At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

Chapter 86 A Journey of a Thousand Miles

Hermione felt like she had just struggled ashore from drowning.

Inside the door, Harry's laughter and Ron's exaggerated exclamations continued.

They are constructing a fairy tale of "heroic triumph," but to Hermione, it's all a lie.

As soon as I stepped into the porch outside the school hospital, a group of students swarmed around me like sharks smelling blood.

"Hermione! You were in there, right? Is Harry awake yet?"

"Seimor Finigan asked eagerly, his hair still bearing a suspicious tuft of burnt hair, clearly from celebrating too much in the courtyard," he said.

"Did he really confront the dark wizard?"

Cho Chang of Ravenclaw stood at the edge of the crowd, her eyes filled with a mixture of lingering fear and curiosity. "I heard from the older students that the screams from the underground classrooms last night could be heard even in the tower."

"It's true, guys!"

Neville Longbottom appeared out of nowhere, his face flushed, chest puffed out, and despite his legs still trembling slightly, his voice had never been so loud. "Harry protected the Philosopher's Stone! Ron and I—we did our part too!"

"Wow—!" The crowd erupted in a gasp of amazement.

Hermione looked at Neville.

The boy who trembled last night, and was ultimately described as "reckless" by Lucian, is now immersed in something called...

In the illusion of "self-actualization".

He firmly believed that his courage had enabled him to achieve everything, and that the glowing spell that lit up at the crucial moment was the explosion of his potential.

Hermione, say something!

Dean Thomas nudged her. "How did Harry defeat him? Was it with some incredibly profound spell? Or some kind of ancient white magic?"

Hermione took a deep breath, and the truths that Lucian had forcibly crammed into her mind were about to surface.

She wanted to tell them loudly:

There was no evenly matched duel; Harry was just a character in the script.

Quirrell was utterly destroyed;

Meanwhile, the Philosopher's Stone was lying in the pocket of a first-year student in the Ravenclaw Tower.

But when she saw the adoration in Dean's eyes, Neville's hard-won self-esteem, and Cho Chang's unwavering belief that "justice will ultimately triumph over evil"—

She backed down.

"Just like Harry said,"

Hermione's voice was flat and without any inflection. "That's the power of love."

Evil cannot touch Harry because he has the amulet left by his mother.

Headmaster Dumbledore arrived just in time, destroyed the stone, and saved everyone.

This explanation perfectly matched the chapters in "Hogwarts: A History" that celebrated the light, and it also calmed the restless crowd.

"Just as I expected!"

"Hail Dumbledore!"

The students dispersed, satisfied, eager to spread the exciting news to the auditorium, the Quidditch pitch, and every corner.

Over the next few hours, the story will be further developed, with Harry becoming a warrior who single-handedly slays a dragon, and Dumbledore becoming the saint who shatters the darkness at the last moment.

Hermione walked alone through the noisy foyer.

She saw Draco Malfoy standing in the shadows with a gloomy face, clutching a letter from home, his eyes twisted with jealousy;

She saw Filch busy directing the sprites to clean up the purple powder, shouting in a hoarse voice whenever a student approached, "It's just runaway magical smoke."

false.

Back in the Gryffindor tower, Hermione ignored everyone's greetings, crawled into her bed, and drew the curtains.

She was extremely tired, so she closed her eyes, and the Galon under her pillow was slightly warm.

"Haven't you seen enough, Hermione?"

That voice echoed once again in the wasteland of consciousness.

Consciousness sank again.

This time, Hermione found herself hovering above the Forbidden Forest, like a bird looking down at the earth.

The sun had already sunk below the horizon, and the once tranquil forest now appeared menacing and terrifying.

She saw Albus Dumbledore standing in the middle of the clearing stained with purple spots.

But this was no longer the kind, even somewhat old, principal from the auditorium.

His robes fluttered in the strong wind.

Before him, the gray-cloaked figure was writhing in an inhuman manner.

"This is... the real battlefield last night?" Hermione asked in a trembling voice.

