On Wednesday morning, Zhang Wen received the approval results forwarded by Professor McGonagall.
The physical training plan had passed.
On the last page of the proposal, Dumbledore had written a note: “A very creative pedagogical reform.
I suggest monitoring the intensity appropriately to ensure student safety.
Also: I would love to try running around the lake myself, but my knees likely would not permit it.
—A.D.”
Looking at the comment about the knees, Zhang Wen didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh.
Dumbledore was the type of person who always added a frivolous remark to a serious matter.
Regardless, the physical training now had official backing.
If Lucius Malfoy wanted to make a fuss about it again, he would have to directly challenge the Headmaster’s decision.
With his current political capital, he wasn’t yet at a level where he could confront Dumbledore head-on.
Zhang Wen tucked the approval documents away, feeling in a good mood.
“The plan passed,” he said to Artoria.
“Then the training intensity can be increased.”
“…I meant the physical training has been officially approved, not that we’re increasing the workload.”
“Official approval means there are no further concerns.
No further concerns means we can execute according to normal standards.”
“Your so-called ‘normal standards’ are those of a knight apprentice.
That is not normal.”
“That is the minimum standard.”
Zhang Wen gave up the argument.
***
There were no classes that afternoon.
Zhang Wen decided to take a walk through the castle and check if the mirrors he had hung up earlier were still in place.
The mirror in the fourth-floor corridor was intact.
The old wizard in the portrait was still using it to tidy his hair, seemingly having made a habit of it.
The two on the third floor were also normal.
The second floor—
Just as Zhang Wen reached the corner of the second-floor corridor, he heard a burst of eerie laughter.
It wasn’t a ghost’s laugh.
It belonged to the living, and it sounded very familiar.
He rounded the corner and saw Fred and George Weasley.
The Weasley twins were crouching in the corridor in front of a device that looked like a modified bucket.
A tube was connected to the top of the bucket, with the other end stuffed into a crack in the wall.
“What are you doing?” Zhang Wen asked.
The twins looked up simultaneously, revealing two identical mischievous grins.
“Professor Zhang!” the one on the left said—Fred, presumably.
“We’re conducting a scientific experiment.”
“What kind of experiment?”
“Testing the propagation efficiency of Dungbombs within enclosed conduits,” said the one on the right—George.
Zhang Wen glanced at the tube stuffed into the wall.
Conduits.
Pipes.
His heart skipped a beat.
“Where does this pipe lead?” he asked, trying to keep his tone calm.
“Dunno,” Fred shrugged.
“We found this entrance on a map of the castle’s plumbing we pinched from Filch’s office.
This pipe seems to connect to the second-floor girls’ bathroom.”
Zhang Wen’s mind raced.
The Weasley twins were studying the castle’s pipe system.
And the Basilisk moved through the castle via those very pipes.
If these two happened to be near the wrong pipe at the wrong time…
“Pack it up,” Zhang Wen said.
Fred and George exchanged a look.
“Professor, we’re just having a bit of fun—”
“I said, pack it up.” Zhang Wen’s tone hadn’t changed, but it held a layer of non-negotiable authority.
The twins clearly felt the shift in atmosphere.
Although they were the most rule-breaking students in the school, they knew when it was time to be sensible.
Fred dismantled the bucket device, and George pulled the tube out of the wall.
“Taking points?” Fred asked.
Zhang Wen thought for a moment.
“No points,” he said.
“But I need you to do something for me.”
The twins’ eyes lit up simultaneously.
No points deducted and a condition?
They loved this kind of deal.
“Do you have a plumbing map of the castle?”
Fred pulled a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket—not the Marauder’s Map, but a regular blueprint covered in dense lines of piping.
“Borrowed it from Filch,” George said.
“Stole it,” Fred corrected.
“An indefinite-term loan.”
Zhang Wen took the map and glanced at it.
This map marked the distribution of the main pipes in Hogwarts Castle.
Sewers, ventilation ducts, heating pipes—they were all interwoven, forming an extremely complex network.
The Basilisk could move freely within these pipes; no wonder no one had discovered its existence for centuries.
“I’ll be borrowing this map,” Zhang Wen said.
“No problem,” Fred waved a hand generously.
“But Professor, what do you want with a plumbing map?”
“Pedagogical research.”
“What kind of pedagogical research requires a sewer map?” George’s tone held genuine curiosity.
