Chapter 158

"Right here on the eighth floor, opposite the tapestry of the giant troll bashing Barnabas the Barmy." Zhang Qiu said, "You always thought this was just an empty corridor, didn't you?"

"True," Harry nodded. "But you only found out recently, right? Several times when you waited for me outside the dormitory, you never noticed this secret room."

"Of course, because to activate the Room of Requirement, you must silently repeat it three times—like now: I need a bathroom." Zhang Qiu repeated, "A bathroom, a bathroom."

A gilded, ornate bronze door slowly emerged from the wall, looking extremely luxurious.

"Strange, why is it…" Zhang Qiu looked puzzled.

At that moment, the door clicked. Before Harry could react, Zhang Qiu slapped a Disillusionment Charm onto his forehead with astonishing speed.

The door didn't open. Harry heard Zhang Qiu exhale in relief.

He wisely pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and concealed both their forms before whispering, "What's wrong?"

"Donald," Zhang Qiu whispered. "He uses the Room of Requirement often too. A bathroom door shouldn't look like this—or rather, this might be the bathroom he wants."

"Should we take a look inside?" Harry couldn't help feeling curious.

"You're going to spy on a professor bathing?" Zhang Qiu gave him a strange look. "But peeking won't hurt."

The two slipped under the Invisibility Cloak and quietly pried open a crack in the door. A large marble tub steamed with mist; on the floor lay a suit, a shirt, and a red tie, crookedly hanging from a nearby rack.

"I get it," Zhang Qiu murmured, staring at the clothes. "Donald must come here to bathe and change before the banquet. Since his personal items are left here, it's not the Room of Requirement responding to us—it's that we just opened a bathroom the Room had already become, and one he's currently using."

"Didn't Donald take his dirty clothes after bathing?" Harry crouched to examine the suit, a coffee stain on the front. "This is Brioni. It's expensive."

"Don't worry—he's uncle to the richest man in America." Zhang Qiu flipped through the clothes with a sour expression. The perfectly tailored, smooth-fabric suit lay carelessly on the damp floor, ruined by the bathroom's moisture.

"Then should we still use it?" Harry glanced at the door. "What if Donald comes back?"

Zhang Qiu plucked a pale gold hair from the clothes, blinked, and said, "No problem. According to my second-year records, after he discovered the attack site, he called Hermione to his office and didn't send her back until bedtime. Hermione said he spent the whole night teaching her defensive charms because he was worried she'd be targeted."

"Ah, so he only noticed Neville coming back after he'd dropped Hermione off." Harry recalled the scene he'd witnessed during his journey.

"In any case, we can use this room freely before midnight." Zhang Qiu sighed in relief. "You go first. I'll go see what Dumbledore's up to."

"Uh, I'll be quick," Harry scratched his head, unsure where his faint disappointment came from.

Harry didn't use the steaming tub. He simply rinsed off under the shower, dried his robes with a charm, redressed neatly, then carefully peered out through the door crack.

Zhang Qiu lifted a corner of the Invisibility Cloak and smiled at him. They swiftly swapped positions—now Zhang Qiu entered to bathe, while Harry waited outside under the cloak.

Soon, a faint sound came from the statue nearby.

Dobby walked out of Dumbledore's office, glanced toward the Room of Requirement, then hurried downstairs.

Harry took three seconds to realize: in second year, there was no Professor Dobby—this must be the Doctor from the journey.

After a while longer, Zhang Qiu emerged. When she saw Harry, she smiled brightly.

"You're still here?" Her tone held genuine surprise.

"I'm not in a hurry to leave," Harry shrugged. "The Doctor said he'll pick me up tomorrow morning."

"Then let's go back to the Chamber," Zhang Qiu pouted. "Other places in the school aren't safe. I mean, we might run into other versions of ourselves."

Harry nodded in full agreement. The two slipped under the Invisibility Cloak and crept toward the second floor. But just as they reached the corner, they heard a familiar voice.

"My grandmother always said there are two things a man must never do: waste food and make a girl cry." Neville said to the empty girls' bathroom. "Harry, I know you're here."

Second-year Harry pulled back the Invisibility Cloak. "Fine, but don't let her splash me."

"This is getting crowded," the third-year Harry muttered. "Second-year Harry and Ron, third-year Neville, the earlier Harry and the Doctor trailing behind Neville, and us—how many of us are there?"

