Far away, in the subspace at the end of Baker Street in London, Allen was hunched over his desk, writing furiously.
A stack of fresh manuscript paper lay spread across the desk. On the top sheet was a conspicuous title-
"Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets," Chapter 7: Mudbloods and murmurs.
He rubbed his aching wrist and yawned. "Writing the second book is even more tiring than the first. If only I had a Quick-Quotes Quill."
Just as he was about to continue writing, a pale blue screen suddenly lit up before his eyes.
[Bonus quest triggered: a half-day tour of Hogwarts.]
Allen looked up, utterly bewildered. "A bonus quest? What does that mean?"
[Quest details: the system will provide targeted teleportation, sending the host to Hogwarts Castle for a self-guided tour. The host may use this system to return to the current location at any time.] [Quest rewards: determined by the host's actions and gains during the visit. Base reward: increased magical power (Tier Four).]
Allen raised an eyebrow and sat a little straighter. "Teleport me there? System, since when were you this generous?"
[The system will cover all teleportation costs throughout the quest. The host need not pay anything.]
"That certainly saves some trouble..." Allen rubbed his chin.
"But then again, why are you suddenly being so nice? Last time, it was an emergency quest I couldn't refuse. This time, you're even throwing in teleportation?"
The words on the system screen flickered, finally leaving only a single question: [Does the host want to go?]
Allen froze for a moment, then grinned. "Yes, of course I do."
"Honestly, I've been in this world for almost a year, and I haven't even seen Hogwarts. Sure, I wrote that book... but no matter how much I write, it can't compare to seeing it with my own eyes."
Although he had seen what the castle looked like in the films in his previous life, actually standing before it would surely feel different.
"All right, I accept," Allen said readily. "When do we leave?"
[Teleportation is scheduled for seven o'clock sharp the morning after tomorrow. The host is advised to prepare an item to conceal his face.] [Hogwarts contains numerous portraits and ghosts. If the host's appearance is recorded, it may inconvenience future operations.]
Allen examined his incomparably handsome face in the mirror and nodded thoughtfully.
"Fair point. I may not be famous... but I'm so damn good-looking that I'd be easy to recognize."
He put down his pen, braced his hands on the desk, and stood up, stretching deeply. "Right, I'll go shopping and buy something nice-looking."
Allen slipped on his black trench coat, tucked his Jianmu wand into an inside pocket, pushed open the apartment door, and went out.
Far away, on the top floor of Nurmengard Castle deep in the Austrian Alps, a lone lamp burned quietly beside a stone window.
Grindelwald sat in his oak armchair, the latest issue of the Daily Prophet between his fingers.
He rested the newspaper on his knees, his gaze passing over the snowy peaks outside the window to the distant horizon.
"...You still love putting on an act," he murmured.
"Veritaserum has absolutely no effect on you, yet you insist on pretending to be open and honest."
He scoffed and tossed the newspaper onto the low table beside him.
"The day after tomorrow..." he murmured, a flicker of curiosity crossing his eyes.
"I'd certainly like to see what you, the 'greatest wizard of our age,' will have to say then."
His fingers tapped lightly on the armrest. An unusual gleam flashed in his eyes, and he slowly closed them, murmuring, "The scene the day after tomorrow."
In a haze, images slowly unfolded in the darkness.
He saw the Ministry Atrium packed with people, a dense sea of bobbing heads, while the scratching of Quick-Quotes Quills filled the air.
Dumbledore stood on a raised platform in the center of the atrium, with McGonagall, Flitwick, Snape, and the others lined up on either side.
Behind Dumbledore were several unfamiliar faces, probably the Potions Masters from the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers.
Reporters crowded every side of the hall. Owls circled among the beams and pillars, and camera flashes made the dull stone walls alternate between light and shadow.
A hint of anticipation curved Grindelwald's lips.
Just as he was about to look a little further ahead, the image suddenly twisted violently, and the scene before him changed abruptly.
Above the spires of Hogwarts Castle, a huge black skull slowly revolved in the sky. A snake emerged from its mouth, writhing in the black smoke.
Grindelwald's pupils contracted sharply.
Then the scene shifted again. The Ministry Atrium was in chaos, the crowd gripped by panic.
Dumbledore stood on the steps, his expression intensely grave and solemn. McGonagall was speaking to him, her lips moving rapidly, her face filled with anxiety.
Grindelwald's brow furrowed deeper and deeper.
Hogwarts' defensive magic had been built up over centuries by generations of headmasters and professors. How could it possibly have been breached?
The castle's protective enchantments were a formidable behemoth he had steered clear of even in his youth. Even if Voldemort had returned to life, he should not have been able to break through the lockdown of the entire grounds within a few short hours.
Unless... someone had broken through from the inside.
His mind suddenly flashed back to decades ago, when he had still been planning those operations from behind the scenes. He had once arranged for a batch of modified Vanishing Cabinets to be secretly transported into Great Britain.
He had ordered the craftsmen under him to make those replicas. Hidden passages had been embedded inside the cabinets, allowing them to bypass most spatial sealing spells.
Most of the cabinets had been intercepted by Dumbledore's people, but one or two had inevitably slipped through the net.
Could it be... one of my Vanishing Cabinets?
This is bad. I may have made a terrible mistake.
He knew exactly how the hidden passages in those Vanishing Cabinets were set up. If the Death Eaters got hold of an intact cabinet, finding a route into Hogwarts would not be impossible.
If Hogwarts truly fell, and all those children ended up in the hands of Voldemort's followers...