"This is the real final moment."

Lucian's voice came from behind her.

He was sitting on a floating dead leaf, holding a stack of parchment, folding it idly.

"Look closely, Granger. How resolute your headmaster is when faced with things he cannot understand."

""

The scenes flashed by like a movie on fast forward, but every detail was crystal clear.

When Hermione saw Dumbledore wield his wand, the sheer power of it made her feel suffocated. It wasn't "love"; it was pure, absolute violence, the crushing of the rebels by the wand.

And every time that gray-cloaked man forms a hand seal, the surrounding magical rules are rewritten.

Hermione was horrified to discover that the vines and stone giants summoned by Dumbledore were revealing their true form as they approached the cloaked man, only to be forcibly erased by purple magic.

"He's... rewriting the world?" Hermione's eyes widened.

No, he's 'defining' it wrong.

Lucian flicked away the paper crane in his hand; it transformed into a streak of light in the air and disappeared into the purple mist below. "To him, Dumbledore's magic was already a different system."

In the scene, the battle has reached its climax.

The cloaked man's final self-destruction appeared even more terrifying in the dream.

Hermione saw countless twisted fragments of soul burst forth from beneath the cloak, screaming and devouring everything around them.

Even Dumbledore hesitated for a moment.

"That cloaked man—is he dead?" Hermione asked.

"Death?" Lucian chuckled. "If we define it by arcane magic, death is merely a change in form. He left behind a seed, a thorn that Dumbledore could never remove."

The image freezes on the moment Dumbledore picks up the rune fragment.

The old man's hands were trembling.

In those deep blue eyes, Hermione saw not the joy of victory, but silence.

"Now, do you understand?"

Lucian stood up, and the illusory Forbidden Forest began to crumble behind him. "While you were still cheering for Harry to get the Philosopher's Stone, the roof of this system had already started to leak."

"Dumbledore knows."

He knew the cloaked figure was merely a vanguard. He knew that something beyond his control had infiltrated this castle, this campus he thought he had everything under control.

Lucian walked up to Hermione, his eyes gazing directly into her soul.

Hermione staggered backward, unable to help recalling Dumbledore's stiff smile in the Great Hall.

"So I'm also—part of the lie?"

"You used to be."

Lucian opened his arms, and the surrounding scene transformed into countless spinning fragments, each reflecting a different aspect of Hogwarts.

"But from the moment you ate that candy, from the moment you chose not to participate, you became an outsider to this script."

""

"Hermione Granger, congratulations, you've finally lost yourself because you're too smart."

"It was left behind in this wasteland called 'Reality'."

"Hermione! Hermione! Wake up!"

A violent shaking pulled Hermione back from her dream.

She opened her eyes abruptly and found herself lying on a red carpet.

Because of the rolling motion in her dream, her schoolbag fell to the ground, scattering several reference books.

"Oh, thank goodness, you're finally awake!"

Parvati looked at her with concern. "You were shaking while you were sleeping, and you were muttering nonsense about 'purple' and 'seeds'."

"I—I fell asleep?" Hermione propped herself up, feeling aches and pains in all her joints.

You must be exhausted.

Padma stood to one side; she had just stopped by to deliver something. "Everyone's gone to the Great Hall; the year-end banquet is about to begin! It's Hufflepuff going to win the House Cup this year; what a disappointment."

Hermione stood up and tidied her hair.

Dinner.

When she entered the auditorium, the atmosphere had already reached a boiling point.

Yellow decorations hung around Hufflepuff's long table, and the little badger was proudly showing them off.

Hermione sat down at the Gryffindor table, where Harry and Ron were already seated.

Harry's hand was still bandaged, but he was all smiles as he vividly described to George what Quirrell looked like when he was burned.

"He deserved it!" Ron shouted, stuffing a large chicken leg into his mouth.

Hermione looked down at the empty gold plate in front of her.

The old principal still looked somewhat tired, but he maintained that reassuring, kind smile.

Another year has passed.

