Return to School

At five o'clock on Sunday afternoon, the four of them returned to Hogwarts via Floo Powder.

Zhang Wen stumbled out of the fireplace at the Leaky Cauldron and brushed the ash from his clothes. Artoria stepped out steadily. Harry barely managed to stay upright. Malfoy fell straight onto the floor.

"Floo Powder..." Malfoy climbed to his feet, his face green. "Couldn't they invent a version that doesn't make you spin?"

"Control your center of gravity," Artoria said. "Basic skills."

Malfoy glanced at her and swallowed the rest of his complaint. After two days together, he had already learned not to talk nonsense in front of Artoria.

They used Floo Powder again to transfer from the Leaky Cauldron to Hogwarts. By the time the four emerged from the fireplace in Professor McGonagall's office, she was already waiting for them.

"How did it go?" she asked.

Zhang Wen briefly reported the results of their investigation—the magical sampling data, witness accounts of the black-cloaked figure, the black stone that could vanish, and the preliminary conclusion that "this creature may have been artificially modified."

McGonagall's expression grew increasingly grave.

"You mean someone deliberately created this thing in Glenmore Lake."

"The current evidence points in that direction," Zhang Wen said. "But we need more information before reaching a conclusion."

McGonagall fell silent for several seconds.

"Is Angus safe?"

"I set up a remote monitoring system and alarm charms by the lake. If that thing comes ashore, Angus will receive an alert immediately. I'll receive the data at the same time."

McGonagall nodded, her gaze falling on the two students.

"Potter, Malfoy, how did you perform?"

"Both did very well," Zhang Wen said.

Harry smiled awkwardly. Malfoy stood ramrod straight, trying to maintain his usual aloof expression, though the corner of his mouth held a faint, subtle curve.

McGonagall scrutinized Malfoy for several seconds.

"Mr. Malfoy, you visited Muggle villagers?"

"Three households," Malfoy replied, his voice taut but steady.

"How did it feel?"

Malfoy hesitated.

"Different from what I expected."

The corner of McGonagall's mouth twitched.

"All right, you two, return to your respective Houses. You have classes tomorrow."

Harry and Malfoy left. As they walked out of the office, Zhang Wen noticed that the distance between them had shrunk from three meters on the way there to roughly one and a half.

They still said nothing.

But the distance was shrinking.

Monday morning.

Zhang Wen returned to his usual teaching rhythm.

But the word "usual" always needed quotation marks at Hogwarts.

The moment he entered the classroom, he found a large line of words magically written across the blackboard: "PROFESSOR ZHANG, SNAKE-SLAYING HERO!!!" It was followed by seven exclamation marks and a crooked stick-figure drawing of a Basilisk.

The style was very Fred and George.

Zhang Wen used a Vanishing Charm to erase the words from the blackboard and began class.

The excitement over the Chamber of Secrets Incident had not yet faded. Students still discussed the Basilisk between classes, and occasionally, someone would stare at Zhang Wen in the corridors. Colin Creevey followed him around taking pictures for three days before Zhang Wen finally convinced him to stop by threatening to deduct points.

The greater impact came from outside the school.

The Daily Prophet ran a front-page report on Monday: "Hogwarts' Millennium-Old Chamber Mystery Solved—Eastern Professor and Mysterious Teaching Assistant Join Forces to Destroy Basilisk."

The article was wildly exaggerated. Zhang Wen was described as "a master of Defense Against the Dark Arts from the East," while Artoria was described as "a blonde female warrior of mysterious identity." There were at least three factual errors in the article, including claiming that the Basilisk was "fifty meters long."

Zhang Wen sighed after reading the newspaper.

"Fifty meters. They probably confused the Basilisk with a dragon."

"Reporters exaggerate as much as bards," Artoria said. "In Camelot, every time I repelled an intruder, the poets would make the battle ten times larger."

"Looks like some things never change, even across the ages."

The report brought two consequences.

