160: Chapter 160 Teacup Probe

"Are you really going?" Draco blocked the dormitory door, his Potion assignment creased in his grip. "Feign illness, pretend to sleep, pick any excuse."

Allen stuffed the handwritten copy of a brief history of spatial magic into his bag. "Feigning illness leads to the Hospital Wing, and Lupin already remembers me pretending to sleep."

Zabini sat on the edge of his bed, adjusting his cufflinks. "He invited you for tea; if you don't go, he'll only be more curious about what's hidden under the tea table."

Nott opened an old book, a pencil held between his fingers. "Bring a book. Let the conversation start with theory; don't let him ask about the Dementor directly."

Draco glared at him. "You're helping the Professor design questions now?"

"I'm helping Allen design a buffer." Nott wrote Lupin's name on a blank page. "His anchor points are old cases—Peter, Black, Potter, James. As long as the topic steers toward those, it's dangerous."

Allen zipped up his bag. "So, let him talk about books first."

Draco pressed, "What if he asks about Peter directly?"

"Tell him he's dead."

The dormitory went quiet.

Draco stared at him. "You say that so smoothly."

"It's public fact." Allen walked toward the door. "Blown to bits twelve years ago."

Zabini tossed a candy box over. "Take this. Eat some candy before you actually drink tea."

Allen caught it, then placed it back on the table. "Too conspicuous."

Draco shoved a polished silver button into his cuff. "Take this. At least you can see if there's anything behind the door."

Allen put the silver button away. "Thanks."

Draco stepped aside. "Don't let that poor Professor in his ragged robes trick you."

Nott looked up. "Don't insult Lupin."

"I'm insulting him in the dormitory," Draco bit out the words. "Not shouting it in the Great Hall."

Allen left the Dungeon. The fire in the Common Room fireplace was steady. The spatial rift hidden behind the fire days ago had closed. Cold wind from the corridor drifted through the stone cracks, and the portraits huddled in their frames, refusing to say a word.

The door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts office opened quickly.

Lupin stood inside. His old robe cuffs had been washed, but traces of the wolfsbane potion remained deep in the fabric.

"Punctual, Mr. Potter."

"Being late results in point deductions."

"I generally don't deduct points," Lupin stepped aside to let him in. "Unless a student turns a Boggart into a knut that hits people."

The office was emptier than it had been during Gilderoy Lockhart's time. Old trunks were stacked against the wall, a teapot and two cups sat on the desk, and a copy of a brief history of spatial magic was pressed on the windowsill.

Allen sat down without touching the tea.

Lupin poured a cup only for himself. "You're interested in Spatial Magic?"

"The Potter Family has old records."

"I heard you returned to the old family home over the summer." Lupin opened the book on the windowsill. "The third edition is rare. The copy in the Library is missing the seventh chapter. Are you reading a handwritten copy?"

"A missing seventh chapter doesn't affect the first six."

"But the seventh chapter discusses soul anchors and physical displacement, which easily makes people curious."

The teacup steamed, the scent of the wolfsbane potion half-masked by the tea aroma. The silver button pressed against Allen's sleeve, reflecting that there was no one behind the door.

"Curiosity gets you kicked out of the Restricted Section," Allen said.

Lupin flipped to the middle. "Chapter four discusses Spatial Perception talent. The author argues that talented individuals can only perceive magic paths and cannot locate inanimate objects without magic."

Allen looked up. "The next sentence is: If a talented individual uses their own magic as a scale, the boundaries of inanimate objects will leave echoes in the spatial differential."

Lupin's fingertips paused on the page.

"You've memorized it well."

"Convenient for exams."

"This book is not within the scope of third-year exams."

"Sleep early, read early."

Lupin closed the book. "If Spatial Perception can capture echoes of inanimate objects, theoretically, it can also capture the boundaries of living beings. Dementors, Boggarts, ghosts—they all leave different outlines."

Allen looked at him. "Does the Professor want to discuss theory, or does he want to know what I saw on the train?"

Lupin looked up. The tea table stood between them; one cup remained untouched, the other's steam gradually thinning.

"Then I'll ask directly." Lupin put down the book. "The Dementor lingered outside your compartment for too long. You didn't faint, you didn't cry, and you had no fear response. Yesterday, the Boggart couldn't find a shape in front of you. You have traces of the Potter Family's spatial talent, and you've finished a book that a third-year student shouldn't have read."

Allen leaned back against the chair. "Narcolepsy, unstable talent, misread Boggart, the Dementor had no appetite."

Lupin watched him for a moment. "The last sentence doesn't sound like an explanation."

"It stayed at the door for a long time and eventually went to Flint's side, which means I don't taste good."

Lupin was silent for two seconds, then changed direction.

"Your father's line participated in some of the protective engineering of Hogwarts." He picked up his teacup and put it down again. "The Castle sometimes responds to certain bloodlines."

