211: Chapter 211 The Night Before Departure

"Are you really going to the stadium? You just dripped nosebleed into your essay this morning; if Snape saw that, he could issue you a critical condition notice."

The door knocker banged its iron ring twice. Rainwater slid down the cracks of the front hall door. The observers outside the old house had just changed shifts, and a Black umbrella was parked in the shadow of a street lamp at the street corner.

The study light was still on, a decoy figure sat at the desk writing by the window, while the real Allen sat before the projection of the family crest.

Peter clutched the bars of the cage, his throat tight, "Don't go. Old Death Eaters only have guts when they've been drinking; if they see the Dark Mark, they'll treat the campground like an anniversary of the old days."

Allen spread out the three replies, "Being this scared just proves the location is right."

The family crest enlarged Draco's letter. The surface was all about Quidditch World Cup box etiquette, while the hidden layer contained the White Peacock code. The White Peacock sits on high branches, Father watches the Minister, Mother watches me. If Mother requests to return to the tent after the match, I will comply.

The door knocker snorted, "The little peacock actually used his brain this time."

Allen folded the corner of the letter, "Lucius is watching the Minister, not his son. He will leave his seat five to ten minutes after the match."

Peter shook his head hurriedly, "Malfoy will wear a mask. He wore one back then. After the Master disappeared, they washed their mouths clean, but their hands still carry the old scent."

"The old scent can be hidden, but the route cannot." Allen moved Lucius's name to the edge of the Quidditch World Cup diagram, "Just note the time, don't touch the people yet."

Nott's letter was thinner. Tucked into an old book catalog was the temporary security roster for the stadium; Crouch himself was listed for the entire duration, but his signature cut off after four in the afternoon. The night patrol was missing two former subordinates and had an extra House-elf access permit, which was pressed into the service list for the high-level stands.

The door knocker paused when it read 'House-elf', "Crouch is bringing a House-elf to watch the game? He can even write his own son's funeral in the format of an official document."

Peter shrank his neck, "Winky. She has been with the Crouch family for many years. If Barty were alive, Crouch would have her watch him."

The only sounds in the study were the rain and the scratching of the quill. Allen wrote "Barty, suspected to be present" into the core column, pressing Peter's confession number next to it.

Zabini's weather letter was on the third page. Weather clear, tea will be long, don't take walks at night. The Bulgarian guests brought personal stand attendants, the Bones family is sitting far away, people from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement are entering early, and the Obliviator squad's supplies have doubled.

"The Obliviator squad doubled?" The door knocker cursed, "The Ministry of Magic is scared of something going wrong themselves, yet they've pitched tents all over the mountain."

"They are afraid of Muggles seeing, not of Wizards getting hurt." Allen marked the Memory Modification Potion with a red circle, "The priorities are clear."

Peter's lips trembled, "Once the Dark Mark appears, Fudge will cover up the newspapers first. Crouch will find a scapegoat. The old Death Eaters will scatter into the pure-blood tents, take off their masks, and drink tea."

"That's why I need to enter legally."

The door knocker tapped the door panel, "The 'legally' you speak of is letting the Weasley Family look after you? A young master of the Potter Family branch, grabbing a boot with the red-headed family and flying into the meadow?"

Allen pulled Arthur Weasley's reply from the desk. The parchment was written neatly; Harry mentioned that if Allen wished to join, Mr. Weasley had already reported it to the Portkey Office, identifying him as a Potter relative, a Hogwarts student, and a temporary member of the group attending the match.

After reading it, the door knocker laughed until its iron ring rattled, "Temporary looking after, haha, looking after. Don't come looking for me the day Mrs. Weasley stuffs three pies into your hands."

Allen put the reply away, "The Malfoy box is too bright. The Weasley Portkey is noisy, which is just right."

Peter immediately retorted, "But Harry is there too. The Dark Mark will push him into everyone's sight. Black might send letters, Dumbledore's people will watch him, and if you stick close, it will only add another layer of risk."

"The risk was already there." Allen placed Harry's name at the edge of the campground, "If I enter with the Weasleys, everyone will look at Harry first, then the redheads, then the joke. No one will count my knuts at first glance."

The family crest projected the sealing process for the old house. The external decoy would be maintained until tomorrow afternoon, the study light would turn on and off in three stages, the underground storage area would be locked, the inner old door would not respond to time ripples, and the door knocker would only retain its anti-theft counterattack, prohibiting it from biting anyone proactively.

