Inverness

At six o'clock on Saturday morning, the four of them gathered at the gates of Hogwarts.

Zhang Wen, Artoria, Harry, and Malfoy.

Harry wore an obviously oversized old jacket—a Dursley family hand-me-down. His travel bag was small, stuffed with his wand, a mirror, a spare sweater, and three reference books Hermione had forcibly shoved in.

Malfoy wore a perfectly tailored dark gray wool coat, with a dark green silk scarf and polished leather boots. His suitcase was three times the size of Harry's bag, emblazoned with the Malfoy Family's silver crest.

The two stood on opposite sides of the gate, about three meters apart, neither looking at the other.

Zhang Wen sighed.

The difficulty of this trip was probably thirty percent Dark Magical Creature and seventy percent managing the relationship between those two.

"Before we leave, a few things." Zhang Wen looked at the two students. "First, this is a practical teaching expedition. Your task is to observe and learn. Miss Pendragon and I will handle all combat. You are not to act on your own."

Both of them nodded.

"Second, we're going to a village where Muggles and wizards live together. Mr. Malfoy—"

Malfoy's shoulders tensed.

"You may see things that make you uncomfortable. Such as Muggle lifestyles, Muggle houses, Muggle farm tools. I hope you'll watch your mouth."

Malfoy's expression was rather subtle. He probably wanted to argue, but after the Chamber of Secrets Incident, Zhang Wen's authority had reached new heights—the entire school knew this professor had killed a thousand-year-old Basilisk. Talking back to him required considerable courage.

"I'll be careful," Malfoy said, in a far more restrained tone than Zhang Wen had expected.

"Third—" Zhang Wen looked at Artoria.

Artoria took four sandwiches from her shoulder bag and handed one to each of them.

"Eat on the way," she said. "The destination is approximately two hours away."

Harry accepted the sandwich and thanked her. Malfoy hesitated for a moment, then accepted one as well.

Zhang Wen noticed that the bread had been toasted perfectly, filled with ham, lettuce, and mustard. The craftsmanship was better than the cooks at the Leaky Cauldron.

"When did you make these?" he asked Artoria quietly.

"At five this morning."

"You got up at five to make sandwiches?"

"Logistical preparations before an expedition are basic common sense."

Zhang Wen imagined the King of Knights in the Hogwarts Kitchens, making sandwiches while surrounded by watching House-elves.

"Did the elves help?"

"They attempted to take over. I refused."

"Why?"

"I do it better."

Artoria's confidence in food had never been inferior to her confidence in battle.

The four traveled to Inverness by Floo Powder.

Their transfer point was Inverness's only magical contact station—an old bookstore called Highland Quill. The shop owner was a half-deaf old wizard. When he saw them emerge from the fireplace, he merely raised an eyelid before continuing to read his newspaper.

The air in Inverness was completely different from Hogwarts. Colder, wetter, carrying the blended scent of peat and sea wind. Pedestrians were sparse on the streets, most wearing thick waterproof coats, their faces reddened by the Highland wind.

Malfoy nearly tripped as he emerged from the fireplace. He glanced at the bookstore's dim interior and moldy shelves, his mouth opening slightly.

"This place—"

"It has character," Zhang Wen quickly cut in.

Malfoy swallowed the words that had reached his lips.

Harry's reaction was far more subdued. The Dursley house had been much shabbier than this. He looked around and noticed a row of books on magical creatures of the Scottish Highlands on the top shelf.

"Professor Zhang, those books—"

"Look at them when we get back," Zhang Wen said. "Business first."

The four left the bookstore.

It was still about twenty miles from Inverness to the village where Angus McGonagall lived. Zhang Wen had originally planned to use magical transportation, but Professor McGonagall had suggested they take the Muggle route—"Angus married into a Muggle family. Most people in the village don't know magic exists. Keep a low profile."

So they took a Muggle bus.

Malfoy had probably never ridden a bus in his life.

Standing before the bus stop sign, he looked at the rusted metal post and the gum stains on the ground. His expression went through the full progression from confusion, to disgust, to reluctant acceptance.

