After the physical training session on Monday morning, Zhang Wen took a look at the first-year schedule.
Ginny Weasley’s Defense Against the Dark Arts class was on Tuesday afternoon.
This meant he wouldn’t officially encounter her in the classroom until tomorrow.
But Zhang Wen didn’t want to wait until then.
He needed to find a more natural way to talk to Ginny outside of class.
The opportunity presented itself after lunch on Monday.
Zhang Wen went to the library to return a reference book on serpentine magical creatures.
Among the shelves in the History section, he spotted Ginny.
She was sitting alone at a corner table, a copy of *A History of Magic* spread out in front of her.
But she wasn’t reading—her eyes were fixed on the textbook, yet they were clearly out of focus.
She was in a daze.
Zhang Wen noticed her schoolbag was open.
Between the textbooks and parchment, the corner of a black leather cover was visible.
The diary.
It was right there.
Zhang Wen shifted his gaze, making sure not to stare at the bag.
He pulled a random book from the shelf and sat down at the table next to Ginny.
“Miss Weasley?” he said with a perfectly judged tone of surprise.
“All alone in the library?”
Ginny jumped, her head snapping up.
When she saw it was Zhang Wen, her face flushed a deep red.
“Pr—Professor Zhang!” She scrambled to zip her bag shut—her movements were quick, an instinctive reflex to protect the contents inside.
Zhang Wen pretended not to notice.
“Reviewing History of Magic?” He glanced at the textbook in front of her.
“Um…
Professor Binns assigned an essay on medieval wizard hunting.” Ginny’s voice was very soft, as if she wasn’t quite used to speaking one-on-one with a professor.
“Professor Binns’ class…” Zhang Wen weighed his words carefully.
“It certainly requires a great deal of patience.”
That was putting it politely.
Binns was Hogwarts’ only ghost professor; his teaching style consisted of reading from his notes from beginning to end, with a hypnotic effect comparable to a heavy sedative.
Scarcely any student in the school could stay awake in his class, with the exception of Hermione.
Ginny managed a tiny smile.
“It is a bit boring,” she said.
Zhang Wen noted several details.
First, Ginny’s complexion was pale—paler than a normal first-year should be.
Though Scotland in mid-September wasn’t hot, it wasn’t cold enough for someone to look so deprived of sunlight.
Second, there were faint dark circles under her eyes.
She wasn’t sleeping well.
Third, her defensive reaction regarding her bag was overly sensitive.
The diary was already influencing her.
But it was still in the early stages.
Her consciousness was still lucid; the diary hadn’t yet begun to drain her life force on a massive scale.
“How are you adjusting to Hogwarts?” Zhang Wen asked casually.
“It’s okay.” Ginny lowered her head.
“It’s just…
I’m a little homesick.”
“That’s perfectly normal,” Zhang Wen said.
“Your brothers were homesick in their first year too.”
“They weren’t,” Ginny whispered.
Percy was already a Prefect candidate the moment he arrived.
Ron made a friend like Harry Potter on his very first day.”
She paused.
“I had nothing on my first day.”
Zhang Wen remained silent for two seconds.
That statement contained a wealth of information.
Ginny Weasley was the youngest of seven children and the only girl.
Each of her six older brothers had their own spark, yet she had arrived at Hogwarts only to be buried under the label of “just another Weasley.”
Combine that with her childhood crush on Harry Potter, only to discover at school that Harry was Ron’s friend—and Ron wouldn’t dream of introducing his little sister into his social circle.
Loneliness, inferiority, and neglect.
The diary had slipped into those very cracks.
“Miss Weasley,” Zhang Wen said, “do you know Hermione Granger?”
Ginny nodded.
“She’s been coming to talk to me these past few days.”
“What do you think of her?”
“She’s great,” Ginny said, her voice gaining a bit of warmth.
“She knows so much.
Yesterday she taught me a small charm to make my quill auto-transcribe.
It’s really convenient.”
Zhang Wen mentally gave Hermione a point for that.
“Miss Granger didn’t have many friends in her first year either,” Zhang Wen said.
“Like you, she didn’t quite fit in at first.
Later, she made friends with Harry and Ron, and everything got better.”
Ginny looked up at him.
“You mean…
I’ll be okay too?”
“I mean, you don’t have to have ‘nothing,'” Zhang Wen said.
