Headmaster's Office

At ten o'clock on Saturday morning, Zhang Wen stood before the stone gargoyle outside the Headmaster's Office.

"Lemon Sherbet."

The gargoyle did not move.

Zhang Wen froze for a moment. The password had been Lemon Sherbet the last time he came. It seemed Dumbledore had changed it.

"Toffee?"

No movement.

"Chocolate Frog?"

No movement.

"Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans?"

The gargoyle moved. The spiral staircase slowly rose.

Zhang Wen stepped onto the stairs and grumbled inwardly—Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans was the password to the Hogwarts headmaster's office. Its security level was probably about the same as "password123456."

The office door stood open.

Dumbledore sat behind an enormous desk, with a dish of sweets in front of him. He wore a purple robe embroidered with golden stars and moons.

Fox perched on his stand, turned to glance at Zhang Wen, and let out a low cry.

"Professor Zhang!" Dumbledore smiled and beckoned. "Please, sit. Would you like a Lemon Sherbet?"

"Thank you, but no." Zhang Wen sat down opposite him.

"Then how about a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean?" Dumbledore picked up a yellow bean from the dish. "Last time, I got one that tasted like earwax. This time, I hope for mango."

He tossed the bean into his mouth and chewed twice.

"Curry." Dumbledore's expression did not change. "Not bad, either."

Zhang Wen decided to get straight to the point.

"Headmaster, I came to report something important."

Dumbledore's smile did not disappear, but his eyes changed—from casual to focused. Those blue eyes watched Zhang Wen through his half-moon spectacles, carrying a penetrating sharpness.

Zhang Wen had dealt with all sorts of Servants in the Holy Grail War, yet Dumbledore's gaze still gave him a unique kind of pressure. It was not the oppression of force, but of wisdom—every word he said would be fully received, analyzed, and stored by this man.

"I have reason to believe," Zhang Wen said carefully, "that there is a serious security threat within Hogwarts Castle."

Dumbledore did not interrupt.

"The Chamber of Secrets," Zhang Wen said. "Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets. It truly exists."

Dumbledore's expression did not change.

Not even slightly.

That meant one of two things: either he already knew, or his emotional control was absurdly strong.

Probably both.

"There is an extremely dangerous magical creature inside the Chamber of Secrets—a Basilisk." Zhang Wen continued, "A gigantic serpent. Looking directly into its eyes causes death. It can move freely through Hogwarts's pipe system."

Dumbledore slowly set down the dish of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"Professor Zhang," he said calmly, "you know more than most people. I am curious about your source of information."

Here it came.

Zhang Wen had prepared for this question long ago.

"Headmaster, I possess some knowledge whose origin I cannot explain. Just as you may also possess knowledge whose origin you cannot explain to me."

Dumbledore looked at him.

Five seconds of silence.

Then Dumbledore smiled.

"Well said," he said. "Continue."

He did not press further.

Just as Artoria had said—Dumbledore understood that others had secrets.

"The Basilisk is already active in the pipes," Zhang Wen said. "Last night, Assistant Professor Pendragon and I heard it moving in the fifth-floor corridor. It has not left the pipes yet, but that will not last much longer."

"When do you think it will emerge?"

"Around Halloween."

Dumbledore lightly tapped the desk twice with his fingers.

"You know who is controlling the Basilisk." It was not a question.

Zhang Wen hesitated.

Should he tell Dumbledore about Ginny?

If he did, Dumbledore could solve the problem immediately—confiscate the Diary, treat Ginny, and seal the Chamber of Secrets. But then the Diary Horcrux would fall into Dumbledore's hands. With Dumbledore's intelligence, he might infer that Voldemort had created Horcruxes.

Wait—Dumbledore should already know about Horcruxes. In the original story, he had deduced that Voldemort had Horcruxes through the Diary.

Then what was Zhang Wen hesitating over?

He was hesitating over something else—if Dumbledore intervened now, Ginny's psychological trauma would be minimized, but at the same time, a series of later developments triggered by the Chamber of Secrets Incident might be altered.

But that hesitation lasted only a second.

Student safety mattered more than "preserving the original timeline."

"Someone is using a cursed object to manipulate a student," Zhang Wen said. "That object is a diary. It contains Tom Riddle's memories—or, more precisely, a fragment of his soul."

