He was also one of the easiest people to talk to that Zhang Wen had ever met.
“Professor Zhang!” Hagrid opened the door, revealing a massive smile partially obscured by his thick beard.
“Come in, come in!
The tea’s just finished brewing!”
His gaze landed on Artoria, and his eyes lit up.
“Miss Pendragon!
That move you pulled at the start-of-term feast—that was incredible!
What kind of magic was that?
I’ve never seen anything like it—”
“It was not magic,” Artoria said.
Hagrid waited for her to explain.
She didn’t explain.
Hagrid looked awkward for a second before covering it up with enthusiasm.
“Sit, sit!
I’ve just baked some rock cakes—”
“Thank you.” Artoria took a rock cake.
Zhang Wen shot her a look: *Don’t eat that, it’ll break your teeth.*
Artoria ignored his look and took a bite.
*CRUNCH.*
Zhang Wen’s heart tightened.
Artoria chewed without changing her expression and swallowed.
“The flavor is quite good,” she said.
Hagrid was so moved his eyes turned red.
“Re—Really?
You’re the first person to say they’re good!”
Zhang Wen stood there, dumbfounded.
Those things were so hard even Filch’s cat couldn’t gnaw through them, yet Artoria just ate it like that?
Then he remembered.
This was the person who could pull the Sword from the Stone.
Her bite force was probably at a sovereign level too.
“Hagrid, I came today because I wanted to talk to you about your chicken coop,” Zhang Wen said, steering the conversation back on track.
“The coop?” Hagrid wiped his eyes.
“Oh, the one behind the house.
I’ve got about a dozen chickens; they keep me in eggs.
Why?”
“I’m planning to do a special lecture on the weaknesses of magical creatures,” Zhang Wen said.
“Some magical creatures have a natural fear response to the crowing of a rooster.
I need to borrow a few roosters for a demonstration.”
This was the excuse he had prepared.
It wasn’t perfect, but given Hagrid’s personality, he wouldn’t ask too many questions.
Sure enough, Hagrid perked up as soon as magical creatures were mentioned.
“Of course, no problem at all!” he said, slapping his knee.
“How many do you need?
I’ve got three roosters.
They’ve got voices like cannons, I tell ya.
They start crowing right at five every morning, driving me—”
“Three is enough,” Zhang Wen said.
“But I’d like to move them to a safer place temporarily.
Your coop is too close to the Forbidden Forest.
If something were to sneak out…”
“You’re right!” Hagrid nodded seriously.
“A fox made off with one of the hens last year.
Where do you want to put ’em?”
“There’s a vacant storage room in the castle, at the end of the fourth-floor corridor.
I can convert it into a temporary coop.”
“Right then!
Things went much smoother than expected.
Hagrid was the easiest person in Hogwarts to deal with—as long as you showed interest in his animals, he would treat you like his best friend.
“By the way, Hagrid,” Zhang Wen said as he stood up to leave, “have your chickens been acting strangely lately?
Any injuries or missing birds?”
“No,” Hagrid shook his head.
“They’re fine as can be.”
That was good.
It meant Ginny hadn’t been controlled by the diary to the point of killing roosters yet.
They were still in the early stages of the timeline.
“Thank you, Hagrid.”
“Don’t mention it!” Hagrid saw them to the door warmly.
“Come by more often!
Miss Pendragon, I’ll always have some rock cakes saved for you!”
“My thanks.” Artoria gave a slight nod.
After leaving Hagrid’s hut, Zhang Wen whispered, “Did you really think those rock cakes were good?”
“They were acceptable.”
“Those things are hard enough to kill a man.”
“The texture is firm, but the flavor is decent.
Moreover, Mr.
Hagrid’s attitude toward the preparation was very earnest.”
Zhang Wen glanced at her.
Artoria wasn’t just being polite.
She was serious.
To her, the most important part of food wasn’t the texture, but the sincerity of the person who made it.
This was likely a specific trait of her knightly character—respecting the fruits of every labor.
Even if those fruits were hard enough to be used as weapons.
On the way back to the castle, they ran into someone.
Draco Malfoy.
