At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

Chapter 79 Too Clever for One's Own Good

After a while, Hermione, who was sitting alone, began to feel as heavy as if she were filled with lead.

My vision began to blur, and the fire in front of me stretched into a halo.

Hermione suddenly smelled a sweet minty scent wafting from the fireplace, which, mixed with the smoky aroma of burning firewood, didn't seem out of place.

She assumed it was some older student conducting some interesting magic experiment and didn't pay much attention.

But the next moment, the girl's head tilted to the side, she leaned against the armchair, and fell into a deep sleep.

"Tick-tock".

The sound of water droplets falling on the stone slab was amplified infinitely in my ears.

Hermione opened her eyes abruptly and found herself standing in a dark, damp corridor.

There was no common room, no warm fireplace.

She looked down and found that her body was translucent, like a ghost in Hogwarts.

"Awake? Hermione. Your mental resilience is better than I thought."

A lazy, slightly mocking voice came from the shadows.

Hermione turned her head and saw Lucien leaning against the wall not far away.

He was still tossing his Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans around in his hand, his eyes so deep they were frightening.

"Lucian! What have you done to me? Where am I?"

Hermione cried out in terror, but she found that her voice did not echo in the hallway, as if she were isolated in another dimension.

"Don't be nervous, it's just a gentle sleeping spell, plus a little dream trick." Lucian popped a Bean into his mouth and crunched it. "This is your dream, and also a projection of reality."

Since you wisely chose not to get involved, as a reward, I'll take you on a journey to appreciate the greatest stage play of this century from a god-like perspective.

"A stage play?"

"Shh—the actors are coming on stage." Lucien put a finger to his lips and then pointed to the end of the corridor.

The creaking sound of the wooden door being pushed open could be heard.

Hermione was shocked to see three floating heads appear out of thin air: Harry, Ron, and Neville, who was sweating profusely with nervousness.

They were crouching under the invisibility cloak, tiptoeing in.

Hermione instinctively wanted to rush over and warn them, but Lucien held her shoulder.

She was surprised to find that Lucian's hands were solid and warm.

"Look, but don't make a sound," Lucian whispered in her ear. "Next up are Hagrid's pets."

The trio pushed open the wooden door leading to the trapdoor.

The enormous three-headed dog, Lou Williams, lay in the shadows, while an enchanted harp played automatically, its melodious tune causing the ferocious monster to snore loudly.

"Look, Harry, Snape's already in there," Ron said, pointing at the harp, his teeth chattering.

Harry climbed onto the trapdoor first, took a deep breath, and pushed open the entrance in the floor: "I'll jump first. If there's danger down there, I'll call you—"

"No, Harry!"

Neville suddenly stepped forward, interrupting Harry.

To Hermione's astonishment, the boy who was usually timid even in Potions class now had a fanatical gleam in his eyes.

Before Harry could react, Neville jumped into the bottomless trapdoor.

"See that?" Lucien chuckled, then, with Hermione's lightness, he passed through the floor and jumped down.

"That's Neville?" Hermione stared incredulously as she fell. "He's usually terrified of even jumping down stairs! Has he gone mad?"

"He's not crazy, he's just moved." Lucian's voice remained clear in the wind. "Dumbledore knows all too well how to manipulate people. For a boy who has long lived under the weight of inferiority and his grandmother's strict expectations, what could be a more potent hallucinogen than the trust of the greatest white wizard of the century?"

A few words of encouragement are enough to transform a timid lion into a fearless vanguard.

The three of them crashed onto the soft plants.

"Ah! Help! It's strangling me!" Ron screamed immediately as the vines, like venomous snakes that have smelled blood, quickly coiled around their necks and limbs.

"Don't move! This is the Devil's Web!" Neville shouted, his face pale, but he didn't cry as usual. "The headmaster said—relax! The more you struggle, the faster it tightens! Fire! It's afraid of fire!"

Neville raised his wand, trembling: "Flash!"

A blinding light burst forth from the tip of the wand, and the devil's net recoiled in fear.

