Early the next morning, Zhang Wen waited for Artoria in his office.
She had returned very late from her patrol the previous night, yet she showed no signs of fatigue.
The stamina reserves of the King of Knights were beyond human comprehension.
“How is the situation?” Zhang Wen asked.
“The girls’ bathroom on the second floor, at the east end of the main corridor.” Artoria sat down and accepted the tea Zhang Wen handed her.
“There are six stalls and eight faucets inside.
One of the faucets has a tiny snake etched onto its side.
It is different from the others.”
“That is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.”
“I attempted to examine the faucet, but no mechanism was triggered.
It likely requires the Parseltongue you mentioned to open.”
“And the ghost?”
A subtle, almost imperceptible change crossed Artoria’s expression.
“I encountered her.”
“Moaning Myrtle?”
“She flew out of a toilet and asked if I was a new professor.
She then asked why I was so beautiful, if I had a boyfriend, if I had ever died, and if I would be willing to chat with her.”
Zhang Wen nearly spat out his tea.
“How did you respond?”
“I told her I was on patrol and did not have the time.”
“And then?”
“She cried,” Artoria said flatly.
“The water flooded the entire bathroom.”
Zhang Wen closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
It was common for Myrtle’s crying fits to flood the bathroom, but if she cried too frequently because of Artoria, it would draw Filch’s attention.
Filch hated nothing more than people messing up his corridors.
“Try to avoid her in the future,” Zhang Wen said.
“I intend to.” Artoria took a sip of her tea.
“Furthermore, I noticed during my patrol that the castle’s plumbing system is incredibly complex.
There are massive conduits within the walls, large enough for a giant serpent to pass through.”
“The Basilisk moves through the castle via the pipes,” Zhang Wen said.
“That’s why it can attack students without being seen—it travels inside the walls.”
“It will be difficult to defend against,” Artoria frowned.
“The pipes run throughout the entire castle; it’s impossible to seal them all off.”
“Which is why we have to set up defenses on the outside—mirrors,” Zhang Wen explained.
“I plan to place mirrors at the corners of the major corridors over the next few days.
My excuse will be ‘decoration’.”
“Who would believe you are decorating the hallways?”
“I don’t need them to believe it.
Hogwarts’ corridors are already filled with strange things—moving paintings, singing suits of armor, walls that pretend to be doors.
A few extra mirrors won’t bother anyone.”
Artoria thought for a moment and nodded in agreement.
“Now, for the next part,” Zhang Wen set down his teacup.
“It’s time to execute step five.”
“Having Ginny Weasley make friends.”
“Right.
The opportunity to speak with Hermione came sooner than Zhang Wen expected.
That afternoon, during the after-class tutoring session, Harry, Ron, and Hermione arrived at his office right on time.
As usual, they practiced the precision of the Disarming Charm.
The three took turns casting spells at targets while Zhang Wen stood by to correct their posture and form.
Harry was making the fastest progress.
He could now hit the target nine out of ten times, with three hitting the inner circle.
Considering he had been practicing for less than two weeks, his speed was remarkable.
Ron had also shown significant improvement since getting a new wand.
Although Lockhart’s wand wasn’t a perfect match for him, it was ten times better than the piece of junk he’d had before.
He was hitting seven out of ten now; though most landed on the outer ring, at least he wasn’t accidentally blasting the ceiling anymore.
Hermione still had the lowest hit rate of the three, but her casting stability was the best—the power, angle, and flow of every spell were almost identical.
What she lacked wasn’t technique, but instinct.
“Miss Granger, don’t think so much when you cast,” Zhang Wen said from behind her.
Hermione turned around.
“What do you mean?”
“Every time before you cast, you run through the entire theoretical process in your head—pronunciation, wand angle, magical output.
Am I right?”
Hermione’s expression confirmed his suspicion.
“The theory isn’t wrong, but in actual combat, there is no time to flip through a textbook in your mind,” Zhang Wen said.
