At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

The silence of the Gryffindor Tower in the dead of night was broken by a series of rapid, labored breaths.

Harry jolted awake, breathing rapidly, as if he had just walked across the Forbidden Forest in a raging thunderstorm.

The scar on my forehead was burning. This burning sensation was familiar, but this time it was mixed with a sharp, piercing pain that I had never experienced before.

He sat up, trying to recall the dream he had just had.

At first he couldn't remember, but the dream slowly emerged: a forest with twisted trees, where he turned into a snake, preying on passing wizards.

The pain intensified, and Harry even felt his vision blurring with each beat of his pulse.

Just then, a sudden chill slightly relieved his splitting headache.

Harry instinctively reached into his pocket and touched a metal disc.

It was the Galleon that Lucien gave him.

As his fingertips pressed against the raven and ouroboros relief on the coin, a strange, solemn, and rational coolness rushed to his mind. The sharp pain in his forehead miraculously subsided.

Harry examined the coin in his hand by the pale moonlight streaming in through the window.

In a daze, he recalled Lucien's words:

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

Harry gripped the coin tightly, wondering who to tell.

Hermione? He could almost hear her shrill voice: "Your scar hurts? Harry, that's no small matter... Write to Dumbledore right away! I'll check 'Common Magical Ailments'... Maybe it talks about cursed scars..."

Yes, Hermione would definitely suggest that: go find the headmaster immediately and look up information in books. But Harry felt that books wouldn't help him.

He is the only person to have survived Voldemort's spell; such symptoms could not possibly exist in "Common Magical Ailments".

As for Lucian's theory of "treating death as an equation," Hermione would probably go crazy.

Tell Dumbledore?

Harry looked out the window; he had no idea where the headmaster had gone. Hedwig could certainly find him, but how should he write this letter?

Dear Professor Dumbledore:

I'm sorry to bother you, but my scar started hurting this morning. By the way, it seems like the first-year Ravenclaw students gave me a Galleon that can relieve pain.

It's ridiculous.

If he were to send such a letter, he would feel like a fool making a fuss, or even an informant.

As for Ron… Ron would just shrug and say, “It’s normal for cursed scars to hurt occasionally,” and then turn to ask Mr. Weasley.

Finally, Harry lay back down on his pillow. The pain in his forehead was still there, but it was tolerable.

The Galon in his pocket also fell silent again.

Meanwhile, the hidden spaces inside the Ravenclaw statue.

Lucian is quietly suspended above a vast starry chessboard.

His fingers unconsciously moved a chess piece formed from pure magic, and countless tiny stars vanished and died on the crisscrossing silver lines beneath his feet.

He could feel the Galleon trembling in Harry's hand, but he couldn't do anything rash right now.

Lucian knew very well that the influence he had exerted on Harry in the classroom last night had probably caught Dumbledore's attention. The white wizard, seemingly benevolent, was in fact ruthless towards those who disagreed with him.

What worries him most is that whenever he gets deeply involved in important plot points or influences key characters, that kind of "calamity aura" that clings to him like a bone-deep wound will quietly creep up on him.

At one point last night, he even considered using the miracles granted to him by the Philosopher's Stone to forcefully break a few magical laws in front of Hermione and completely subdue that proud and talented girl.

But he immediately dismissed the thought.

"Being impatient for quick results is tantamount to courting disaster," Lucien muttered to himself.

To defy the will of the world without adequate preparation and attempt to forcibly reverse cause and effect will only result in one's own demise.

Since that minor intervention yesterday, he has confirmed that, under Ravenclaw's protection, he can make some limited disturbances to the existing plot every day.

Here, the calamity that clung to him would be diluted and neutralized in the vast galaxy's rotation.

Take your time.

Lucian looked at the star on the astrological chart that belonged to Harry Potter; its light was flickering violently with pain.

"The bait has been swallowed; all that's left is to wait for it to ferment."

……

The Hogwarts holiday came to an end amid a long blizzard.

