Social Engineering

Early the next morning, Zhang Wen waited for Artoria in his office.

She had patrolled until late last night, yet she looked completely unaffected. The King of Knights possessed reserves of stamina beyond human comprehension.

"How did it go?" Zhang Wen asked.

"The girls' bathroom on the second floor, at the eastern end of the main corridor." Artoria sat down and accepted the tea Zhang Wen offered her. "There are six stalls and eight faucets. One faucet has a snake-shaped marking engraved on its side, unlike the others."

"That's the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets."

"I tried examining the faucet, but I couldn't trigger any mechanism. It really should require the Parseltongue you mentioned to open it."

"What about the ghost?"

Artoria's expression changed ever so slightly.

"I met her."

"Moaning Myrtle?"

"She flew out of a toilet and asked whether I was a new professor, why I was so pretty, whether I had a boyfriend, whether I had ever died, and whether I wanted to talk with her."

Zhang Wen nearly sprayed tea everywhere.

"How did you answer?"

"I said I was on patrol and didn't have time."

"And then?"

"She cried." Artoria's tone remained calm. "The entire bathroom flooded."

Zhang Wen closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Moaning Myrtle crying and flooding the bathroom was nothing unusual, but if Artoria made her cry too often, Filch would notice. Nothing angered Filch more than someone dirtying his corridors.

"Try to avoid her from now on," Zhang Wen said.

"That was my plan." Artoria took a sip of tea. "Also, while patrolling, I noticed that the castle's plumbing system is extremely complex. There are numerous passages inside the walls, enough to accommodate a large snake."

"The Basilisk moves through the castle using the pipes," Zhang Wen said. "That's why it can attack students without being discovered—it travels inside the walls."

"It would be difficult to defend against." Artoria frowned. "The pipes run throughout the entire castle. It would be impossible to seal all of them."

"So we can only set up defenses outside—mirrors." Zhang Wen said, "Over the next few days, I plan to place mirrors at the corners of the main corridors. The excuse will be 'decoration.'"

"Who would believe you were decorating the corridors?"

"They don't need to believe it. Hogwarts corridors are already full of strange things—moving portraits, singing suits of armor, walls pretending to be doors. No one will care about a few extra mirrors."

Artoria considered it, then nodded in approval.

"Then next," Zhang Wen said, setting down his teacup, "it's time to carry out step five."

"Have Ginny Weasley make friends."

"Right. For this step, I need Hermione's help."

An opportunity to speak with Hermione came sooner than Zhang Wen had expected.

That afternoon, after-class tutoring, Harry, Ron Weasley, and Hermione arrived at the office on time.

As usual, they practiced the Disarming Charm for accuracy. The three took turns casting at the target while Zhang Wen corrected their stances and force from the side.

Harry had improved the fastest. He could now hit the target nine times out of ten, with three shots landing in the inner ring. Considering he had trained for less than two weeks, that was astonishing progress.

Ron had also improved noticeably after changing wands. Although Lockhart's wand was not a perfect match for him, it was ten times better than his old one, which had nearly fallen apart. He now hit seven out of ten shots. Most landed in the outer ring, but at least he no longer sent spells flying into the ceiling.

Hermione still had the lowest hit rate of the three, but her casting was the most stable—each spell had nearly identical force and angle. What she lacked was not technique, but instinct.

"Miss Granger, don't think too much when you cast," Zhang Wen said from behind her.

Hermione turned around. "What do you mean?"

"Before every spell, you run through the entire theoretical process in your head—the pronunciation, wand angle, and magical output. Right?"

Hermione's expression told him he had guessed correctly.

"There's nothing wrong with theory, but in real combat, you won't have time to run through a textbook in your head." Zhang Wen said, "Try not thinking. Just act. Trust your muscle memory."

Hermione frowned.

The words "don't think" were probably the hardest instruction in the world for Hermione Granger.

She turned back and raised her wand at the target.

She hesitated for two seconds.

"Don't think," Zhang Wen repeated.

Hermione gritted her teeth.

"Expelliarmus!"

A red flash shot out—straight into the inner ring.

Even Hermione herself froze.

"See?" Zhang Wen said. "Your body already knows what to do. It's your brain that's holding you back."

Hermione's expression was complicated, as though she had been praised and insulted at the same time.

Harry and Ron snickered behind her.

After the tutoring session, Zhang Wen had Harry and Ron leave first.

"Miss Granger, stay behind for a moment."

Hermione immediately grew nervous. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. There's something I'd like to ask your help with."

Hermione's nervousness turned into curiosity.

Zhang Wen carefully considered his wording. He could not directly say, "Ginny is being controlled by an evil diary," so he could only approach it indirectly.

"Have you noticed the youngest daughter of the Weasley family? Ginny Weasley."

"Ron's sister?" Hermione nodded. "I've seen her a few times. She seems very quiet."

"Too quiet," Zhang Wen said. "She's a first-year student, newly arrived in an unfamiliar environment. Her brothers all have their own circles of friends. I'm worried she may be having trouble adjusting."

A glimmer passed through Hermione's eyes.

