At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

The Ashford family's estate is an old Victorian relic, slowly decaying in the mists of Kent.

Most of the portraits on the wall depict people pretending to be asleep with their eyes closed. One of them is a house-elf named Cliff, who is as withered as a piece of tree bark and spends his days banging his head against the wall, muttering incoherently about pureblood glory.

And the father of this body is Cassius Ashford.

He avoided Lucian like the plague. He didn't even dare to look Lucian in the eye, only sending his house-elves three meals a day and some basic magic books in an attempt to "restore" his son to normalcy.

This indifferent attitude was exactly what Lucien wanted.

As his body gradually adapted, he finally fully understood the talent that came with his rebirth: the Mind's Vision.

This is a sensory mutation and elevation. The world sheds its surface colors and textures, revealing a translucent linear structure. He no longer perceives light and shadow or sound, but rather the meridians of flowing magic and the nodes of material composition. The free energy in the air transforms into colored air currents, and the weaknesses, cracks, and magical blockages of all things are highlighted and clearly visible to him.

This kind of vision was torture; the magical world was like a badly damaged piece of porcelain. Not to mention the ubiquitous damage to the creations and environment, the clumsy magic circuits, and the logical inconsistencies, the inability to turn off the visual effects alone was enough to drive him crazy.

In order to figure out just how bad the basic theories of this world had become, he practically lived in the family library that had been neglected for a long time.

Weeks later, when the last book was closed,

Looking at the shocking red pen annotations in his notebook, Lucien couldn't help but sigh.

"It's utterly arrogant and foolish..." He slowly closed a book considered a classic, "Powerful Potions." "The whole book is full of unnecessary redundancy, and as for the key steps? They're all just blank spaces filled with luck."

In his past life, he didn't hesitate to give up his admission to the Computer Science Department of Yenching University and instead devoted himself to the field of archaeology and cultural heritage preservation. Because in his eyes, he had a great interest in unraveling the mysteries of history and separating the true from the false.

"If I had possessed such magic in my past life, those damaged ancient artifacts would surely have regained their former glory. The wizards here are simply wasting precious resources."

He closed the book.

As for the future of this world, he had no idea. He only had some fragmented impressions in his mind: the savior Harry Potter, the noseless dark wizard Voldemort, the greatest white wizard Dumbledore, and that movie (crossed out) clever Hermione.

The gears had already begun to turn. Lucian had seen the famous Harry Potter in several of Lucian's books, including *A History of Modern Magic*, *The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts*, and *Important Magical Events of the Twentieth Century*.

As the old saying goes, since we're already here, we might as well just take a trip and witness something wonderful.

……

A quiet afternoon.

He tried to practice breathing exercises according to the "internal alchemy" he had cultivated in his previous life.

In the previous Dharma-ending Age, the so-called internal alchemy was more of a meditation for self-cultivation, at most making people more perceptive and prolonging their lives.

But in this world,

When he tried to guide the violent magical power known as the Obscurity within his body along the routes of the Eight Extraordinary Meridians, the first touch caused a burning pain to rush in, as if it were burning away his will.

Lucian grew even calmer, his will firmly in control. Under the vision of his mind, he traced the patterns of magic, gently touching the body as fragile as broken porcelain, as if in a past life. Enduring the pain of his meridians being burned and torn, he carefully extracted the finest wisp of energy, using all his mind to soothe, calm, and guide it.

Sweat soaked the carpet. After an unknown amount of time, when the first wisp of magic power, which had circulated through the "small heavenly circuit" and faded from black to dark gray, was successfully drawn into his dantian and suspended in the center, Lucian was almost exhausted.

With a slight thought, the tamed magic became as easy as his own arm.

The broken porcelain teacup on the table, under the vision of the mind, had its flaws slowly pieced together under the guidance of magic, until it was as good as new, its lines complete.

Lucian seemed to understand.

This is not the one in the "Standard Spells, Beginner" commentary:

"Reparo... It can reassemble broken objects. Note: This spell cannot repair items damaged by powerful dark magic..."

While reading that passage, he disdainfully smeared a blot of ink next to it with a quill pen:

"This isn't repair, it's glue bonding!"

Now, to accurately describe this "complete" teacup, he solemnly wrote a new annotation next to his previous notes:

"This is the reconstruction of matter."

He found his own path.

In this world filled with waving sticks and shouting Latin, he will be a unique cultivator, or, to put it more appropriately, an alchemist who has mastered the gate of truth.

However, he perceived that such manipulation resulted in significant losses.

"It seems I need a magic wand."

……

Until the last morning of July, a long-eared owl wobbled into the restaurant window, bringing a letter written on thick parchment.

Hogwarts acceptance letter.

The sealing wax on the envelope was printed with four animals: a lion, a snake, an eagle, and a badger. Lucian ran his fingers over the rough texture of the paper.

Thinking of the legacy of the four giants and the books in the forbidden book section, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation.

"That's really interesting."

……

In front of the backyard wall of the Leaky Cauldron.

Even in the sweltering heat, Cassius Ashford was wrapped in a heavy black cloak, his face grim. He mechanically tapped the bricks above the dumpster with his wand, his eyes constantly glancing to the side.

Standing beside him was Lucian, dressed in a minimalist dark-colored stand-up collar trench coat (he had rejected the cumbersome design of wizard robes), and holding a simple, simply polished cane that he had casually folded from the manor garden. This made him look less like a freshman heading to school and more like a young Victorian nobleman on an incognito visit.

As the bricks rotate and recombine, a winding, seemingly endless cobblestone street unfolds before your eyes.

Diagon Alley.

The air here is filled with the smells of baking bread, rotting potions, and a scent called excitement. Colorful robes, automatically stirring cauldrons, books screaming in shop windows… this is the most bustling commercial street in the magical world.

But in Lucian's eyes, this is light pollution.

Countless chaotic magical fluctuations intertwined in the air: black smoke from failed spells, primal auras emanating from magical creatures, and energy ripples radiating outwards from enchanted items.

Lucien took a pair of silver-rimmed non-prescription glasses out of his trench coat pocket and put them on.

This was the result of his efforts over the past month, and the product of countless failures. After consuming almost all the crystal pieces he could find in the manor and causing several small-scale magical disturbances, he finally managed to etch rough runes onto a piece of glass.

It is not perfect and will continue to deplete Lucien's hard-won magic, but it can block the pollution of excessive information for him.

The world instantly became much quieter, and those glaring magical lines were filtered into a soft gray background.

"Let's split up," Cassius suddenly said, his voice tense. "I'm going to Knockturn Alley to take care of some... business. You go buy the things on the list. The money's in Gringotts, here's the key."

Without even waiting for Lucien's reply, he shoved a black key into his son's hand, turned, and disappeared into a nearby alley, as if he had gotten rid of a big problem.

Lucien watched his father's hasty departure and shrugged. His fingers traced the key engraved with the family crest of a burning ash tree.

"That suits me perfectly."