When most of the young wizards returned to the castle through the crackling fireplace, carrying with them the chill of their homes and local specialties, the common room in Ravenclaw Tower was once again filled with the restlessness of "youth."

Prefect Robert Hilliard carried a stack of thick winter cloaks into the common room. These robes had just been scented by house-elves and carried a faint scent of dried wood, enough to ward off the January winds of the Scottish Highlands that could crack stones and owl wings.

When Lucien received his fashionable robe, he politely thanked him.

The prefect opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say something polite, but when he met Lucian's eyes, as calm as a black lake, the words caught in his throat. In Ravenclaw, erudition is a passport, but erudition like Lucian's, which exudes a sense of alienation and loneliness, also keeps people at a distance.

He could only manage a dry laugh:

"Keep warm, Lucian. It's very windy up there. Don't be like those Gryffindors next door, who refuse to button up their collars for the sake of appearance."

Once the prefect was out of sight, Michael Corner immediately went to the full-length mirror with bronze accents in the common room. He had clearly done a lot of styling during the holidays; his black hair was slicked back with some kind of strong hairspray.

"I must say, the deep blue velvet really suits my skin tone," Michael said, admiring himself in the mirror. "It makes me look much more mature than those silly Gryffindors. In a few years, even Professor Lockhart's ranking in The Witch Weekly might be threatened."

Sitting not far away, Lisa Dupin turned a page of "A Thousand Amazing Herbs and Mushrooms," without even looking up, but her tone was as acerbic as the Black Lake in January:

"Intelligence is Ravenclaw's best adornment, Cornel. If your cerebral cortex could reflect light like your hair, perhaps I wouldn't mistake you for a peacock that has wandered into a book garden."

Michael was choked up and was about to pull someone aside to reason with him when he discovered that Lucian's corner was already empty.

"What a weirdo," Michael muttered. "He didn't even go home for Christmas. I heard he spent the whole holiday studying weird magic and obscure languages ​​like Nirvana."

Lucien did not remain in the tower. Although there was a fireplace there, the environment disturbed him, and the pervasive aura of calamity exhausted him both physically and mentally.

He walked through the snow-covered corridors and came to a secluded corner beneath the astronomical tower, hidden by the shadows of ancient buildings. Here, in the sheltered part of the castle, a withered old oak tree stretched out its dark, twisted branches in the cold wind.

Two identical girls, clearly beauties, were huddled together whispering. They wore the same thick cloak, and when Lucien approached, their voices immediately became barely audible.

One of them is Padma Petit from Ravenclaw; the other is apparently her Gryffindor twin sister Parvati.

Lucien leaned against the stone wall, meditating with his eyes closed. The whispers, broken by the wind, still drifted clearly into his ears.

"...Anthony Goldstein is really handsome, and Padma, that quiet, studious aura is absolutely captivating." Pavati rubbed her hands together, her eyes sparkling.

"Really? Even more handsome than Lockhart?"

"It's a different feeling. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor have a few classes that overlap, so let's switch classes tomorrow. You can go and observe us up close. Anyway, no one can tell us apart, right?"

"Hehe, that sounds exciting, but..."

"What if we get caught?" Padma hesitated. "Professor McGonagall or Professor Flitwick are not easy to fool."

"Don't worry! Even Dad can't tell us apart, so there won't be any problems. See that snowy owl over there?"

Pavati pointed to Lucian a few feet away, "That's Lucian, the notorious eccentric from your college."

Go and talk to him beforehand to rehearse. If even this bookworm can't recognize him, the others are guaranteed to be safe!

Parvati nudged her sister. Padma took a deep breath, trying to mimic the sophisticated, ladylike expression of a Ravenclaw, and tiptoed over to Lucian:

"Hello, student. I'm Padma Petit. We met in the common room this morning, do you remember me?"

Even with his eyes closed, Lucien could sense that the other girl's breathing had become lighter, and she even exhaled a very subtle upward breath from the corner of her mouth, carrying an undisguised smug delight at the impending success of her prank.

Lucian said, "Your name is not Parvati Petil."