Dumbledore's body stiffened very slightly.

If Zhang Wen had not been watching him with intense concentration, he would never have caught that reaction.

"A fragment of the soul." Dumbledore repeated the words. His tone remained calm, but Zhang Wen heard the turbulence beneath it.

He understood.

Dumbledore immediately understood what "a fragment of the soul" meant.

"The manipulated student is—"

"Ginny Weasley," Zhang Wen said.

Dumbledore closed his eyes.

It was the first time Zhang Wen had seen Dumbledore reveal anything resembling pain. It was fleeting and restrained, but in that instant, the wizard over a hundred years old looked as though he carried a weight far beyond his age.

The Weasley Family was one of Dumbledore's most trusted allies. Ginny was Arthur and Molly's youngest child, and their only daughter. She had been at Hogwarts for barely more than a month, yet she had already been targeted by a fragment of Voldemort's soul.

"How did the Diary get into her hands?" Dumbledore asked.

"Lucius Malfoy," Zhang Wen said. "Before the school year began, at Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley, he slipped the Diary into Ginny's old textbooks."

Dumbledore opened his eyes.

There was no longer any smile in those blue eyes.

"Are you certain?"

"Certain."

Silence lasted more than ten seconds.

Dumbledore rose and walked to the window. His figure looked thin yet tall against the backlight.

"Professor Zhang," he finally said, "what do you suggest I do?"

Zhang Wen had not expected Dumbledore to ask him instead.

"I have two options," Zhang Wen said. "Option A: You intervene now, confiscate the Diary, rescue Ginny, and seal the Chamber of Secrets. Clean and decisive."

"And Option B?"

"Allow the situation to continue developing within controllable limits. Do not confiscate the Diary, but strengthen Ginny's protection. Let the Chamber of Secrets Incident occur under conditions where we are fully prepared—then resolve both the Basilisk and the Diary in one stroke."

"Which do you favor?"

Zhang Wen took a deep breath.

"Option B."

Dumbledore turned to look at him.

"There are three reasons," Zhang Wen said. "First, if we confiscate the Diary directly now, Ginny will suffer a severe emotional shock—she has already formed a deep emotional attachment to it. Suddenly losing it could cause a mental breakdown. We need to weaken the Diary's control over her first, then separate them safely."

"Second, Lucius Malfoy. If we quietly confiscate the Diary, Lucius will suffer no consequences. He could even deny everything. But if the Chamber of Secrets Incident occurs in public—the Basilisk appears, students are threatened, and then we stop it—the whole affair becomes public. At that point, the Diary's origin will be investigated, and Lucius will not be able to escape responsibility."

Dumbledore nodded slightly.

"Third—" Zhang Wen paused. "The soul fragment in the Diary. If we merely confiscate it and lock it away, that soul fragment will still exist. We need to destroy it completely. And destroying a Horcrux requires special means."

"Basilisk Fang," Dumbledore said.

Zhang Wen looked at him.

He really did know everything. At the very least, he knew far more than he let on.

"Yes," Zhang Wen said. "A Basilisk Fang is one of the few substances capable of destroying a Horcrux. If we can kill the Basilisk, obtain its fangs, and then use them to destroy the Diary—we kill two birds with one stone."

Dumbledore returned to his seat. He interlaced his fingers and rested his chin upon them.

"Your plan has one prerequisite—when the Chamber of Secrets Incident occurs, no student can suffer irreversible harm."

"That is exactly what I have been doing for the past two months," Zhang Wen said. "Mirrors—so students can avoid death through indirect observation if they encounter the Basilisk. Roosters—the Basilisk's natural enemy, whose crow is fatal to it. Pipe maps—to track the Basilisk's movements. The Dueling Club—to train the students' combat ability. Ginny's social network—to weaken the Diary's control over her."

Dumbledore watched him.

"You have been preparing for this moment since the beginning of the term."

"Yes."

"You knew these things would happen before you came to Hogwarts."

"Yes."

Dumbledore did not ask, "How did you know?"

He merely nodded.

"I accept Option B," he said. "But I have several additional conditions."

"Please."

