At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

the next morning,

Hogwarts was covered in a thick layer of silver, and the sweet aroma of roast turkey and cinnamon filled the air.

But Lucian was standing on the edge of the Astronomical Tower, the Scottish Highland winds carrying ice crystals brushing against his cheeks.

He let the glistening snowflakes fall on his brow, then silently vanish into nothingness the instant they touched the magical glimmer flowing across his skin.

In the distance, a trail of steam belonging to the old industrial era is slowly creeping across the English countryside.

In his eyes, it was nothing more than a clumsy imitation of 18th-century Muggle industrial civilization by wizards, a toy built for themselves by old-fashioned people who were indulging in the past.

He doesn't need such a sluggish metal shell.

He raised his wand,

"Accio Broom (Flying broom arrives)."

A few minutes later, accompanied by a sharp whooshing sound, an old-fashioned "Seven Stars Sweep" training broom, the most common type found in the school's broom shed, crookedly made its way through the wind and snow and came to a docile stop in front of him. Its branches were tangled, and its birch handle was covered with wear marks.

Lucian reached out and grasped the wooden handle, the swirling stars in his eyes turning slightly, and the Philosopher's Stone pumped out a surge of scorching magic.

Then, a layer of dull, mercury-like luster enveloped the worn-out broom.

A sickening sound of wood growing could be heard.

The scattered branches at the end of the broom intertwined and hardened, weaving into long, black tail feathers. The front end bulged and deformed, the wood sprouting a beak and eye sockets, transforming into a giant raven with an astonishing wingspan.

Lucian stepped onto the raven, his black Ravenclaw robes fluttering in the cold wind.

Then, the black streak of light tore through the wind and snow and shot into the sky.

He wanted to personally measure the boundaries of this land.

As he flew out of the area around Hogwarts Castle, skimmed over the Black Loch, and sped toward the edge of the Scottish Highlands, that familiar sense of oppression began to descend.

As he crossed the mountains of Inverness, scattered lights began to appear below—those were Muggle towns.

Lucian opened his starry eyes.

In his eyes, the world below was a gloomy, heavy swamp.

That is the weight of reality.

He saw Muggles.

Even in such remote highlands, the number of Muggles is still staggering. They gather in the streets of Keith, where an individual Muggle is as insignificant as dust, but when thousands gather, a qualitative change occurs.

They firmly believed that gravity was irreversible, that flames needed fuel, and that the dead could not be brought back to life.

This unbreakable collective unconscious shared by billions of people has woven a dense web of reality that rejects all dissent.

This is the Iron Curtain.

Lucian felt the raven beneath his feet becoming less nimble, and his once smooth magical flow began to stagnate. The air resistance was no longer just physical wind resistance, but rather the inertia of reality correcting his illogical flight.

"Look at how powerful that will is."

Lucian hovered over Keith, looking down at the Muggles clearing snow from the streets.

"They became jailers without realizing it. They themselves were the cage."

Maintaining his raven form here, his magical energy was draining away at an alarming rate. If he didn't continue to resist this correction of the rules, the exquisite alchemical artifact beneath his feet would crumble and revert to that old, conventional wooden broom.

The further south you fly, the denser the population becomes, and the more terrifying that inertia becomes.

Lucian changed direction, his wings cutting through the air currents, and turned north.

When he flew over Inverness County, where Hogwarts is located, a sense of agility and freedom filled his body once again.

That was the territory demarcated by Rowena Ravenclaw a thousand years ago. Here, this peerless witch used her immense power to erect the Iron Curtain, forcibly defining a kingdom within a kingdom where miracles could flourish.

"But this circle is too small."

Lucian landed on the highest spire of Hogwarts and casually dispelled the alchemy.

The magnificent raven twisted and turned in mid-air, transforming back into a lifeless rotten log, which tumbled back to the broom shed.

……

That night,

Inside the auditorium, magical snowflakes drifted down from the enchanted ceiling, and the twelve large Christmas trees that Hagrid had dragged in were adorned with glistening icicles.

