Hogwarts Castle was steeped in history, originally the ancestral home of Salazar Slytherin, one of the school's four founders, who donated it to be converted into the iconic school of magic.
Mysterious and majestic, the castle held secrets that, as Dumbledore once said, not even he had fully uncovered. That said, Hogwarts wasn't indestructible, especially when it came to its plumbing.
The clash between the two large figures had caused serious damage to the hidden pipes beneath the room. And just as Professor Quirrell was the last to step out, the over-pressured pipe system could no longer hold. In that very moment, a massive torrent of water burst out, and landed directly on the unfortunate professor.
Thanks to Quirrell's unintentional role as a buffer, the others managed to react quickly. Professor McGonagall conjured a magical shield, Snape raised a glass-like barrier in front of himself, and in Allen's hand, a plant bloomed instantly, weaving itself into an umbrella-like defense. Ever since his encounter with Voldemort's fragment, his understanding of Jella's inheritance had grown rapidly.
Of course, the most dazzling display came from Annie. Even before the splashing water could touch her, it was blocked by a veil of icy-blue flame. The droplets froze on contact and scattered like crystals, forming a faint rainbow in mid-air, had it not happened in a bathroom, the scene might've drawn gasps of admiration.
With the four of them shielding the blast, the other three were spared from the watery aftermath of the bathroom's minor explosion. It was just a shame that none of them thought to shout a "Nice one!" or throw a playful "666" (a Chinese slang equivalent of "sick move!").
Once the burst was contained, Professor McGonagall quickly sealed off the bathroom with magic, leaving it to the house-elves to sort out the mess.
"Professor Quirrell, are you all right?" she asked with concern after managing the situation under the protection of her shield.
It couldn't have been worse. Quirrell was completely, well, drenched. He stood there like a soaked chicken, water dripping from his hair, robes, and even that ridiculous oversized turban. The droplets ran down in steady streams, like rain falling from the eaves of a roof.
Whether it was shame or cold, Quirrell's entire body was visibly trembling. Understandable, who wouldn't be humiliated after something like that?
"Oh dear, Professor Quirrell, you're soaked! You should take that turban off. I'm sure the fireplaces in the Great Hall will dry everything in no time," Professor McGonagall offered kindly, rarely did she speak with such gentle warmth. Unfortunately, Quirrell didn't appreciate it one bit.
With surprising firmness, he declined her offer and insisted on returning to the staff lounge to change. He left in a hurry, fleeing the scene and leaving the rest behind in stunned silence.
Professor McGonagall glanced at the now magically sealed bathroom, then looked over the remaining students and sighed. She couldn't exactly punish them again, especially after just saying they were off the hook.
"All right, ladies and gentlemen, it's getting late. Let's end this matter here. I'll report it to the Headmaster. You're all free to go." With that, she was the second to leave the scene, right behind Quirrell.
Next came Professor Snape, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He had every reason to be pleased, his House had performed admirably, and his longtime rival had been doused in toilet water. As far as he was concerned, anyone who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts was an automatic enemy.
"Phew, it's finally over. Professor McGonagall really is terrifying. Allen, I didn't know you were that amazing!" Ron the slacker finally voiced his admiration.
He only knew Allen as his older brother's friend, they'd had little direct interaction. The Weasley household was so full of siblings it had its own internal factions. Even Fred and George, despite attending school for years, had never thought to check the Marauder's Map to see where their younger brother was. If they had, they might've noticed a certain "Peter Pettigrew" was always lingering around.
But none of that mattered now. The atmosphere was relaxed, especially after the two boys offered sincere apologies to Hermione.
A jerk who's willing to risk something for you might still be worth saving, even if he didn't actually help. So Hermione forgave the two idiots who had made her cry for a whole day.
Still, she left quickly. Even for a witch, crying an entire day left clear marks on your face, and for any girl, that was simply too much to bear.
As Hermione departed, the others scattered as well. Per Dumbledore's orders, students returned to their respective common rooms, meaning this group had to part ways.
"Goodnight, big brother," Annie said sweetly, waving one arm while hugging Tibbers in the other. No one would've guessed this little girl, no bigger than a plush bear, had just taken down a troll the size of a small hill, at least not from Ron and Harry's perspective.
After bidding farewell, Allen and Annie continued their conversation naturally.
"Man, Fred and George are going to roast me so hard for this. Fifteen points, I've never lost that many at once!" Ron groaned dramatically.
But Harry didn't respond. He seemed lost in thought.
"Harry? Harry?" Ron waved his hand in front of Harry's face until his friend finally blinked and came back to reality.
"Huh? Oh, sorry. I was just thinking, how did a little girl like that take down a full-grown troll? She's only in second year!" Harry said, scratching his head in confusion.
The question stumped Ron. He hadn't thought about it, coming from a wizarding family, he was used to seeing powerful magic users and had never considered the age factor.
"Uh, yeah, I never thought of that either. But we could ask Fred and George, they're good friends with Allen, and that girl is Allen's little sister. Maybe they know more," Ron offered as a solution.
Harry nodded, and the two made their way toward the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Pig snout."
With the password spoken, the common room entrance opened.
Waiting for them by the door was Hermione, her tear-streaked face now carefully cleaned. They hadn't fought side-by-side, but having endured the same danger had planted the seeds of real friendship.
When Harry voiced his lingering question, Hermione paused, setting down her food tray. Now intrigued herself, she joined the boys in their quest to get answers, from the notorious twin brothers.
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