At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together.

She looked at the mess in the toilet, at the troll lying on the ground, and finally at Hermione, who had lied to protect Ashford.

"Miss Gringer, you're a fool," Professor McGonagall's voice was tinged with disappointment. "How could you possibly think you could handle a troll?"

Hermione lowered her head in shame.

"Five points deducted from Gryffindor," Professor McGonagall sighed. "For your reckless lack of judgment."

Then she turned to Lucien, her gaze becoming complicated.

"As for you, Mr. Ashford. Although your methods... were unconventional, I must admit you prevented a tragedy with remarkable efficiency. Ravenclaw, ten points."

The professor waved his wand, signaling everyone to leave the foul-smelling place.

However, before everyone could turn around,

In Lucian's mental vision, the Hogwarts magic field suddenly boiled over.

As some kind of energy gathered, countless golden threads descended from the void. The descending threads pierced directly into the heads, spines, and limbs of everyone around.

As expected, the correction of the world's will arrived.

With the arrival of this energy, the magical vortex within Lucian's body was not suppressed; instead, it began to pulsate greedily. He vaguely felt that he could use the transformed energy to manipulate these threads.

The reality he saw was shrouded in a thin mist, and Hogwarts, marked only by the Dark Mark and shrouded in deathly silence, reappeared before him.

Lucian understood, but remained still, wanting to continue observing the correction of the world's will.

According to the golden thread's prediction, Hermione should be rescued by Harry and Ron, thus forging a life-and-death friendship amidst a shared secret. This is a crucial turning point in the formation of the main characters.

But now, it's Lucian who's saving lives. Harry and Ron are just two spectators who can only stare blankly.

The logic chain is broken.

Therefore, the world decided to correct its mistakes through violence.

Lucien watched as Hermione's body stiffened. Her gaze, which had been secretly fixed on Lucien with gratitude and adoration, suddenly became unfocused and empty.

When her eyes refocused, the sparkle vanished. The once clear memories began to be filtered through a strange lens. She no longer looked at Lucien, but at Harry and Ron, who stood bewildered to the side.

Lucian saved her, and that fact remains unchanged.

But under the manipulation of the world's will, Lucien's behavior was magnified infinitely in Hermione's mind as "indifference" and "arrogance".

Harry and Ron's clumsy intrusion, their two panicked faces, were bathed in a holy light called "friendship" and "courage".

"He just did it on a whim... He didn't care whether I lived or died..."

"But Harry and Ron came for me...only they came for me..."

This thought was replicating itself wildly in Hermione's mind, overwhelming her reason.

She opened her mouth as if to speak,

"Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall noticed her hesitation.

Hermione flinched, swallowed hard, and lowered her voice, "He used... a very powerful spell. But..."

She turned to look at Harry and Ron. The golden mist forcibly stripped away her adoration for Lucian, transforming it into a feeling of gratitude towards the two boys.

"If Harry and Ron hadn't rushed in and yelled, attracting the troll's attention... I might have been scared to death."

Hermione's voice became increasingly fluent, the script written by the world's will was running perfectly, "Although Ashford defeated the troll, it was Harry and Ron who gave me courage. They defied the school rules to save me."

Snape chuckled, but he didn't argue. It sounded very much in line with Gryffindor's value system of "it doesn't matter if you're a little stupid as long as you have the courage."

Lucien stood aside, watching all of this with a cold eye.

He watched as Hermione's soul struggled and twisted in the golden mist, eventually being shaped into the form the world needed.

"That was a brilliant maneuver."

People of the same kind feel sorrow for each other.

He remembered the pain of the original owner of this body being forcibly transformed into the Silent One; he remembered the madmen who tried to turn him into a vessel; he remembered the fate of everyone already written in this predetermined script.

"Even the most sincere gratitude must be erased?"

Lucian gripped the wand hidden in his sleeve. The ebony wand seemed to sense its owner's emotions and trembled slightly.

"Using human nature to complete the cause and effect is too ugly a method, and besides..."

"Too rough."

The so-called obstacle of knowledge and perception is nothing more than this.

Lucian stepped forward.

"Now that the misunderstanding has been cleared up," he said, his tone still calm, as if he hadn't been the one who almost turned the tables. "Miss Granger, your hand is still bleeding."

