Chapter 148

Harry and Zhang Qiu obtained a small bottle of White Fresh Essence from Madam Pomfrey; the school was quite lenient toward kind-hearted young witches and wizards, and White Fresh Essence was not a rare substance at all.

Crouching beside the severely burned Buckbeak, Harry gently applied the ointment to the giant magical creature, whose eyes shimmered with gratitude.

"I think I finally understand why, on my first lesson with Buckbeak, he warmly invited me to ride him," Harry said as he applied the ointment. "We already knew each other."

"Of course. Riding him was part of the prophecy—or rather, your providing him with great aid was one of the fated events yet to unfold," Zhang Qiu said, arms crossed beside him. "So what we're doing now is profoundly significant."

"It's far better than your pranks at school," Harry nodded. "I mean, not only is this act positive, but the prophecies form a complete causal chain: because I saved Buckbeak, he allowed me to ride him. That's the true intent of fate."

"That's not quite right," Zhang Qiu flipped through her journal. "According to the prophecy, you became friends with Buckbeak first, and only then did you happen upon the chance to save him."

"Well, that's fine too," Harry stood up after finishing the ointment. "Honestly, I was just going to say this is far more normal than the prophecies you chase at school—like Scabbers disappearing or Sirius breaking into the dorm."

"Harry, prophecy is fate—there's no such thing as normal or abnormal—"

"No, I mean, haven't you realized?" Harry interrupted her. "Buckbeak's prophecy—or fate, if you will—is complete across the entire third year: I became his friend, and I helped him when he was in trouble. Perhaps the prophecy wasn't about healing him, but defending him."

"Correct," Zhang Qiu nodded.

"And he repaid me: the mock trial let me work with Hermione, making it easier to achieve outstanding results. Maybe the prophecy's repayment wasn't meant to take this form, but my point is—if fate leaves traces, then at least with Buckbeak, we've nearly reconstructed its path."

"Oh… yes," Zhang Qiu flipped through her journal. "I'd never considered whether these events might be connected."

"Let's move somewhere else," Harry's mind was buzzing; a brilliant insight had just flashed through him.

After saying goodbye to Hagrid, they found a secluded corner in the Forbidden Forest. Harry couldn't see the invisible Doctor, but he felt it didn't matter if the Doctor overheard.

"Your master's prophecies aren't isolated—they're like threads, interwoven yet parallel. In ancient myths, fate manifests as a spindle: all these linked events twist together to form a complete destiny," Harry gestured wildly. "That means we can deduce whether unfulfilled prophecies will still occur—or how much they'll deviate from fate's original path—by tracing the causal links between them."

"That's difficult, Harry," Zhang Qiu shook her head. "Before everything is settled, we can extract almost no useful information from prophecies. Take Buckbeak, for example."

"I only know you became friends with him on the first lesson, that Malfoy harbored hostility toward Buckbeak, and that Buckbeak faced trial and you ultimately saved him," Zhang Qiu organized her journal. "But first, Hagrid didn't even bring him out on the first lesson. Second, Malfoy had no reason to hate him. Third, if I hadn't suggested Hagrid hold a mock trial, the trial wouldn't have happened at all. And even the one prophecy that did come true—the rescue—was fulfilled through time travel."

"That's exactly it," Harry snapped his fingers. "You know Neville was also traveling. Fate sent him to before the first lesson—so Neville accidentally injured Buckbeak, which is why I didn't meet him on the first lesson. Neville was caught in a time loop with no choice but to injure Buckbeak; Buckbeak was destined to attack someone, and in the original fate, that someone should have been Malfoy."

"That does make sense," Zhang Qiu nodded thoughtfully. "If Malfoy despised this bird, he'd likely have pursued legal action, and given your nature, you'd have intervened to save Buckbeak. But why did fate make Neville attacked by Buckbeak?"

"Perhaps to keep him from interfering with Sirius," Harry mused on the time loop involving Buckbeak and Neville. "Was Sirius's attack on the dormitory on Halloween also part of the prophecy?"

"That's true," Zhang Qiu said with uncertainty. "Maybe Sirius is more important than Buckbeak?"

"Hey hey, children, stop," the Doctor interrupted their thoughts. "You're discussing something very dangerous. Remember, one key principle of prophecy is that it cannot be changed."

