Chapter 82

“What do you mean?” Malfoy sensed something off in Harry’s words.

“All the clues point to the monster in the Chamber being an eight-legged giant spider,” Harry said. “I know they live in a basin within the Forbidden Forest—I’ve been there. There are too many of them; we can’t easily eliminate them with our strength.”

“But shouldn’t the monster in the Chamber be a serpent, not a spider?” Ginny asked.

“I personally lean toward believing the real Chamber is hidden somewhere in Hogwarts, and inside it lies a Basilisk,” Harry said, referencing past meeting conclusions. “But the question is—who knows whether the attacker is the real monster, the monster everyone thinks it is, or whether there’s even a monster at all?”

“You’re overcomplicating a simple problem,” Cui Ge snapped today; Harry noticed Luna’s mood was extremely low—perhaps that was one reason for his outburst.

“No, Cui Ge,” Malfoy halted his motion. “I think Harry makes sense. I’d like you to listen to me for a moment.”

“First, Harry, I must tell you,” Malfoy said. “After extensive investigation and reasoning, we’ve developed preliminary guesses about who opened the Chamber. And at the same time, we truly don’t want to see a fourth victim.”

“So, Cui Ge, don’t fixate on destroying the monster—we only need to ensure the fourth attack never happens,” Malfoy turned to Cui Ge. “If the Chamber’s monster is a Basilisk, then only Harry or the diary could control it. If it’s a spider, then only Hagrid could command those spiders. If the attacks have nothing to do with the Chamber, then it’s simply a plot to oust Dumbledore.”

“You’re saying nothing—we still don’t know who…” Cui Ge pressed urgently.

“No, we don’t need to know who—it’s enough to control every possibility,” Malfoy stood up and pulled out the diary.

“Harry, you’ll keep this diary now, and I expect you to accept Ginny and Ivy’s supervision,” Malfoy said. “From now on, whenever you leave the Gryffindor common room besides attending classes, you must keep them with you. Understood?”

“Uh…” Harry hesitated.

“Ginny, Ivy, you’ll record Harry’s movements separately—each of you write your own log. I’ll compare them with others’ reports,” Malfoy added.

“Sure, no problem,” the two girls looked eager.

“Fine then,” Harry couldn’t let himself seem less responsible than two younger girls.

“We’ll handle Hagrid regarding the spiders; as for the conspiracy—no matter who’s behind it, if Dumbledore temporarily leaves the school, I believe he’ll have no reason to continue the attacks,” Malfoy said coldly.

At the mention of expelling Dumbledore, Crabbe and Goyle both grinned with delight.

Harry didn’t find it odd—Dumbledore’s departure might be part of his own plan. As for Hagrid, if their method of surveillance was taking turns visiting him, Harry believed Hagrid would still welcome student visitors.

Malfoy solemnly placed the diary in Harry’s hands, and Harry nodded to him.

“I don’t want a fourth attack either. For Hogwarts, I’ll cooperate with you,” he said.

Cui Ge now seemed calmer, whispering quietly with Luna.

Harry tucked the worn, crumpled diary into his coat and headed toward the library. Ginny and Ivy walked behind him, hands clasped, whispering girl-talk and occasionally giggling.

When Harry automatically sat at his usual seat, Ginny and Ivy sat across from him.

“Is this necessary?” Harry felt uneasy. “Why not sit at another table?”

“We’re not going anywhere. We’re watching you right here,” Ginny lifted her chin.

“Yes, right here watching you,” Ivy echoed.

If Harry had merely planned to quietly do homework, letting the two girls watch wouldn’t matter—but he wanted to discuss Malfoy with Zhang Qiu. After much persuasion, he finally convinced them to move to another table.

“What’s all this nonsense?” Zhang Qiu teased.

“Don’t ask. Malfoy suspects me of opening the Chamber,” Harry groaned. “So he’s assigned Ginny and Ivy to monitor my movements.”

“And the diary?” Zhang Qiu asked curiously. “Wasn’t it said the Chamber’s opener was likely one of the diary’s users?”

“If that were true, opening the Chamber would require the diary,” Harry said. “Malfoy is dead set on preventing attacks, so the diary will be watched too.”