He sat at the Ravenclaw table, toying with a freshly disassembled, pure silver snake brooch in his hand, the snake's eyes being two exquisite emeralds.

"Draco Malfoy sent it? No, it's more likely Lucius's doing."

Lucien casually tossed the brooch into his pocket without even glancing at it again.

His gaze fell on the package Hermione Granger had delivered. The wrapping paper was simple, without the fancy ribbons typical of Slytherin, and the note bore her neat handwriting: "To Lucian, Merry Christmas."

Unpacking revealed a silver pocket watch lying quietly inside.

In the world of magic, time is often blurred and flowing; wizards can even travel back in time to a small extent. But this Muggle creation makes a crisp "tick-tock" sound, stubbornly proclaiming a certain unalterable scale.

"Since you have given me order, I will give you the miracle of chaos in return."

Lucien put the pocket watch into his robe.

He stood up and looked at the lonely figure standing in the other half of the auditorium.

Harry Potter.

The Savior's plate remained almost untouched, a stark contrast to Ron Weasley's hearty meal beside him. His gaze was unfocused, aimlessly sweeping across the Great Hall, ultimately seeming to drift uncontrollably towards the door leading to the outside world.

"If actors don't get into character, directors will have a headache."

……

After dinner,

Lucian walked at a leisurely pace, through the noisy corridor, up the spiral staircase, and finally stopped in front of an abandoned classroom on the fourth floor.

Moonlight streamed through the dusty high window and shone on a magnificent mirror, carved with strange inscriptions.

Harry was kneeling in front of the mirror, oblivious to the biting cold of the stone floor on this winter night.

There, the Potters were smiling gently at him, and Lily's hand was lightly on his shoulder.

"This is truly a heartbreaking sacrifice."

Lucian's voice echoed in the empty classroom.

Harry jumped in surprise, turning around as if electrocuted, but bumped into his glasses in the process. He instinctively reached for the Invisibility Cloak, but when he saw the man's signature silver-rimmed glasses, he relaxed, then became wary again: "Lucian? You... what are you doing here?"

Lucian did not answer, but slowly walked to the mirror and looked at its surface.

In his eyes, the Potters were indeed reflected in the mirror, but only as remnants of their souls. At the same time, thick golden threads crawled across every corner of the frame, pulsating slightly.

Lucian understood perfectly.

"No wonder Harry was so captivated; the mirror gave him a warmth that truly came from the souls of his parents."

"This mirror... is like a dangling fishing line, the bait being the remnants of parents' souls. It gives warmth, yet coldly calculates what kind of savior this warmth can mold. How merciful, and how despicable."

"Stay away from that mirror," Lucian said, standing next to Harry, his gaze sweeping over the inscription at the top of the mirror frame.

"I am not showing you your face, but the desires in your heart."

"Is this the candy Dumbledore gave you, Harry? You think you've seen hope, but all you're seeing is a rotting past."

"Don't you dare say that!" Harry jumped up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, his voice trembling with broken sobs. "You have no idea... People like you only care about the old papers in the library and the toad skin in potions! Those are my mom and dad! They're right there!"

"They're not there, Potter. They've long since turned to dust, died in a meaningless night."

Lucian took a step closer, his shadow stretched long in the moonlight, as if to devour Harry: "If you continue to indulge in this, you will learn 'sacrifice' and 'selflessness' through this mirror, and become a meek martyr."

"Don't you... want to change anything?"

"Change what?" Harry retorted loudly, his voice echoing in the empty classroom. "They're dead! Hagrid said there's no magic that can bring the dead back to life! That's common sense!"

"common sense?"

Lucian laughed, a laugh that carried a mockery of the entire history of magic.

"For ants, fire is an irresistible miracle; for primitive people, lightning is the wrath of the gods. But for modern shamans, death is the end."

He reached out, his fingertips almost touching Harry's forehead.

"But what if we stand on higher ground? Harry, what if magic is more than just waving a stick, what if even death itself is just a slightly more complex equation? What if you could..."

