Ginny Weasley

After Monday morning's physical training, Zhang Wen took a look at the first-years' timetable.

Ginny Weasley's Defense Against the Dark Arts class was on Tuesday afternoon. That meant he would be able to formally meet her in class tomorrow.

But Zhang Wen did not want to wait until tomorrow.

He needed to talk to Ginny outside class in a more natural way.

The opportunity came after lunch on Monday.

Zhang Wen went to the library to return a reference book on magical serpentine creatures. Between the shelves in the history section, he saw Ginny.

She was sitting alone at a table in the corner, with a History of Magic textbook spread open before her. But she was not reading—it was obvious her eyes had lost focus as they rested on the page. She was spacing out.

Zhang Wen noticed that her schoolbag was open. Peeking out from between the textbooks and parchment was the corner of a black leather cover.

The Diary.

It was right there.

Zhang Wen looked away, making sure not to stare at the bag. He casually pulled a book from the shelf and sat down at the table beside Ginny.

"Miss Weasley?" he said with just the right note of surprise. "All alone in the library?"

Ginny jumped and looked up sharply. When she saw it was Zhang Wen, her face immediately turned red.

"P-Professor Zhang!" She hurriedly zipped up her bag. The movement was quick, clearly an instinctive attempt to protect what was inside.

Zhang Wen pretended not to notice.

"Reviewing History of Magic?" He glanced at the textbook before her.

"Mm... Professor Binns assigned us an essay on medieval witch hunts." Ginny's voice was very soft, as though she was not used to speaking to a professor alone.

"Professor Binns's classes..." Zhang Wen chose his words carefully. "They do require a certain amount of patience."

That was already an extremely polite way of putting it. Binns was Hogwarts' only ghost professor, and his teaching method consisted entirely of reading from beginning to end. His classes were as sleep-inducing as sleeping draughts. Hardly any students in the school could stay awake in them, Hermione excepted.

Ginny gave a tiny smile.

"They are a little boring," she said.

Zhang Wen noticed several details.

First, Ginny's complexion was pale, paler than a normal first-year's. Scotland in mid-September was not hot, but it was not enough to make someone look as though she had not seen sunlight in days.

Second, there were faint dark circles under her eyes. She was not sleeping well.

Third, her reaction to protect the schoolbag was overly sensitive.

The Diary was already affecting her.

But it was still in its early stages. Her mind was clear, and the Diary had not yet begun draining her life force on a large scale.

"How are you settling in at Hogwarts?" Zhang Wen asked casually.

"I'm all right." Ginny lowered her head. "It's just... I miss home a little."

"That's perfectly normal," Zhang Wen said. "Your brothers must have missed home in their first year too."

"They wouldn't." Ginny's voice grew even quieter. "Fred and George blew up Filch's office on their first day. Percy became a prefect candidate on his first day. Ron made friends with Harry Potter on his first day."

She paused.

"On my first day, I got nothing."

Zhang Wen was silent for two seconds.

There was far too much contained in those words. Ginny Weasley, the youngest of seven children and the only girl. Each of her six older brothers had something that made him shine, while she had arrived at Hogwarts only to be swallowed up by the label of "another Weasley."

And she had harbored a crush on Harry Potter since childhood, only to discover at school that Harry was Ron's friend, and Ron had no intention of introducing his little sister into his circle.

Loneliness, inferiority, neglect.

The Diary had slipped into exactly that gap.

"Miss Weasley," Zhang Wen said, "do you know Hermione Granger?"

Ginny nodded. "She's been coming to talk to me these past few days."

"What do you think of her?"

"She's very nice." Ginny's voice gained a little warmth. "She knows so much. Yesterday, she taught me a little spell that makes a quill copy things automatically. It's really useful."

Zhang Wen gave Hermione credit in his mind.

"Miss Granger didn't have many friends in her first year either," Zhang Wen said. "Like you, she had trouble adjusting at first. Then she became friends with Harry and Ron, and things got better."

Ginny looked up at him.

"You mean... things will get better for me too?"

"What I mean is, you don't have to have nothing," Zhang Wen said. "You already have an older student willing to come and talk to you. That is a good start."

