After leaving Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy did not immediately return to his Wiltshire manor. Instead, he slipped away alone to a crumbling, abandoned estate.
"Failed again? Weren't you certain you'd finally have something on Dumbledore this time?" A masked man, cloaked head to toe in black, stood by the manor's collapsing gates, his voice low and rough.
"I'm telling you, that boy is hiding something!" Lucius's voice was still sharp with frustration; he, too, now wore a mask.
"And yet?" The masked man's tone was pure mockery.
"I don't know what went wrong. Maybe the Veritaserum failed, or maybe Dumbledore pulled some trick, made the boy's answers sound perfectly normal…" Lucius spat, then added bitterly, "Disgustingly normal."
"Hmph. Sounds to me like you're just incompetent," the masked man sneered.
"And what have you been doing, exactly? Who are you to criticize me?" Lucius shot back, bristling.
"I've been preparing, with every ounce of strength, for the Master's return," the masked man replied, his voice suddenly reverent.
"Oh, I'm sure the Master will reward your loyalty—if he ever returns," Lucius said with biting sarcasm.
Truth be told, Lucius had always been skeptical about the so-called "Master's" return. But if he could use the fanatics' power for his own ends, he had no complaints.
"And you—always claiming you've found a way to bring down Dumbledore, and always failing! Do you have any idea how far Dumbledore's ambitions have grown? He's reaching out to his old pupils in Europe and North America, weaving something behind the scenes. Our great cause has never faced such threat!" The masked man's voice was thick with resentment and venom.
"I know all about Dumbledore's ambitions. But what do you expect me to do? He's the Headmaster of Hogwarts. His students are everywhere, in every corner of the globe," Lucius replied, his tone edged with helpless fury.
"Whatever happens, we can't let him ruin the Master's resurrection… That last deal for the Wizard God's Blood should never have been left to that kid. Now we've fallen out with the G.A. (Grindelwald Army), and it'll be a long time before we can work with them again." The masked man sounded genuinely aggrieved.
"Oh, please. If you lot hadn't been so timid—so afraid of being outmaneuvered by the G.A.—you wouldn't have sent a nobody to handle the deal in the first place," Lucius seized his chance to sneer.
"What's the point in arguing now? Since we can't get the Wizard God's Blood, we'll have to go after that other thing," the masked man said, resigned.
"That 'thing' belongs to Flamel. Do you have any idea how impossible it'll be to get it?" Lucius's voice was low and ominous.
"Flamel? He's nothing but a sack of brittle bones," the masked man scoffed.
"Well, good luck to you." Lucius paused, then added, not entirely willingly, "If you need my help, you know where to find me."
"If we need you, we'll come," the masked man replied coolly.
"That's all, then. I'm heading back."
"Mm. Goodbye."
"Goodbye."
With that, the two ended their conversation. Each turned on the spot and vanished with a crack of Apparition.
As the echo of their departure faded, a chill wind swept through the ruined manor, leaving it lonelier than ever.
…
At Hogwarts, in the Headmaster's circular office, Albus Dumbledore stood alone, fatigue etched deep into his aged face.
He gazed at Fawkes the phoenix, perched quietly nearby. For some reason, an ancient Eastern poem drifted through his mind: "Those who know me say I am troubled; those who don't, wonder what I seek."
How true. Ever since the envoy from the Brazilian Ministry of Magic had arrived in London—warning of a group called the G.A. stirring in the Americas—Dumbledore had thrown himself into secret investigations.
He'd reached out to his students and friends, gathering every scrap of intelligence he could find about this mysterious faction.
To many, his actions must have seemed "ulterior"—as if he were plotting something.
After all, the name "Dumbledore" carried weight. Add to that his network of students and allies in powerful positions around the world, and it was no wonder people were wary.
But Dumbledore knew better than anyone the dangers of such power. That was why he always exercised restraint.
When a person—or a group—becomes too powerful, it's all too easy to lose yourself.
He'd learned that lesson when he was still young.
And the one who'd taught him—had done so with her death.
Still, there were things he had to do, if it meant sparing others from tragedy.
He could only hope, in his heart, that his efforts would lead to something good.
…
When Qin Yu finally surfaced from a tangle of bizarre dreams, his mind was still foggy. Then he saw Professor Swinton sitting at his bedside, absorbed in a book.
The title? Some Odd Ideas in Alchemy.
Seeing the book, Qin Yu's thoughts slowly sharpened…
He remembered it well. He'd browsed it once on the second floor of Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley—found it a bit ridiculous, but Hermione had bought it anyway, along with a stack of others. When they'd returned to school, she'd thoughtfully tucked it into his trunk.
Later, at Hogwarts, he'd often read it for fun. Only recently had Professor Swinton spotted it and borrowed it from him.
"Hmm? You're awake!" It was a while before Professor Swinton noticed Qin Yu stirring.
"Um, Professor Swinton, what happened to me?" Qin Yu asked, still a little dazed.
"You drank the Veritaserum Lucius brought. Side effect—drowsiness. You've been asleep here for over eight hours," Professor Swinton explained.
"…Right, that's what happened."
