Dumbledore's Pawn

Chapter Thirty-Five: Dumbledore's Pawn

Sunday, 10:00 a.m.

Zhang Wen and Artoria stood in the Headmaster's Office.

The map Zhang Wen had brought lay spread out before Dumbledore. Four directional lines clearly converged on an area in Wiltshire.

"Lestrange Old Manor." Dumbledore tapped the marking with his finger. His voice was calm, but he spoke more slowly than usual—he was thinking carefully.

"Do you know anything about that house?" Zhang Wen asked.

"Somewhat. After Rodolphus Lestrange was imprisoned, the old manor was sealed away. The Ministry of Magic placed several Alarm Charms around its perimeter, but no one was stationed there."

"What is the Alarm Charm's coverage range?"

"Only the main gate and primary entrances." Dumbledore removed his glasses and wiped them. "If someone enters through an underground passage or the side gate in the back garden, the alarm will not be triggered."

"A loophole," Artoria said.

"The Ministry of Magic's standard level of security." Dumbledore smiled faintly, though there was bitterness in that smile.

Zhang Wen handed Dumbledore the detailed analysis report of the tracking data.

"Every afternoon from three o'clock to three eighteen, a focused stream of magic travels from the direction of Wiltshire toward Glenmore Lake. The pattern is precise down to the minute. The caster's habits are extremely consistent."

"That means he has a stable base and a stable routine." Dumbledore set down the report. "You suspect Old Nott?"

"He has motive, ability, and opportunity. A Death Eater background, expertise in making cursed objects, and he came to Hogwarts on October second—the library book was torn up the following day."

"But the tracking direction points to Wiltshire, while the Nott Family is in Norfolk."

"A cunning rabbit has three burrows. He borrowed the abandoned Lestrange Old Manor as a base for control."

Dumbledore was silent for more than ten seconds.

Then he rose and walked over to Fox's perch. The Phoenix gave a low cry and rubbed its head against Dumbledore's fingers.

"I will send someone to scout Lestrange Old Manor," Dumbledore said. "But it will take time. I cannot let the Ministry of Magic get involved—they will ruin things. I have my own channels."

The Order of the Phoenix.

Zhang Wen understood. Dumbledore's "own channels" meant the Order of the Phoenix—the secret organization he had formed to resist Voldemort. Although Voldemort currently had no physical body and the Order's operations were largely dormant, its core members could still carry out missions.

"How long will it take?"

"One week," Dumbledore said. "I will send Alastor."

Alastor Moody. Mad-Eye Moody. Former Auror. The most paranoid and reliable reconnaissance expert in the entire wizarding world.

Zhang Wen was very satisfied with the arrangement. If anyone could uncover the situation at Lestrange Old Manor without alerting anyone, it was Moody.

"Before the scouting results come back," Dumbledore said as he turned around, "what about Glenmore Lake?"

"Continue monitoring it. The Dubh-Loch Beast's range of activity is still expanding, but it will need about another month to fully adapt to its environment. We have time."

"One month." Dumbledore repeated it. "When do you plan to act?"

"Once the scouting confirms the caster's identity and location, we move on two fronts—one team goes to Wiltshire to capture him, while the other goes to Glenmore Lake to eliminate the Dubh-Loch Beast. We act simultaneously, so the caster has no time to send commands to it through the magical connection."

Dumbledore's blue eyes flashed.

"You want to sever the connection between the controller and the creature, then destroy the Dubh-Loch Beast during the confusion after it loses its instructions."

"Yes. According to the records, the Dubh-Loch Beast's life force comes from a cursed stone at the bottom of the lake. If we destroy the stone while it has lost its external commands—it will rapidly deteriorate."

"You will need to dive to the bottom of the lake."

"Artoria will keep the Dubh-Loch Beast occupied on shore while I dive down, find the stone, and destroy it."

Dumbledore looked at Artoria.

"Miss Pendragon, you will hold off the Dubh-Loch Beast alone?"

