Headmaster's Office

At ten o'clock on Saturday morning, Zhang Wen stood before the 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 complained inwardly—Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as the password to the Hogwarts Headmaster's Office. That security level was probably about the same as using "123456" for a password.

The office door stood open.

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

Fox perched on its 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 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 have something important to report to you."

Dumbledore's smile remained, but his eyes changed—from easygoing to attentive. Those blue eyes watched Zhang Wen through half-moon spectacles, carrying a penetrating sharpness.

Zhang Wen had dealt with all kinds of Servants during the Holy Grail War, yet Dumbledore's gaze still gave him a unique kind of pressure. It was not the pressure 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 suggested 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—the Basilisk." Zhang Wen continued. "A gigantic serpent. Looking directly into its eyes causes death. It can move freely through Hogwarts's plumbing 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 the source of your information."

Here it came.

Zhang Wen had prepared for that question long ago.

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

Dumbledore looked at him.

Five seconds of silence.

Then Dumbledore smiled.

"Well said," he said. "Go on."

He did not press further.

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

"The Basilisk has already been moving through 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 tabletop 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 made Horcruxes.

Wait—Dumbledore should already know about Horcruxes. In the original story, he had deduced Voldemort possessed 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 a series of subsequent developments triggered by the Chamber of Secrets Incident might also change.

But that hesitation lasted only a second.

The students' 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. Tom Riddle's memories are sealed inside it—or, more accurately, part of his soul."

Dumbledore's body stiffened almost imperceptibly.

If Zhang Wen had not been watching him with intense focus the entire time, he would never have caught that reaction.

"Part of his soul." Dumbledore repeated the words. His tone was calm, but Zhang Wen heard the turbulence beneath it.

He understood.

Dumbledore immediately understood what "part of his 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 something akin to pain. It was brief and restrained. Yet in that moment, the wizard over a hundred years old seemed to bear a weight disproportionate even to 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 over a month when a fragment of Voldemort's soul targeted her.

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

"Lucius Malfoy," Zhang Wen said. "Before term 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 amusement in those blue eyes.

"Are you certain?"

"Certain."

Silence stretched for more than ten seconds.

Dumbledore rose and walked to the window. His back looked lean and tall against the light.

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

Zhang Wen had not expected Dumbledore to ask him in return.

"I have two plans," Zhang Wen said. "Plan A: you intervene now, confiscate the Diary, save Ginny, and seal the Chamber of Secrets. Clean and decisive, all in one move."

"Plan B?"

"Let matters continue within controllable limits. Do not confiscate the Diary, but strengthen Ginny's protection. Let the Chamber of Secrets Incident occur while 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.

"Plan 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 bond with it, and suddenly losing it could cause a mental breakdown. We need to weaken the Diary's control over her first, then safely separate them."

"Second, Lucius Malfoy. If we quietly confiscate the Diary, Lucius will face no consequences. He could even deny everything. But if the Chamber of Secrets Incident happens publicly—the Basilisk appears, students are threatened, and then we stop it—the whole matter becomes a public incident. At that point, the Diary's origins will be investigated, and Lucius will not be able to escape."

Dumbledore nodded slightly.

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

"The Basilisk Fang," Dumbledore said.

Zhang Wen looked at him.

As expected, he knew everything. Or at least, he knew far more than he let on.

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

Dumbledore returned to his seat. He interlaced his fingers beneath his chin.

"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 these past two months," Zhang Wen said. "Mirrors—so students can avoid death by seeing the Basilisk indirectly. Roosters—the Basilisk's natural enemy, whose crow is deadly to it. Pipe maps—to track the Basilisk's route. The Dueling Club—to train students in practical combat. 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 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 Plan 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 determine the standard for what constitutes 'dangerous'—I will intervene immediately, regardless of how far Plan 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 positions of the roosters, the distribution of mirrors, and the pipe routes. I need to know the overall situation."

"Agreed." Zhang Wen did not hesitate.

Dumbledore nodded with satisfaction.

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

"Would you like one?"

"Really, no."

"This one is 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 speaking with Dumbledore a very strange experience—one moment they were discussing Horcruxes and matters of life and death, and the next they were eating sweets.

This man's ability to switch gears mentally 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 gaze swept over him before flicking toward the Headmaster's Office. "You came to see Dumbledore?"

"To report on the Dueling Club's progress." Zhang Wen's expression did not change.

Snape stared 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 am 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 one another.

Zhang Wen sighed inwardly. Snape would need to be brought into the circle of information sooner or later. But now was not the time. Snape had too many emotional variables involved in this matter—Lily Potter's son Harry, his former associate 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 down the wooden stick. A sheet of paper lay spread across the desk, marked with a deployment map for the roosters.

