197: Chapter 197 The Round-Hat Wizard Returns

"He's here again."

The voice of the family crest cut the study's illusion in half, and the image of the street corner lit up on the wall.

"Round hat, grey cloak, Muggle briefcase. Duration: three minutes and twenty seconds. He has a measuring instrument in his hand."

The door knocker immediately exploded: "I told you that tattered hat wasn't clean! Let me take a bite out of him. Once I'm done, I'll pretend to be an ordinary door; no one will be able to trace it."

Allen Potter sat up from the bench, draped in his robe. The headache from the sleep training persisted, feeling like a cold, hard coin pressing against his left eye.

He looked at the wall. The Wizard in the round hat stood under a Muggle streetlamp, his briefcase cracked open to reveal a brass dial inside.

The family crest zoomed in on the image.

"First scan, direction: study. Second scan, direction: old sealed area of the Dungeon. Third scan, direction: potential location of Portable Space external ripples. The waveform matches a spatial ripple measurement."

"The Ministry of Magic?" The door knocker's iron tongue ground against the back of the door panel. "Dumbledore's people aren't this fond of carrying rulers. The Order of the Phoenix eavesdrops, while the Ministry of Magic measures houses."

Allen walked to the window without touching the curtains. "He is confirming the usage frequency of the Portable Space during the summer break."

Peter was pushed to the edge of the study's projection by the Void, and his gag loosened slightly. Upon hearing "Ministry of Magic," he recoiled, then hurriedly spoke: "The Department of Mysteries. That bunch loves this kind of thing. Time, space, the Death Chamber, tattered curtains—they manage everything and admit to nothing."

"Have you seen them?" Allen asked.

"The Master mentioned them. He said the stupidest people in the Ministry of Magic sit in the Atrium, while the most dangerous ones hide underground." Peter swallowed hard. "I haven't seen the round hat, but I've heard of the instruments used to measure spatial ripples."

The family crest recorded the words "Department of Mysteries." The door knocker continued to urge from the foyer: "He's raised his wand for the third time. Do you want me to activate the rebound? The Manor will be gentle; it'll only break two of his ribs."

"Do nothing." Allen gathered all the knuts on the desk into a wooden box, but he did not open the entrance to the Portable Space. "From now on, for the next three days, no external spatial casting. No creating new anchor points, no shifting letters, no moving objects."

The door knocker was stunned. "You're too lazy to even pick up your shoes with your hands, and now you want to act like a Muggle?"

"Let him measure zero." Allen placed his blackthorn wand on the desk. "Zero is cleaner than a rebound."

The Wizard in the round hat finished his third scan at the street corner. The needle on the brass dial flickered twice before settling at a low reading. Seeming unsatisfied, he changed his angle, placed his briefcase on the ground, and aimed it at the iron gate of Potter Manor.

The door knocker sneered, "If he takes three more steps forward, the contract will take a bite out of him."

"He won't come in." Allen watched as the man's toes stopped just outside the line. "Observers understand boundaries."

The family crest displayed the external surveillance feeds side by side. The Order of the Phoenix rotation was still there, and the people in the empty house opposite had also noticed the Wizard in the round hat, but neither side made contact. The Witch at the street corner even stepped back half a pace, yielding her line of sight to the round hat.

"Mutual recognition, or mutual avoidance." Allen wrote on the paper, "The Order of the Phoenix hasn't blocked him; Ministry of Magic surveyors are allowed to enter the street corner observation circle."

Peter clutched the railing and squeezed out a whisper: "You should run now."

The door knocker retorted on Allen's behalf: "Run where? To Knockturn Alley to let Mundungus Fletcher sell a second-hand teenager?"

Allen ignored them. He wrote a letter with a Muggle fountain pen; his handwriting was much slower than with a quill. The letter was for Nott. On the surface, it was a list of summer reading suggestions, but the hidden layer was pressed into the paper fibers, asking only one thing: confirm if the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries has had any field agents recently, characterized by a round hat, a grey cloak, and carrying measuring instruments.

"The owl takes the normal route." Allen sealed the letter. "No deviation, no acceleration. Even if intercepted, it's just a book list."