"Oh! I knew I'd be found out!" Parvati broke down, jumping up without any regard for her image, pointing at her hiding sister and shouting, "Padma! You lied to me!"

Padma emerged dejectedly from the shadows, staring at Lucien in disbelief. "You really didn't eavesdrop? We were clearly ten feet apart, whispering to each other!"

"In Ravenclaw, observing details is an instinct," Lucien lied, closing his eyes again. Actually, his method of identification was more mystical; the two gave him completely different feelings—one was lukewarm water, the other a leaping fire.

Parvati was inwardly furious. She and her sister were identical twins, looking almost exactly alike, even their voices were the same. They had switched roles without ever being discovered.

It's so inexplicable that we were defeated by Lucien today.

She couldn't help but wonder how Lucien had discovered the difference.

She needs to figure this out, otherwise, if she and her sister switch roles in the future, won't it be discovered?

The twelve-year-old witches were always the most curious. They huddled together, whispering about how Lucien had figured it out.

The sun was shining brightly, and Lucien, caught up in the moment, quietly began to practice his internal alchemy.

The sparse magic around him, like water drawn by gravity, slowly converged around him.

In the twins' view, the air around Lucian seemed to shift slightly.

"Oh my god, Padma, can you feel it?" Parvati suddenly exclaimed, her nose, which had been red from the cold, twitched.

"What do you feel? Don't try to change the subject; you still have to help me tomorrow..."

"No! It's the warmth!" Parvati exclaimed as if he had discovered a new continent, tentatively taking a step towards Lucien. "Wow! It's so warm! Just like spring! Even more comfortable than a fireplace!"

Padma leaned closer with a suspicious look: "Are you running a fever? In this weather..."

However, the moment Padma approached, Lucien's heart stirred. The warm spring instantly turned into the dead of winter.

"Ouch—it's so cold!" Padma shivered. "Pavati, are you kidding me? It's even colder here than before!"

Parvati was stunned. She moved closer again: "No, it's really warm... Huh? Why is it cold again?"

For the next five minutes, the twins put on a baffling comedy around Lucian.

When Parvati was alone, Lucien would offer her a little warmth, making her feel so comfortable that she almost wanted to stretch; but as soon as Padma came close, he would immediately lower the temperature.

"I get it!" Parvati clapped her hands excitedly. "It must be this spot! This is the legendary Avalon Hot Spring! Sister, stand back a bit, don't disturb the spring!"

"Nonsense! I clearly felt a cold wind just now!" Padma said, pushing her way through the crowd.

The feeling was extremely strange: Parvati was intoxicated by the heat, while Padma was bewildered by the cold wind. The two sisters would hug each other and shout one moment, and then push each other for that non-existent warmth the next.

"Padma, you must be possessed by a Yeti! Why did spring disappear as soon as you arrived?!"

"Pavati, I think you're under a hallucinogenic spell! This place could easily freeze a fire dragon to death!"

When the two sisters were exhausted from arguing and even began to doubt their senses, Lucien slowly opened his eyes, withdrew his magic field, and revealed an extremely rare smile.

"That's all, you two." He stood up. "By the way, Anthony Goldstein will indeed be going to the library tomorrow, but he's been studying lie-detecting spells lately. If I were you, I'd practice my Occlumency first."

After saying that, he left two stunned pretty faces behind and walked gracefully into the castle corridor.

"...Padma, was he just teasing us?"

"I think so." Padma of Ravenclaw gritted her teeth as she looked at the retreating figure. "And he must have some kind of evil curse that we don't know about. Wait, but he didn't cast a spell."

"But I still find him rather mysterious," Parvati of Gryffindor sighed wistfully, rubbing her frozen little hands. "Except for being a bit wicked."

Lucian walked through the empty corridors of Hogwarts.

The sounds of the girls arguing behind him gradually faded, and his previously tense nerves relaxed.

He gave a self-deprecating, helpless smile, and the sense of crisis in his heart subsided slightly.

After all, he's only twelve years old.

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Happy New Year everyone!