Diagon Alley.
Jane Yu was walking alongside Albus Dumbledore.
She glanced at this renowned wizard who had "suddenly decided" to bring her for an "exhilarating shopping spree" when "many shops were closed," feeling the whole situation rather surreal.
Along the way, she observed both sides of Diagon Alley:
The place was eerily quiet. Many shop doors and windows had been boarded up with wooden planks, yet parents still hurried past with their children, faces tense and bodies rigid with anxiety.
When they spotted Dumbledore and Jane, these passersby stole glances at the pair. Their nervous expressions relaxed considerably, as if their very presence could guarantee the safety of this place.
"This area was attacked," Dumbledore said calmly. "Just the day before your incident, a Death Eater brought Dementors to assault the ice cream parlour."
Jane looked toward Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and found it had closed down, doors and windows tightly shut.
"Florean's family knows a great deal of medieval wizardry—that may be why he was targeted," Dumbledore continued. "Fortunately, he was rescued. Percy led a team to save him."
But his tone shifted, his brow clouding with gravity:
"Unfortunately, the Death Eaters' true objective was Ollivander. He was taken by three others."
Jane understood this was a classic diversion—attacking the ice cream shop to draw Percy's patrol away, making it easier to capture Ollivander.
"Essentially kidnapping an entire armory," she said. "I imagine they'll force such skilled craftsmen to make wands for them endlessly."
Dumbledore nodded, confirming: "This will result in Voldemort obtaining a new wand... and all Death Eaters will have an inexhaustible supply of wands."
He walked slowly with Jane, and though the alley wasn't particularly wide, the two moved with the leisurely comfort of strolling through their own garden.
Dumbledore stopped in front of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, his eyes twinkling: "You've grown taller, Jane. You'll need new school robes to cover your Spell-Shielding Robe."
The shop door closed behind them.
Jane was immediately greeted by a loud "Ouch!"
She instantly recognized Draco's voice:
"Do you realize the customer is Merlin himself! Where exactly are you measuring with that ruler? How dare you treat Merlin like this!"
Narcissa's breathing was rapid and labored, sounding as though she might faint from her son's self-proclaimed divine antics.
"Darling, please stop reciting those made-up sayings," Madam Malkin sounded utterly desperate. "Turn around."
"Look how poorly the brick-and-mortar shops on this wretched alley are doing! When a premium customer graces you with their presence, this is how you treat a Malfoy?"
Draco was embodying "arrogant and domineering" to the extreme while simultaneously displaying "utterly mad" to perfection:
"Speaking of brick-and-mortar shops, do you understand the principle of developing remote shopping? That's our future! You'd better start preparing right now—owls for advertising and promotion, owls for deposits, owls for delivery! Develop the transport industry—what's your needle doing?"
"Please, have mercy, dear," Madam Malkin's voice came through, worn thin by his torment. She probably gestured to her head. "Mrs. Malfoy, what is all this nonsense? Perhaps I'm being presumptuous, but when might this poor child recover?"
Narcissa sighed, her breathing sounding even weaker than Madam Malkin's.
"Ahem." Dumbledore interrupted their conversation. "Madam, when you're finished, we need a set of school robes here."
The shop fell briefly silent.
Narcissa's breathing grew even more strained as she slowly emerged from behind the clothing racks, staring intently at the pair.
Jane noticed that compared to their last meeting, though Narcissa still held her head high in cold pride, her face had grown considerably more haggard, with wrinkles beginning to show. When their eyes met, a spark of something—hope, panic, or something else entirely—flickered in her gaze.
They hadn't communicated in quite some time.
After Voldemort's return, they'd been forced to sever direct business ties.
Narcissa didn't greet them, nor did Jane. She wasn't sure what attitude this lady would have now that circumstances had changed.
"Good morning," Dumbledore unexpectedly spoke. "How surprising to encounter a student's parent here."
Narcissa stared at him intently, as if weighing something, then nodded:
"I only hope my son receives quality education in the new term. His exam results and mental state worry me tremendously."
This perpetually proud lady felt she'd never been so nervous—every nerve stretched taut—
The person she was meant to murder stood before her, yet she had to seek his help... even his forgiveness.
She used every ounce of strength to maintain her raised chin, preventing her head from dropping to her chest in shame.
Her mind was filled with chaotic thoughts—Death Eaters, assassination missions, her son's death, the despair in her heart...
"Naturally," Headmaster Dumbledore said calmly. "That is a headmaster's responsibility."
The atmosphere instantly chilled—this awkward conversation seemed to die on the spot.
But Narcissa felt her world collapsing.
Dumbledore's coldness was a direct rejection!
She cast a pleading glance toward Jane, her breathing growing even heavier, lips slightly parted.
Jane wasn't certain if this meant she wanted her to say something to ease the tension.
"There will be new people coming to school this year."
[This chapter continues—please click next page for more exciting content!]
Given their past partnership, she felt it inappropriate to let this former major collaborator's words fall flat.
Narcissa's breathing faltered—she felt as though she'd returned from hell to the mortal world—
Thank Merlin, Jane finally spoke!
This was her hard-won, desperately sought opportunity. Every word Jane said must be laden with meaning!
She had to carefully decode the implications in this brief statement to grasp this lifeline—
New people coming to school? What did this mean?
Could it be... Death Eaters...?
Did she already know about their plan to infiltrate Hogwarts with Death Eaters?
Narcissa steadied herself, thinking this unlikely.
After careful consideration, she figured it was probably about the vacant Defense Against the Dark Arts position from last year.
"What new people? The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"
"Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore specifically invited a professor who understands the Dark Arts as well as he does himself," Jane kindly picked up the conversation. "Moreover, this Defense Against the Dark Arts professor emphasizes practical combat and will be strict about grades."
Narcissa immediately began analyzing the implications:
Dumbledore "specifically" invited a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor... equally knowledgeable... deeply understanding of Dark Arts... emphasizes practical combat... strict about grades...
Who could match Dumbledore's understanding of the Dark Arts except the Dark Lord himself?
But the Dark Lord would never become a professor—
Jane was merely using "Defense Against the Dark Arts professor" as a metaphor. The person she meant was clearly Dumbledore himself!
This was a warning that Dumbledore had become extremely vigilant about the Dark Arts! She'd better not entertain any schemes!
Perhaps it was guilt—
Narcissa felt like a startled bird. She opened her mouth but was too frightened to utter a single word.
She felt the robe on her back was already soaked through. Jane's gaze pressed down on her chest like an invisible boulder.
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