Chapter 142

Harry recalled the days before the start of his second year, and he couldn't help but step forward to speak with Zhang Qiu; the Doctor made no move to stop him.

"Zhang Qiu, I'm Harry, in third year," he pulled back his invisibility cloak, "did you just come back from Tang Dun?"

"Oh, you're here too?" Zhang Qiu clearly startled, hesitated slightly, then admitted openly, "Yes, I spent my first-year summer entirely in China; the version of me you saw in Tang Dun was the third-year me."

"You learned Parseltongue back then," Harry said. "That means—you orchestrated all those attacks throughout the entire second year?"

"Don't blame me, Harry," Zhang Qiu said, sounding guilty. "It was fate. Even without me, someone else would have carried out the attacks."

Harry said nothing. He wasn't truly troubled by the attacks—he was still reeling in shock. Simply put, the Zhang Qiu before him now wasn't the Zhang Qiu he knew, and it left him deeply unsettled.

"Besides, the Chamber attacks were destined to happen. If we stopped them, time itself would erase them." She spoke cautiously.

"It's not too late," Harry said slowly. "You haven't actually attacked any students yet. You still have time to turn back."

Zhang Qiu's expression darkened. "I have to catch up on second-year coursework, so I had to stay at school. Because of the Marauder's Map, I had to hide in the Chamber. To hide in the Chamber, I had to kill the Basilisk. So if the attacks are to proceed as they must, it has to be me who does them."

"But you didn't have to do this," Harry whispered his thought. "Forget the coursework—just find somewhere to hide until third year. You could go to Number Four, Privet Drive. My aunt's old house. It's been empty for years, everyone's forgotten it. You could stay there safely for a long time. I could even visit occasionally to bring you supplies…"

"There's a Chinese saying: if you're going to do something, either don't do it at all, or don't stop once you've started," Zhang Qiu sighed. "After I killed the unicorn, I couldn't turn back."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed. "I thought you just injured it—why did you—? And you know unicorn blood is cursed, right?"

"To be precise, I missed," Zhang Qiu said helplessly. "I underestimated the power of Bai Feng Huan Chao. I accidentally killed it—and as you said, unicorn blood carried a curse. I was immediately noticed by the Hounds."

"Hounds?"

"The Hounds of Tindalos—the ill-omened black dogs. I explained this earlier," Zhang Qiu shrugged. "In a way, they represent time's wrath. Fortunately, perhaps my earlier attempts to mend fate balanced out the offense—I only received a warning."

"You came back from summer to warn your past self," Harry said instinctively. "Because these words and knowledge appeared out of nowhere within the time loop—they represent time's will?"

"You get it, then?" Zhang Qiu's tone lightened. "Maybe you don't fully understand yet, but it doesn't matter—I'm confident I can handle what comes next."

"Actually, what I can't understand isn't this so-called will of time or the truth of the Chamber," Harry rubbed his head in confusion. "I just can't accept that the Zhang Qiu I know is like this."

"What's she like, then?" Zhang Qiu shrugged. "Maybe I haven't changed—maybe your perception of me was incomplete."

Harry's mind churned as he recalled every moment they'd shared. For years, Zhang Qiu had been quiet, gentle, humble, and polite—but at critical moments, she acted swiftly, decisively. Perhaps she was always this contradictory.

"But at least before, you never attacked innocent people…" Harry voiced the thing that weighed heaviest on him.

Zhang Qiu's lips moved as if to reply, but a strange whistling sound cut her off.

"Oh, the TARDIS brakes," the Doctor said, slightly flustered. "Come on, Harry—I don't want to run into my future self."

"But I still want to ask Zhang Qiu—"

"It's fine, child," the Doctor turned Harry by the shoulder. "Let's see Zhang Qiu's journey. Let's see how she got to this point."

"Professor Doudou was right," Zhang Qiu said in a calm tone. Harry realized this might not be the first time she'd seen him.

"Oh, by the way, to make your journey easier, I need to give you this." Zhang Qiu tore a page from her notebook. "These are the time points after each of my jumps. As far as I know, the TARDIS can't track magical travel."

"Uh, yeah, I tried tracking Zhang Qiu before, but it kept giving errors," the Doctor scratched his head.