Zhang Wen knew he had pressed the right button. Hermione herself had experienced loneliness during her first year—before becoming friends with Harry and Ron, she had almost no friends in Gryffindor. That experience had given her a personal understanding of what it meant to not fit in.

"You want me to befriend her?" Hermione asked directly.

"Not exactly make friends—you're close in age, so normal socializing is enough." Zhang Wen said, "Pay a little more attention to her in the common room. Talk to her, help her get familiar with her surroundings. As a second-year student, you'd be an excellent guide for a first-year."

Hermione thought about it.

"I can help her with her studies," she said, her tone carrying a sense of mission. "I'm very familiar with all the first-year coursework, especially Charms and Transfiguration—"

"Schoolwork is one part of it. More importantly, make her feel that she isn't alone." Zhang Wen said, "Can you do that?"

"Of course!" Hermione answered without hesitation.

Looking at her energetic face, Zhang Wen thought, Hermione Granger is the most suitable person in all of Hogwarts for this job. She was warmhearted, earnest, responsible, and once she accepted a task, she would give it everything she had.

The only issue was that she might overdo it—for example, by making Ginny a detailed socialization schedule, complete with deadlines and performance targets.

"Just be natural," Zhang Wen added. "Don't make it too deliberate."

"I know," Hermione said, but her eyes had already betrayed her—she would definitely make a checklist as soon as she got back.

After Hermione left, Artoria stepped out from the corner.

"You had a twelve-year-old carry out an intelligence assignment."

"This isn't an intelligence assignment," Zhang Wen said. "It's a social activity."

"You had her approach a target and carry out your plan without knowing the real reason. That is an intelligence assignment."

Zhang Wen could not refute that.

"Fine, I suppose it is," he admitted. "But the goal is to protect Ginny, not use Hermione. Hermione becoming friends with Ginny will be good for both of them."

Artoria glanced at him and did not pursue the matter further.

"What about the roosters?" she asked.

"We'll find Hagrid tomorrow."

There were no classes on Thursday afternoon. Zhang Wen took Artoria to Hagrid's hut.

Rubeus Hagrid lived in a wooden hut beside the Forbidden Forest near the castle. The hut was not large, but Hagrid himself was—at least twice as tall and three times as wide as an ordinary person, with hands about the size of trash-can lids.

He was Hogwarts' Keeper of Keys and Grounds, responsible for managing the Forbidden Forest and the magical creatures around the school.

He was also one of the easiest people Zhang Wen had ever dealt with.

"Professor Zhang!" Hagrid opened the door, revealing a broad grin beneath his thick beard. "Come in, come in! The tea's just brewed!"

His gaze fell on Artoria, and his eyes lit up.

"Miss Pendragon! That move you made at the opening feast—it was brilliant! What kind of magic was that? I've never seen anything like it—"

"It wasn't magic," Artoria said.

Hagrid waited for her to explain.

She did not.

Hagrid was awkward for a second, then buried it under enthusiasm. "Sit, sit, sit! I just baked some rock cakes—"

"Thank you." Artoria accepted one.

Zhang Wen gave her a look: Don't eat it. That thing can break teeth.

Artoria ignored his look and took a bite.

Crunch.

Zhang Wen's heart tightened.

Artoria chewed without changing expression, then swallowed.

"It tastes good," she said.

Hagrid was so moved that his eyes turned red.

"R-really? You're the first person who's ever said they taste good!"

Zhang Wen stared in astonishment. That thing was so hard even Filch's cat could not chew it, yet Artoria had simply eaten it?

Then he remembered.

She was the one who could pull the Sword from the Stone.

Her bite strength was probably kingly as well.

"Hagrid, I came today to talk about your chicken coop." Zhang Wen pulled the conversation back on track.

"The chicken coop?" Hagrid wiped his eyes. "Oh, the one behind the house. I've got around ten chickens there. They lay eggs for me. What about it?"

"I want to do a class topic on magical creature weaknesses," Zhang Wen said. "Some magical creatures have an instinctive fear response to the crowing of roosters. I need to borrow a few roosters for a demonstration."

That was the excuse he had prepared. It was not perfect, but given Hagrid's personality, he would not ask too many questions.

Sure enough, Hagrid immediately perked up when he heard it involved magical creatures.

"Of course, no problem!" he said, slapping his thigh. "How many do you need? I've got three roosters, all loud as anything. Every morning at five sharp, they start crowing and wake me—"

"Three will be enough," Zhang Wen said. "But I'd like to move them somewhere safer for the time being. Your chicken coop is too close to the Forbidden Forest. If something slips out..."

"You're right!" Hagrid nodded seriously. "A fox took one of my chickens last year. Where do you want to put them?"

"There's an unused storage room in the castle, at the end of the fourth-floor corridor. I can turn it into a temporary coop."

"Fine! I'll help you move them this afternoon!"

Things had gone far more smoothly than expected. Hagrid was the easiest person in Hogwarts to get along with—as long as you showed interest in his animals, he would treat you like his best friend.