Hermione lowered her head blankly, her palms outstretched.

A broken pocket watch cut his hand, leaving it bleeding profusely.

She vaguely remembered that the important pocket watch had been broken that afternoon when Ron had spoken ill of her and she had run away crying.

He walked up to Hermione, reached out his hand, seemingly to check her wound.

The moment he touched Hermione, the vortex of magic within him transformed into a greedy black hole.

The energy that was weaving false emotions with threads within Hermione's body found an outlet.

The "emotion" that had been forcibly instilled deep within Hermione's mind suddenly cracked.

A large amount of golden light flowed down Lucian's arm and into his body, where it was frantically devoured and compressed by the magic vortex.

Lucian withdrew his hand.

"It's just a superficial wound." He took out a handkerchief and covered Hermione's palm where the pocket watch had pierced her. "However, some wounds, even though they heal, leave scars that will always remind you what real pain is and what a false dream is."

Only Hermione could hear this.

Hermione was stunned.

She clutched the handkerchief, a discordant note suddenly appearing in the perfect "friendship script" in her mind. The stinging pain in her palm was so real, and the sudden surge of emotion she had felt for Harry and Ron just moments before now seemed somewhat...empty.

"Alright, everyone back to your dorms!" Professor McGonagall waved her hand to shoo everyone away. "Five extra points for Gryffindor, because of your stupid luck."

Harry and Ron breathed a sigh of relief and pulled Hermione outside.

"Hey Hermione, you scared us to death," Ron muttered.

Hermione didn't answer. She glanced back.

The boy had already turned and walked into the depths of the dark corridor.

The blood-stained handkerchief in her palm was shockingly hot.

……

A house that grants every request.

Lucian leaned back in his chair, toying with the golden orb in his hand.

He left a seed on his handkerchief.

As long as the world's will continues to try to mend the trio's relationship and intervenes in the plot to correct Hermione's perceptions, this seed will continue to operate, providing her with a constant source of energy.

Lucian looked at the ball of light.

"Since this thing can be used to alter plots and travel between worlds, could it also be used to... bring the dead back to life?"

But right now, the most important thing is to verify another use for this power.

He crushed the ball of light in his hand, and as the golden fragments exploded at his fingertips, the surrounding space melted, twisted, and collapsed.

When Lucian stepped back onto solid ground, a biting wind, carrying the smell of coal smoke, swept over him.

A cold winter filled with industrial fumes, the smell of blood, and a certain oppressive magic.

He stood on a dark street. The sky was a sickly leaden gray, with a faint dark green halo peeking through the thick clouds—the lingering light left by the Black Demon Mark shrouding the heavens.

Most of the shops on both sides of the street had their doors and windows closed, and the shop windows were piled with brochures titled "On Bloodline", "Survival Rules in the New Order", and "How to Identify the Mud People Around You".

This is Hogsmeade, but it's no longer the wizarding village filled with the aroma of butterbeer.

A huge black flag with green stripes hung from the roof of the Three Brooms Bar, fluttering in the cold wind.

Lucian concealed his aura, cast a high-level confusion spell on himself, and slowly walked down the desolate street.

The streets were deserted; everyone was shrouded in heavy black robes, heads bowed, hurrying along. No one spoke, and no one dared to look around carelessly. Fear had been tamed into an instinct.

"Please, sir... give me a nut..."

An old wizard, huddled in the shadows outside the Pig's Head Bar, stretched out his withered hand. He was missing an eye, and the other was cloudy. A tattered wooden plaque hung around his neck, on which were crookedly written: "Pure Blood, but crippled by injury."

In this world, even purebloods don't seem to live a dignified life once they lose their usefulness.

Lucian stopped and casually tossed out a silver coin.

The crisp sound of the silver coin hitting the ground was particularly jarring in the deathly quiet street.

The old wizard hurriedly pressed down on the silver coin, as if afraid someone would snatch it away. Then, he looked up at Lucien in alarm, and only after realizing that the other party meant no harm did he tremblingly thank him.

"What year is it today?" Lucien asked.

The old wizard paused for a moment, but for the sake of the silver coin, he lowered his voice and replied, "It was the tenth year of the Dark Lord's reign... that is, 1991, sir."