"Oh, I remember now—you started showing signs near the end of last term, desperate to witness those Divination results, even going so far as to recreate them yourself," Harry said. "You seem so composed now—maybe because you've made up your mind?"

"You don't have time to discuss composure," Zhang Qiu shrugged. Just beyond the Forbidden Forest, a blue police box was slowly materializing.

"So run," the Doctor shoved Harry into their TARDIS, then pulled the lever—the machine vanished into the Forbidden Forest at the end of first year.

With the same whistling sound, the TARDIS stopped. Harry gently cracked the door open and peered out.

Before him stood a delicate patterned table, the scent of black tea and macarons lingering in the air. It was Zangst Gobstone's shop in Hogsmeade—around mid-May.

At the table sat Zhang Qiu and Mr. Zangst.

"Zhang Qiu, you're Harry's friend," Mr. Zangst said calmly. "But I'd like to know why you came to see me alone today."

"I have limited time. Let's cut to the chase," Zhang Qiu said slowly. "What is your mission?"

"I don't know what you mean," Mr. Zangst's tone shifted.

"Tell me now, and you can return whence you came," she tapped the table, threatening. "Or explain yourself to MI6 agents. Don't think the Yingzheng Prefecture ignores the magical world."

"Are you bluffing?" Mr. Zangst leaned back in his chair. "You have no proof I need to explain anything."

"Where did your fifty thousand pounds come from? Do you really think your slow pound-hopping in the magical world is discreet?" Zhang Qiu demanded sharply.

"Even if you bring this up, I'll tell you openly," Mr. Zangst frowned. "These funds were from a private commission by Mr. Donald Fontroy. He asked me to keep an eye on Cui Ge here."

"I know it's not that simple," Zhang Qiu shook her head. "The Embroidered Uniform Guard intercepted communications between Donald Fontroy and the CIA. You're executing a secret operation codenamed 'rycb.' What's its purpose?"

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead. This returnee who couldn't go three sentences without praising America probably never intended to hide his true allegiance.

"But why should I tell you?" Mr. Zangst's eyes darted. "Clearly, Tianchao is acting as a third party."

"For Harry's personal safety," Zhang Qiu said, her cheeks flushing slightly. She glanced down at her watch.

"Well, I suppose I can tell you—I'm leaving soon anyway," Mr. Zangst shrugged. "The plan is simple: tell Harry he can flee to America. That's it."

"I know, I know," he waved his hands, cutting off Zhang Qiu's question. "Fleeing to America means handing Britain over to the Dark Side—but isn't that better than having two Britains?"

"The Bai Gong prefers a Britain playing dead over a chaotic one," Zhang Qiu repeated the conclusion. "True, Voldemort has no interest in Muggle politics—but have you considered the Dark Side's true strategy?"

"Don't pressure me," Mr. Zangst raised his hands. "I only know I'm supposed to convince Harry to flee to America. Nothing else."

"I advise you to flee too," Zhang Qiu's form was fading. "I don't have time to play games with you. The Dark Side is about to move."

"Is this Zhang Qiu's first stop?" Harry asked from inside the TARDIS.

"Yes," the Doctor glanced at the scrap of paper Zhang Qiu had given him.

"Perhaps correcting fate doesn't just mean completing what fate intended but failed to happen—it also means eliminating what shouldn't have appeared but did," Harry mused. "From last year's Donald Fontroy, perhaps Mr. Zangst is another extraneous element."

"Clearly, anyone from the Bai Gong is extraneous," the Doctor shrugged. "But what do they gain?"

"The Soviet Union is positioning itself on a broader scale. We don't know what they're planning in America or continental Europe—so we can't guess what they're plotting in Britain…" Harry frowned, wishing desperately for the Inspiration Charm to cool down.

But what can be done? Wizards and Muggles have always been divided—even if British wizards declared independence… Ha! That probably won't happen! But even if they did, would things really get any better or worse?

The Soviet Union likely made its moves from a more holistic perspective; we don't know what schemes they're plotting in America or mainland Europe, so it's hard to guess what they're up to in Britain… Harry frowned in thought, wishing desperately that the Inspiration Charm would cool down.