"Is this thing safe?" he asked, staring at the red double-decker bus slowly approaching in the distance.

"Billions of Muggles ride them every day," Harry said. "They haven't gone extinct yet, so they must be fairly safe."

Malfoy shot him a glare.

The bus arrived. Its doors opened with a hiss.

Zhang Wen boarded first and paid for all four of them. Artoria followed behind, expressionlessly sweeping her gaze through the interior of the bus—probably assessing its defensive capabilities and escape routes.

Harry easily found a window seat and sat down.

Malfoy stood in the aisle, looking at the worn plastic seats, hesitating for three seconds.

"Sit," Artoria said.

Malfoy sat.

The seat gave an unpleasant creak. Malfoy's face twitched, but he endured it.

The bus rattled into motion.

The journey took around forty minutes.

Zhang Wen sat beside Harry, while Artoria sat beside Malfoy. Zhang Wen had arranged the seating deliberately—separating the two students most likely to clash, with an adult assigned to each.

Outside the window, the scenery gradually changed from town to wilderness. Low shrubs, rolling hills, and the occasional stone pasture fence. The sky was lead-gray and hung low overhead.

Harry leaned against the window and watched the scenery. He stayed quiet for a long time before speaking.

"Professor Zhang, Professor McGonagall's niece said that creature made the grass wither. What kind of creature could do that?"

"Corrosive magic," Zhang Wen said. "Ordinary magical creatures—such as water monsters, Kappas, and Grindylows—have neutral magic that doesn't pollute the environment. But certain creatures affected by dark magic carry corrosive magic. Organic matter they come into contact with dies at an accelerated rate."

"Like Voldemort?"

Zhang Wen glanced at Harry. This child's ability to make connections was sometimes too sharp.

"The principle is similar, but the degree is different. Voldemort's dark magic is actively imposed. This creature's corrosiveness is more like a kind of... contamination. It itself carries some sort of twisted magic."

"Was it born that way, or did someone turn it into this?"

A good question.

"That's exactly what we need to investigate," Zhang Wen said.

On the other side of the bus, the conversation between Artoria and Malfoy was completely different.

More accurately, there was no conversation.

Malfoy sat upright, his hands on his knees, staring ahead. Artoria sat beside him, equally upright and likewise staring ahead.

Their postures were strikingly similar—both were the aristocratic bearing drilled into them since childhood.

The silence lasted around fifteen minutes.

Then Malfoy spoke first.

"Miss Pendragon."

"Yes."

"When you killed the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets—how did you do it with your eyes closed?"

Artoria turned to look at him.

"Training."

"What kind of training?"

"Repeating the same movement thousands of times every day, until the body is faster than the mind."

Malfoy fell silent for a while.

"My father says talent is more important than training. Pure-blood wizards are naturally stronger than everyone else."

Artoria did not respond immediately.

Zhang Wen pricked up his ears. If mishandled, this topic could turn into an argument over blood purity.

"Your father is partly right," Artoria said.

Zhang Wen nearly sprang out of his seat.

"Talent does exist. Some people are born stronger than others." Artoria's voice was calm. "But talent only determines how high your starting point is. If you stand there without moving, anyone willing to run will surpass you."

Malfoy's mouth fell open slightly.

"I have seen many talented knights," Artoria continued. "Some became arrogant because of their talent, refused to train, and believed themselves invincible. They were the first to die on the battlefield."

Malfoy swallowed.

"The ones who survive to the end are often those with ordinary talent who never stop training."

She paused.

"Your talent is not bad, Mr. Malfoy. You ranked third in the class for physical training. Your Disarming Charm accuracy ranks in the top five among second-years. What you lack is not ability."

"Then what do I lack?"

"Your own judgment."

Malfoy froze.

"Every opinion you have comes from your father. Every action you take imitates your family. You have never asked yourself—what do I want? What do I believe?"

Only the rumble of the engine filled the bus.

Malfoy lowered his head.

He did not argue.

From the front row, Zhang Wen silently gave Artoria a mental thumbs-up. The King of Knights' persuasion skills were textbook-perfect—first acknowledge that the other person had a point, then gradually guide them toward the real issue.