The door knocker was disdainful. "You write like an old pedant. The Nott boy will fall asleep reading it."

"He will wake up." Allen handed the letter to the family crest. "Record all stopover points after it's sent."

The Wizard in the round hat finally packed up his briefcase. He stood under the streetlamp without looking back at the Order of the Phoenix observation point, simply sprinkling a small amount of grey powder into the cracks between the bricks at the street corner. The moment the grey powder touched the outer contract of the Manor, it immediately lost its luster.

The family crest emitted a short alarm. "Passive marking powder, deactivated. Sample can be retrieved, waiting for the subject to depart."

"Don't retrieve it." Allen turned off the wall projection. "Let it stay where it is and become ordinary dust."

The door knocker was dissatisfied. "What a good piece of evidence."

"He will come back to check the dust." Allen hung his robe back on the chair. "Leaving the evidence right in front of him is more deceptive than making it disappear."

For the next three days, Potter Manor seemed nailed back into the Muggle street. Allen walked, took books, rummaged through old cabinets, and even personally pushed Peter's food tray into the fixed slot outside the cage. The Void stood guard in the inner layer of the Portable Space, and all entrances were maintained at minimum stability, not emitting a single ripple of spatial energy outward.

Watching the tray slide in, Peter almost cried. "You're finally acting like a normal person."

"Eat." Allen pushed the tray in. "Don't write your thoughts into the records."

The door knocker added a jab from outside: "Be grateful he's normal for three days. By the fourth day, he might be sleeping in the river again."

Late on the second night, the Wizard in the round hat came once. The brass dial remained at a low reading. In the early hours of the third day, he switched to a finer silver ruler and measured seven points along the three-step line outside the iron gate; the results were equally blank.

The family crest archived the data from the three days. "External spatial ripples are at zero. The subject's recording actions have increased, duration of stay has shortened; judgment indicates expectations were not met."

Nott's reply arrived on the morning of the fourth day. The surface was still a book list; the hidden layer contained only two sentences. The Department of Mysteries does indeed have field agents recently, but the roster is obscured. Someone at home mentioned "anomalous spatial echoes" and the "underage Wizard bloodline incident," and advised against further inquiry.

The door knocker read the letter twice and cursed quite earnestly: "Underage Wizard bloodline incident? They certainly gave you a long name."

Allen filed the letter into the Department of Mysteries archive. "Scope confirmed."

Peter stretched his neck inside the cage. "If they set their sights on you, you're in trouble. The Department of Mysteries doesn't rely on trials; they rely on sealing things away. Once a person goes in, you can't even find out their name from the outside."

"That's why we'll let them keep measuring zero." Allen extended the three-day ban by another line. "External spatial casting will remain suspended for another twenty-four hours. Sleep training will be postponed until after the detection interval."

The door knocker was anxious. "Postponed? Are you finally taking advice?"

"It's not taking advice." Allen pressed the cracked pocket watch training schedule and the round hat records together. "He is looking for ripples; I'm making him believe that nothing is happening during the summer break first. Once he finishes his first report, then I'll do the second training."

The family crest projected the empty image of the street corner. After the Wizard in the round hat left, the Order of the Phoenix observers changed shifts. With two sets of people on the same street, each investigating their own business, the entire Muggle street felt like a sheet of paper being held down by many hands.

Allen wrote the conclusion at the end of the file: Wizard in the round hat, suspected Department of Mysteries field agent. Purpose: confirm frequency of spatial ability usage. Action: three days of zero readings, postpone training, observe the subject's reporting cycle.

The door knocker asked in a low voice: "Are you planning to investigate him in return?"

"Wait for his second report." Allen closed the fountain pen. "If the first one says zero, and the second one still says zero, his superiors will doubt the instruments. When people doubt their tools, that's when they're most likely to show their hand."

Peter looked at him, squeezing a sentence out of his throat: "You really don't act like a student."

The tip of the Void's tail tapped the cage lightly. Peter immediately shut his mouth.

Outside the window, a Muggle postman rode by, and his bell rang once. There was no round hat at the street corner, only the grey powder still lying in the cracks of the bricks, like a false answer written for the Department of Mysteries.