"First, I will secretly increase my surveillance of Ginny. I will not interfere, but I will ensure she is not fully controlled without our knowledge."

"Agreed."

"Second, if Ginny's condition worsens to a dangerous degree—I will decide what constitutes a 'dangerous degree'—I will intervene immediately, regardless of how far Option B has progressed."

"Agreed."

"Third," Dumbledore said, looking into Zhang Wen's eyes, "when the Chamber of Secrets Incident occurs, you and Assistant Professor Pendragon will not act alone. You must tell me all your arrangements—the locations of the roosters, the distribution of mirrors, the routes through the pipes. I need to have the full picture."

"Agreed." Zhang Wen did not hesitate.

Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction.

Then his expression relaxed, and he picked up the dish of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans again.

"Would you like one?"

"I really don't need one."

"This one's green. It might be green apple, or it might be bogey." Dumbledore tossed it into his mouth and chewed twice. "Green apple. Not bad luck."

Zhang Wen found talking to Dumbledore an extremely strange experience—one second they were discussing Horcruxes and matters of life and death, the next they were eating sweets.

This man's mental gear-shifting was faster than anyone else's.

After leaving the Headmaster's Office, Zhang Wen ran into Snape on the spiral staircase.

The two nearly collided.

"Professor Zhang." Snape's eyes swept over him, then glanced toward the Headmaster's Office. "You came to see Dumbledore?"

"To report on the Dueling Club's progress." Zhang Wen's expression remained unchanged.

Snape looked at him for three seconds.

"The Dueling Club's progress does not need to be reported to the headmaster," he said.

Zhang Wen shrugged. "I'm a new professor. There is nothing wrong with being cautious."

Snape did not expose him, but his look was clear—I don't believe you, but I don't intend to pursue it for now.

The two passed each other.

Zhang Wen sighed inwardly. Snape would need to be brought into the circle of information sooner or later. But now was not the time. There were too many emotional variables for Snape in this matter—Lily Potter's son Harry, his former colleague Lucius, and his own complicated relationship with Voldemort.

One step at a time.

When he returned to his office, Artoria was waiting for him.

She was using a cloth to wipe the wooden stick. A sheet of paper lay spread across the desk, showing a map of rooster deployment positions.

"How did it go?" she asked, looking up.

"Dumbledore agreed to Option B." Zhang Wen sat down. "He added three conditions, all reasonable. Most importantly—he will monitor Ginny in secret."

"How will Dumbledore monitor her?"

"I don't know. He did not explain the specific method. But with his abilities, he probably has more than a dozen ways to track a student's condition without being discovered."

"Do you trust him?"

Zhang Wen thought about it.

"I trust his capabilities," he said. "As for his judgment—I trust it most of the time. But Dumbledore has one habit that makes me uneasy."

"What habit?"

"He likes to wait until the very last moment before acting. He is accustomed to testing people, waiting for people, observing the choices they make under extreme circumstances. It is his educational philosophy, and also his weakness."

"You are afraid he will let Ginny's condition worsen to the limit before he intervenes."

"Yes," Zhang Wen said. "That is why I did not bargain over his second condition. If Ginny's condition worsens to a dangerous degree, he will decide whether to intervene. That means placing the final safety valve in his hands. I choose to trust his judgment in this matter."

"What if his judgment is wrong?"

"Then it will be our turn."

Artoria nodded once. Cleanly and decisively, without another word.

That was her style. Once a plan was confirmed, she carried it out without endlessly second-guessing it.

"The rooster deployment plan is ready." She pushed the map across the desk. "Six roosters, three main areas. Two near the second-floor girls' bathroom, one in the Third Floor Corridor, and one in the seventh-floor corridor. The remaining two will serve as mobile reserves and be kept at Hagrid's hut."

Zhang Wen looked over the map.

"Two on the second floor because that is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Yes. If the Basilisk emerges from the Chamber of Secrets, it can be stopped by the roosters' crow immediately."

"Fourth floor is where the pipes mainly converge, while the seventh floor is the most remote area—if the Basilisk chooses to strike from the upper floors, the seventh floor is the most likely spot." Zhang Wen nodded. "Makes sense."

"Hagrid is already training three new roosters. Including the original three, that makes six in total. Their signal response rate—"

"What about that lazy one?"