First, Zhang Wen received seventeen letters from readers. Three asked for autographs, five asked about his marital status, two tried to sell him Defense Against the Dark Arts supplies, and the remaining seven came from wizards around the country claiming that suspected Dark Magical Creatures had appeared in their areas and requesting Zhang Wen's help investigating them.

He threw the autograph requests and marriage inquiries into the rubbish bin.

He gave the sales letters to Filius Flitwick—the small professor had a strong interest in every new product.

He carefully read through the requests for help, recording and filing several that might prove useful as references.

The second consequence was more direct—Lucius Malfoy's reaction.

On Tuesday afternoon, Zhang Wen received Lucius's third letter.

This letter was entirely different from the first two. Its tone had shifted from condescending to polite—even carrying a faint hint of ingratiation.

"Professor Zhang,

Congratulations on eliminating the safety threat at Hogwarts. The resolution of the Chamber of Secrets Incident has demonstrated your exceptional ability as a professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. My previous doubts regarding your teaching methods were inappropriate, and I offer my apologies.

Furthermore, my son Draco mentioned that he participated in the Scottish Highlands field investigation you led. I deeply approve of this. Such practical instruction beyond the classroom is highly beneficial to the development of young wizards.

I look forward to more opportunities for cooperation in the future.

Lucius Malfoy"

Zhang Wen read the letter twice.

Lucius was backing down.

The public exposure of the Chamber of Secrets Incident had put him in an extremely passive position. While no one had publicly investigated the Diary's origins yet, Dumbledore knew, Zhang Wen knew, and Snape knew—Lucius had slipped Voldemort's Horcrux to an eleven-year-old girl.

That time bomb could be detonated at any moment.

Lucius was using this letter to show goodwill—I won't oppose you anymore, so don't expose the matter of the Diary.

A politician's instinct.

"How do you plan to handle it?" Artoria asked after reading the letter.

"For now, I'll accept his goodwill. I'll keep the Diary matter in reserve as a trump card. As long as he doesn't cause trouble, I won't play it."

"And if he causes trouble?"

"Then he can't blame me for being impolite."

Artoria nodded slightly.

Normal campus life continued.

Wednesday's physical training proceeded as usual. Zhang Wen was surprised to discover that more people attended than the previous week—the Chamber of Secrets Incident had made students realize that genuine danger could appear at any time, and physical training had suddenly changed from "torture" to "necessary."

Even Parkinson came to run. Though she sat on the grass gasping after eight hundred meters, at least she had shown up.

Neville's improvement was the most noticeable in the class. His one-and-a-half-mile time had dropped from thirteen and a half minutes at the start of term to ten minutes and twenty seconds. He could dodge twenty-two out of thirty stones in evasion training. His basic wooden-sword blocks had also become increasingly smooth.

Artoria's evaluation of him had risen from "passable" to "good."

In Artoria's evaluation system, that was probably equivalent to jumping up two whole grades.

"Teaching Assistant Pendragon," Neville asked after training, "when will I reach 'excellent'?"

Artoria glanced at him.

"When you can last thirty seconds under my attacks."

Neville swallowed.

"Your current record is seven seconds," Artoria added.

Neville's expression showed that he had gained a clear understanding of the gap. But he did not back down.

"I'll keep practicing."

Artoria nodded.

On Wednesday afternoon, Zhang Wen analyzed the remote monitoring data from Glenmore Lake in his office.

The data was transmitted back to Hogwarts in real time through an improved Information Transfer Charm. It updated once every two hours, recording the intensity of the lake creature's magical fluctuations and changes in its location.

The data from the previous two days revealed a trend that troubled Zhang Wen.

The creature's range of activity was expanding.

On Sunday night—the day they left—the creature's activity had been largely limited to a twenty-meter radius around the center of the lake.

On Monday night, its range expanded to thirty meters.

On Tuesday night, forty meters.

Ten meters farther every day.