"That will be enough," Artoria said.

Two words. Exactly the same tone she had used when Harry asked her whether they could win.

Dumbledore looked at her for several seconds, then nodded slightly.

"On the day of the operation, I will arrange backup support. Just in case."

"Who?" Zhang Wen asked.

"Myself." Dumbledore smiled. "An old man occasionally wants to stretch his limbs too."

Zhang Wen glanced at Artoria. Artoria glanced back at him.

Albus Dumbledore himself would serve as backup.

This was probably the most extravagant lineup Hogwarts had assembled since its founding to eliminate a single Dark Magical Creature.

After leaving the Headmaster's Office, Zhang Wen and Artoria walked back along the corridor.

"Dumbledore is participating personally," Zhang Wen said. "His motives may be more complicated than 'stretching his limbs.'"

"He wants to personally confirm the identity of the person behind this." Artoria said. "If Old Nott really is creating Dark Magical Creatures, it may be connected to Voldemort's remaining forces. Dumbledore needs firsthand information."

"Do you think Old Nott is preparing for Voldemort?"

"Voldemort has not returned yet. But the Death Eaters may be laying the groundwork for his return—testing Dark Magic techniques, stockpiling strength, establishing hidden bases. The Dubh-Loch Beast itself may only be an experimental subject."

Zhang Wen thought about it. Her analysis made sense. If all Old Nott was conducting was an isolated Dark Magic experiment, there was no need to conceal it so thoroughly. But if he was preparing for a larger plan—

"The bigger picture," Zhang Wen said.

"All the pieces are on the board," Artoria said. "Dumbledore is watching the entire game. We only need to make our own move properly."

Monday.

A normal school day.

Zhang Wen taught two second-year classes and one fourth-year class.

In the second-year class, he taught a new spell—a variation of the Iron Armor Charm that allowed a Shield Charm's surface to gain a hardened iron layer.

"Why iron?" Hermione raised her hand.

"Many Dark Magical Creatures have a natural aversion to iron. Adding iron reinforcement to your Shield Charm gives it additional defensive effects against Dark Magic attacks."

The spell was directly related to his preparations for the Glenmore Lake operation—but the students did not need to know that.

While Neville was practicing the Iron Armor Charm, something happened that surprised Zhang Wen.

He succeeded.

He succeeded on his first attempt.

A silver-gray metallic sheen emerged over the pale blue Shield Charm. Though it dissipated after only three seconds, he had truly succeeded.

The classroom went quiet for a moment.

Then someone on the Gryffindor side began clapping.

"Mr. Longbottom." Zhang Wen walked over to Neville. "This is the most complex defensive spell you have cast so far."

Neville's face turned red.

"I—I don't know why either—I just felt that my wrist angle was right—"

"Muscle memory," Artoria said from the corner.

Everyone turned toward her.

"You have undergone two months of swordsmanship training. Fifty basic swings every day, twenty blocks every day. Your wrist strength and coordination have already improved dramatically. You felt that 'the angle was right'—that angle was the muscle memory formed through daily repetition expressing itself through your wand."

Neville's eyes widened.

"Swordsmanship training helped my magic?"

"The body's abilities are transferable," Artoria said. "The fine control you built through swordsmanship naturally carries over to wand control. That is why I had you practice swordsmanship from the beginning."

Neville lowered his head and looked at his hands.

Thin calluses from sword practice covered his palms. His knuckles were thicker than they had been two months ago. The range and flexibility of his wrist movements were completely different from when school began.

"Keep practicing." Zhang Wen patted his shoulder. "You are getting closer and closer to 'excellent.'"

Neville nodded vigorously.

During the break between classes, Zhang Wen ran into Theodore Nott in the corridor.

Nott stood in front of the Safety Mirror on the third floor. He was not looking at his reflection—he was examining a crack in the wall beside the mirror.

"Mr. Nott."

Nott turned around. His expression was as flat as ever—the trained sort of flatness that allowed no emotion to escape.