She had probably used the same approach when managing the Round Table Knights in Camelot.

The bus stopped at a fork in the road.

"Glenmore Village," the driver called.

The four got off.

Glenmore Village was smaller than Zhang Wen had imagined. A single main road ran through its center, lined with a dozen or so low stone houses. Each home had a small pasture in front, enclosed with several sheep. At the end of the village stood a small church, and beyond it lay endless moorland and a faintly visible lake in the distance.

The air was extremely cold. Wind swept down from the Highlands, carrying the damp scent of peat.

Malfoy pulled his coat collar tighter. His silk scarf was utterly useless against the cold wind of the Scottish Highlands.

Harry, on the other hand, seemed energized. He took a deep breath, apparently enjoying this open feeling so different from Hogwarts.

"It's so quiet here," he said.

"Remote areas are like that," Zhang Wen said. "Come on. Angus's house is at the eastern end of the village."

They walked down the main road for about five minutes. A black-faced sheep by the roadside raised its head to look at them, then went back to grazing.

Malfoy stared at the sheep for two seconds.

"Why is its face black?"

"Scottish Blackface Sheep. A local breed," Harry said.

Malfoy looked at him with an expression that clearly said, How do you know everything?

"I watched agricultural programs at the Dursleys'," Harry said with a shrug.

Malfoy looked away from the sheep and did not ask anything else. Zhang Wen guessed he was processing the fact that a pure-blood wizard's knowledge base was somehow inferior to that of a half-blood raised in a Muggle household.

Angus McGonagall's home was a two-story stone cottage, with a small garden and a chicken coop in front. White smoke rose from the chimney.

When Zhang Wen knocked, he noticed a tiny rune carved into the doorframe—the trace of a protective charm. Although Angus lived a Muggle life, she had not completely abandoned magical defenses.

The door opened.

A woman in her early thirties stood in the doorway. Her reddish-brown hair was tied into a ponytail, faint freckles dotted her face, and she wore a work jacket speckled with mud. Her features resembled Professor McGonagall's in several ways—the same high cheekbones and sharp eyes.

"Are you the people Aunt Minerva sent?"

"Yes. I'm Zhang Wen, Hogwarts's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Zhang Wen introduced himself. "This is my assistant, Miss Pendragon, and these are two students—Harry Potter and Malfoy."

Angus's gaze swept across the four of them. When she noticed the lightning-shaped scar on Harry's forehead, her eyes widened slightly for an instant, but she quickly looked away.

"Come in. It's cold outside."

The house was warm and simple. A large fireplace burned brightly in the sitting room. Several Muggle-style family photographs hung on the walls—Angus and a burly red-haired man standing in a pasture, with rolling Highland hills behind them.

"My husband Robert went into town to buy feed today," Angus said as she poured everyone a cup of hot tea. "He's a Muggle. He doesn't know about magic, so—"

"We understand," Zhang Wen said, accepting the cup. "We'll be careful around him."

Angus let out a breath and sat down on the sofa.

"The situation is worse than when I wrote to you," she said, her voice tightening. "Besides the three sheep and sheepdog that disappeared earlier, another two sheep have gone missing this week. Yesterday morning, I went to check by the lake—"

She paused.

"The ground by the lake had turned black. The affected area was around ten square meters. All the grass had died, and even the soil had turned gray. It was like something had drained it dry."

Artoria set down her teacup.

"Is the area expanding?"

"Last week, it was only one or two square meters. This week, it's expanded nearly tenfold," Angus said. "And—last night, I heard something. It came from the lake. Deep and low, like something rolling around in the water."

"Did you see it?" Zhang Wen asked.

"I saw a little." Angus unconsciously tightened her grip on the teacup. "There was a black outline on the surface of the lake under the moonlight. It was huge. At least... four or five meters long. It surfaced for a few seconds, then sank again."

"What shape was it?"

"I couldn't tell. It wasn't like a snake, nor like a fish. It was more like... a mass with no fixed shape."

Zhang Wen and Artoria exchanged a glance.

No fixed shape. Corrosive magic. An area that kept expanding.

This was far more complicated than an ordinary Dark Magical Creature.