The door knocker was dissatisfied, "I have to apply even to bite someone?"

"There are Department of Mysteries operatives sitting in the empty house opposite." Allen pressed the brass dial record into the thin wall, "If you take one bite, they can write a thirty-inch report."

The door knocker held back for a long while, "Then can I bite lightly?"

"Don't bite."

Peter couldn't help but interject, "You're taking the cracked pocket watch? The World Cup has Portkeys, international magic, and Barty. If time fluctuations stack on top of a time-related object, the Department of Mysteries will smell it and track you right to your feet."

The ebony box hung deep within the Portable Space, with the Void coiling beside the box, silver eyes half-closed. Allen raised his hand, the three layers of the spatial thin wall closed, and the blue light of the cracked pocket watch was pressed into a needle point.

"I'm taking it, but it's locked," Allen said, "No training, no touching, no responding."

The tip of the Void's tail tapped three times. Peter's face went pale again, "Even a snake knows how to save its life better than you."

The door knocker immediately chimed in, "A snake knows how to sever its tail in thirty seconds, you know how to cripple your left hand."

Allen ignored them and continued checking his equipment. The blackthorn wand went into his sleeve pocket, the twelve knuts were divided into three groups, the old door's return certificate rubbing was left in the old house, the Basilisk fang stone tube was sealed in the inner layer of the space, the cage containing Peter was given a fourth layer of decoy shell, and the emotional feedback loop was cut.

Peter looked at the list, his throat moving, "You're taking me to the place with the most people? If there are any Dementor remnants, old Death Eater detectors, or Black's owls, if any of them touch me, I will be exposed."

"You'll be safe if you shut up."

"I'm scared even when I shut up."

"Fear goes into the archives." Allen tightened the outer layer of the cage by half an inch, "If you scream, I'll deduct your food."

Peter immediately shut his mouth, and the door knocker laughed, "Good rule, suitable for promoting to the Ministry of Magic."

Before midnight, Draco sent another short letter. The White Peacock had been forced to practice etiquette for two hours; Father mentioned Fudge, Crouch, and "old friends shouldn't make too much trouble." Mother told me to carry a small handbag with healing potions and a Portkey substitute coin, which Father forbids me from touching.

Allen stopped writing and circled "old friends shouldn't make too much trouble."

The door knocker stopped laughing, "Lucius heard the wind beforehand."

"Heard the wind, yet still brought his son along." The silver thread of the family crest tightened beside the Malfoy surname, "Family image takes priority over the safety of minors."

Allen revised Draco's escape route, "His mother will pull him away. If Lucius leaves his seat, Draco will go with Narcissa. If Narcissa is held up by a pure-blood lady, Draco will follow the knut route to the hay shed on the north side."

The door knocker asked in a low voice, "You left an anchor point for him?"

"A thin coin in the envelope wax; it will fall into his sleeve cuff when he opens the letter."

Peter's eyes widened, "If Malfoy finds out, he will tell his father."

"Draco will curse me first." Allen flattened the last knut, "After he's done cursing, he'll keep it safe."

The family crest began to seal the house. The portraits closed their eyes one by one, the old corridor lights dimmed to a safe brightness, and the circular stone chamber in the underground storage area sank into silence. The iron patterns of the door knocker spread from the door panel to the floor cracks; what outsiders would see would only be an empty house, old dust, and a decoy figure of a student feeling sleepy during summer vacation.

At the last moment, the door knocker lowered its voice, "There are many people at the stadium, don't try to be a hero. Saving one Draco is noisy enough; saving half the campground will bring Dumbledore, the Department of Mysteries, and Snape all down upon you."

"I'm not saving half the campground." Allen picked up Arthur Weasley's entry confirmation, "I'm watching who lights the fire."

Peter shouted from behind the cage, "And who sets the mark!"

Allen wrote the Portkey meeting point on his palm, "Right. Who sets the mark."

Just before dawn, the front hall door of the old house closed silently. The door knocker sealed the last layer of the lock, and the family crest pushed the decoy figure to the window to continue writing the essay. The Black umbrella at the street corner changed hands, and no one saw Allen emerge from a thin spatial crack in the back alley.

In the distance, the Weasley Family's old boot was already waiting for him on the registration list.