm hopeless at proper magic," Harry leaned forward, his voice low and troubled, appealing directly to Allen for help. It was a habit from their Muggle school days: when Harry faced a tough problem, Allen was the first one he turned to.
"Malfoy chose Vincent Crabbe as his second. I was planning on Fogg and me standing as Harry's seconds, but they both insisted you'd be a much better choice, Allen," Ron interjected from the side, shooting a slightly peeved look at Fogg. Ron didn't dislike Allen, but he felt that despite Allen's brilliant grades, that didn't automatically translate into superior dueling ability. Fogg, however, was magically quite poor—when the pressure was on in practical situations, he was often as bad as Neville.
Malfoy, as a pure-blood aristocrat, was unlikely to participate in such a ridiculous, low-stakes duel himself, despite the slight dent it might make in the honor of all pure-bloods. Thinking about this strategic move, Allen asked, "Did you consider that Malfoy might not even show up?"
"Doesn't matter! Once a wizard agrees to a duel, he can't back out; it's too humiliating!" Ron stated carelessly. In his mind, the most important thing was preparing to defeat Malfoy, not the possibility of deceit.
Allen had to concede that under most circumstances, wizards upheld the honor of a duel. While Malfoy was indeed planning to trick them, initiating a duel and then failing to appear would usually result in significant humiliation. However, as a member of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, Malfoy likely felt that engaging in a midnight spar with first-years was already beneath his family's dignity.
"Allen, you will be my second," Harry stated, his expectation clear.
"Fine, whatever you need, buddy," Allen relented. There was no practical point in refusing; in the Muggle world, a deliberate refusal of such a request from a close friend would be suspicious. Besides, he might as well take a look at the legendary three-headed dog, who allegedly loved listening to music.
"We're going to win!" Ron and Harry high-fived each other excitedly, once again forgetting to keep their voices down.
"OUT! All of you! Too much noise!" Madam Pince appeared instantly, waving her feather duster with renewed fury as she chased them from the library.
"So, Allen, I'll meet you in the trophy room at eleven-thirty tonight." Harry and the others laughed, enjoying the adrenaline rush of escaping the librarian, and hurried away.
"Are you really going to duel Malfoy and his cronies?" Allen's roommate, Edward, yawned widely as he emerged from the shadow of a towering bookcase.
"Don't worry, there won't be any trouble," Allen reassured him, certain that they wouldn't actually be caught dueling.
"True. Do you think wizards our age would actually duel each other by throwing sparks?" Edward laughed, as if privy to a deeper joke. "If you get caught, you'll only lose points, but you're the Point Master. You'll earn them back in a few days anyway."
Apart from this minor interruption, Allen's day had been highly productive. He successfully completed his reading of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, feeling the deep satisfaction of a full stomach after a massive feast.
It was 11:30 p.m., well past curfew. Allen quietly slipped out of his bed; Edward was already fast asleep. Utilizing the sophisticated Invisibility Charm on his robes, Allen hurried toward the fourth-floor trophy room.
The trophy room was an impressive chamber where crystal cases displayed the awards, prizes, statues, cups, shields, and medals received by past teachers and students. A long ledger listed the names of all former Head Boys and Head Girls.
Allen concealed himself behind a particularly large display case, waiting. It wasn't long before he spotted Harry and the others sneaking around the corner.
"Why the delay? Weren't you all looking forward to this duel?" Allen asked, then noticed the familiar bushy head of hair trailing behind them. "Ah, and you brought an extra person."
"Allen, this is Hermione Granger, and she insisted on tagging along. We couldn't stop her," Ron complained bitterly to Allen.
"What you're doing is breaking every school rule, and I—" Hermione was visibly seething. "Mr. Harris, I never expected you to join in their reckless behavior."
"Calm down, Miss Granger. You've just broken the rules yourself by being out after curfew," Allen pointed out calmly, watching with interest as Hermione's bushy hair seemed to rise with indignation. "And Professor McGonagall certainly won't accept your excuses."
"Because the Fat Lady portrait guarding the common room went off for a late-night visit with another portrait, and I can't get back in! Mr. Harris, all the professors praise you; as a top student, you can't possibly agree with this ridiculous duel, can you?" Hermione tried desperately to win Allen's approval. "We must stop them together!"
"Yes, it is indeed a ridiculous duel. But, Miss Granger, as wizards, once a challenge is accepted, we must adhere to our word. It's a matter of honor, and backing out would bring public shame." Allen held up a hand to stop her frantic speech, then turned back to Harry. "So, Harry, what time did you and Malfoy agree on? It's past the agreed-upon time, and he's nowhere to be seen. Did you consider the possibility I mentioned this afternoon, that he might not come?"
"It's past midnight now. If Malfoy and the others were coming, they would have been here already… I just hope Filch hasn't caught them," Harry replied, glancing at the mechanical clock Fogg had given him. While the clock was temperamental, it was at least functional within the magic-saturated Hogwarts complex, where battery-powered electronics failed instantly.
"Malfoy might not get caught, but Crabbe certainly will… you saw the size of that oaf," Ron muttered, still oblivious to the fact that Malfoy had intentionally set them up.
The crystal display cases, filled with centuries of awards, gleamed faintly in the moonlight. In the darkness, the silver and gold trophies, shields, and medals shimmered. The five of them moved slowly toward the wall, their eyes fixed on the doors at either end of the chamber. Harry nervously drew his wand, just in case Malfoy suddenly burst in, ready for a showdown.
Time dragged on, second by silent second.
"Maybe he was too scared to show up," Ron whispered impatiently.
Just then, a distinct noise from the room next door sent Fogg leaping into the air, and all five instantly raised their wands.
Harry had just gripped his wand tighter when a familiar, dry voice said clearly, "Those little brats are likely hiding somewhere nearby."
Argus Filch, the Hogwarts Caretaker, was talking to his cat, Mrs. Norris.
A look of sheer terror flashed across Harry's face. He silently waved his wand, urging the other four to follow him as quickly and quietly as possible. They crept silently toward the door, moving away from Filch's voice, and soon heard the man shuffling into the trophy room.
"They're around here somewhere," the caretaker muttered. "Probably hiding."
"This way!" Harry silently gestured with his eyes and fingers. Hermione, for all her bookish knowledge, was visibly petrified. She nodded instinctively, completely silent, and followed the others down a dark corridor lined with suits of armor, away from the trophy room. They could hear Filch's footsteps drawing closer.
"Clank, clank…" Fogg accidentally brushed against a suit of medieval armor, and the metallic scraping sound echoed piercingly in the still night.
"Run!" Allen roared, throwing off the last vestiges of caution. All five of them sprinted down the hall at full speed.
Not daring to look back to see if Filch was gaining on them, they rounded corners, ran down corridor after corridor, and finally reached the area near the Charms classroom.
"I—I told you," Hermione gasped, clutching the front of her robes, panting heavily. "I—I told you this was against the rules!"
Allen briefly glanced down the corridor ahead, already knowing this floor contained the one thing that made it forbidden territory: the giant, music-loving, three-headed dog, Fluffy. He tuned out the group's frantic, fearful accusations against each other.