The ruthless fear the bold, the bold fear the reckless, and the reckless fear the ones who don't care about dying.
Even though Dumbledore's strength was currently superior to Voldemort's, he was still being suppressed, after all, Tom was literally fighting with life itself, albeit using Quirrell's.
What could Dumbledore do?
Voldemort had an endless supply of life and no worries; he could afford to gamble it all. Dumbledore, on the other hand…
Harry had just started school, untouched by proper education, and Dumbledore himself hadn't found a definite method to kill Voldemort. He could not risk a life-for-life gamble with Tom Riddle now.
So, the next moment, as Voldemort struck, Tom reappeared, clutching his chest and laughing, his chest ripped open, flesh charred to black ash by Dumbledore's previous attack, the poor man half-cooked.
Yet, he still won. Even though Dumbledore remained unscathed, the snake of green fire coiling around Voldemort's body had the Philosopher's Stone clenched in its jaws.
"Dumbledore, in the end, I win. Just wait… I'll be back, "
Voldemort didn't finish his sentence, because something happened that made Allen, watching the livestream, wince.
The Philosopher's Stone exploded the instant Voldemort took it from the snake's mouth.
The immense magical energy released by the explosion destroyed everything nearby, metal ingots that had seemed unbreakable crumbled to dust as if they were tofu, vanishing in a blink.
Voldemort relied on sheer life-force to be reckless, but Dumbledore… was a higher tier of reckless, wealthy reckless. To ensnare Tom, he had set the most expensive trap in the world.
In the end, money won. At the explosion's center, Voldemort lost even the ability to make a sound. He glared at Dumbledore with hatred, burned the last potential from Quirrell's body, and escaped in a wind of green flames.
Dumbledore didn't pursue it. This Voldemort could not be killed, he had lost nothing in this particular move, and his actions were unburdened.
Allen, still watching, had no plans to intervene. At this point, Voldemort could not be stopped. Even if he were blocked, nothing, not even Thresh's lantern, could affect someone with life force like Voldemort's.
So, what could Allen do?
He could clean up the battlefield.
After the fight, Dumbledore, realizing the Stone was gone from the mirror, left the battlefield in a daze, calculating where his plan had gone awry.
Thus, he didn't notice one thing, a detail that made Allen's eyes widen.
In the aftermath of the explosion, dozens of metal ingots were destroyed. Yet, in the Stone's final flash of life, one ingot in the corner didn't just survive, it was coated in a shimmering golden glow. Galleons, literally.
Now the question: Would Allen dare pick it up?
"Hey, Allen! Come back! It's late; everyone's asleep! A little public decency, please!"
With efficiency far surpassing his usual speed in class, Allen left the dorm and headed straight for the trapdoor.
The moment it opened, the three-headed dog, Fluffy, snarled. Poor sleep today, awakened multiple times, and now a silent intruder, perfect target for its bite.
Too bad, this wasn't just Allen, it was Allen in Godmode. With Morgana's shield and the Sun Girl's protective barrier, he charged, shoving Fluffy aside before the dog could react. One kick sent the trapdoor flying open. Before Fluffy could recover, Allen performed a leap of faith, landing in the Devil Snare below.
But he didn't wait for the net, he pressed a hand into the vines and rolled safely to the ground.
Next was the flying keys challenge, but Allen's command of magic made the Devil Snare grow rapidly, capturing all the keys midair. He snatched the one he'd used earlier and shoved it into the lock. Level cleared.
A few steps later, Allen reached Professor McGonagall's chessboard. Before the pieces could react, he transformed into a pool of blood, ghost-stepped through the confused pieces, and reappeared in front of the king. A single binding spell destroyed the piece before it moved.
The pieces had no chance, he was cheating!
Allen sprinted to the next door. The awakened troll glanced at him, then at itself, and collapsed, pretending to be dead. Normally, Allen might have kicked it in protest, but now, no time, everyone was busy.
Professor Quirrell's stage, cleared!
Next: Professor Snape's potion class. No one intended to attend. With a wave of Allen's wand, the magically infused yellow sand fell on the flames, quickly extinguishing them without forming soldiers.
Stepping over the sand, Allen advanced to the final stage. Dumbledore and Voldemort's battle traces were still visible, but Allen cared more about the remaining metal ingot on the ground.
Soft texture, pure color, weighing at least fifty kilograms.
Wait, mass doesn't match!
Allen drew a dagger and tossed the ingot aside. Sure enough, the outer layer of gold from the Stone had just transformed the surface.
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Final haul: roughly 800 Galleons worth of gold. Not too much, not too little.
Though he gained wealth, Allen's frustration bubbled over. After confirming nothing was missed, he cursed at the mirror:
"Dumbledore, you history's number-one spendthrift!"
At that moment, a gentle voice responded:
"I agree with your assessment, Allen."
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
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