"Professor Zhang."

Zhang Wen noticed that there was no bandage around his right wrist today. Had the injury healed? Or had it been replaced with an injury that left no visible trace?

"How have you been lately?" Zhang Wen asked.

"I'm fine."

A standard defensive answer. Its meaning was completely different from when Artoria said she was "fine." Artoria's "fine" meant "I can endure it." Nott's "fine" meant "don't ask."

Zhang Wen did not press him. But he noted one detail—there was a faint dark mark showing above Nott's collar today. It was not a bandage. It looked like the edge of a bruise.

A bruise on his neck.

Zhang Wen clenched his fist inside his pocket.

"Mr. Nott, if you encounter any difficulties—academic or otherwise—my office is always open to you."

Nott looked at him.

Something flickered in those dark eyes for an instant. It was very fast, very faint. Like someone had dropped a stone into deep water, and the ripples vanished before they reached the surface.

"Thank you, Professor Zhang," Nott said. "I have no difficulties."

He turned and left.

Zhang Wen watched his retreating figure.

Thin shoulders, a straight back. His walking posture somewhat resembled Malfoy's—they both had the aristocratic gait drilled into them by pure-blood families. The difference was that Malfoy's gait carried a sense of display, while Nott's carried concealment.

He was making himself smaller. Making sure he would not be noticed.

That habit was not innate. His environment had forced it upon him.

In his heart, Zhang Wen added another reason to the matter of "dealing with Old Nott."

Wednesday.

Hermione brought new findings from the records.

"I found the records for the 1856 auction of the Dagworth family collection." She placed a copied list on Zhang Wen's desk. "The auction house was Vablatsky and Potter Auction House—it has already gone out of business—but its records were preserved in the Ministry of Magic's inheritance transaction archives."

"Did you find the anonymous buyer's identity?"

"The auction record says 'anonymous commissioned purchase.' But I cross-referenced it against other auction records from the same period—"

Hermione opened her notebook.

"Between 1856 and 1860, the same anonymous buyer purchased a large number of Dark Magic-related books and items at three separate auctions. Payment for all three auctions was transferred through the same Gringotts vault."

"The vault number?"

"Vault 789," Hermione said. "Gringotts vault information is strictly confidential, so I could not find out who it belonged to. But there is one indirect clue—Vault 789 was listed as a 'dormant account' in 1901 because 'the holder had died without a designated heir.'"

"1901. Which pure-blood family had someone die in 1901?"

"I checked." Hermione spoke faster and faster—she always did that when excited. "Several members of pure-blood families died in 1901, but only one had a known connection to Dark Magic research—Corban Nott."

Nott.

The Nott Family again.

"Corban Nott was Theodore Nott's great-grandfather," Hermione said. "He died in a 'magical accident' in 1901—the specific cause was never publicly recorded. But during his lifetime, he was a notorious collector of Dark Magic."

Zhang Wen leaned back in his chair.

The chain was complete.

Corban Nott had purchased all of the Dagworth family's research in 1856—including the methods for creating and destroying Dubh-Loch Beasts. That knowledge had been passed down through the Nott Family for generations. By Old Nott's generation, he had used that knowledge to create a Dubh-Loch Beast.

"Miss Granger." Zhang Wen looked at Hermione. "You have done an outstanding job."

Hermione's face lit up.

"Will this information help with the investigation?"

"It will help decisively. You have essentially helped me confirm the family background of the person behind this."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"You already know who is—"

"We still need final confirmation." Zhang Wen interrupted her. "Until then, keep this information confidential. Do not tell anyone—including Harry and Ron."

"But Harry—"

"Including Harry."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"I understand."

As she was leaving, she paused at the doorway.

"Professor Zhang, if this person really is conducting Dark Magic experiments—does his family know?"

Zhang Wen fell silent for a second.

Hermione had asked about "his family." She was probably thinking of Theodore.

"Some family members are victims," Zhang Wen said.