The moment his fingertips touched Harry's forehead, a tiny spark ignited.

"look."

Harry noticed that the Mirror of Erised in front of him had changed!

The hand Lily Potter had placed on his shoulder was tinged with a silvery light, briefly gaining a sense of "reality," as if her mother's hand had truly transcended life and death, gently patting his shoulder!

"This...this is..." Harry stammered, looking at Lucian in disbelief.

"Just a small piece of proof." Lucien withdrew his hand, "proving that so-called 'common sense' is nothing more than the shallow understanding of ordinary people! And magic is precisely a 'miracle' that transcends common sense."

Suddenly, Harry let out a scream, clutching his forehead in agony. The pain was so intense that it severed all conversation between the two.

Lucien's eyes darkened; he sensed that the air in the classroom had instantly become as thick as mercury.

This isn't the work of Voldemort's remnant spirit, or rather, not entirely.

"He is warning me not to defile His pieces."

Lucian was not nervous at all; on the contrary, he felt a sense of pleasure from being pleased.

"Crunch—"

The sound of the door hinges turning was extremely slow and steady.

He wore a long robe with a star pattern, and his long white beard reflected the silver light in the moonlight.

Albus Dumbledore stood there quietly, his blue eyes sharper than ever before behind his half-moon spectacles, though his tone remained as gentle as ever.

Good evening, children.

Dumbledore walked into the classroom, and with each step he took, Lucien could feel the invisible repulsive force around him intensify.

"Professor!" Harry called out weakly, his eyes filled with childlike hope as he looked at Dumbledore.

"Come to me, Harry." Dumbledore patted Harry on the shoulder reassuringly, then turned and looked intently at Lucian. "Mr. Ashford, I have always believed that Ravenclaw students know how to exercise restraint and how to respect those profound and dangerous secrets that are beyond their years."

Lucian slightly restrained his aura; he could sense the immense magical power surrounding the old wizard, a power amplified by the will of an entire era. He was not yet capable of directly confronting the will of an entire age.

"I'm sorry, Headmaster," Lucian's voice regained its elegance, "I was just lost and trying to persuade this student who was lost in a hallucination."

“Sleepwalking is indeed dangerous, Mr. Ashford,” Dumbledore said, staring intently at Lucien. “But remember, some words are more poisonous than dreams. My child, one cannot live in excessive dreams, but just as one cannot try to dissect the world before one has learned to love.”

Lucian nodded slightly in response. He knew the big fish had been caught, and today's contest was over.

Just as Lucian brushed past Harry, his fingers seemingly unintentionally brushed against the other's robes.

A cold, metallic Galleon, engraved with a raven and an ouroboros, silently slipped into Harry's pocket.

His voice rang directly in Harry's mind:

"When you find that even the 'greatness' you trust cannot give you the answers... come to me."

Lucian didn't turn around and walked straight out of the classroom.

He could hear Dumbledore's gentle and wise explanation behind him, and Harry's breathing gradually calming down.

But he knew that the cold coin, which was in the boy's pocket at that moment, had a feel completely different from the old man's warm words.

This was a necessary risk.

Lucian walked through the deep corridors of Hogwarts, his footsteps echoing on the empty stone bricks, cold and lonely.

He knew he had gone a bit too far in front of the Mirror of Erised tonight.

To try to seduce the savior in front of the great Albus Dumbledore is like dancing on the nose of a sleeping dragon.

But he had to do it.

The savior's timeline is the anchor point of this world. If a stone powerful enough to shatter fate is not thrown into that naive and preordained heart, he will forever remain a manipulated spectator.

Moreover, it wasn't without its costs.

Lucian lowered his eyes, watching the paleness of his right index finger gradually fade.

As Ravenclaw's eagle cries faded away, he realized that it was no longer possible to safely alter the plot today.

"Too high-profile... but if we don't do that, we won't be able to catch these two extremely clever prey."

He chuckled self-deprecatingly, concealing all his sharpness, his eyes regaining their placid calm.

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The author wishes all readers a happy and prosperous New Year!