"I need to inspect the lakeshore," Zhang Wen said, rising to his feet.

"Now?" Angus sounded surprised. "It'll be dark soon—"

"Before dark is perfect," Zhang Wen said. "I want to examine the scene before that thing becomes active."

He looked at the two students.

"Potter, Malfoy, come with me. This is your first field lesson—an on-site investigation. Bring your wands and mirrors."

Harry immediately got to his feet.

Malfoy was half a beat slower, but he stood as well. His expression was complicated—nervous, excited, and carrying a trace of anticipation that he himself might not have noticed.

Artoria picked up her shoulder bag.

"Miss Angus," she said, "do you have a rooster in your chicken coop?"

Angus looked baffled. "One. Why?"

"We may need to borrow it. Just in case."

Zhang Wen sighed inwardly.

The rooster tactic.

They had brought it from Hogwarts all the way to the Scottish Highlands.

It seemed to have become part of their standard combat setup.

The four of them left Angus's house and followed a muddy path toward the lake.

Evening came early in the Highlands. By four thirty, the sky had begun to darken. A little orange still lingered on the western horizon, but the east had already turned deep blue.

The wind grew stronger, and the temperature dropped rapidly.

Malfoy's teeth chattered. His expensive wool coat was warm enough in the city, but out in the open Scottish Highlands, it was as thin as paper.

Without a word, Zhang Wen cast a Warming Charm on him.

Malfoy froze for a moment and looked at Zhang Wen.

Zhang Wen offered no explanation and kept walking.

Harry lowered his head, struggling not to laugh.

"What are you laughing at?" Malfoy asked quietly.

"Nothing. The expression on your face is interesting."

"What expression?"

"The expression of someone who doesn't know how to react after being helped."

Malfoy's ears turned red, though it was hard to tell in the freezing wind.

Ten minutes later, they reached the lakeshore.

Glenmore Lake was not large, roughly two Quidditch pitches wide. Its dark gray surface reflected the leaden sky. Across the lake rose a steep slope covered in low shrubs.

The "dead zone" Angus had mentioned lay right beneath their feet.

Zhang Wen crouched down to examine it.

It was exactly as Angus had described—a broad stretch of soil had turned gray. The ground, which should have been covered in Highland grass, was bare. The remaining roots were black and brittle, crumbling at the slightest touch.

He touched the gray soil with his wand.

A faint but unmistakable magical response traveled back through the wand tip.

Cold. Corrosive. Carrying a certain... vitality.

"This isn't residue." Zhang Wen's expression darkened. "The corrosion is ongoing. There are still active traces of dark magic in the soil."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked.

"It means this thing left behind more than traces—it infused part of its magic into the ground. That magic is still at work."

Artoria crouched beside him and rubbed a little of the gray soil between her fingers.

She smelled it.

"Sulfides," she said. "And another scent I can't quite identify. Something like..."

She frowned.

"Like what?"

"Animal corpses rotting in a peat bog. But mixed with a metallic smell."

Zhang Wen stood and walked a few steps toward the water.

The lake was perfectly still. Too still.

Lakes in the Scottish Highlands usually had waves—even in a light breeze, there would be tiny ripples on the surface. But Glenmore Lake was smooth as a mirror.

Something was wrong.

"Potter, Malfoy, move back five paces." Zhang Wen's tone suddenly turned grave.

The two students immediately retreated.

Zhang Wen raised his wand and cast a Detection Charm at the lake.

Pale blue light shot from the wand tip. Upon touching the water, it spread outward in every direction. The wave of light traveled toward the lakebed, growing dimmer and dimmer beneath the water.

Then it struck something.

It rebounded.

Carrying a powerful surge of black magic.

The impact jolted Zhang Wen's arm. He staggered back two steps before steadying himself.

"There's something at the bottom of the lake," he said. "Something large. And it detected my Detection Charm."

"It's conscious?" Artoria's hand had already moved to her waist.

"Yes." Zhang Wen stared at the lake. "The rebound had signs of active defense. Ordinary animals can't do that. This thing has magic, intelligence, and—"

The lake surface moved.

