84: Chapter 84 Fishing with Parchment

"Things sent from Potter Manor cannot be opened directly."

The door knocker clicked twice behind the iron gate, as if it had been holding it in for a long time before spitting the words out.

Allen stood in the front hall, clutching Hogwarts: A History, his robe hem still dusted with grime from the Castle corridors. He did not change his shoes, nor did he put the book on the table; he merely balanced the book's spine on his fingertip and spun it half a turn.

The family crest on the wall lit up.

"A book from the Principal?"

"The book is real; the paper may not be."

The door knocker's brass tongue extended, then retracted.

"You discovered it back in the Headmasters Office?"

"He tucked the parchment in too conspicuously. Someone truly sending note paper wouldn't go out of their way to tell me there was paper inside."

The family crest fell silent for a moment.

"Dumbledore is waiting for you to use it."

Allen walked into the study, glancing at the empty corridor one last time before closing the door.

"He is waiting for more than just me to write."

The flames in the study fireplace were burning very low. Allen did not sit at the desk; instead, he took out three knuts and placed them on the desk, the windowsill, and the edge of the fireplace, respectively. His blackthorn wand slid into his palm, and with a light tap of the wand tip against the air, three tiny spatial anchors locked into place.

The door knocker muttered through the door panel.

"You're making more effort to open a piece of paper than it takes to break into a Gringotts vault."

Allen spread Hogwarts: A History open. The parchment tucked in the middle lay quietly; the surface was excessively white, the edges neatly trimmed, and it felt a layer thinner than ordinary parchment to the touch.

He did not touch the paper immediately.

Deep within his Portable Space, the Void coiled beside the ebony box, its silver vertical pupils fixed in the direction of the desk. The cracked pocket watch lay quietly, no blue light emerging. Peter, in the cage, curled up in the corner; seeing Allen take out his wand, he shuffled back half a foot.

Allen spoke in a low voice.

"Void, watch the paper."

The black snake flicked its tongue.

The parchment shivered slightly.

The door knocker immediately cried out outside.

"It moved!"

The family crest lowered its voice.

"Potter Manor didn't detect any curses, but there is memory magic and a trigger spell in the paper."

Allen held his wand horizontally above the paper without letting it touch.

"Trigger method?"

The family crest flickered several times.

"Writing, touching, or the release of magic from a wand."

"Then let's use the loudest way."

The door knocker paused.

"You're going to poke it directly?"

Allen lowered his wand tip.

The moment the blackthorn wand touched the parchment, the surface indented inwards, as if pulled open by something from within. Pale silver lines rose in circles, then converged into an image of the Headmasters Office.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, half-moon spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. Fawkes perched on the shelf. The image had no sound, but every movement was clearly visible.

In the image, after Allen left, Dumbledore did not move immediately. He picked up the teacup Allen had used, traced his fingertip along the rim, and took out a long, slender silver instrument. The silver instrument spun, exhaling wisps of pale white mist, which then fell onto the blank parchment on the desk.

Immediately after, Dumbledore raised his hand and cast Legilimency on the lingering traces of magic in front of the chair.

Neat rows of memory fragments appeared in the white mist.

The orphanage, the platform, Potion Class, the Slytherin dormitory, the return train, the outer hall of Potter Manor.

Every image was too clean.

Dumbledore paused for a long time, looked down at the parchment, and his lips moved. The parchment automatically recorded a line of text.

"Defense is not resistance; it is like a void."

The door knocker couldn't help it.

"He is really investigating you!"

Allen didn't respond.

The image continued.

Dumbledore took another piece of paper from the drawer, on which several names were written: Allen Potter, Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Quirrell, and an unknown third party.

A circle was drawn behind the unknown third party.

In the image, Dumbledore paused his quill next to "Allen Potter," hesitating to write. Fawkes let out a low trill, and only then did Dumbledore move the nib away and write next to it:

"Highly suspicious; do not pressure for now."

Allen finally smiled.

"Quite polite, actually."

The family crest's voice tightened.

"He has listed you as an object of observation."

"Better than being listed as an enemy directly."

The door knocker was anxious.

"You're in the mood to categorize him?"

Allen lifted his wand tip slightly, and the image distorted immediately. A faint cracking sound came from the parchment, and the memory magic hidden in the interlayer was stripped out by Spatial Displacement. The silver thread tried to burrow back into the paper but was pinned down by the wand tip.