"Taken care of."

"How?"

"I had a talk with it."

Zhang Wen stared at her for two seconds.

"You had a talk with a rooster."

"I told it there would be no extra worms if it refused to cooperate with training."

"...And that worked?"

"It now has the fastest response time out of all six."

Zhang Wen decided not to ask how Artoria had conducted intimidation negotiations with a rooster. Some things were better left unknown.

That afternoon, Zhang Wen went to see Hagrid.

A string of garlic and a scarecrow hung outside Hagrid's hut. Zhang Wen wasn't sure whether they were decorations or protective measures, but considering this was Hagrid, they were probably neither—he might simply have thought they looked nice.

He knocked on the door. Fang barked from inside—not a rooster, but Hagrid's hound.

The door opened. Hagrid's enormous frame nearly filled the entire doorway.

"Professor Zhang! Come in, come in!" Hagrid greeted him enthusiastically. "I've just made tea."

Zhang Wen went inside and sat in a chair that was far too large for him. Hagrid's teacup was bigger than Zhang Wen's head.

"Hagrid, how is the rooster training coming along?"

"Brilliantly!" Hagrid said excitedly. "Those roosters are smart as anything. The moment I knock on the board, they crow. Especially that one with the mottled comb—the lazy one from before—after Miss Pendragon had a talk with it, it was like a completely different bird."

"How exactly did she talk to it?"

"I don't know either." Hagrid scratched his head. "That day, she carried it aside and stared at it for about a minute. Then it behaved."

King's Gaze.

Even chickens couldn't withstand it.

"Hagrid, I need to deploy the roosters throughout the castle," Zhang Wen said. "One at each location, kept in cages and fed at regular intervals. Can you arrange that?"

"Of course!" Hagrid agreed readily. "But—putting roosters in the castle? What are they for?"

Zhang Wen chose his words carefully.

"A safety measure. Some magical creatures are highly sensitive to the sound of roosters. Placing them around the castle can provide early warning and protection."

"What kind of magical creature?" Hagrid's eyes lit up. "Is it some rare breed?"

Zhang Wen's mouth twitched. Hagrid's enthusiasm for "dangerous magical creatures" would never fade.

"It's nothing good, Hagrid."

"Oh." Hagrid looked disappointed, but quickly perked up again. "Never mind. Which places do you want them? I'll deliver them this afternoon."

Zhang Wen showed Hagrid the deployment map Artoria had drawn. Hagrid studied it carefully for a while, then nodded.

"All right. Two on the second floor, one on the fourth, and one on the seventh. I'll keep the remaining two here as backups. I'll feed them once in the morning and once at night, put straw in their cages, and add a Silencing Charm boundary—only let their voices out when we need them to crow."

A Silencing Charm boundary. Zhang Wen had not thought of that.

"Good idea," he said. "Otherwise, the roosters crowing in the middle of the night will wake all the students on the floor."

"Professor Flitwick taught me," Hagrid said with a grin. "Last time, the Fire Crabs I was keeping screamed in the middle of the night, so Flitwick showed me how to cast a Directional Silencing Charm."

Zhang Wen gave Filius Flitwick another point in his mind. That little professor could help with all sorts of details.

"Hagrid, there's one more thing." Zhang Wen lowered his voice. "Don't tell too many people about the rooster deployment. If students ask, say they're for teaching purposes."

"Understood." Hagrid nodded, then added quietly, "Professor Zhang, is something going to happen?"

Zhang Wen looked at the kind-hearted half-giant. Hagrid was not clever, but his instincts were sharper than those of many clever people.

"Maybe," Zhang Wen said. "But with these preparations, it shouldn't become too serious."

Hagrid fell silent for a moment.

"If you need help," he said, his voice low but firm, "come find me anytime. I may not know any advanced magic, but I'm strong."

Zhang Wen smiled.

"I'll remember that. Thank you, Hagrid."

Evening.

When Zhang Wen returned to his office, he found a note on his desk.

Hermione's handwriting.