Tiny ripples spread from the center of the lake toward the shore.

They were not caused by the wind. Something was moving underwater.

Something had shifted at the bottom of the lake.

"Back up." Zhang Wen spoke quickly. "Everyone, retreat beyond the dead zone."

The four of them rapidly withdrew to the grass twenty meters away.

The lake returned to stillness.

It was too quiet.

"It knows we're here," Artoria said.

"It does." Zhang Wen lowered his wand. "But it didn't come up. That means it isn't ready yet—or it has chosen to wait."

"Wait for what?" Malfoy's voice trembled slightly, though he was trying hard to control it.

"For night to fall completely." Zhang Wen glanced at the darkening sky. "Let's go. It's not suitable to keep investigating today. We'll return to Angus's house and come back in daylight tomorrow."

The four of them quickly headed back along the path they had come from.

Malfoy walked at the rear. He kept looking back toward the lake.

"Malfoy." Harry slowed down to wait for him.

"What?"

"Are you all right?"

Malfoy looked at Harry, his lips moving slightly. He probably wanted to say something like "Of course I'm fine" or "Mind your own business."

But in the end, he merely nodded.

"Walk faster," he said.

The two boys quickened their pace, one behind the other.

Zhang Wen walked at the front, with Artoria beside him.

"What do you think?" he asked in a low voice.

"More troublesome than the Basilisk," Artoria said.

Zhang Wen rarely heard her use the word "troublesome."

"The Basilisk was dangerous, but its weaknesses were clear—the crow of a rooster, indirect eye contact. This thing is hidden underwater, its form is unknown, it has active defensive awareness, and it is continuously corrupting the surrounding environment."

"Have you encountered anything similar in the Type-Moon Universe?"

Artoria thought for a moment.

"There are some similarities," she said. "In British legends, there is a type of aquatic monster called an Afanc. They dwell in freshwater lakes, feed on living creatures, and their bodies carry intense contamination. Wherever they go, the surrounding ecosystem gradually dies."

"Can it be killed?"

"Yes. But we need to lure it onto land first. Fighting in the water would put us at a disadvantage."

"Same idea as the Basilisk."

"Enemies in the water must always be pulled onto land before fighting. That is basic tactics."

Zhang Wen nodded.

But the problem was—how could they lure it ashore?

The Basilisk moved through pipes, so it could be intercepted at a specific exit. But this thing was in a lake, and the surface was its territory. To make it come ashore willingly—

"We need something that will attract it," Zhang Wen said.

"Bait."

"Not a living creature. You rejected that before."

"If it becomes necessary—"

"You said we wouldn't use living creatures. I'll abide by that."

Artoria looked at him.

"I'll find a way to make a fake one with magic," Zhang Wen said. "Tomorrow, we'll study this thing's hunting patterns and figure out the conditions needed to lure it in."

Artoria was silent for two seconds.

"You remembered what I said."

"I remember every word you say."

Only after saying it did Zhang Wen realize that it might have gone a little beyond the bounds of "normal partner conversation."

Artoria's step paused for half a second.

Then she kept walking.

"We should have dinner first when we get back," she said.

"Angus said she prepared lamb stew."

"Lamb from the Scottish Highlands is of very good quality."

Just like that, the topic shifted seamlessly from "I remember every word you say" to "the quality of lamb."

Zhang Wen felt that Artoria handled awkward topics much like she handled Basilisks—quickly, cleanly, and without dragging things out.

Harry and Malfoy's footsteps came from behind them. The two boys kept about a meter apart. Neither spoke, but neither argued.

For them, that was already progress.

The lights of the stone cottage appeared ahead. Warm orange light shone through the windows, especially striking in the dusk.

Angus stood waiting at the door.

"Did you see anything?" she asked anxiously.

"We saw some things," Zhang Wen said. "Tomorrow, we'll conduct a more detailed investigation. Please don't worry tonight—I set several Alarm Charms by the lake. If that thing comes ashore, I'll know immediately."

Angus's expression eased somewhat.

"Come in. Dinner's ready."

The scent of lamb stew drifted out from the house.

Artoria quickened her pace.

Her priorities were always clear.