"Huh?" The two stared at him, accustomed to prophecies never matching reality.

"If you try to alter the future based on prophecy, how can prophecy remain accurate?" Doctor Dou explained. "So either people doubt or disbelieve prophecy, or they misunderstand its meaning, or their attempts to change the future actually cause it to come true—there are no other possibilities."

"Oh right, Zhang Qiu, remember?" Harry suddenly said. "The first Saturday after Halloween, in second year, you said a prophecy warned of an intruder—but no one came."

"That's right," Zhang Qiu automatically agreed.

"But in third year, the intruder appeared—Cui Ge's mother. The prophecy was fulfilled after all," Harry continued. "So your master's prophecies never exceed these three states: they manifest unexpectedly after we've forgotten them, or in ways we never imagined—but they always come true."

"Letting prophecies unfold naturally yields no gain," Zhang Qiu shrugged. "So I still prefer to actively witness or fulfill them."

"It's fine, fine, all acceptable," Doctor Dou spread his arms dramatically. "You may treat prophecy however you wish—just promise me, never, ever, again, try to decipher fate."

Zhang Qiu offered a casual smile; Harry frowned, wanting to say more, but he knew the Doctor's warning meant danger.

"Actually, Harry," Zhang Qiu flipped to a few pages earlier in her notebook, "some things can't be clarified no matter how hard you try—they're utterly nonsensical."

"For example: during summer, one of your rude Muggle relatives will be magically inflated into a balloon. What does that mean? Which thread does it precede? Which does it follow?"

"Huh?" Harry couldn't believe it. "Are you serious? That's written in prophecy?"

"Prophecy doesn't distinguish between big or small, normal or absurd. You might find it strange, but honestly—you've never inflated anyone during summer, have you?"

"I haven't… indeed."

"Then that's settled. I should head to the next stop. See you there," Zhang Qiu waved with a smile. "I'll inflate him—or her. It's not dangerous. Might even be fun."

After watching Zhang Qiu's figure fade and vanish, Harry and Doctor Dou returned to the TARDIS. As soon as they stepped inside, the Doctor said seriously: "Harry, be wary. Xuan Jun's prophecies involve a complex magical ritual. I advise you not to get involved."

"What?" Harry frowned. "But Zhang Qiu said this is to help me defeat Voldemort."

"That's part of his plan, child," the Doctor shook his head. "You can still trust Zhang Qiu—but further discussion of Xuan Jun's prophecies benefits neither of you."

"Alright, if you advise it," Harry sighed and shrugged. "I'll remember."

Before Harry could dwell further on the chilling implications of entangled fate, the familiar screech of brakes pulled his wandering thoughts back to reality.

Through the wardrobe's crack, Harry saw a stern-faced retired officer, lounging comfortably at a garden table, sipping steaming black tea as he enjoyed the afternoon sun.

"Hello, sir," Zhang Qiu emerged from behind the grape arbor, revealing herself.

"Hello, young lady," the officer instinctively greeted her, then grew wary. "Who are you? Why are you in my garden?"

"I'm looking for someone. Do you know Harry Potter?" Zhang Qiu asked cautiously.

"Ah, that name sounds familiar. I think I heard it somewhere," the officer strained to recall. "Seems he was a little rascal."

"Oh yes, I remember now," he said. "My neighbor Maggie mentioned him. She said he was the child her brother adopted."

"Ms. Maggie?" Zhang Qiu nodded. "She lives next door?"

"I don't know why you're looking for her, but she's been dead for years," the officer sipped his tea slowly.

"Dead? Can you tell me the details?" Zhang Qiu asked, then realized she was an intruder and hastily added an excuse: "Harry Potter asked me to check on Aunt Maggie's condition."

"That's a long story. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Perhaps the Hogwarts uniform made the officer subconsciously deem Zhang Qiu harmless; he smiled and invited her to sit, then spoke in hushed tones.

"Maggie's death was strange. It might involve a mysterious urban legend. Have you heard of the Assassin Brotherhood?"

"No," Zhang Qiu smiled awkwardly.

"Then you've never heard the surname 'Fry.' That brings us to the criminal syndicate based in London…"

As the retired officer vividly recounted his gangster tale, Harry finally dredged up a memory tied to that surname: his first Muggle friend.