Ginny's expression eased somewhat.

"If anything is troubling you, you can come to me or Teaching Assistant Pendragon." Zhang Wen rose, picked up his book, and said, "The professors' offices are always open to students."

"Thank you, Professor Zhang." Ginny's voice was slightly louder than before.

Zhang Wen nodded, then turned and left the library.

When he returned to the office, Artoria was reading by the window.

Recently, she had been reading a massive volume about Hogwarts history and was already a third of the way through it. She read quickly—after all, she had once managed the affairs of all Britain. Her ability to process information was beyond that of ordinary people.

"I met Ginny," Zhang Wen said as he sat down.

Artoria put down her book.

"How was she?"

"Early stage," Zhang Wen said. "Pale complexion, dark circles under her eyes. Her sleep may have been affected. But her mind is clear, and her emotional responses are normal. The Diary has not yet gained deep control."

"How long is the window?"

"If we follow the original timeline, the Chamber of Secrets opens for the first time around late October or early November. That gives us roughly six to eight weeks." Zhang Wen paused. "But the butterfly effect may change that timing. Our intervention—Hermione becoming friends with Ginny—may improve Ginny's mental state and slow the Diary's control."

"It could also speed it up," Artoria said.

Zhang Wen looked at her.

"If the Diary senses that outside intervention is weakening its control, it may accelerate its corruption." Artoria's tone was calm. "Cursed holy relics become more aggressive when they sense a threat. That is my experience dealing with similar incidents in Camelot."

Zhang Wen's heart sank.

He had not considered that possibility.

Tom Riddle in the Diary was no ordinary soul fragment. Even as a student at Hogwarts, he had been the cleverest student in the school—academically brilliant, skilled at disguising himself, and deeply versed in human nature. If he realized Ginny was pulling away from him, he was fully capable of changing tactics.

"You're right." Zhang Wen leaned back in his chair. "While helping Ginny, we also need to prepare for the Diary to act early."

"The roosters and mirrors are already in place," Artoria said. "When will you distribute the small mirrors to the students?"

"This week's classes. I already asked Filius Flitwick to apply Shatterproof Charms to them in batches. One hundred and twenty small handheld mirrors, enough for every second-year and above to have one."

"What about the first-years?"

Zhang Wen thought for a moment.

"The first-years will receive them separately. I'll have Hermione give one to Ginny and tell her it's a teaching aid all the older students use. As for the other first-years—"

"I can distribute them during physical training," Artoria said. "Neville is close to several Gryffindor first-years. We can have him help hand them out."

Zhang Wen raised an eyebrow.

Neville Longbottom, responsible for distributing anti-Basilisk handheld mirrors.

A month ago, the boy had not even dared raise his hand to answer questions. Now Artoria had turned him into a logistics distributor.

"How has Neville been lately?" Zhang Wen asked.

"His progress has been remarkable," Artoria said. "In evasion training, he can now dodge twelve out of thirty stones. As for physical fitness, he has cut two minutes from his one-and-a-half-mile run."

"What about wooden sword training?"

"He has begun learning basic grips and stances. His upper body strength is lacking, but his lower body is fairly stable."

"You really are teaching him swordsmanship," Zhang Wen said with a sigh.

"Basic sword training benefits anyone," Artoria said. "Besides—"

She paused.

"He reminds me of someone."

"Who?"

"Bedivere."

Zhang Wen did not know the Round Table Knights particularly well, but he knew Bedivere's name. One of the Round Table Knights, neither the strongest nor the cleverest, but unmatched in loyalty. He was the last knight to return Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake, and the one who remained with King Arthur until the end.

"Bedivere was not the most outstanding when he was young either." Artoria's voice lowered. "His swordsmanship was worse than Gawain's, his horsemanship worse than Lancelot's, and his strength worse than Gareth's. But he never gave up. No matter how many times he was knocked down, he always rose and continued."

She looked out the window.

"In the end, he became the knight I trusted most."

Zhang Wen was silent for a while.

Artoria rarely spoke of Camelot. Her knights, her kingdom, her past—these were the deepest things in her heart, usually wrapped tightly in silence and discipline.