Dumbledore's voice echoed through the Great Hall, "Before we can fully enjoy these delicious dishes, I must take up a little of your time."

"First of all, I must regret to announce that Professor Quirrell has left Hogwarts for personal health reasons."

We will be welcoming a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher next semester.

A buzz of discussion arose in the auditorium, but it quickly subsided.

After all, nobody really likes a professor who stutters and always smells of garlic.

Hermione sat at the table watching this scene.

"Personal health reasons".

In the deeper truth, he was used as a sacrifice to cultivate a savior with ruthless killing instincts.

With a single, understated sentence, Dumbledore completely obscured a life lost and a shocking conspiracy.

"Secondly—" Dumbledore paused, his gaze sweeping across the Gryffindor table before finally settling on Ron and Neville.

"Something happened recently. Deep in the basement, several young students demonstrated courage, wisdom, and a spirit of sacrifice that are beyond the reach of ordinary people."

All eyes turned to them.

Dumbledore started adding points.

Ron received 50 points for "the best game of chess at Hogwarts in many years".

Hermione clenched her fists tightly under the table upon hearing this. That wasn't the best game; it was a premeditated test of sacrifice.

Neville received 50 points for "his composure in dire circumstances and his protection of his companions".

When Neville heard his name, his face flushed with excitement, and tears welled up in his eyes, as if all his grievances and cowardice had been washed away by the sacred light at that moment.

Finally, Harry Potter gets a perfect score of 100.

Gryffindor's score surpassed Hufflepuff's, and the Great Hall's decorations changed from yellow to vibrant red and gold.

The long table in Gryffindor erupted in cheers that seemed to lift the roof off.

The Weasley twins tossed their hats into the air, but no one from the other houses cheered, not even the Ravenclaws.

However, justice triumphed over evil, courage was rewarded, and the halo of the savior shone even brighter. Everything came to a perfect end in Dumbledore's script.

"That's amazing! We won!" Parvati shook Hermione's shoulders and screamed.

But Hermione found the cheers incredibly jarring.

She turned her head and looked across the revelry at Ravenclaw's long table.

Lucian sat there.

He held a glass of pumpkin juice in his hand, quietly watching Dumbledore, who sat in the main seat, enjoying the adoration of the entire audience.

Then Lucian raised his glass and gave a slight, distant toast in Dumbledore's direction.

That was an ironic toast.

You won the children's cheers, Albus.

But I took your miracle.

Dumbledore seemed to sense something; his gaze swept through the crowd and landed on Lucian.

In that instant, Hermione seemed to see the eye of the greatest white wizard of the century twitch slightly.

For the first time, Dumbledore's eyes, which could see into people's hearts, revealed a deep and uncontrollable doubt when facing that boy.

The dinner ended amidst much noise.

The students, dragging their heavy bellies, returned to their dormitories, ready to board the Hogwarts Express the next day.

As night deepened and all was quiet, Hogwarts Castle fell into a deep sleep.

Only the purple patch at the edge of the forbidden forest still emitted a faint glow under the moonlight.

Several moths that strayed into the light vanished silently into nothingness the instant they touched the purple hue.

The storm is not over.

It was merely hiding beneath this grand revelry, waiting for the next moment to utterly tear this false world apart.

During this long night, some slept soundly, embracing honor, while others plotted in secret.

Hermione Granger, however, held the Galleon tightly to her chest, her eyes wide open, until dawn.

She tossed and turned until the sky began to lighten with the first hint of dawn.

At this moment, she could no longer hold back, so she got out of bed, tiptoed to her book box, and began rummaging through the bottom shelf.

She pulled out the book Lucian had given her, "Alchemy and the Reconstruction of Origins".

She focused on her research again.

Lucian told her about arcane arts, and Dumbledore demonstrated magic.

If this is a war, then the core of the battlefield is the "right to interpret" the rules of the world.

She wants to get her own weapon.

She knew that this was only the first of the eighty-one tribulations.

And preparations begin now.