“And as I said before—it’s like killing two birds with one stone,” Harry smiled bitterly. “I’m holding the diary, so they only need to monitor me.”

“Sounds like a decent plan,” Zhang Qiu stroked her nonexistent beard. “But do you remember the lingering question from before? Why did Malfoy fixate on your occasional Parseltongue and insist you opened the Chamber?”

“Yes, I thought he was overreacting…” Harry trailed off, frozen. “What if Malfoy was laying groundwork for this all along? No—what if from the very beginning, his goal was to get the diary into my hands?”

Harry recalled the first weeks of term—whenever someone got the diary, they’d rush to show it to Harry and invite him to join.

“But that can’t be a coincidence, can it?” Harry said. “Tom’s middle name is Woluo, the Chamber’s monster is a Basilisk—surely the attacks weren’t all orchestrated just to get the diary into my hands—”

“I think we should return to our original theory,” Zhang Qiu analyzed. “There are two separate conspiracies—one targeting you, the other targeting Hogwarts and Dumbledore. The Chamber and attacks were meant for Dumbledore, unrelated to the diary; the diary was meant for you. For some reason, the Death Eaters had to get it into your hands. At first, they tried coaxing you; then they decided to use the Chamber as cover.”

“Then what secret does this diary truly hold?” Harry couldn’t resist pulling it out again, studying its cover.

“Perhaps Donald’s role is also significant,” Zhang Qiu mused. “Though Dumbledore trusts him and knows he won’t harm you, sometimes two seemingly unrelated neutral actions, combined, steer things toward a very unfavorable outcome for you.”

“What has Donald done?” Harry recalled the teacher’s actions: turning Defense Against the Dark Arts into physical training, turning Ron into a muscle-headed knight-culture enthusiast, and vouching for the diary’s safety.

“His odd teaching style is his own belief—he proved his philosophy valid in the Dueling Club. Teaching these ‘advanced ideas’ may be professional duty,” Harry analyzed step by step. “Training Ron might be to support Dumbledore’s Avalon trials; defending the diary was to use student relationships to study the magic of love.”

“Everything seems perfectly reasonable,” he rubbed his head in confusion.

“Avalon isn’t reasonable,” Zhang Qiu tapped her light-blue-covered notebook on the table. “Divination never mentioned Avalon.”

“If Avalon was arranged by Donald convincing Dumbledore, then the cause and effect might be reversed—he set up Avalon to further cultivate Ron’s knightly spirit,” Harry grasped something, yet nothing solid. “But we all know knightly spirit isn’t bad.”

"Let’s change perspective—what impact did Avalon’s appearance have?" Zhang Qiu counted on her fingers. "First and most directly: student interest in the Chamber plummeted, easing the public pressure on Dumbledore."

Harry nodded in agreement. Avalon wasn’t scheduled to open until after Christmas, yet its projection appeared early above the Black Lake—right after the second attack, when everyone was most panicked.

“Second: it deepened Ron’s acceptance of knightly spirit, and gave him the chance to implant his personal views on you.”

Personal views? Harry almost said he’d never had private chats with Donald—but then he remembered Professor Hae. Judging by how the clues were obtained, Hae must be aligned with Donald.

What had Professor Hae said? Harry recalled: besides necessary information, only two things stood out. One: Harry should accept diverse opinions—harmless, just ordinary preaching. The other: talk of protecting Britain—nothing more than ordinary patriotism.

As Zhang Qiu raised her finger to state the third point, Ron rushed over, looking ecstatic.

“You won’t believe what I gained from Avalon!” He shook Harry’s shoulders. “Donald told me this armor is Gawain’s legacy—Gawain!”

“Gawain? What’s so special?” Harry knew him only as a common hero in medieval knight tales, his charisma exaggerated to an unreal degree.

“Gawain’s regret was letting his feud with Lancelot bring down the kingdom,” Ron raised his wand like a sword, solemn. “I’ll carry on Gawain’s will—I’ll become a perfect knight. Britain will never fall!”

Harry nodded along, smiling, but thought inwardly: if “protecting Britain” was the ideology Donald wanted to implant in Ron, what did that truly mean?