"Fantastic, Neville!" Harry and Ron cheered loudly, having narrowly escaped death.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, just about to feel proud of Neville, when Lucien interrupted her.

"Lift your head, Granger. Look up."

Hermione looked up following Lucian's finger.

Above the trapdoor, Hermione was horrified to discover that a wisp of silver magic was quietly withdrawing, like the strings of a marionette.

"That is—" Hermione felt as if she had fallen into an ice cave.

"Navi can't even use the standard 'fluorescent flicker' properly, how could it possibly emit such a bright light?"

Lucian shook his head sarcastically. "Dumbledore needs Neville to show courage, but he can't really let the savior die in the first battle."

So, he secretly cast a spell on the poor boy.

"This—this—" Hermione bit her lip.

"No, this is called foolproof." Lucien snapped his fingers. "Let's go, next level."

The scene shifted, and they arrived at a room filled with keys that seemed to be flying around in countless wings.

Keys were flying around on the ceiling.

In the very center of the room, three flying brooms were placed quietly.

"Professor Flitwick's challenge."

"Tell me, if you were a goblin from Gringotts and had ten thousand fake keys in your vault for security, would you make the real keys so distinctive, even significantly larger, so that a thief could recognize them at a glance?"

Hermione stared at the large, wobbly silver key flying through the sky, then at the broom on the ground, her voice trembling: "No—and if it were for security, a broom shouldn't have been left in the room at all—"

"Correct. This is hardly a heavily guarded no-go zone!" Lucian watched Harry mount his broomstick and display astonishing aerial prowess. "This is practically a Quidditch training ground made for the Seeker."

Just then, Neville suddenly roared, grabbed a broom, closed his eyes, and shot into the sky.

"Harry! I'll hold them off for you!" Neville charged through the air, nearly falling off his broom, but his reckless and fearless nature actually disrupted the Keys' formation.

"Dumbledore's encouragement is still taking effect," Lucien commented. "Poor Neville, he thinks he's creating miracles, when in fact he's just doing the disruptive task that Hermione Granger was supposed to do in the script."

Hermione couldn't help but ponder.

If she goes, what will she do at this stage?

Yes, she can't fly; she can only use magic from below to help interfere.

The third challenge is Professor McGonagall's giant chessboard.

Lucien and Hermione stood at the edge of the chessboard, watching Ron ride the black horse, commanding with composure.

"Command, courage, and—self-sacrifice." Lucian watched the game unfold. "Ron Weasley, a boy with five great older brothers, is extremely lacking in presence."

Dumbledore needed a spectacular victory to build his confidence, but he also needed to understand that he had to be ready to sacrifice himself at any time for the sake of the savior.

"Knight forward! Queen, go and eat that pawn!" Ron shouted.

The White Queen brandished her stone sword and slammed it hard onto the back of Ron's horse.

"No! Ron!" Harry shouted as Ron collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Neville, tears streaming down his face, trembled with emotion: "We're going to win, Harry! For Ron! For the Headmaster!"

Hermione looked at Ron lying on the ground, tears welling up in her eyes: "He'll die! Lucien, he'll die!"

"He won't die, at most he'll have a mild concussion." Lucian watched the scene indifferently. "Professor McGonagall's pawn won't actually kill the student. But this is enough to plant a seed of tragedy in Harry and Neville's hearts."

Look, the door is open.

The fourth level, Quirrell's Troll.

They followed Harry and Neville into the room.

A stench assaulted our senses, but the giant monster had already collapsed to the ground, a large bump swelling on its head, and had passed out.

"Someone beat me to it." Harry gripped his wand tighter.

"That's no fun," Lucian yawned. "Quillot's checkpoint is just a formality; let's go straight to the end."

They passed through the passage and came to the last door. There were no magical creatures here, only a table with seven bottles of different shapes on it.

As Harry and Neville stepped into the room, flames erupted simultaneously behind and in front of them. The flames behind them were purple, and the flames in front of them were black.