Hermione's expression changed. She thought for several seconds, nodded, and left.

Wednesday night.

Zhang Wen organized the entire chain of evidence in his office.

Artoria sat across from him, watching him write.

"Is there enough evidence?" she asked.

"The indirect evidence has already formed a complete chain. The Nott Family purchased Dagworth's research, Old Nott specializes in making cursed objects, he came to Hogwarts on October second, the library book was torn up the next day, and the tracking results point to a base he may be using."

"But there is no direct evidence."

"No one saw him place the cursed stone. No one can prove that Lestrange Old Manor contains traces of him."

"Moody's reconnaissance can solve that problem."

"If Moody finds evidence of Old Nott's activities in the old manor—" Zhang Wen drew a line in his notebook, "then that will be enough. Dumbledore can use it to pressure the Ministry of Magic and apply for a search warrant. Then—"

"Two-pronged operation. One team captures the man, the other eliminates the beast."

"Right. Dumbledore and Moody will handle the capture. We'll handle the beast."

Artoria set down her teacup.

"Has the specific plan for eliminating it been finalized?"

"More or less." Zhang Wen took out a new sketch. "Three stages. First stage—severance. While the operations team in Wiltshire restrains Old Nott, we'll use counterspells at Glenmore Lake to disrupt the magical connection between him and the Dubh-Loch Beast. Once the connection is cut, the beast will be briefly thrown into confusion."

"Second stage—containment. You'll use the wind pressure from Excalibur on the shore to keep the Dubh-Loch Beast confined to the shallows and prevent it from retreating to the center of the lake. Meanwhile, I'll dive in and search for the cursed stone at the bottom."

"Third stage—destruction. Once I find the stone, I'll destroy it with the Basilisk Fang—the fang can destroy Dark Magical items, as the Diary already proved. Once the stone is destroyed, the Dubh-Loch Beast will lose its source of magic and begin to degenerate."

Artoria studied the sketch carefully.

"Who will ensure your safety while you're diving?"

"You'll be keeping the Dubh-Loch Beast occupied from the shore. It won't have the spare attention to deal with me."

"What if it isn't fully contained? Visibility at the bottom of the lake is poor. You may not see its attack coming."

"I'll bring a mirror. I can use it underwater to watch my surroundings—"

"That isn't enough." Artoria's tone suddenly hardened. "You'll be alone underwater against a Dark Magical Creature with corrosive bodily fluids. If it swings its tail, you won't even have room to dodge."

"The lake isn't large. The deepest point is probably only a dozen meters or so—"

"A dozen meters of water is enough to drown you three times over."

Zhang Wen looked at her.

Artoria's expression did not change. But the knuckles of the hand holding her teacup had turned white.

She was worried about him.

"Do you have a better plan?" Zhang Wen asked.

Artoria thought for a while.

"I'll go underwater. You stay on shore."

"You can't use Excalibur effectively underwater—you said yourself that its efficiency drops to a third."

"A third is enough to destroy a stone. Besides, I have more underwater combat experience than you do—I fought underwater during the siege of the lake fortress in Camelot."

"But you're far more effective at containing the Dubh-Loch Beast from shore. If I'm the one on shore—"

"You can still use your wand for long-range containment from shore."

"The power of my ranged attacks can't compare to Excalibur's wind pressure at all."

They looked at each other for five seconds.

A stalemate.

At its core, the question of who went underwater was really a question of who would take the greater risk. Both of them wanted the other to take the smaller one.

"We go in together," Zhang Wen finally said.

"What?"

"We both go underwater. No one needs to stay on shore to contain it. We dive straight to the bottom, find the stone, and destroy it. If the Dubh-Loch Beast comes—then you deal with it underwater, and I destroy the stone."

"What about the shore—"

"Harry can stand by on shore with a rooster. If the Dubh-Loch Beast comes ashore, the rooster's crow can drive it back."

Artoria considered it for a moment.

"We'll need the Bubble-Head Charm. To breathe underwater."