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

"Dumbledore agreed to Plan B." Zhang Wen sat down. "He added three conditions, all of them reasonable. Most importantly—he will secretly monitor Ginny."

"How will Dumbledore monitor her?"

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

"Do you trust him?"

Zhang Wen thought about it.

"I trust his abilities," 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 let things develop until the very last moment before acting. He likes testing people, waiting for people, observing what choices they make under extreme circumstances. It is part of his educational philosophy, and also his weakness."

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

"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 decides whether to intervene. That means placing the final safety valve in his hands. I chose to trust his judgment in this matter."

"What if his judgment is wrong?"

"Then it will be our turn."

Artoria nodded once. Crisp and decisive, 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 be held as mobile reserves at Hagrid's hut."

Zhang Wen studied the map.

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

"Yes. If the Basilisk emerges from the Chamber of Secrets, the roosters' crowing can stop it immediately."

"Fourth floor is the main junction for the pipes, 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 target." Zhang Wen nodded. "Reasonable."

"Hagrid is already training three new roosters. Including the original three, that makes six. Signal response rate—"

"What about that lazy rooster?"

"Already dealt with."

"How did you deal with it?"

"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."

"...That worked?"

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

Zhang Wen decided not to ask further about 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 was not 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's barking came from inside—not a rooster, but Hagrid's boarhound.

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

"Professor Zhang! Come in, come in!" Hagrid greeted him warmly. "Just made some tea."

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

"Hagrid, how is the rooster training going?"

"Great!" Hagrid said excitedly. "Those roosters are smart as anything. The moment I knock the board, they crow. Especially that one with the fancy comb—the laziest one from before—it's like a whole different bird after Miss Pendragon had a talk with it."

"How exactly did she talk with it?"

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

King's Gaze.

Even a chicken could not withstand it.

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

"Course, no problem!" Hagrid agreed readily. "But—putting roosters in the castle? What are they for?"

Zhang Wen considered his wording.

"A safety measure. Some magical creatures are extremely sensitive to a rooster's crowing. Keeping roosters in the castle can provide warning and protection."

"What 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 somewhat disappointed, but quickly perked up again. "Doesn't matter. Which places do you need 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.

"Right. Two on the second floor, one on the fourth, and one on the seventh. I'll keep the other two here as reserves. I'll feed them twice a day, morning and evening, line the cages with straw, and add a Silencing Charm boundary—only let the sound out when we need them to crow."

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

"Good idea," he said. "Otherwise, their crowing in the middle of the night would wake every student on the floor."

"Professor Flitwick taught me that." Hagrid grinned. "Last time, the Fire Crabs I kept screamed in the middle of the night, so Flitwick taught me how to cast a Directional Silencing Charm."

Zhang Wen gave Filius Flitwick another point in his mind. That little professor could be useful in all kinds 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."

"Got it." 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 more accurate than those of many intelligent people.

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

Hagrid fell silent for a while.

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

Zhang Wen smiled.

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

That 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 tightly and wouldn't let anyone touch it. —Hermione Granger"

Zhang Wen set 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 yet reached the critical point. Ginny could still attend classes normally, still talk to Hermione, still describe her unusual symptoms—this meant her will had not been completely suppressed.

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

Ginny was probably somewhere between the second and third stages.

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

"Miss Granger, thank you for the update. You have done very well. Continue caring for Ginny, but do not put pressure on her. If her condition worsens noticeably—for example, if she goes several days without speaking or eating, 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.

And she was indeed ready. In her last analysis report, she had dissected every participant's strengths and weaknesses with perfect 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 on myself."

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

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

That 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 daily routes in green.

The three colors intertwined 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 patrolled everything from the third floor to the seventh. 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 further controlled."

"Right."

Artoria removed the wooden stick from her waist and placed it on the desk.

"What did Dumbledore say about Ginny?"

"He accepted it. He'll monitor her in secret," Zhang Wen said. "There's something I didn't tell you—when I told Dumbledore there was a 'fragment of a soul' inside the Diary, his reaction was greater than I expected."

"How great?"

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

Artoria thought for a moment.

"He realized what it meant."

"He did more than realize 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 was proof."

"So telling him about the Diary was not only to protect Ginny."

"It was also to make Dumbledore begin researching Horcruxes ahead of time," Zhang Wen said. "In the original story, it took Dumbledore 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."

"Right."

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 else. But Zhang Wen knew that in ten minutes, a cup of black tea at just the right temperature, slightly stronger than what he made himself, would appear on the desk.

The understanding between the two of them needed no words.

Just like how she 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 crackled, the water hissed, and the fragrance of tea slowly spread through the room.

The sum of all those little things was peace of mind.