There was a piece of parchment on the table. Harry picked it up and frowned as he read the logic riddle Snape had left behind.

Hermione floated over and looked at the contents of the parchment.

"Danger is in front, safety is behind — two can save a life — three are poison —"

Hermione's brain worked at lightning speed, and in less than a minute, she came to a conclusion.

"The shortest one goes forward, and the round one goes backward," Hermione shouted in the dream, though Harry couldn't hear her at all.

But then, Harry suddenly froze. He lowered his head and brought it close to the edge of the parchment.

"What is he looking at?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

Lucian walked to the table and pointed his long, slender fingers to the lower right corner of the parchment: "Look here, Granger."

Hermione leaned closer and saw a line of small writing secretly carved into the edge of the parchment:

[Shortest one moves forward, roundest one moves backward]

"Who wrote this? Professor Snape?"

"Professor Snape would love to poison any trespasser, do you think he would kindly leave behind the answer key?" Lucian scoffed. "Of course, he's our good headmaster. He was afraid the Savior wouldn't be able to solve the problem without you, so he simply copied down the answer beforehand."

"But that's not the most exciting part." Lucien pointed to the bottles on the table. "Granger, you figured out that the shortest bottle is the potion that passes through the black flames."

"Then look, how much is left in the bottle?"

Hermione looked over and saw that the smallest bottle contained only a pitiful little bit of black liquid.

"There's only enough for one person," Hermione murmured.

"That's right, just enough for one person." Lucien's eyes were playful.

"When Snape set up this challenge, he must have used the full dose of the drug. But now, there's only one dose left. What does that mean?"

This means that from the very beginning, Dumbledore only intended for Harry Potter to go through that door and face the final enemy!

Ron fell on the chessboard, Neville stopped here—everything was precisely calculated!

Hermione was struck dumb.

If she comes along tonight, she and Harry will be the ones facing this bottle in this room.

She would rack her brains to solve the puzzles, and then proudly tell Harry the answer.

Then she will find that there is only enough potion for one person, so she will generously give the potion to Harry, drink the backward potion herself, and leave with Ron to get reinforcements.

"You think you're very important, don't you, Hermione?"

Lucian's voice echoed in the empty room, like the whisper of a demon, "You think you're using your wisdom to help your friends? No, you're just a tool in the script to solve problems."

When the tools run out, the stage will naturally use excuses like "not enough chemicals" to politely ask you to leave the stage.

In his dream, Harry tilted his head back and gulped down the last of the potion, a chill ran through his body, and he resolutely walked into the black flames.

Neville followed instructions, drank the potion that allowed him to retreat, and prepared to go back to find Ron.

"The hero has gone to fight the evil lord." Lucian watched Harry disappear into the flames, then slowly turned to look at Hermione, who was completely stunned. "This is the truth, Granger. The school rules you revered, the authority you worshipped, were nothing more than a playground used by those in power to tame you."

Now, do you still feel guilty for not joining the clown game tonight?

Hermione opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Her faith and her beautiful illusions about Hogwarts collapsed at that moment.

"It's time to wake up from this dream."

Lucian snapped his fingers.

Space began to violently distort and shatter.

Black flames, purple flames, the table, the parchment—all turned into spinning fragments.

Hermione sprang up from her armchair!

"Whoosh—whoosh—"

'

She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving, and her forehead was covered in cold sweat.

The common room remained quiet, and she was still sitting in that chair, as if everything that had just happened was truly just a bizarre dream.

But Hermione knew it wasn't a dream; she could even still smell the mint in her mouth.

She stared blankly at her trembling hands, recalling every step meticulously planned in the dream, and Neville's pathetic, reckless courage, forcibly conceived.

"I don't want to be a pawn—"

In a hidden space within the Ravenclaw Tower, a door opened, and Lucien strolled in. As he walked, the bricks in front of him slowly rotated and separated, while the bricks behind him gradually closed.

As he walked, he said, "You nurture your savior, and I'll awaken my witch. We'll see whose pawn will be the first to overturn the chessboard."