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Li Feng was still complaining to Kreacher about wasting gold on extra robes when a sharp tapping came at the window. An owl, official seal dangling from its leg, pecked politely at the glass.
Kreacher, already attuned to his master's ignorance of local custom, leaned in. "Boss, that mark means Post Office. It carries a letter."
Li Feng scratched his brow. Owl post. Figures. Must be Sirius or Lupin. That fast with the Time-Turner and papers? Efficient.
Kreacher opened the latch, slipped the owl a crumb, then scowled. "Only Post-Office birds refuse food except from handlers. And yes—it's from that filthy werewolf, Lupin."
Li Feng ignored the muttering, slit the envelope, and frowned at the handwriting. He shoved it into Kreacher's hands. "Translate."
The elf gave him a withering look, muttered illiterate, then read aloud: "Master Lupin invites you to Grimmauld Place tonight. They have obtained the Time-Turner and documents and wish to finalize the exchange for the locket."
Kreacher hesitated, eyes uneasy. "Boss… when are we returning home?"
Li Feng crouched, voice cold. "Listen. Sirius gave you to me. You're no longer a Black elf. You're mine. Understand?"
Fear flickered in the elf's gaze. "Yes, Boss."
Satisfied, Li Feng straightened. "Good. Bring the locket."
He traced a quick sigil, ripping open a shimmering doorway, and stepped through.
Grimmauld Place.
He emerged to find Sirius slouched over a half-empty bottle, Lupin taut with nerves—and between them, Albus Dumbledore himself. The headmaster's blue eyes twinkled far too brightly.
Perfect. Straight out of the tutorial village, and I'm already face-to-face with the final boss.
Dumbledore chuckled softly, reading the tension. "So, you know me. Still, courtesy demands introduction. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class. A pleasure, Mr. Austin. And your attire is… distinctive."
Li Feng forced a handshake, smile tight. "Likewise. Though you're selling yourself short—your titles don't end there."
Dumbledore's brow quirked as he probed with subtle magic. "Ah. So my reputation travels even across the multiverse?"
Li Feng stiffened. He knows? "How do you know about the multiverse? Your world hardly screams open-minded."
The old wizard only smiled. Instead, he pushed a Time-Turner and a bundle of parchment across the table. "Then let's talk Horcruxes. And Pettigrew."
Li Feng recounted what he'd already told Lupin: Wormtail's Animagus form, the missing toe, his years hiding as a rat. When it came to Horcruxes, he let his voice falter. "I don't know details. Only that Voldemort made seven. The locket is one."
To cover the gap, he produced his spellbook, flipping to the Eye of Insight runes. "This is how I identified it. My modification—pierces disguises, Animagus, even Polyjuice."
Dumbledore's gaze sharpened. He traced the symbols with his eyes, intrigued. "Remarkable. And you show it to me freely. Which means you want something."
Li Feng grinned, shameless. "Entry into Hogwarts. To cultivate."
Dumbledore hesitated. Even as headmaster, the Board had him cornered. "I cannot grant that outright," he admitted. Then his expression brightened. "But perhaps… a trade. You teach me your magic, and I'll teach you mine."
Li Feng nearly laughed. Direct instruction from Dumbledore? The man was a walking library of spells. Only an idiot would refuse. He nodded quickly.
Then, cautious: "And if I… happened to slip into Hogwarts on my own? Would you look the other way?"
Lupin started to protest, but Dumbledore lifted a hand, eyes twinkling with something sharper than kindness. "Yes. On one condition."
Li Feng leaned forward. "Which is?"
Dumbledore's smile never reached his eyes. "Watch Peter Pettigrew for me."
"Why me?" Li Feng asked flatly, blinking at Dumbledore's request. Hogwarts was crawling with talent—McGonagall, Snape, half the staff could keep an eye on Pettigrew better than he could.
McGonagall was raw power wrapped in discipline, though subtlety wasn't her forte. Snape, though—that man could infiltrate Voldemort's circle on acting chops alone. If Dumbledore wanted surveillance, the choice was obvious.
Unless… unless the old man feared the truth would crack Snape open. That Lily Potter had died because of Pettigrew. Snape and Sirius had hated each other for decades, and Snape was a potions master. Quiet murder? He could make it look like a sneeze gone wrong. And there went Sirius's best chance at exoneration.
Li Feng almost respected Snape's devotion, twisted as it was. To guard the son of the man who stole the woman he loved—every day, staring at a face that mirrored his rival's—and still keep him alive for the greater good.
Li Feng admitted he couldn't have done it. If he were Snape and Lily picked someone else, he'd cut clean, move on. Maybe kick a headstone or two in private, but babysit the rival's kid? Not in this lifetime. If that kid bared fangs, the debt ran both ways.