He was standing alone on the stone steps of the castle entrance, holding a letter, his expression rather sour.
Upon seeing Zhang Wen and Artoria, he quickly shoved the letter into his pocket.
“Professor Zhang.” His tone was two degrees colder than usual.
“Assistant Pendragon.”
“Mr.
Malfoy,” Zhang Wen nodded.
“Standing here all by yourself?”
“Waiting for Crabbe and Goyle,” Malfoy replied quickly—too quickly, as if he had prepared the answer in advance.
Zhang Wen didn’t press him.
But he had noticed the letter—a Malfoy family envelope, identical to the one Lucius had sent him.
Lucius had written to Draco.
One could guess the contents without trying—he was likely telling Draco to keep an eye on the new professor’s movements, or demanding he resist the physical training sessions, or perhaps expressing displeasure that a “heir of the noble House of Malfoy” was actually out there running.
Judging by Malfoy’s expression, he hadn’t just received a letter of encouragement.
It looked more like a reprimand.
“Mr.
Malfoy,” Zhang Wen said suddenly.
Malfoy looked up at him, his body subconsciously tensing.
“You ran the third-fastest time in physical training last week,” Zhang Wen said.
“Third in the entire class.”
Malfoy blinked.
He clearly hadn’t expected that.
“Keep it up.” Zhang Wen finished speaking and walked away.
Artoria followed him.
Once they were out of earshot, she asked, “Why did you praise him?”
“Because he needs it,” Zhang Wen said.
“Whatever was in that letter from Lucius probably wasn’t kind. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
For a child of that age, if all they hear is rejection from their father and rejection from their professors, they will only become more radical.”
“You’re trying to win him over?”
“Not ‘win him over’.” Zhang Wen thought about how to phrase it.
“It’s more about…
not pushing him to the opposing side.
Malfoy isn’t a born villain; he was just raised to be one.
If someone tells him ‘you’re doing a good job,’ maybe—just maybe—he’ll turn out slightly better than he was supposed to.”
Artoria was silent for a few seconds.
“What you are doing is similar to your strategy with Ginny Weasley.”
“What?”
“Reinforcing his will.
Ensuring he doesn’t hear only one voice.”
Zhang Wen paused, then gave a wry smile.
“You saw right through me.”
“Your strategies have always been thus,” Artoria said.
“It was the same during the Holy Grail War.
You always attempt to dismantle an opponent’s will to fight before the battle even begins.”
“That’s called psychological warfare.”
“The name is unimportant,” Artoria said.
“As long as it is effective.”
Zhang Wen looked at her.
The King of Knights was talking more than usual today.
Perhaps it was because he had proactively shared the information about the Chamber of Secrets with her last night; the gap between them had unknowingly shrunk a little.
Not by much.
But it was definitely there.
“Let’s go,” Zhang Wen said.
“Time to see about those mirrors.”
“Where will you obtain them?”
“I’ll borrow them from Professor Flitwick.
He’s a master of Charms; he should be able to help me put an Anti-Shatter Charm on some ordinary mirrors.
It would be useless if the Basilisk just smashed through them.”
“And your reason?”
“I’ll say I’m researching reflective defensive spells and need some reinforced mirrors for experiments,” Zhang Wen said.
“Flitwick has zero resistance to academic topics.
As long as you say the word ‘research,’ he won’t refuse.”
“You have a strategy for everyone.”
“Survival skills,” Zhang Wen said.
“Taught to me by the Type-Moon world.”
Artoria didn’t comment.
But Zhang Wen thought he saw the corner of her mouth twitch.
She was probably smiling.
Probably.
That night, Zhang Wen made a list.
The Mirror Plan—Find Flitwick; execute tomorrow.
The Rooster Plan—Hagrid will move them to the fourth-floor storage room this afternoon; executed.
The Ginny Plan—Hermione has her orders; monitoring.
The Malfoy Plan—Unexpected side quest; continue to monitor.
Quidditch Tryouts—Saturday; McGonagall invited me; attend.
He folded the list and put it in his drawer.
The second week of school was progressing according to plan.
But Zhang Wen knew that plans could never keep up with changes.
Especially in a world with Voldemort.