“Try not to think.
Just strike.
Trust your muscle memory.”
Hermione knitted her brows.
“Don’t think” were probably the most difficult words in the world for Hermione Granger to follow.
She turned back and raised her wand toward the target.
She hesitated for two seconds.
“Don’t think,” Zhang Wen repeated.
Hermione gritted her teeth.
“Expelliarmus!”
A bolt of red light shot out—hitting the bullseye dead center.
Hermione herself was stunned.
“See?” Zhang Wen said.
“Your body already knows what to do.
It’s your brain that’s holding you back.”
Hermione’s expression was complicated, as if she had received a compliment and an insult at the same time.
Harry and Ron shared a snicker behind her.
After the session ended, Zhang Wen let Harry and Ron leave first.
“Miss Granger, stay for a moment.”
Hermione immediately tensed up.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No.
I have a favor to ask of you.”
Hermione’s tension turned into curiosity.
He couldn’t just say “Ginny is being controlled by an evil diary,” so he had to approach it from a different angle.
“Have you noticed the youngest Weasley?
Ginny Weasley.”
“Ron’s sister?” Hermione nodded.
“I’ve seen her a few times.
She seems very quiet.”
“Too quiet,” Zhang Wen said.
“She’s a first-year student in a strange new environment, and her brothers all have their own social circles.
I’m worried she might be having trouble adjusting.”
Hermione’s eyes flickered.
Zhang Wen knew he had pushed the right button.
Hermione had experienced loneliness herself during her first year—before she befriended Harry and Ron, she’d had almost no friends in Gryffindor.
That experience gave her a visceral understanding of being an “outsider.”
“You want me to go befriend her?” Hermione asked directly.
“Not exactly ‘befriend’ her—you’re close in age, just engage in normal social interaction,” Zhang Wen said.
“You could keep an eye on her in the common room, chat with her, and help her get used to the environment.
You’re a second-year student; you’d be an excellent guide for a first-year.”
Hermione thought about it.
“I could help her with her schoolwork,” she said, her voice filled with a sense of mission.
“I’m very familiar with the first-year curriculum, especially Charms and Transfiguration—”
“Schoolwork is one thing, but more importantly, make her feel like she’s not alone,” Zhang Wen said.
“Can you do that?”
“Of course!” Hermione replied without hesitation.
Zhang Wen looked at her determined face and thought: *Hermione Granger is the best person in all of Hogwarts for this task.* She was kind, serious, and responsible, and once she accepted a mission, she would give it her all.
The only problem was that she might overdo it—like creating a detailed social schedule for Ginny, complete with milestones and performance indicators.
“Just be natural,” Zhang Wen added.
“Don’t force it too much.”
“I know,” Hermione said, though her eyes betrayed her—she was definitely going to make a checklist as soon as she got back.
After Hermione left, Artoria stepped out from the corner.
“You are sending a twelve-year-old child on an intelligence mission.”
“It’s not an intelligence mission,” Zhang Wen said.
“It’s a social activity.”
“You are having her approach a target to execute your plan without her knowing the real reason.
That is an intelligence mission.”
Zhang Wen couldn’t argue with that.
“Fine, essentially it is,” he admitted.
“But the goal is to protect Ginny, not to exploit Hermione.
Having Hermione befriend Ginny is good for both of them.”
Artoria glanced at him but didn’t press the matter further.
“What about the roosters?” she asked.
“I’ll go see Hagrid tomorrow.”
There were no classes on Thursday afternoon.
Zhang Wen took Artoria to Hagrid’s hut.
Rubeus Hagrid lived in a small wooden cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, near the castle.
The cabin wasn’t large, but Hagrid himself was—he was at least twice as tall as an average man and three times as wide, with hands the size of trashcan lids.
He was the Groundskeeper of Hogwarts, responsible for managing the Forbidden Forest and the magical creatures around the school.