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Night pressed through the tall arched windows of Hogwarts Castle like spilled ink, heavy and absolute.
The day’s noise had long since scattered.
Only silence remained, comfortable and undisturbed.
Jiang Fengyue walked alone through the empty corridors, wand lit with a soft, flickering glow.
As he passed the entrance to the Slytherin Head of House’s office, he heard a loud, muffled thud from somewhere around the corner.
He quickened his pace.
Not far ahead, a dark shape was sprawled on the floor — someone struggling to get up.
The left foot bent at a wrong angle.
Whoever it was crashed straight back down.
That head of greasy hair, oily enough to catch the faint light even in the dark, whipped violently from side to side.
The owner was clearly furious.
And he still couldn’t get up.
Jiang Fengyue crossed the distance quickly and pulled the boy to his feet.
A sharp, sour stench hit him at once.
“Are you all right, Severus?” He glanced down the corridor.
Nothing.
No sound, no shadow, only a cold draught curling in through the windows.
Severus Snape startled at the sight of him.
He immediately shifted his weight onto his right leg, the one that hadn’t been tripped as badly, trying not to lean too heavily.
“Prefect — what are you doing here…”
“Patrol.” Jiang Fengyue said.
“And you?
At this hour, I have more than enough grounds to write you up for nighttime wandering.”
Snape gave a stiff, fleeting smile and produced two carefully-stoppered vials from inside his robes.
“Professor Slughorn asked me to help process Bubotuber pus.
He also let me use his materials to experiment with Skele-Gro.” He gave one of the small bottles a small shake.
The moment Jiang Fengyue heard the ingredient name, everything made sense.
He nodded.
No wonder Snape smelled like that.
It had nearly knocked him sideways.
“Who tripped you?
Do you know?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet.
The boy hitched one shoulder up, then the other.
He hesitated.
Then Jiang Fengyue’s voice came, slow and unhurried, before Snape had made up his mind.
“Don’t keep things from me, Severus.”
Snape looked down at his feet.
“I think…
it might have been Gryffindors.”
“I see.” Jiang Fengyue nodded and took the boy’s arm without any sign of distaste, drawing most of his weight over.
“Come on.
My patrol’s done anyway.
I’ll take you back to the dungeons.”
He didn’t mention the Hospital Wing.
He already knew Snape would refuse.
“Call me Lucius.”
“All right, Lucius Prefect.”
“Never mind.” Jiang Fengyue paused.
“Do you know how long Polyjuice Potion holds?
Severus.”
Snape blinked.
“As far as I know, the fourth-generation improved formula can last up to 12 hours.
But if there’s a significant height difference, the time cuts to about half…
Why are you asking, Prefect?”
“Just curious.
Call me Lucius.”
The two of them made their way back to the dungeons together, one tall and one short, Snape leaning into Jiang Fengyue’s side.
The summer night was mild, the air cool, the moonlight soft.
Both fell on the two boys moving through the dark corridors, quietly and without comment, as if trying to make the walk just a little lighter.
By the time they reached the Slytherin common room, it had nearly emptied.
A handful of older students sat with their textbooks open, getting ahead on revision.
When the door swung open, no one spoke.
Their eyes dropped briefly to Snape’s foot, then returned to their reading.
“This is far enough.
Thank you very much…” Under Jiang Fengyue’s steady gaze, Snape’s voice gradually softened.
“…Lucius.”
Jiang Fengyue nodded, satisfied.
Then he saw Snape reach into his robes and pull out another vial.
“I don’t need Skele-Gro,” Jiang Fengyue said, raising an eyebrow.
Snape shook his head.
“After I finished the Skele-Gro, I had time left over.
Professor Slughorn has always been generous about letting me use his ingredients — as long as I don’t take anything too rare, he doesn’t ask questions.”
He held the vial out.
“This is something extra I made.
A Dreamless Sleep Draught.
I hope you get some rest…
Lucius.”
Jiang Fengyue took the vial and gave it a small wave in parting.
He watched Snape pick his way slowly toward the dormitory hall, then turned and headed for the prefect’s quarters.
No wonder the book had Lucius and Snape as friends.
Honestly, if it were up to him, he’d have chosen this gloomy, peculiar boy too.
He pushed open his door and let it fall shut behind him.
Didn’t bother with the lights.
He shrugged off his outer robe and dropped it on the floor, tie and vest following somewhere he immediately stopped tracking.
He was half-undressed before he’d even reached the bathroom.
Then, on instinct, he glanced toward the window.
A faint green light seeped in from the Black Lake, catching the dark windowsill, and throwing a dim, ghostly shadow across the room.
“Who’s there!”
He was alert in an instant.
He spun, grabbed his wand off the desk, and snatched the fallen robe from the floor to throw around himself.
The figure in the corner didn’t move at all.
“Lumos Maxima!”
Light flooded the room.
Jiang Fengyue watched as the figure by the window came into view.
Just as he’d suspected.
Black hair.
Pockmarked face.
Rather ugly.
Argus.
He knew something was off about Argus.
He’d known it for weeks.
All those strange moments, stacked up one after another, more than enough for Jiang Fengyue to map out every possibility.
The Imperius Curse.
The Dark Mark.
A mission from the Dark Lord.
And Polyjuice Potion.
Argus sat quietly, glanced over at him, and let out a short, contemptuous laugh.
“Frightened, Lucius?
Look at you.”
Jiang Fengyue scanned him top to bottom, calm and methodical.
Sleeves rolled up.
No Mark on the arm.
His ugly face wore undisguised mockery, and his eyes had none of the fear from 2 days ago, just arrogant confidence.
He didn’t look stupid.
Argus was at least 30 centimeters shorter than the Dark Lord.
Polyjuice held 6 hours at most.
Students were searched by Filch on entry, he couldn’t be carrying doses around to drink at will.
And inside the castle, the only place with access to potion-grade ingredients was Slughorn’s office.
Which was impossible.
Because Snape had been in that office all evening.
The more likely answer: a mission from Voldemort had given him the nerve to come and provoke Jiang Fengyue openly.
At worst, it was someone else who’d taken Polyjuice, but they had no business being in his quarters.
As for the Dark Lord himself?
That was the darkest possibility, and almost certainly not the right one.
With Dumbledore being hauled before the Wizengamot, with both sides stretched to a breaking point, the odds of Voldemort risking a covert entrance into Hogwarts were as close to zero as made no difference.
But Jiang Fengyue couldn’t afford to bet his life on almost.
He let his expression ease.
Slipped his wand back into his robes.
Looked at Argus with something warm and searching in his eyes, and spoke gently.
“My Lord?
Have you come to find me?”
Argus’s face went blank.
Then he looked at Jiang Fengyue with an expression that was genuinely difficult to categorize.
And under Jiang Fengyue’s hopeful gaze, he threw his head back and burst out laughing.
“You actually thought I was him?” He pointed a trembling finger, his whole body shaking with it.
“Your brain has completely rotted, Lucius.
Absolutely rotted!” The arrogance in his eyes flared bright.
“What a pity, Malfoy.
You can’t touch me anymore.”
➤ Next: The Dark Lord Descends