"Professor Zhang, I spoke with Ginny this afternoon. She said she hasn't been sleeping well lately and keeps having nightmares. I asked what she dreamed about, and she said she couldn't remember, but when she woke up, there were ink stains on her hands. She didn't know why. I didn't press her, only told her she could come to me anytime if she needed anything. Also, I noticed an old black diary in her schoolbag, but she held it very tightly and wouldn't let anyone touch it. —Hermione Granger"

Zhang Wen put down the note.

"Ink stains on her hands"—Ginny was communicating with the Diary in her sleep. She might not even remember it herself. This meant the Diary's control was escalating from "active communication while awake" to "passive control during sleep."

The situation was worsening.

But it had not reached the critical point yet. Ginny could still attend class normally, speak to Hermione, and describe her abnormal symptoms—this meant her will had not yet been completely suppressed.

The Diary's control was gradual. First it built trust, then deepened dependence, and finally took over completely when its victim was at their most vulnerable.

Ginny was probably somewhere between the second and third stages.

Zhang Wen picked up his pen and wrote a reply to Hermione.

"Miss Granger, thank you for the update. You did very well. Continue showing concern for Ginny, but do not put pressure on her. If her condition worsens noticeably—for instance, if she stops speaking or eating for several days in a row, or if she cannot remember things she has done—come find me immediately. Also, your Dueling Club analysis report was excellent. You may participate in the next club activity. —Zhang Wen"

The last sentence was a reward. Hermione had put extra effort into Ginny's situation and deserved positive feedback.

Besides, she really was ready. In her last analysis report, she had dissected every participant's strengths and weaknesses with complete clarity—including her own.

Hermione's evaluation of herself in the report was: "Slow casting speed. Need to train instinctive reactions. Recommend imposing a strict 'cast within three seconds' limit."

She was using rational analysis to compensate for a lack of intuition.

It was not the best method. But for Hermione, it might have been the only one. Everyone had their own path.

Night.

Zhang Wen updated the day's information on the pipe map. Rooster deployment locations were marked in blue, pipe exits in red, and Ginny's usual routes in green.

The three colors interwove across the map, forming a defensive net.

Artoria returned from patrol and glanced at the map.

"Any movement in the pipes tonight?" Zhang Wen asked.

"No," she said. "I checked everything from the third floor to the seventh. There were no unusual sounds."

"The Basilisk may have returned to the Chamber of Secrets. Last night's activity was a probing patrol. It may not come out again anytime soon."

"Not until Ginny is controlled further."

"Right."

Artoria untied the wooden stick from her waist and set it on the desk.

"What did Dumbledore say about Ginny?"

"He accepted it. He'll keep watch in secret," Zhang Wen said. "There's something I didn't tell you—when I told Dumbledore that the Diary contained a 'soul fragment,' his reaction was stronger than I expected."

"How strong?"

"He froze," Zhang Wen said. "Dumbledore almost never freezes. He can keep smiling while Phoenix pecks at his hair, but the words 'soul fragment' made him freeze."

Artoria thought for a moment.

"He realized what that meant."

"Not just realized it," Zhang Wen said. "I think he had already suspected that Voldemort had done something involving souls to ensure he would not die. But he had no proof. The Diary is proof."

"So you told him about the Diary not only to protect Ginny."

"It was also to make Dumbledore begin researching Horcruxes early," Zhang Wen said. "In the original story, Dumbledore took many years to confirm the number and locations of the Horcruxes. If he starts now—the timeline will be greatly compressed."

"That benefits the bigger picture."

"Yes."

Artoria nodded.

Then she walked over to the desk and picked up the kettle.

"Are you staying up late again tonight?"

"Probably. I still need to write letters to the parents—"

The kettle was already on the stove.

"Black tea or green tea?" Artoria asked.

"...Black tea."

She said nothing more. But Zhang Wen knew that ten minutes later, a cup of black tea at just the right temperature, brewed slightly stronger than he would make it himself, would appear on the desk.

The understanding between the two of them needed no words.

Just as she had judged Neville Longbottom's evasive movements in the dueling arena—observe, understand, act.

Only this time, the action was making tea.

Zhang Wen lowered his head and continued writing letters.

Outside the window, the wind carried October's chill. Halloween was drawing closer and closer.

But the office was warm tonight.

The fire burned, the water murmured, and the scent of tea leaves slowly spread.

The sum of those little things was peace of mind.