The fact that she had brought up Bedivere on her own meant Neville had truly moved her.

"Neville will become a good knight," Zhang Wen said softly.

"He is not a knight," Artoria said. "He is a wizard."

"With your training, he may become both."

Artoria did not respond. But Zhang Wen thought he saw the corner of her mouth move slightly.

Tuesday afternoon, Defense Against the Dark Arts for the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff first-years.

It was Zhang Wen's first time teaching first-years.

This group of little ones was even more immature than the second-years. When they entered the classroom, their eyes were wide with wonder, and everything seemed new to them. Several Hufflepuff children saw Artoria standing at the side of the room and froze in the doorway.

"Please sit," Zhang Wen said.

Ginny sat by the window in the second row. Beside her was a boy about as small as she was—Colin Creevey, a Muggle-born boy who always carried a camera in his hands.

"Professor Zhang! Can I take a picture?" Colin raised his camera, his eyes shining like lightbulbs.

"No photographs during class, Mr. Creevey."

"What about after class?"

"After class is fine."

Satisfied, Colin put down his camera and pulled out a notebook.

Zhang Wen swept his gaze around the classroom.

Most first-years had not even fully learned how to use their wands. Their lessons could not begin with practical combat training like the second-years' did. They needed to start with more basic things.

"Today's lesson is very simple," Zhang Wen said. "I am going to teach you one thing—how to observe."

The students looked at one another.

"The first step of Defense Against the Dark Arts is not learning spells. It is learning to use your eyes." Zhang Wen picked up a small mirror from the lectern—the type he intended to distribute to the students, palm-sized, round, with a simple handle.

"Starting today, every one of you will receive a mirror like this. It is standard teaching equipment."

He held up the mirror so everyone could see it clearly.

"This mirror has two uses. First, when you are approaching a corridor corner, use it to check whether there is anyone or anything on the other side—to avoid being ambushed. Second, when you cannot observe a target directly, use the mirror's reflection to observe it indirectly."

"Why can't we look directly?" a Hufflepuff boy raised his hand and asked.

Good question.

It was exactly the question Zhang Wen had been waiting for.

"Because some magical creatures are dangerous to look at directly," he said. "For example, a Basilisk—an extremely rare giant serpent. Looking directly into its eyes causes immediate death. But if you see its reflection through a mirror, you will only be petrified. Petrification can be cured. Death cannot."

The classroom fell silent.

Several girls went pale.

"Don't be afraid," Zhang Wen said. "Basilisks are extremely rare. The chances of you encountering one at Hogwarts are practically zero. This is only an example of why indirect observation is important."

Of course, he was lying.

The chances of encountering a Basilisk were not "practically zero," but "very high." But he could not let first-year children panic.

"Now, come up one at a time and collect a mirror. Starting today, carry it with you at all times. Do not lose it."

The students lined up to collect their mirrors. When Ginny came up, Zhang Wen noticed that her hand was trembling slightly.

"Miss Weasley." Zhang Wen handed her the mirror. "Remember to keep it with you."

Ginny accepted the mirror and softly said, "Thank you."

Her hand really was trembling. But it was not because she was afraid of the Basilisk—she knew nothing about it.

It was exhaustion.

The Diary was draining her energy.

Zhang Wen watched her return to her seat and carefully place the mirror into her schoolbag.

Right beside that black Diary.

After class, Colin Creevey came to Zhang Wen as promised to take a photograph.

"Professor Zhang, can I take a photo with you?" He held up his camera, so excited he was practically bouncing.

"You may, but only one."

After Colin took the picture, he turned the lens toward Artoria.

"Teaching Assistant Pendragon! You too—"

"No," Artoria said.

Short and decisive. There was no room for negotiation.

Colin's enthusiasm was doused with cold water, but he recovered quickly.

"Then can I take pictures of the classroom?"

"Yes," Zhang Wen said.

Colin happily went off to photograph the classroom.

Zhang Wen watched his back and remembered something.