"Wait—you mean there are three Harrys here, yet none of you are being rejected by time?" Zhang Qiu seized the flaw.

"Maybe because of the Invisibility Cloak?" Harry said uncertainly. "I didn't realize the Deathly Hallows were this powerful."

"Then I really regret it now," Zhang Qiu sighed. "If I'd known I could borrow your cloak, I wouldn't have had to stay two extra years."

"Then you could still—"

"No." Zhang Qiu shook her head gently. "I've decided. I'll just get through this year, then go to Kordofstritz next year."

"To the Soviet Union?" Harry hadn't heard the name, but he could guess from its distinctive sound.

"Yes. The Soviet magical school. I want to see Yanayev's territory firsthand." Zhang Qiu nodded. "I'm almost certain the Soviets are the ones disrupting your fate."

Harry gently squeezed Zhang Qiu's hand. They fell silent, held their breath, and watched as second-year Harry and third-year Neville walked past, talking. Only after estimating that third-year Harry had also left did Harry speak again.

"But I can't figure out what they did—or why." Harry said.

"Do you know the Fry siblings' origins?" Zhang Qiu whispered. "The assassins who killed your aunt's family—they came from Crawley."

"Crawley? You don't mean the Crawley I'm thinking of?" Harry froze.

"I've been using the Insight Charm monthly and sending regular letters to the Embroidered Uniform Guard to investigate," Zhang Qiu said. "Little clues have connected. In short: the Fry siblings and the backer of the XiongXiong organization are none other than your acquaintance, Lord Grantham—George Crawley."

"In 1982, George Crawley's London law firm suddenly received a large suspicious investment. That same year, the Fry siblings began operating the London gang known as the XiongXiong. In 1984, he inexplicably inherited an estate from a Soviet relative—and adopted Ivy that same year."

"He said the relative's orphaned child," Harry added.

"So Ivy definitely has Soviet ties, right?" Zhang Qiu said. "She's the emotional card the Soviets played."

Harry rubbed his chin. If Ivy was one year younger than him, she was only three in 1984—impossible to be a spy or agent.

"But if what you say is true," Harry said, puzzled, "why did the Soviets go to such lengths to court me? Even if I'm the future leader of the magical world, magic has its own ways. Capitalism or socialism—what difference does it make to wizards?"

"The Soviets told us they wanted the Magical Communist International to recruit you, build a red magical Britain, and gradually spread across Europe." Zhang Qiu mused. "I once thought it was that simple. But now, I'm certain they have ulterior motives."

"No matter how I analyze Yanayev's earlier moves, all I see is an attempt to court you." Harry shook his head. "His true goal remains unknown."

"You remember the Cuban incident," Zhang Qiu said, uncertain. "What if the Soviets deployed a weapon in Britain comparable to a nuclear bomb—say, a fully Soviet-aligned, battle-hardened, well-equipped wizard combat unit, forged in the Wizarding War? Or perhaps they plan to use wizardry as a post-nuclear apocalypse force, since the Anti-Muggle Barrier theoretically shields against nuclear explosions…"

"He could then oversee and threaten all of Europe." Harry paused. "If all of Europe were red, the Cold War would become Asia-Africa-Europe versus North and South America—giving the Soviets a decisive advantage."

"And no matter what, the Celestial Empire won't stop them." Zhang Qiu shrugged. "We're waiting for our share."

"If by 'share' you mean carving up the EEC, then thank heaven." Harry shrugged. "Thankfully, the Soviets gave me a ticket—otherwise, I'd have been drained dry by those vampires."

"Correction—it's the EU now," Zhang Qiu said.

"What's the difference?" Harry didn't understand.

"Actually, no difference. Simply put, the EEC changed its name to the EU. Though you seemed to call it that before." Zhang Qiu shrugged dismissively. "They're probably preparing to introduce the euro…"

The conversation veered off course and abruptly ended. Zhang Qiu raised a finger to her lips. Beyond their breathing, Harry heard another faint footstep.

He quickly realized: Neville had returned.

"That's third-year Neville—he's heading to the Chamber," Harry whispered.

Zhang Qiu glanced at her watch, then her face turned pale with alarm.

"Donald's still tutoring Hermione at this hour," she whispered back.

Who will stop Neville from going down? Even if he found out someone lived there, it wouldn't matter—but Harry knew history recorded that Donald stopped him.

Perhaps history only recorded "Harry saw Donald stop Neville."

"Do you have Polyjuice Potion?" Harry whispered.