Chapter 151: Longbottom House

"You're not a guard here?" William's expression instantly grew calm. "Just a passing Auror meddling in others' affairs?"

"I still have the right to inquire..."

"Someone! Someone, please!" William suddenly shouted, and the other prisoners joined in, yelling as if trying to summon the guards.

"Trouble," Harry muttered under the Invisibility Cloak. "Jonny Sir came in with the TARDIS—we're illegal intruders."

"Who isn't?" Zhang Qiu shrugged. "I used a Secret Spell to jump in."

"Either way, time is critical," Jonny pushed the two invisible children toward the TARDIS. "Let's go. There may be traitors among the guards."

"No, I can't leave," Zhang Qiu said. "I haven't given the newspaper to Sirius."

"Newspaper?" Harry frowned.

"Sirius escaped because he saw the newspaper—the one reporting the Weasleys winning the lottery," Zhang Qiu explained. "Divination told me it was dropped by Minister Fudge during his inspection, but the current Minister is Scrimgeour, and he never inspected Azkaban."

"Fudge was assassinated in 1988," Jonny interrupted, his tone grim. "The killer used Transfiguration to turn a shotgun into a camera and slipped past inspection. I should've caught it. I could've stopped it."

"Anyway, when the Secret Spell brought me here, I knew," Zhang Qiu said solemnly. "Especially when I found this copy of the Daily Prophet in the guards' break room."

"But can you escape?" Harry asked anxiously.

By now, the three had reached the guard station. They all knew a guard was dozing inside, and each slowed their steps.

"Let's hide in the TARDIS first," Jonny suggested.

"No need. My instinct tells me William's chaos is our best chance. Otherwise, even if Sirius can turn into a dog, he won't get out."

"You really have to—" Jonny reached to grab her, dissatisfied.

"It's fine," Harry said, hopeful. "You can use the Secret Spell to escape, right?"

"Technically, reusing the Secret Spell requires at least a thirty-minute cooldown," she glanced at her watch. "Fifteen minutes left. I think I can run over, toss the paper to him, say a few words—it should be enough."

"Shouldn't I..." Harry gripped the Invisibility Cloak, hesitating, wanting to go with her.

"Go on, Harry," Dr. Dou Dou pulled open the wardrobe door. "Don't forget—you met her unharmed in the future."

Harry nodded at Zhang Qiu, said "Good luck," and stepped into the TARDIS. He knew that if he met her in the future, it meant she had survived this.

"Then our next stop is..." Dr. Dou Dou suddenly looked startled. "Longbottom House?"

When Harry stepped out of the wardrobe and saw the spotless guest room and the lush green garden beyond the window, he remembered that Longbottom was an old pure-blood family, rumored to run a profitable herb business.

Habitually pulling on the Invisibility Cloak, Harry crept toward the door. The moment he took his first step, the door swung open.

Two Nevilles carried Zhang Qiu in—one on each side. Her school robe had been sliced clean down the back, soaked in blood, her face twisted in pain.

"Just lay her on the floor. Tend the wounds first," one Neville commanded. "This bleeding is terrifying—try Skele-Gro."

"Right leg and left shoulder," Zhang Qiu whispered.

One Neville gently lifted the hem of her robe—it still dripped blood. Beneath, she wore shorts, the bottom of which had also been cut open. A deep gash marred the back of her right thigh, oozing blood steadily.

The other Neville pulled a small glass vial from his pocket and carefully treated her wounds. With the potion's aid, her external injuries healed instantly, the wounds sealing into thin red lines, bleeding stopped.

"This is magic," one Neville marveled. "A single spell can inflict such grievous harm, yet a few unassuming drops of potion can instantly heal wounds that would otherwise be fatal."

"Actually, these two things are connected," Zhang Qiu interjected. "Skele-Gro only works well on spell-caused injuries. The magical world has its own mechanisms—it always feels unreal to me."

"Leo said the same," one Neville agreed. "Magic's effects are often 'temporary.' Relying on magic leaves you vulnerable. Only your own fists are truly reliable."