"I know the Bubble-Head Charm."

"And how will you handle moving underwater? Your swimming ability—"

"I can swim," Zhang Wen said. "I learned when Lancer chased me into a river in Fuyuki City. An accelerated course."

The corner of Artoria's mouth moved again. The second time today.

"Fine. We go underwater together," she said. "But if we encounter the Dubh-Loch Beast—"

"You take the front, I take the rear. Just like in the Chamber of Secrets."

"Just like in the Chamber of Secrets," Artoria repeated.

Something extra entered her tone when she spoke those words. Zhang Wen could not tell what it was—trust? Understanding? Or some subtler emotion?

It did not matter.

They would go underwater together and face the unknown together.

Just like every time before.

It was late at night.

After Zhang Wen finished organizing the battle plan, he poured Artoria a cup of tea.

She was by the window, wiping down Excalibur—though to the naked eye, she appeared to be wiping the air. The blade was hidden beneath Invisible Air, but her maintenance was meticulous, every inch of the sword attended to.

Zhang Wen set the tea on the windowsill.

"You made tea for me this morning and afternoon. Consider this one returned."

Artoria glanced at the cup.

"You added two spoonfuls of sugar."

"You prefer it sweeter."

"How did you know?"

"You add two spoonfuls every time you make it yourself. I've seen it forty-seven times."

Artoria paused for a beat as she sheathed her sword.

"You counted."

"Data analysis—"

"Last time, you said it was 'professional habit.' The time before that, you said it was 'data analysis.'" Artoria turned to look at him. "How many excuses have you prepared?"

Zhang Wen opened his mouth.

He realized that he truly did not have any more excuses.

"Two," he admitted. "I've used them up."

Artoria looked at him for three seconds.

Firelight from the hearth reflected in her eyes. Orange flames flickered across her emerald-green irises.

"Then don't make excuses," she said.

Then she raised the teacup and took a sip.

"Two spoonfuls of sugar. The temperature is right." Her assessment was concise and complete.

Zhang Wen stood where he was, his heart seemingly skipping two beats.

What exactly did "Then don't make excuses" mean?

Did it mean, You don't need an excuse for watching me. I accept your attention?

Or did it mean, You don't need a reason to care about me, because that is normal?

Or perhaps—

"You should go to sleep," Artoria said, setting down her teacup. "You have classes tomorrow."

"So do you."

"I'll sit a little longer."

"Then I'll sit a little longer too."

Artoria glanced at him.

"You're always like this."

"Like what?"

"If I say I'll sit a little longer, you have to sit a little longer too. If I say I'm not cold, you insist on giving me a scarf. If I say I'm not hungry, you go to the kitchen to get me dinner."

Her voice was flat, but Zhang Wen heard something else beneath that calmness.

"Are you complaining?" he asked.

Artoria thought for two seconds.

"No," she said. "I'm stating facts."

She lowered her head and continued wiping her sword.

Zhang Wen sat behind the desk, pretending to read his notes. In truth, he could not take in a single word.

The office was quiet. The fire crackled in the hearth. The sound of wind outside was shut out by the heavy stone walls.

The two of them stayed in the same room, each doing their own thing, exchanging a sentence or two now and then.

This kind of quiet was completely different from the quiet of loneliness.

The quiet of loneliness was empty.

This kind of quiet was full.

So full that he could not bear to disturb it.

Zhang Wen tugged at his scarf—the new dark blue one he had bought.

By the windowsill, Artoria wore her old gray scarf around her neck.

One room. Two scarves. Two people.

There were about three weeks left until the decisive battle at Glenmore Lake.

But Hogwarts was peaceful at this moment.

Zhang Wen decided to enjoy this peace.

Starting tomorrow, they would have to prepare at full force—underwater combat training, custom iron equipment, intensified Bubble-Head Charm practice, and confirming the operation timeline with Dumbledore.

Busy days awaited them.

But tonight—

Tonight, they would just sit like this.

In the same room.

That was enough.