“You don’t need to know.”
Fred and George looked at each other and tacitly decided not to press further.
Though mischievous, their instincts were sharp.
A professor seriously asking for a plumbing map meant there was official business afoot.
“Alright,” Fred said.
“But Professor, in exchange—”
“Could you tell Filch that the lock on the third drawer of his desk has been replaced by us?
The key he’s using now won’t open it.”
“Why should I be the one to tell him?”
“Because if he finds out himself, he’ll interrogate every student one by one.
If you tell him, he won’t suspect us.”
Zhang Wen stared at these two red-headed smiling faces and deeply understood why Professor McGonagall got a headache every time the Weasley twins were mentioned.
“I won’t help you clean up your mess,” he said.
“But I won’t report you either.
Fair?”
The twins nodded, satisfied.
“By the way,” Zhang Wen called out as they turned to leave, “how is your sister, Ginny, doing lately?”
Fred and George’s expressions both shifted slightly.
It wasn’t a glaring change, but Zhang Wen caught it.
“Ginny?” Fred scratched his head.
“She’s alright, I s’pose.
She’s a first year, just started.”
“We haven’t really been paying much attention,” George said, a hint of unease in his voice.
“She’s in Gryffindor Tower in the girls’ dormitory; it’s not exactly easy for us to go see her.
Besides, she’s been independent since she was little—”
“She’s not independent,” Fred said suddenly.
George looked at him.
“She’s not independent,” Fred repeated, his voice dropping slightly.
“She just doesn’t want us to worry.
She’s been like that since she was a kid.
With seven children in the house and Mum being so busy, Ginny learned to keep to herself and not make a fuss.
But that’s not independence.
That’s—”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Zhang Wen waited a few seconds.
“You should pay more attention to her,” he said.
“She’s your sister.
Even if it’s just talking to her more in the common room, or having her sit next to you during meals in the Great Hall.”
The twins fell silent for a moment.
“You’re right,” George spoke first, uncharacteristically devoid of a smile.
“Have we been ignoring her too much?”
“It’s not ignoring,” Zhang Wen said.
“It’s taking her for granted.
You assume she’ll naturally be fine at Hogwarts, just like you were.
But everyone is different.”
Fred shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I’ll go find her for a chat tonight,” he said.
“Me too,” said George.
“Don’t be too sudden,” Zhang Wen reminded them.
“She might find it strange—two brothers who never look after her suddenly showing up together to fuss over her.
Just take it step by step.”
“Professor, we might be unreliable, but we know how to cheer up our sister,” Fred regained his smile, though this time it was different—more sincere.
The two left.
Zhang Wen stood in the corridor, looking at the plumbing map in his hand.
The Weasley twins.
In the original story, these two were purely comedic characters, responsible for chaos and laughter.
But peeling away the prankster exterior, they were actually very clever and deeply sentimental.
The joke shop they later opened was one of the most successful entrepreneurial cases in the wizarding world.
Fred’s death in the final battle was one of the most heartbreaking moments in the entire series.
Zhang Wen didn’t want to change the distant future.
He wasn’t even sure if he had the capability.
But at least for this school year, he could ensure Fred and George looked after their sister.
This didn’t require some grand plan.
It just needed someone to give them a nudge.
***
At dinner time, Zhang Wen noticed a new arrangement at the Gryffindor table.
Fred and George were sitting next to Ginny.
They didn’t make a big scene; they just naturally moved over with their plates.
Fred poured a glass of pumpkin juice for Ginny, and George served her the largest chicken leg.
Ginny looked bewildered.
“Why are you sitting here?”
“Just fancying a change of scenery,” Fred said.
“It’s too noisy over there.
Lee Jordan is trying to catch peanuts with his mouth.
He’s failed seventeen times; the scene is quite tragic.”
“We needed a quiet corner,” George added.
Ginny looked skeptical but didn’t press them.
As she lowered her head to eat, the corners of her mouth twitched upward slightly.
It was subtle.
But it was definitely there.
Hermione, sitting across from Ginny, raised an eyebrow slightly at the twins joining them.
Her gaze crossed the crowd and landed on Zhang Wen at the staff table.
Zhang Wen gave her a slight nod.
Hermione returned an almost imperceptible nod.
The Gryffindor social network was expanding.
***
After returning to his office, Zhang Wen spread the plumbing map across the desk.
Artoria put down her book and walked over.