Allen didn't move. "The old family home records are incomplete."

"Incompleteness also leaves a direction."

"There are too many directions. Waterways, towers, old doors, behind portraits—Hogwarts can hide people everywhere."

Lupin heard the mention of waterways, and he heard the mention of old doors.

The silver light after the Chamber of Secrets incident, Harry's memory gaps, Ginny's missing segments, the Basilisk, and the diary remnants had long been placed on Dumbledore's desk.

"Last year in the Chamber of Secrets, Harry said there was silver light."

"Many spells have silver light."

"He doesn't remember clearly."

"It's normal to be frightened by a Basilisk."

"Ginny doesn't remember clearly either."

"She almost died."

Lupin didn't push closer; the topic fell lighter. "You don't like others looking at your memories."

Allen looked up. "Who does?"

"I don't like it either," Lupin said. "Digging up old history hurts people."

This sentence bypassed Snape and Dumbledore, falling into the old case from twelve years ago.

Lupin's fingertips were not far from his wand.

"Peter Pettigrew."

As the name fell, Peter looked up inside the Portable Space. The thin wall of the fourth layer of the cage lit up in a circle. The void tail tip pressed against the cage; neither the ebony box nor the cracked pocket watch responded.

Allen looked at the teacup. "A person who was blown to bits twelve years ago?"

Lupin stared at him. "Yes, blown to bits."

The office quieted down. Footsteps in the corridor faded away, and the heat in the cup dissipated.

Lupin was watching for a reaction.

All Allen gave him was the answer from the old newspapers.

After a long while, Lupin withdrew his hand. "After Black entered the Castle, many old names will be brought up. You carry the name Potter, so it's inevitable you'll be implicated."

"My relationship with Harry is average."

"But you both have the surname Potter."

"A surname can't block Dementors for me."

"And it can't block Black for you either."

"That's why I stay in the Dungeon."

Lupin looked toward the windowsill, where several class schedules were exposed under the copy of a brief history of spatial magic. "What if Black isn't looking for Harry?"

Allen countered: "Does the Professor believe the Ministry of Magic has been wrong for twelve years?"

Lupin didn't answer. "I believe people can see things wrong in fear, and the Ministry of Magic is the same."

Allen stood up. "That sentence isn't suitable for a report."

Lupin stood up too. "Today's conversation won't be written in a report."

"What if Dumbledore asks?"

"I'll say you read a lot, sleep poorly, and aren't interested in tea."

"Accurate."

Lupin handed him a piece of chocolate. "At least take one. In a Dementor environment, don't always rely on just holding on."

Allen didn't take it. "Draco would think you poisoned it."

Lupin chuckled. "Does Mr. Malfoy have strong opinions about me?"

"He has opinions about all new Professors—a side effect left by Gilderoy Lockhart."

"That's fair." Lupin put the chocolate back on the windowsill. "Tell him for me, Defense Against the Dark Arts Class won't require reciting my works."

Allen walked to the door, his hand on the doorknob.

Lupin spoke from behind: "Mr. Potter, if one day you discover that some dead person isn't dead, it's best to tell a trustworthy adult first."

Allen turned back. "Does the Professor mean ghosts?"

Lupin looked at him without replying.

Allen opened the door. "There are too many ghosts in Hogwarts; I can't report them all."

The door closed, and the chill of the corridor pressed in.

Inside the Portable Space, Peter lay limp in the cage, his face pressed against the ground.

Allen gave him one second to speak.

"He suspects..."

The seal closed.

Allen wrote on the file: Lupin probed spatial theory, confirmed reading depth, mentioned Potter bloodline and Hogwarts protections, mentioned Chamber of Secrets silver light, used Peter to probe reactions for the first time, response successful, risk not resolved.

The pen tip paused, and he added: Lupin retains suspicion of the old case, has not directly pressured Dumbledore, possibly investigating privately.

At the entrance of the Dungeon, Draco was waiting so intently he could have stared a hole through the wall. Seeing him return, he rushed forward immediately. "What did he give you to drink? What did he ask? Did he mention Black?"

Allen tossed his bag to him. "Didn't drink the tea, asked about books, mentioned Peter."

Draco's face turned pale. "He really mentioned him?"

Nott emerged from the shadows, pencil already in hand. "How did you answer?"

"The person who was blown to bits twelve years ago."

Zabini leaned against the doorframe. "Perfect nonsense."

Draco gripped the bag strap. "This year is truly cursed."

Allen looked toward the Common Room. Lower-year students were still gathered around the fireplace discussing Black. There was no movement toward Snape's office, and the Dementors outside the Castle were still guarding the cold wind of the Black Lake.

"The year has only just begun," Allen said.

Nott's pencil fell on the old book: Lupin's first probe, the Peter line begins to vibrate.

In the Portable Space, the void tail tip pressed down on the three names: Peter, Black, Lupin.

The three lines intersected for the first time.