At that rate, in roughly two weeks its activity range would cover the entire lake surface. Another month after that, it would begin extending toward the shore.

"The expansion rate of the corrupted area is proportional to its activity range," Zhang Wen told Artoria. "The more it moves, the more magic it releases, and the more severe the contamination of the lakeshore becomes."

"It is accumulating strength," Artoria said. "Or adapting to its environment. A newly introduced creature needs an adaptation period—adjusting to water temperature, food sources, magical concentration. Once it has fully adapted, its activity level will increase sharply."

"How long do you think full adaptation will take?"

"Based on the current data—one and a half to two months."

"So around mid-December."

"Approximately. After that, it may come ashore frequently, and its attack range will become larger."

Zhang Wen noted down that time point in his notebook.

One and a half months. He had one and a half months to prepare.

There was too much to do—confirm the creature's species, study its weaknesses, prepare weapons and strategies, and identify the black-cloaked figure. All of that work had to proceed alongside his normal teaching duties.

"I need help," Zhang Wen said.

"You have me."

"You're already doing the workload of three people—training students, assisting with teaching, and patrolling at night. I don't want to add more to your burden."

Artoria looked at him.

"You are worried about me."

"I am allocating resources reasonably."

"You are worried about me," she repeated, her tone unchanged.

Zhang Wen gave up trying to argue.

"Yes. Your workload is too high. Before the Chamber of Secrets Incident, you could at least sleep five hours a day. How many hours have you slept this week?"

"Enough."

"A specific number."

Artoria was silent for two seconds.

"Three and a half hours."

"Three and a half hours." Zhang Wen raised his voice slightly. "You sleep only three and a half hours a day."

"A Servant's body—"

"You've already materialized. Your body needs rest just like an ordinary person's."

Artoria did not answer immediately.

She lowered her eyes to the remaining tea in her cup.

"In Camelot, I often slept only three or four hours as well," she said. "A king's duties did not permit lengthy rest."

"You don't need to be a king anymore." Zhang Wen walked over and sat across from her. "You're my partner now. Being partners means sharing burdens—including the right to rest."

Artoria looked up at him.

Zhang Wen met her gaze for three seconds.

"Starting tonight, sleep at least five hours every day. I'll share the night patrols—we'll alternate days. You patrol one day, I patrol the next."

"Your physical stamina cannot support night patrols and a full day of teaching afterward."

"Then I'll train more."

The corner of Artoria's mouth moved slightly.

"You are volunteering for extra training?"

"...To let you sleep an extra hour and a half. It's worth it."

For a moment after he said that, the office fell silent.

Zhang Wen realized that the meaning of those words might have carried more weight than he intended.

Artoria turned her gaze back to the tea cup.

"Five hours," she said. "But you do not need to handle the patrols. I can reduce the frequency—from every day to every other day. The Chamber has been resolved, and the threat level inside the castle has dropped."

"Deal."

This was probably the conversation between them most like an "argument," yet least like an "argument." They calmly competed with each other, their central disagreement being "who should get more rest."

The final compromise was this: Artoria would sleep five hours each day and patrol every other night. Zhang Wen would monitor the remote data from Glenmore Lake and compile a daily briefing.

Thursday, after-class tutoring time.

The Golden Trio and Neville were all present.

Today's training content was—the advanced use of the Shield Charm.

"An ordinary Shield Charm can only block attacks from the front." Zhang Wen demonstrated at the front of the classroom. "But if you can adjust the shape and angle of the Shield Charm, you can turn it into a Slanted Shield—when an enemy spell strikes it, it will not simply be blocked, but deflected in another direction."

He raised his wand.

"Protego."

A pale blue shield appeared before him. Then he gave his wand a light flick, tilting the shield's surface by roughly forty-five degrees.

"Hermione, cast a Disarming Charm at me."

Hermione raised her wand.

"Expelliarmus."

The red light struck the tilted shield—then bounced away. It deflected at a forty-five-degree angle to the right. The red light slammed into the wall.