He frowned, chewing over Dumbledore's request. Even if he slipped into Hogwarts, he'd be nothing but a ghost in the walls—dodging professors, avoiding corridors. If they caught him? Azkaban didn't scare him; the Dementors there answered to him now. The prison would be his kingdom.
What scared him was before Azkaban: the mind-rip, the seals, the quiet erasure of every escape plan. Grow old in this world with no way back. That was the real prison.
"Why me?" he pressed. "You've felt my power. Sure, I'm different. First fight, maybe you're off balance. Second fight? You'd adapt and bury me. You want Pettigrew watched, but it's too risky. I'll be blunt, Professor, I'm not here to change the world. I'm a coward with powers."
His eyes narrowed. "And you're the headmaster of Hogwarts. If Pettigrew's a rat on your campus, why don't you watch him yourself? Even if he earned a PhD in digging holes, he wouldn't get past you."
Lupin twitched. The same man who'd once threatened to bargain a Horcrux with Voldemort now claimed to be a coward? Which was the mask?
Dumbledore smiled lightly. "The problem is that I cannot return to Hogwarts. Not yet."
Li Feng rubbed his scalp. Couldn't return? Busy was one thing, but letters existed. He could stack Snape on Pettigrew and McGonagall on Snape and call it a day. He gestured, waiting for the explanation.
"It seems," Dumbledore said, "you haven't followed events at the school."
Followed? With what—satellite feed? Li Feng shot Lupin a look. You didn't tell him I 'see through time,' did you?
He raised his hands. "I don't live my days scrolling the timeline. And if you did? What's the point? No surprises, no sparks. Life turns gray."
"Perhaps you're right," Dumbledore mused. A man who knew the script start to finish would never strive, never savor. Anticipation was half of joy. A surprise dinner written on the calendar a week ahead lost its thrill. Li Feng didn't look like a man who craved lukewarm days.
Dumbledore stroked his beard, then laid it out: the Chamber of Secrets had opened. Students attacked. Fear climbing. Hagrid dragged to Azkaban—again the scapegoat. The Board had suspended Dumbledore himself.
Memories slotted into place for Li Feng. So that's how Hagrid got framed, just like fifty years ago expelled, branded, and shoved into the role of groundskeeper. History playing on repeat.
"And you want to know what's in the Chamber," Li Feng said. "I know."
"Have you seen students killed by it?" Dumbledore asked gently.
Li Feng paused, then shook his head. "No."
Relief softened the old wizard's shoulders. "Then tell me its name. What would you ask in return?"
So he cut me off before I could name a price too high. Smart. Li Feng considered. "Access to the Restricted Section. I want to copy a few things."
"I'll need to think on that," Dumbledore said. He slid the Time-Turner and parchment across the table—a quiet signal the conversation was done. You've been paid. Leave.
Li Feng smacked his lips, then turned to Lupin. "When do we start lessons?"
"Tomorrow night," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Tonight will be… occupied."
Li Feng scratched his brow. So it's you teaching me, not Lupin?
Lupin blinked. "Professor—"
Dumbledore waved him off, rising to meet Li Feng's eyes. "Yes. I'll teach you for a time. As for Pettigrew—watch him if you can. If it's too dangerous, walk away."
Li Feng couldn't read him. Once I sneak into Hogwarts, does he look the other way—or yank me by the collar? Still, Dumbledore had accepted the trade. Eye of Insight for instruction.
Li Feng tapped the pocket holding his spellbook. "When do you want the soul-sight spells?"
"Tomorrow night," Dumbledore said smoothly. "We'll trade lessons then. For now… may I see that door of yours again?"
Li Feng flicked his hand, the portal irising open. He glanced at Kreacher. "We're leaving."
The doorway snapped shut behind them.
"Professor—" Lupin started.
Dumbledore raised a hand, eyes half-lidded, savoring the aftertaste of alien magic. At last, he eased into a chair, satisfied. "I know your question. He's already told us more than he meant to."
Lupin frowned, replaying the words. "He said no one dies, and he asked to study at Hogwarts. That suggests outcomes—either the monster is slain or driven away, and you… you return to the school." He rubbed his chin. "And when the Chamber came up, he wasn't afraid. Just… irritated. Given his power, maybe the creature isn't as dangerous as we thought."
Not to mention, Lupin thought privately, he called you 'Professor' like it was permanent. And I felt the edge of darker magic on him.
Dumbledore shook his head. "Or perhaps it is small only when facing him. He bends werewolves and Dementors; the creature might look weak to him alone."
He reached for quill and parchment. "Still—you're right about one thing. He's not as strong as I imagined. He didn't speak like a man ready to storm Hogwarts. I wonder how he plans to enter. Will that door of his suffice?"
Sirius, silent until now, spoke low. "If he can see my past, maybe he can see Lupin's too—the Whomping Willow passage, for instance. With that portal, he could pop in and out, study under you, and skip the castle's defenses entirely."
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