"Oh, right, Hagrid," Zhang Wen said as he stood to leave. "Have your chickens shown any unusual signs lately? Injuries, or a reduced number?"

"No," Hagrid said, shaking his head. "They're all fine."

That was good.

It meant Ginny had not yet been controlled by the diary to the point of killing roosters. The timeline was still in its early stage.

"Thank you, Hagrid."

"You're welcome!" Hagrid warmly escorted them to the door. "Come by anytime! Miss Pendragon, I'll always save you some rock cakes!"

"Thank you." Artoria gave a slight nod.

After leaving Hagrid's hut, Zhang Wen asked in a low voice, "Did you really think those rock cakes were good?"

"They were acceptable."

"That thing was hard enough to kill someone with."

"The texture was somewhat hard, but the flavor was decent. Besides, Mr. Hagrid was very earnest when he made them."

Zhang Wen looked at her.

Artoria was not being polite. She meant it. In her eyes, the most important thing about food was not the texture, but the sincerity of the person who made it.

That was probably some kind of knightly virtue—respecting the fruits of every person's labor.

Even if those fruits were hard enough to use as weapons.

On their way back to the castle, they encountered someone.

Draco Malfoy.

He stood alone on the steps outside the castle entrance, holding a letter with an unpleasant expression.

When he saw Zhang Wen and Artoria, he quickly shoved the letter into his pocket.

"Professor Zhang." His tone was two degrees colder than usual. "Assistant Pendragon."

"Mr. Malfoy." Zhang Wen nodded. "Standing here by yourself?"

"Waiting for Crabbe and Goyle." Malfoy answered quickly—too quickly, as though he had prepared the answer in advance.

Zhang Wen did not press him. But he noticed the letter—it was a Malfoy family envelope, identical to the one Lucius Malfoy had sent him.

Lucius had written to Draco.

The contents were easy enough to guess—perhaps telling him to keep a closer eye on the new professor, demanding that he resist physical training, or expressing displeasure that "the heir of the great Malfoy family is actually running."

Malfoy's expression just now had not looked like that of someone who had received an encouraging letter.

It looked more like he had received a reprimand.

"Mr. Malfoy," Zhang Wen suddenly said.

Malfoy looked up at him, his body tensing instinctively.

"You came in third in last week's physical training run," Zhang Wen said. "Third in the whole class."

Malfoy blinked.

He clearly had not expected that.

"Keep it up." Zhang Wen left after saying that.

Artoria followed him.

After they had walked some distance, she asked, "Why did you praise him?"

"Because he needs it," Zhang Wen said. "That letter from Lucius Malfoy was probably nothing kind. A child his age, if all he receives is rejection from his father and rejection from his professors, will become even more extreme."

"You want to win him over?"

"Not win him over." Zhang Wen thought about how to phrase it. "It's... not pushing him to the opposite side. Malfoy wasn't born bad. He was simply raised to be the way he is. If someone tells him, 'You did well,' then maybe—just maybe—he'll turn out a little better than before."

Artoria fell silent for several seconds.

"What you're doing is similar to your strategy with Ginny Weasley."

"What?"

"Reinforcing his will. Making sure he doesn't hear only one voice."

Zhang Wen paused, then gave a bitter smile.

"You saw right through me."

"Your strategies have always been like this," Artoria said. "It was the same in the Holy Grail War. You always tried to break down your opponent's will to fight before the battle even began."

"That's called psychological warfare."

"What it's called doesn't matter," Artoria said. "As long as it works."

Zhang Wen glanced at her.

The King of Knights was more talkative than usual today.

Perhaps because he had taken the initiative to share information about the Chamber of Secrets with her last night, some unseen barrier between them had quietly narrowed a little.

Not by much.

But it had, indeed, narrowed a little.

"Let's go," Zhang Wen said. "It's time to deal with the mirrors."

"Where are you going to get mirrors?"

"I'll borrow them from Professor Filius Flitwick. He's an expert in Charms. He should be able to put a Shatterproof Charm on ordinary mirrors for me. If the Basilisk smashes them when it runs into them, then putting them there would be pointless."

"And your reason?"

"I'll say I'm researching defensive spells involving reflection and need several sturdy mirrors for experiments," Zhang Wen said. "Filius Flitwick has no resistance whatsoever to academic topics. As long as you say the word 'research,' he won't refuse."

"You have a strategy for dealing with everyone."

"A survival skill," Zhang Wen said. "The Type-Moon Universe taught me that."

Artoria offered no comment.

But Zhang Wen thought the corner of her mouth twitched.

She was probably smiling.

Probably.

That night, Zhang Wen made a list.

The mirrors—ask Filius Flitwick tomorrow. To be carried out.

The roosters—Hagrid would move them to the fourth-floor storage room that afternoon. Completed.

Ginny—Hermione had already been assigned. Under observation.

Malfoy—an unexpected side thread. Continue watching.

Quidditch trials—Saturday. Invited by McGonagall. Go.

He folded the list and put it into the drawer.

In the second week of term, everything was proceeding according to plan.

But Zhang Wen knew that plans could never keep up with change.

Especially in a world with Voldemort.