"And that savior? Harry Potter?"

Upon hearing the name, the old wizard trembled violently, abruptly covering his mouth. He looked around in terror, and only after confirming that the masked patrols were not present did he roar in an almost tearful voice:

"Shh! Are you crazy! Mentioning that stillborn baby's name in this world!"

The old wizard shrank into the corner. Perhaps it had been too long since anyone had spoken to him, or perhaps it was the urge to confide that had been suppressed for so long, but he began to ramble on nervously:

"There was no savior... It all ended ten years ago on Halloween night. That little brat from the Potter family was blasted to ashes by a single green beam from our great master!"

The old wizard, filled with a morbid fear of power, "stepped over the infant's corpse and declared his takeover of the entire wizarding world. The Ministry of Magic surrendered within an hour, and Dumbledore led the remaining forces into the deep forests..."

Lucian nodded slightly.

No ancient magic from Lily Potter worked, no amulet of love. Voldemort remained at his peak that night, and by killing the Prophet, he solidified his invincible authority.

"If that's the case," Lucien said, looking towards Hogwarts Castle, where the once-bright lights now appeared dim and somber. "What are they teaching at Hogwarts now? And why are there new students enrolling?"

He had just seen several Thestral carriages escorted by Dementors heading towards the castle.

"That's new blood... or new consumables."

The old wizard gave a smile that was more like a grimace, tinged with schadenfreude and deep despair. "Although Potter is dead, I heard that old madman Dumbledore has come up with a new prophecy... saying that the boy from the Longbottom family is the real hope."

"Neville Longbottom?"

"Yes, that poor wretch." The old wizard spat. "I heard today is his first day of school. Over the past ten years, wave after wave of rebels have died, and now it's that round-faced boy's turn to die. The world always needs a hero to fill that meat grinder, doesn't it?"

Lucian seemed lost in thought.

The way of the sky is more than damage but not enough to make up for.

In order to balance the Dark Lord's overwhelming power, the World's Will activated the backup plan.

It forcibly selected Neville Longbottom.

Regardless of whether Neville possesses that potential, and regardless of the immense terror a freshman faces in this desperate world dominated by Voldemort, the world's will disregards logic. It only needs a symbol called "Savior" to push him to his death or to create miracles.

Lucian gazed at Hogwarts Castle, shrouded in dark clouds in the distance. In this timeline, it was Voldemort's stronghold, and the hellish dungeon Neville Longbottom was about to face.

He felt the energy vortex within his body cheering. This severely distorted world, filled with despair and oppression, was brimming with a massive amount of energy used to correct the plot. Countless golden threads converged towards Hogwarts; the stage was set, and all the actors were ready to take their places.

However, there was a horrifyingly empty hole in the center of Hogwarts, filled with a nauseating stench.

"Since you're trying so hard to revise the script," Lucian whispered to the world's will in the void, "then I'll see how far you can push that poor backup in this inevitable bad ending."

"Who just mentioned that name?"

A series of explosions rang out. Five search team members wearing silver masks appeared in phantom form, the green light at the tips of their wands blocking all escape routes.

The leading dark wizard gave no warning:

"Avada Kedavra!"

The ghastly green lightning bolt pointed directly at Lucien.

Lucian's pupils instantly dilated to black.

The shadow behind him suddenly surged with excitement.

A viscous, violent black oily substance shot into the sky, spread out in the air, and directly engulfed the deadly curse.

"What—"

The black mist transformed into several black tentacles, ignoring the Iron Armor Spell and piercing through the five people's defenses.

The chilling sounds of bones cracking overlapped.

Five dark wizards were pinned to the wall by the black mist, their limbs twisted at bizarre angles, and they instantly lost their lives. From the start of the encounter to its end, it was only a single breath.

Lucian snapped his fingers.

The terrifying black mist instantly ceased its agitation, meekly retreating and disappearing back into the shadow of his robe, as if its previous ferocity had been merely an illusion.

More apparition explosions echoed in the distance.

"Too slow."

Lucien stepped over the corpses on the ground. His figure gradually distorted and faded amidst the swirling coal dust and snowflakes.

All that remained was a scene of utter devastation and a deathly silence.