“You already have an older student who is willing to reach out and talk to you.
That’s a good start.”
The tension in Ginny’s expression eased slightly.
“If you have any troubles, you can come to me or Assistant Pendragon,” Zhang Wen said, standing up and taking his book.
“A professor’s office is always open to students.”
“Thank you, Professor Zhang.” Ginny’s voice was slightly louder than before.
Zhang Wen nodded and turned to leave the library.
Back in the office, Artoria was reading by the window.
She had recently been reading a massive tome on the history of Hogwarts and was already a third of the way through.
Her reading speed was remarkable—after all, as someone who had once handled the administrative affairs of all Britain, her information-processing ability far exceeded that of ordinary people.
“I saw Ginny,” Zhang Wen said as he sat down.
Artoria put down her book.
“What is her state?”
“Early stages,” Zhang Wen said.
“Pale complexion, dark circles—sleep is likely being affected.
But she’s lucid and her emotional responses are normal.
The diary hasn’t achieved deep control yet.”
“How long is the window of time?”
“If we follow the original timeline, the first opening of the Chamber happens between late October and early November.
That means we have about six to eight weeks.” Zhang Wen paused.
“But the butterfly effect could change that.
Our intervention—Hermione befriending Ginny, the possible improvement in Ginny’s mental state—might slow down the diary’s control.”
“It could also make it faster,” Artoria said.
“If the diary senses external intervention weakening its grip, it might accelerate its erosion,” Artoria said calmly.
“Cursed relics become more aggressive when they perceive a threat.
This is based on my experience handling similar incidents in Camelot.”
Zhang Wen’s heart sank.
He hadn’t considered that possibility.
Tom Riddle inside the diary wasn’t just an ordinary soul fragment.
He had been the most brilliant student in the school during his time at Hogwarts—academically excellent, a master of disguise, and a genius at manipulating the human heart.
If he realized Ginny was drifting away, he was fully capable of changing his tactics.
“You’re right.” Zhang Wen leaned back in his chair.
“While we help Ginny, we must also prepare for the diary to act prematurely.”
“The roosters and mirrors are in place,” Artoria said.
“When will you distribute the small mirrors to the students?”
“I’ll hand them out in this week’s classes.
I’ve already asked Flitwick to help me apply mass Anti-Shattering Charms.
One hundred and twenty small hand mirrors—enough for every student from the second year up.”
“What about the first years?”
Zhang Wen thought for a moment.
“The first years will be handled separately.
I’ll have Hermione give one to Ginny, telling her it’s a teaching prop all the upperclassmen use.
As for the other first years—”
“I can distribute them during physical training,” Artoria said.
“Neville is close with several Gryffindor first years; I can have him help with the distribution.”
Zhang Wen raised an eyebrow.
Neville Longbottom, responsible for distributing anti-Basilisk hand mirrors.
A month ago, this boy didn’t even dare to raise his hand to speak, and now he had been developed by Artoria into a logistics coordinator.
“How has Neville been lately?” Zhang Wen asked.
“Significant progress,” Artoria said.
“In the evasion training, he can now dodge twelve out of thirty stones.
Physically, his 1.5-mile run time has been reduced by two minutes.”
“And the wooden sword training?”
“We have begun basic grips and stances.
His upper body strength is lacking, but his lower body stability is quite good.”
“You really are teaching him swordsmanship,” Zhang Wen marveled.
“The basic training of the sword is beneficial to anyone,” Artoria said.
“Furthermore—”
She paused.
“He reminds me of someone.”
“Who?”
“Bedivere.”
Zhang Wen’s knowledge of the Knights of the Round Table wasn’t deep, but he knew the name Bedivere.
One of the Knights of the Round Table—not the strongest, nor the smartest, but his loyalty was unmatched.
He was the knight who finally returned Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake, the one who stayed by King Arthur’s side until the very end.
“Bedivere was not the most outstanding in his youth either,” Artoria’s voice softened slightly.
“His swordsmanship was inferior to Gawain’s, his horsemanship was worse than Lancelot’s, and his strength was less than Gareth’s.
But he never gave up.
No matter how many times he was struck down, he always stood up and continued.”
She looked out the window.
“In the end, he became the knight I trusted most.”
Zhang Wen remained silent for a while.