“Where did you get this?”
“The Weasley twins.
Don’t ask where they got it.”
Artoria didn’t press.
“This main pipe extends from the seventh floor all the way down to the basement.” She traced the line with her finger.
“There’s a branch on the second floor connecting to the girls’ bathroom area.”
“This is the Basilisk’s main movement route,” Zhang Wen said.
“It starts from the Chamber, enters the main plumbing system through underground pipes, and can then reach any floor of the castle.”
“Where are the exits?”
Zhang Wen marked several points on the map.
“Every floor’s bathroom has a pipe connection.
Additionally, sinks, drainage outlets, and even some old ventilation ducts could be exits.”
Artoria frowned.
“There are too many exits.
It’s impossible to block them all.”
“So we won’t block them,” Zhang Wen said.
“We just need to know where it’s likely to come out.
In the original story, the Basilisk’s attacks were mainly concentrated on the second and fourth floors—because those floors have the most pipe exits and are close to the students’ main activity areas.”
“Your mirrors cover those two floors perfectly.”
“Right.
But as you said, mirrors aren’t enough.
So the students’ hand mirrors are a supplementary line of defense.” He thought for a moment.
“Also, we can use this map for something else—marking high-risk areas where the Basilisk might appear, and then focusing on them during daily patrols.”
“I will handle the patrols,” Artoria said.
“You are already exhausted from teaching during the day.
I will take responsibility for the night patrols.”
“Don’t you need to sleep?”
“A Servant’s body does not require much sleep.
Four hours is sufficient.”
Zhang Wen knew this wasn’t entirely true.
Artoria wasn’t currently in a Servant state; her body had materialized, and theoretically, she should need rest just like an ordinary person.
However, her constitution was indeed much stronger than a normal person’s, so getting a few hours less sleep wasn’t a problem for her.
“Don’t push yourself,” Zhang Wen said.
“I am not pushing myself.”
“You get up at five every morning to give Neville extra training, assist me in classes during the day, train the Trio in the afternoon, and now you want to patrol at night.
Your schedule is fuller than Dumbledore’s.”
Artoria looked at him.
“As a knight—”
“You’re not a knight,” Zhang Wen interrupted her.
“At least not in this world.
You are my partner.
Partners look after each other; one person shouldn’t carry the entire load.”
Artoria’s mouth opened slightly, then closed.
Zhang Wen realized his tone might have been a bit harsh.
But he didn’t intend to take it back.
Last time, Artoria had told him, “You don’t need to carry everything alone.” He was returning those same words to her.
Silence followed for a few seconds.
“Patrols can be every other day,” Artoria finally said.
“Every three days,” Zhang Wen bargained.
“Every other day.”
“Two days.”
“Every other day.
That is my bottom line.”
Zhang Wen looked at her face, which showed no sign of backing down.
“Deal.”
He couldn’t win.
He never could.
***
After marking the high-risk areas on the plumbing map with red ink, Zhang Wen folded it and tucked it into the deepest part of his drawer.
“Oh, by the way,” he remembered something, “Fred and George have started paying attention to Ginny.
They sat next to her at dinner today.”
“Good progress,” Artoria said.
“Hermione, Fred, George.
Plus, if Neville can influence her as a positive role model—a support network around Ginny is forming.”
“Is there enough time?” Artoria asked.
Zhang Wen fell silent.
That was the core question.
Everything they were doing was to weaken the Diary’s control over Ginny as much as possible before the Chamber of Secrets incident broke out.
But the Diary’s timeline was in Tom Riddle’s hands, not theirs.
“I don’t know,” Zhang Wen said honestly.
“We can only do our best.”
Artoria nodded.
She didn’t offer empty comforts like “it will be fine.”
A knight did not make promises they weren’t certain of.
But she turned back as she reached the door.
“For tomorrow morning’s physical training, you’re running too.”
“What?”
“Partners look after each other.
That includes physical fitness.
You haven’t had systematic training in far too long.”
“I—”
“Every other day.
That is my bottom line.”
Zhang Wen resigned himself to his fate.
Retribution had come too quickly.
He shouldn’t have used the word “partner” just now.
Artoria’s learning ability was too strong—not just with book knowledge, but even with verbal ripostes.
Gawain and Lancelot had probably been handled the same way back in the day.
Zhang Wen’s sympathy for the Knights of the Round Table deepened another level.