Allen rolled the silver thread into a ball and tossed it into the flames at the edge of his Portable Space.

The flames silently swallowed the silver thread.

The parchment immediately turned dull.

The door knocker breathed a sigh of relief.

"Burned it?"

"Not yet."

Allen placed the parchment on the table, picked up a quill, and wrote a line of crooked words on the surface.

"Why do the stairs at Hogwarts move?"

After the writing landed, the parchment showed no reaction.

He wrote a second line.

"Does the Sorting Hat hold grudges?"

The door knocker watched, stunned.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving him something a child would write."

The family crest hesitated.

"Are you planning to keep the paper?"

"No, leave traces of use, then burn it."

After Allen finished writing the third line, "The candy in the Headmasters Office is too sweet," he took the parchment to the fireplace.

Tongues of fire licked the edges of the paper, and the white paper rapidly turned black.

Just as the paper was about to finish burning, a tiny blue dot suddenly rose from the ashes and darted out the window.

The door knocker shrieked.

"There's still something!"

Allen had already raised his wand.

The knut on the windowsill jumped lightly, and the blue dot crashed into a Spatial Folding point, being forcibly blocked in place. It struggled for a moment, revealing an eye-shaped rune.

Allen glanced at it.

"A return-receipt spell. The Principal wants to confirm the paper was opened."

The family crest reminded him urgently.

"You can't let it return blank."

"So, give him something real."

Allen reached out, pinched a pinch of ashes from the table, and mixed it into the rune. The rune wobbled several times and flew out through a crack in the window, carrying the information that "the parchment was read, the student wrote boring questions, and it was subsequently burned."

The door knocker was silent for a long while.

"You actually replied to him?"

"He dangled a hook, I have to take a bite."

"Aren't you afraid he'll be even more suspicious?"

"I am, which is why I need to make mistakes in my second year."

The family crest didn't understand.

"Make mistakes?"

Allen closed Hogwarts: A History and placed it on the outermost layer of the bookshelf.

"Someone who appears too clean will be watched for longer. Next semester, I want him to see a Potter who oversleeps, ruins Potions, misses assignments, and gets scolded by Snape."

The door knocker muttered softly.

"You already oversleep."

Allen turned and walked towards the Dungeon.

"Then I'll make real flaws look like fake ones."

The family crest followed him, glowing on the wall for a few steps.

"He won't let go of what happened the night of the Philosopher's Stone."

"Even if he can't let it go, he can only watch."

The Dungeon door opened, and dampness surged up from the stone steps. Allen walked to the training room and placed his blackthorn wand on the table. The Void poked its head out from the edge of the Portable Space, its silver pupils fixed on his cuff.

Peter in the cage suddenly tapped the space wall with his finger, his movements trembling with urgency.

Allen tilted his head.

"Want to talk?"

Peter nodded vigorously.

Allen released a small section of the silence spell.

Peter immediately spoke in a hushed voice.

"Dumbledore won't just test you once. He will find Snape, he will find portraits, he will find House-elves to check how many bites of food you ate!"

The door knocker shouted from upstairs.

"He even checks meals? That old man is too idle!"

Peter's expression was ugly.

"When he investigates someone, he is more thorough than a Death Eater."

Allen looked at the man in the cage.

"Are you afraid he'll find you?"

Peter's throat constricted.

"I'm afraid you'll throw me out as bait."

"Not for now."

Peter had just breathed a sigh of relief when Allen added.

"You haven't reached the point where you're most useful yet."

The silence spell was reapplied.

Peter opened his mouth, but his voice vanished.

Allen withdrew his gaze, picked up his wand, and drew four coordinates on the training room floor with the wand tip.

"Before the second year starts, all traces that could be investigated must be cleared. Potter Manor, the space, the letters, Draco, Nott—every place must be reorganized."

The Void tapped its tail tip beside the ebony box.

The cracked pocket watch suddenly lit up.

It wasn't the same triggered reaction as in the Headmasters Office.

This time, blue light spilled out from the cracks and crept outward along the seams of the box.

The Dungeon wall also shook in response.

The family crest's voice came from the stairwell.

"Allen, the core of Potter Manor was just touched by something."

Allen raised his wand.

The four coordinates on the floor tightened simultaneously, and the air in the training room grew heavy.

The pocket watch in the ebony box lit up again.

This time, the blue light pointed north.

The direction where Hogwarts is located.