Qin Yu remembered now. It seemed the system had protected his memories, but not the aftereffects of the potion. Luckily, it was only sleepiness—nothing worse.
"Actually, Professor Snape was here the whole time. He's the one who brought you in," Professor Swinton added, raising an eyebrow.
"Mm, I'll make sure to thank Professor Snape," Qin Yu said seriously.
"All right. If you feel up to it, you can leave. We didn't tell your friends about any of this—no need to worry them. You know, sometimes the fewer people who know, the better." Professor Swinton stood up as he spoke.
Qin Yu realized he'd slept enough. With Professor Swinton's help, he swung his legs over the bed and stood. The last of the potion's effects faded away.
…
The two left together.
It was already evening. Walking through the lamp-lit corridors, Qin Yu and Professor Swinton chatted idly, just as they often had before.
Naturally, the conversation drifted to alchemy.
"…This book is quite good. The ideas are a bit wild, but there's real value here. I'd love to meet the author and talk shop," Professor Swinton said, waving the book.
"Really? I thought you'd call the author mad," Qin Yu shrugged.
"Haha! In history, every great alchemist was a little mad, weren't they?" Professor Swinton laughed.
"Seems you're right… Like that saying from the East: 'No madness, no greatness,'" Qin Yu translated, thinking of "不疯魔不成活".
"Hmm, it seems human wisdom is universal," Professor Swinton mused.
Then, abruptly, he changed the subject. "I heard you turned those alchemy materials into a sword that's only good for looking pretty?"
"Huh? Do you have to be so harsh? For a second, I thought you were Professor Snape in disguise!" Qin Yu protested, embarrassed.
"Haha! I never thought the fearless Qin could be embarrassed," Professor Swinton teased.
"Fine, I'll admit it—my skills were lacking, and I wasted precious materials. Tell you what, I'll give you the sword and you can make something useful out of it," Qin Yu offered.
To his surprise, Professor Swinton nodded. "I was just about to ask you for it, actually."
"…You really want it?"
But Professor Swinton continued, "This book gave me a lot of inspiration. I'll help you turn that pretty sword into something useful. How does that sound?"
"Really?" Qin Yu's eyes lit up.
"Of course!" Professor Swinton grinned.
"Can it fly?" Qin Yu blurted out, barely containing his excitement.
"It's not impossible… Seems Madam Hooch was right—you've always dreamed of flying on a sword," Professor Swinton chuckled.
"Professor, let me correct you. Not riding—standing! If you ride a sword, aren't you worried about slicing your own backside? Madam Hooch's imagination is a bit too wild…" Qin Yu rolled his eyes.
"Standing, then. That's doable. Any other requests?" Professor Swinton asked.
"I'd like it to change size—kind of like an Extension Charm. Like your bag," Qin Yu added.
"Hmm, changing size… That's tricky. I'll need to consult with Professor Snape and a few others." Professor Swinton paused, then asked, "Anything else?"
"Make it sharp!" Qin Yu insisted.
If all it could do was fly, it'd just be a glorified broomstick.
"That's doable…"
"And maybe some special effects, like…"
Qin Yu rattled off idea after idea. By the time he reached his twenty-eighth request, Professor Swinton gazed up at the night sky and sighed, "Qin, I've suddenly lost all interest in making this sword. Let's pretend I never said anything. I'll go admire the moon instead. Its light brings peace to my soul."
"No, Professor! I'm sorry! Just make it fly, change size, and be sharp. That's all—really!" Qin Yu pleaded, hastily lowering his demands.
"Now that's more reasonable… One must learn contentment," Professor Swinton said, half-teasing, half-wise.
"You're absolutely right. With those features, I'd be more than satisfied!" Qin Yu replied solemnly.
So, Professor Swinton accompanied Qin Yu to the Gryffindor dormitory and took away the alchemical sword—which, until now, had only been good for show.
…
Late that night, perhaps because he'd slept so much during the day, Qin Yu found himself wide awake in bed.
He remembered telling Hermione, "If you dream of someone, that person will have insomnia."
So, was his own insomnia because someone was dreaming of him?
With nothing better to do, Qin Yu slipped out of bed, grabbed a candlestick and a quill, and wandered into the empty common room. It was well past curfew, but breaking the rules over bedtime was hardly a big deal.
He found a table, set down the candlestick, and spread out his stationery.
On the parchment, Hermione had already written her latest letter.
Lately, she'd started replying directly to his previous letters, adding her thoughts after each paragraph—almost like a conversation in writing.
Qin Yu was no stranger to this format. In his past life, he'd loved reading novels with inline comments, always tempted to click and see what others had said.
He found Hermione's new style delightful.
He read her updates—about her life, about Crookshanks getting fatter, about her view of spring, and… how sometimes, late at night, she found herself thinking of him, remembering the two of them chatting for hours on the attic bed.
Each time he reached these lines, Qin Yu couldn't help but smile, jotting down his own replies beside them.
Once he'd answered every paragraph, he took out a fresh sheet to write even more—things he wanted to share with the girl far away.
In the soft candlelight, no matter how dark or chaotic the world outside, there would always be places, and people, that could bring him peace.
——Dimensional Wall——
Over four thousand words—call it a double chapter.
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