In the original story, Colin Creevey was one of the Basilisk's petrification victims. He had been holding his camera, and the Basilisk's gaze had passed through the camera lens and petrified him. The camera had saved his life—without the barrier of that lens, he would have died.

Now, besides his camera, he also had a Shatterproof mirror.

One more layer of protection.

"That child talked a lot," Artoria remarked.

"He was Muggle-born. It was his first time encountering the wizarding world, so everything seemed new and fascinating to him," Zhang Wen said. "That kind of enthusiasm is actually a good thing."

"Enthusiasm is good, but he lacked vigilance," Artoria said. "He held up his camera and took pictures everywhere, focusing entirely on framing the shot and paying no attention to his surroundings. If he encountered danger—"

"He would be the easiest one to get hurt," Zhang Wen finished.

The two exchanged a glance.

They understood each other without words.

Colin Creevey needed extra attention.

It was dinner time.

Zhang Wen sat at the staff table, eating as he observed the activity at the students' tables.

At the Gryffindor table, Hermione was sitting beside Ginny again. They were clearly talking more than last time. Ginny looked more relaxed than she had yesterday and had even smiled twice.

Harry and Ron Weasley sat beside Hermione. Ron had probably noticed Hermione talking to his sister, and his expression was a little strange—like he was wondering when Hermione had become so close to Ginny.

Harry glanced at Ginny.

Ginny immediately lowered her head, and the tips of her ears turned red.

The power of a crush, Zhang Wen thought. Eleven-year-old girls reacted the same way around the object of their affection everywhere in the world.

In the original story, this crush was an important emotional thread. Ginny would later overcome her nervousness around Harry, grow into an independent and confident girl, and eventually end up with him.

But that was still years away.

Right now, Ginny was only a shy first-year student with a Diary in her arms that was devouring her soul.

"Hermione did well," Artoria said softly.

"Mm." Zhang Wen nodded. "But Hermione alone isn't enough. Ginny needs more social connections."

"What did you have in mind?"

Zhang Wen thought for a moment.

"Neville Longbottom."

Artoria looked at him.

"Neville and Ginny are the same kind of person—introverted, lacking confidence, and feeling inferior to others. But Neville is changing now. If Ginny sees someone in circumstances similar to hers getting better, she'll be encouraged."

"You want Neville to befriend Ginny?"

"Not deliberately," Zhang Wen said. "But if Neville's physical training earns him more attention in Gryffindor—for example, if the other students start respecting him—Ginny will naturally notice."

"You're using Neville as a role model."

"I'm using Neville's growth as a catalyst," Zhang Wen corrected. "Neville himself doesn't need to do anything extra. He just needs to keep doing what he's already doing."

Artoria fell silent for several seconds.

"Your plans are becoming more and more like a web."

"A survival skill," Zhang Wen said. "In the Type-Moon Universe—"

"I know," Artoria interrupted. "You've said it before. The Type-Moon Universe taught you."

Zhang Wen shut his mouth.

Artoria cut off a piece of roast lamb, put it into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed.

Then she said, "You don't need to carry everything by yourself."

Zhang Wen froze for a moment.

"I told you, a knight's loyalty does not require a contract." Artoria did not look at him; her gaze rested on the plate before her. "You don't need to keep every plan in your own head and calculate every variable alone. You have me."

Zhang Wen looked at her profile.

She was not talking only about the Chamber of Secrets.

Ever since he had crossed into the Type-Moon Universe, Zhang Wen had grown accustomed to shouldering everything alone. Analyzing situations, making plans, assessing risks—all the mental work had been handled by him alone, while Artoria was responsible for execution and combat. It had been an efficient division of labor during the Holy Grail War, but it also meant that he had piled all the psychological pressure onto himself.

Artoria had seen through him.

He did not know when she had started to notice, but she had.

"I understand," Zhang Wen said. "From now on, I'll tell you my thoughts as soon as I have them."

"Mm."

Just one brief syllable.

But Zhang Wen heard the satisfaction in it.

"Dessert is toffee pudding," Artoria added.

Just like that, the topic shifted seamlessly from a sincere exchange deep from the soul to a dessert announcement.

Zhang Wen was already completely used to it.