"See that?" Zhang Wen lowered the Shield Charm. "A Slanted Shield does not consume your magic to 'block' an attack head-on. Instead, it uses angles to redirect the attack. It consumes less and is more efficient."

Hermione's eyes lit up.

"That's the exact same principle as the angle of incidence equaling the angle of reflection in physics!"

"Spot on. Ten points."

"Where can I find literature on Shield Charm Geometry--"

"Not in the library. This is a technique summed up from practical combat," Zhang Wen said. "Now the four of you, take turns practicing."

The four of them began to practice.

Harry mastered angle control first—his intuition allowed him to find the optimal deflection angle by feel.

Hermione took longer, but once she figured out the mathematical relationships of the angles, every deflection was precise to the degree.

Ron's progress was unexpectedly good. Though his Shield Charm was somewhat unstable, his control over the deflection direction showed real talent—probably related to his experience as a Quidditch keeper.

Neville's Shield Charm remained weak. Yet Zhang Wen noticed a change—Neville's initial reaction after his shield broke had shifted. Previously, he would freeze in place. Now, he side-stepped.

The results of sword training were bleeding into magical combat.

"Longbottom, that dodge after your Shield Charm broke was very well executed," Zhang Wen said.

Neville blushed.

"Teaching Assistant Pendragon said—if the shield breaks, dodge; if you can't dodge, run; if you can't run, think of another way."

"A very practical tactical priority." Zhang Wen nodded.

Ron muttered nearby, "Exact same thing Professor Zhang said in the first class. Staying alive is what matters most."

Zhang Wen smiled slightly. The "survival priority" theory he had lectured on during his very first class two months ago had now become these students' instinctive reaction.

The fruits of education always satisfied him far more than the results of combat.

After the tutoring session ended, Harry stayed behind.

"Professor Zhang, any progress on the Glenmore Lake situation?"

"Some." Zhang Wen briefly filled him in on the trends of the monitoring data. "The creature's active range is expanding. We have about a month and a half of preparation time."

"What can I do?"

"Attend your classes, train well," Zhang Wen said. "You'll be coming along the next time we go to Glenmore Lake. You'll need stronger capabilities by then."

Harry nodded.

"And one more thing." He hesitated. "Malfoy's been... a bit different since he came back."

"Different how?"

"When I ran into him in the corridor today, he didn't say provoking things like he used to. He just—nodded. And walked past."

"Nodded?"

"Yeah. Like—acknowledging I exist? Without any mockery."

Zhang Wen smiled inwardly.

Draco Malfoy had nodded at Harry Potter. In the history of Hogwarts, that was likely a milestone event.

"The experience in the Scottish Highlands changed some of his perceptions," Zhang Wen said. "Give him time."

"I don't expect to be friends with him," Harry said. "But if he could just say 'Mudblood' a little less—"

"He hasn't said that word in a long time."

Harry thought about it and realized it was true.

"What did you do to him?" Harry asked curiously.

"Nothing at all," Zhang Wen said. "I only let him see some things he hadn't seen before. The one who changed him isn't me—it's himself."

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

When he walked out of the office, he ran into Artoria, who was just about to enter.

"Teaching Assistant Pendragon, good evening."

"Potter. Your slanted shield was done well today."

"Thanks!" Harry smiled and scurried off.

Artoria walked in, carrying two cups of tea.

She handed one cup to Zhang Wen and drank the other herself.

Zhang Wen took the teacup. Black tea, at just the right temperature, with a slightly higher concentration than the ones he brewed himself.

They had developed a tacit understanding—every day at this time, Artoria would bring two cups of tea to the office. No need to discuss it, no need for reminders.

"I've organized today's monitoring data." Zhang Wen took out his notebook. "The active range expanded by another ten meters. At the same time, I noticed a new anomaly—between three and four in the afternoon, there was a spike in magic fluctuations."

"A spike?"