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" the other Neville slapped his forehead and hurried toward the door. "Afternoon training starts soon—I've got to go."

"Oh right, I should be going too," the remaining Neville said. "Let me help you to bed."

"No need," Zhang Qiu struggled to her feet. "I can manage. Go back."

Neville nodded, then his form faded and vanished—Harry recognized it as Hyper-Time return.

Zhang Qiu removed her outer robe, revealing her shirt and shorts, both splattered with blood.

She cast a Cleaning Charm to remove the stains, then a Repair Charm to mend the torn robe, rolled it into a bundle, and stuffed it into her storage bag. Finally, she sat on the guest bed, propped up by several pillows, and slowly pulled out her diary.

"Zhang Qiu," Harry revealed himself. "What happened after we parted in Azkaban?"

"Don't mention it," she said, unsurprised by his appearance, sighing as she began recounting her Azkaban experience.

"Going back to find Sirius went smoothly. To avoid unnecessary trouble, I didn't speak—just tossed the paper in."

At this point, Harry found it perfectly normal—nothing seemed amiss.

"But then I was hit. I moved closer to see if he'd picked up the paper, and suddenly a spell shot out from Sirius's cell. I dodged, but it struck my left shoulder," Zhang Qiu continued. "I realized something was wrong and turned to flee—then my right leg was hit. I couldn't walk. Guards were coming, but the Secret Spell hadn't cooled down yet. It was terrifying. Luckily, Neville appeared—he used a Portkey to bring me here."

"Alright. But," Harry frowned, "you said a spell shot out from Sirius's cell. Azkaban prisoners can't carry wands—so where did the spell come from? And two spells were fired. If someone was hiding in that cell, why didn't Sirius stop them?"

"I don't understand either. The only possibility I can think of is Death Eaters. Who else would care about a walking corpse like him?"

"That's the only explanation," Harry murmured, stroking his chin. "Voldemort knows the real informant was Peter. He suspects Sirius was framed for some hidden purpose, so he arranged Death Eaters to lie in wait in his cell."

"For Sirius, before seeing the paper, he wouldn't have moved at all. His heart was dead," Zhang Qiu sighed again. "I hope he escapes tomorrow as planned. Otherwise, I might have to go back again."

"Maybe he will," Harry said. "Because divination showed he would escape, right? That's fate."

"But divination has failed many times," Zhang Qiu flipped through her notebook. "The most troubling is the argument between Ron and Hermione..."

"No," Harry interrupted. "I mean—if fate wants Sirius to escape, and Neville specifically used Hyper-Time to save you, then even if Sirius has no intention of escaping, fate will make Neville compensate."

"You're right," Zhang Qiu nodded. "At least now I can rest easier about this. But the divinations involving Ron and Hermione probably still won't come true."

"You can't change what's already happened," Harry sighed. "As far as I know, they haven't spoken more than a few words this term."

"That's a problem. Third-year progress is sufficient, but to gain time's gift, we're still far short," Zhang Qiu looked hesitant. "I think I might try going back even earlier. I've had this idea before."

"Back to first year?" Harry knew she'd injured the unicorn—he merely echoed her thought.

"Start with second year. I actually collected more fully in first year," she flipped through the diary. "The only regret is you didn't play the challenge game."

"Neville did," Harry shrugged.

"Oh right—Neville." Zhang Qiu sat up suddenly. "I've been meaning to say—he's done many things that were meant for you."

"So before we leave," she lifted her leg to inspect the wound, "I think I should meet his tutor. Maybe he's one of us."

"One of us? Your people?" Harry remembered he was also Eastern. "Like, are you both closely watching divination and fate?"

"Exactly," Zhang Qiu nodded. "I suspect so. Could you go fetch him?"

"You could wait until you're healed to speak with him," Harry suggested.

"It's not that simple," Zhang Qiu said, a trace of worry in her voice. "If the interval between Secret Spell travels is too long—it drains my sanity severely. I could fall into danger."

"Alright. I'll go get him now, so you can move on to the next stop quickly."

No sooner had Harry finished speaking than a rhythmic knock came at the door.