A chill rose in Grindelwald's heart. He knew all too well what Dumbledore would do next.
That old man always put himself in a position where he had no choice but to step forward, even if it cost him his life.
He closed his eyes and continued squeezing out what remained of his prophetic ability, wanting to first see whether Dumbledore could make it back in time to stop this.
The scene changed again. Flames soared through Hogwarts Castle, several dark figures flashed past the end of a corridor, and a half-giant was knocked to the ground.
The fireplace leading to the outside world had been blasted apart with a spell. Broken bricks littered the floor, and the Floo Network was completely sealed off.
A faint chill crept over Grindelwald's back. He strained to look further ahead.
But the images began to blur and fragment, leaving less and less that he could see...
Dimly, he saw a flash of blue light deep within a Hogwarts corridor. A figure in a black trench coat stood at the edge of a spire, the hem of the coat snapping in the wind.
Then a silvery-white eagle-shaped light soared into the air. Its outstretched wings reflected a brilliant radiance in the firelight, spanning the space between the castle and the darkness like a shield.
Grindelwald could hold on no longer. His eyes snapped open.
"..." He sat motionless in his chair for a long time, only his chest rising and falling faintly.
"There's still time." His voice was low, barely more than a whisper.
The following evening, everything was as usual in Hogwarts Castle.
Harry had just returned from the Quidditch training grounds. Carrying his broom, he walked along the corridor toward Gryffindor Tower.
But Harry's mind was clearly not on Quidditch. He walked with his head lowered, his thoughts filled with what Dumbledore had said in the Great Hall.
Take Veritaserum? Submit to questioning in front of the entire Wizarding World?
He knew Dumbledore wanted to prove his innocence, and he also believed Dumbledore must have a plan of his own, but "public questioning" sounded like something rather unpleasant.
He sighed and looked up, discovering that he had unknowingly turned onto an unfamiliar spiral staircase.
Harry stopped and glanced around, realizing that Gryffindor Tower was not in this direction.
Just as he was about to turn back, a figure drifted down from the stairs above.
It was a thin witch wearing a loose, dark purple cloak covered in tassels, its trailing edges nearly brushing the floor.
Her eyes were somewhat unfocused, as though half her mind were still wandering elsewhere.
They were too close. Harry stopped abruptly, almost bumping into her.
The witch stopped too and slowly raised her head.
Her eyes lingered on Harry's forehead for a few seconds before her gaze lowered again.
"Ah." She gave a faint, lingering sigh. "You've come."
"I knew you would come. The crystal ball foretold it to me last night-a boy with a scar on his forehead would enter my sight at dusk."
Harry stared at her blankly. "...Professor?"
"I am Sybill Trelawney," the witch said in that airy, drifting voice. "Hogwarts' Divination professor. You look as though you've taken a wrong turn, my dear."
"Ah, yes." Only then did Harry realize that he really had wandered somewhere he should not have come. He nodded quickly. "Sorry, I'll leave right away."
He stepped back, intending to return the way he had come. Just then, a voice so distant it scarcely sounded human came from behind him.
"Disaster..."
Harry stopped in his tracks.
"Hogwarts... Death Eaters..."
Harry froze as though a bucket of ice water had been poured over him from head to toe. He turned slowly and saw Trelawney standing there, her eyes now completely unfocused.
He knew what Death Eaters were. After learning that his parents had been murdered by Voldemort, he had made a point of finding out.
They were Voldemort's most loyal followers, the lunatics who slaughtered Muggles and witches and wizards of "impure blood" for him.
Harry tightened his grip on his broom handle, his voice a little dry. "...What? What did you just say?"
He tried hard to steady his voice. "You just said... Death Eaters? Hogwarts? What does that mean? Are you making a prophecy?"
Trelawney's expression sent a chill down Harry's back.
"The Floo Network is sealed off... all at the Ministry of Magic... Hogwarts is isolated, without help..."
"Flames rise into the sky... green light flies everywhere... the Dark Mark shines over Hogwarts..."
"The castle is full of fleeing people... the students are screaming..."
"I... see despair everywhere."
Harry felt as though the blood in his entire body had turned cold in an instant. He opened his mouth, but something seemed to block his throat, and he could not force out a word.
He could feel his hands shaking. He could already picture those scenes: the classmates who attended lessons and ate meals with him, fleeing in every direction through the corridors.
"Professor Trelawney!" he finally cried. "What exactly happened? Did you see-"
"A way..." Trelawney's tone changed slightly, urgency mingling with its dreamlike quality. "There must... there must be a way..."
She saw those black-robed figures weaving through the air on broomsticks above the towers of Hogwarts, the Dark Mark revolving in the sky.
She saw the half-giant lying on the ground, struggling to get up, only to be knocked down again.
Her lips trembled slightly, and a thin sheen of sweat appeared on her forehead.
Could it be... that there really was no way?
She refused to accept it, even if the entire Wizarding World regarded her as a madwoman who occasionally got a thing or two right.
But Dumbledore alone believed in her and had given her a position. She was now-a professor at Hogwarts.
She strained her mind like a madwoman, pushing her vision farther, desperately peering deeper into the mist.
In the haze, she saw a streak of blue light cut through the darkness at the end of a corridor.
A figure stood in the path of more than a dozen black-robed people, a silvery-white eagle radiating light.
Great waves churned across the Black Lake. Amid the howling wind, Ravenclaw's emblem shone, and a black trench coat billowed atop a spire.
Trelawney's body shuddered violently, and hot tears slowly spilled from her eyes.
"I... see hope."