"It lasted about fifteen minutes. The intensity was three times the usual. Then it returned to normal."

Artoria frowned.

"High-intensity fluctuations appearing during the day—it shouldn't be active during the day."

"So this spike probably wasn't spontaneous," Zhang Wen said. "It might have been caused by external stimuli."

"What kind of external stimuli?"

Zhang Wen looked at the time marker on the data—three to four in the afternoon.

"If someone is remotely controlling this creature—sending it instructions at regular intervals—it would produce this kind of pulsed magic fluctuation. Just like... regular feeding."

"The black-cloaked person."

"Right. If the stone could automatically return to the caster's hand, it means there is a continuous magic connection between the caster and the creature. That connection is the channel through which he sends instructions."

Artoria set down her teacup.

"Can that connection be tracked?"

"Theoretically, yes. But it requires real-time tracking on-site while the creature is receiving instructions—that is, when the spike appears. The precision of remote monitoring isn't enough."

"So we have to go back to Glenmore Lake."

"At least once more. Next weekend. This time with tracking equipment."

"Take the students?"

Zhang Wen thought about it.

"Take Harry. Tracking a magic connection requires simultaneous measurements from multiple directions—I need at least three measurement points. Me, you, and Harry."

"Malfoy?"

"Not taking him this time. Tracking a magic connection carries a certain risk—if the caster detects we're tracking, they might counterattack through the connection. Malfoy's defensive capabilities aren't yet sufficient to handle that situation."

Artoria nodded.

"Angus can serve as the fourth measurement point. Though she rarely uses magic, her basic spell-casting abilities should still be there."

"Good idea. Four points can drastically improve positioning precision."

Zhang Wen sketched a rough diagram of Glenmore Lake in his notebook, marking the ideal locations for the four measurement points—the east, south, west, and north directions of the lake.

"Next Saturday," he said. "Arrive at Glenmore Lake before three in the afternoon, and track during the time slot when the spike appears."

"Understood."

Artoria finished her tea.

She stood up to leave—tonight was her night for patrol. Although it had been changed to once every two days, she still remained extra thorough on the nights she patrolled.

"Artoria."

She paused at the door.

"Come back early tonight. Before twelve."

K

"Twelve."

She glanced at him.

"You don't need to wait up for me."

"I'm not waiting up for you. I'm merely suggesting you adhere to our agreement—at least five hours of sleep daily. If you return at twelve and wake up at five in the morning to train Neville, that's precisely five hours."

Artoria stared at him for two seconds.

"You calculated it."

"Of course I calculated it."

There was a momentary silence.

"Twelve," she said.

Then she left.

Zhang Wen leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of the tea that had already gone cold.

He had indeed calculated it. He also knew that Artoria woke up every morning at five, began training Neville at five-thirty, finished at ten past six, went to the kitchen to brew tea at twenty past six, and appeared punctually in the Great Hall for breakfast at forty past six.

He knew her routine down to every ten minutes.

When this kind of understanding had grown so detailed, even he couldn't quite explain.

Outside the window, the Black Lake shimmered with silver under the moonlight.

It was November.

The creature in Glenmore Lake was expanding. The black-cloaked person was manipulating things from the shadows. Lucius was contracting. Malfoy was changing. Neville was growing. Harry was getting stronger.

All the threads were moving forward.

And he sat in this office, holding a cup of tea brewed by the Knight King, calculating her hours of sleep.

Zhang Wen shook his head.

He was probably the most fretful Defense Against the Dark Arts professor since the founding of Hogwarts.

Fretful over students, fretful over the basilisk, fretful over the thing at the bottom of the lake, fretful over Lucius.

And fretful over a Knight King who refused to sleep on time.

The last item was likely the most exhausting.

Because all the other problems had clear, definitive solutions.

Yet as for the matter of "making Artoria Pendragon sleep on time," he still hadn't found a stable and effective method.

Perhaps he ought to go ask Dumbledore.

That old man always had a way.