At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

Chapter 87 Whitehall's Veto

In the headmaster's office at Hogwarts, the once cheerfully spinning silver instruments now appeared somewhat heavy.

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his desk, stroking the fragment.

This is the only "evidence" he retrieved from the battlefield in the forbidden forest.

In the meditation basin in front of him, silver threads of memory were spinning.

That was his fight with the gray-cloaked man last night.

Dumbledore had watched it twelve times, and each time, his brow furrowed even more deeply.

"It's not a spell, Nico is right, it's not a spell."

Dumbledore murmured softly.

In his memory, he clearly saw that when the other party cast that "fireball spell", it was not simply a matter of concentrating his energy, imagining and then releasing it.

Traditional magic is like pushing open a door, while that person is more like making magic obey his logic.

He opened the drawer and took out a yellowed parchment with a name almost forgotten by history written on it:

Ashford.

This was a small clue he obtained at three in the morning when he contacted an old friend in Xinxiang through the fireplace.

"————That family has never truly integrated into the wizarding world."

They were driven to the edge of the New World by the witch hunts in the seventeenth century.

Legend has it that they did not believe in miracles or worship nature; they only believed in alchemy and the ultimate in rationality.

Albus, if any descendants of that family are still alive, stay away from them.

The magic they seek is the dismantling of the creator's sovereign authority.

Dumbledore closed the letter, a serious look flashing in his deep blue eyes.

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked down at the students who were heading to the auditorium for breakfast.

In the bustling crowd, the boy wearing a long robe with blue trim stood out.

Lucian Ashford.

At this moment, Lucien was talking to Padma, a refined gentleman, gentle and elegant.

Dumbledore slowly closed his eyes.

"Legilimns"

"7

This slight fluctuation was so faint that it didn't even cause a ripple in the air.

It was like an invisible wisp of morning mist, silently sweeping across the lawn, trying to touch the edge of the boy's consciousness.

Dumbledore didn't want to pry into his secrets; he simply wanted to sense Lucian's state of mind at that moment—was he ecstatic after stealing the Philosopher's Stone, or uneasy after facing the carnage?

However, at the moment of contact, his consciousness responded with neither any image nor any emotion.

That was a mirror.

The traditional method of brain occlusion involves building solid walls, but in Dumbledore's perception, Lucian's mind was an absolutely calm and profound void.

Because this nothingness was so complete, Dumbledore's spell was reflected back exactly as it was.

In this "spying," what he saw was his own anxious, aged face, full of calculation.

"He knows I'm watching him."

On the lawn outside the window, Lucien seemed to sense something.

He stopped, tilted his head slightly, and looked towards the window of the principal's office.

He neither flinched nor panicked, but simply nodded politely, from a distance, in Dumbledore's direction.

That nod was like the most dignified greeting a strategist would give to their opponent.

The auditorium after breakfast.

For the first time ever, Dumbledore appeared at the Gryffindor long table before the end-of-term dinner.

He walked slowly, patting the student's shoulder kindly and praising the student's transfiguration along the way.

Finally, he naturally stopped behind Hermione Granger.

"Miss Granger, I heard that you did very well in the Potions class final exam."

Although Severus didn't say it, I could see the surprise in his eyes when he gave the score.

Hermione, who was cutting sausages, shuddered at the sound and turned pale. "Oh, thank you, Professor."

Dumbledore noticed that the girl, who would normally be excited to see the headmaster, now had a scrutinizing look in her eyes that was incongruous with her age.

She looked at Dumbledore, her gaze lingering for a moment on his neat white beard and blue eyes.

"You look troubled, Hermione."

Is it because of Harry and Ron? Don't worry, Madam Pomfrey said they'll be discharged soon.

Dumbledore asked tentatively, his voice full of just the right amount of concern.

"It's not just them, Professor." Hermione paused for a moment, then spoke suddenly, her voice clear and firm. "I'm just wondering, are there some 'exam' questions that never had a correct answer from the very beginning?"

Dumbledore's smile froze slightly.

"Oh? Why would you think that?"

"Because I suddenly realized that the word 'correct' is often defined by the person who sets the question."

Hermione closed her book and, for the first time, stood up without bowing to Dumbledore. "Professor, I'd like to go to the library to look up some information."

As Dumbledore watched Hermione's hurried departure, the smile in his eyes vanished completely.

The anchor point has failed.

He had initially thought Lucian was merely using Hermione, but now it seemed that Lucian was subtly transforming these children who originally belonged to his chessboard in a more dangerous way.

Dumbledore returned to the teachers' table and met Snape's gloomy eyes.

"He's more troublesome than Tom, Severus." Dumbledore sat down, his voice as soft as a breeze.

"What did you find out?" Snape scoffed.

Tom is a patient of the world, and he tries to heal his inferiority complex through destruction.

But Lucian————

"Severus, we have to do something before the whole of Hogwarts becomes his 'laboratory'."

Snape turned to look at the Ravenclaw table, where Lucian was elegantly tearing open a waffle, his nonchalant demeanor puzzling Snape.

At the Ministry of Magic, Cornelius Fudge slammed the parchment in his hand heavily onto his desk.

The ink bottle jolted, and a few drops of ink splashed onto the table.

"absurd."

Fudge stood up and walked around the desk.

His leather shoes made a dull thud on the thick carpet.

He reached out and tugged at his bow tie.

Dolores Umbridge sat in the opposite chair.

She put down her quill, leaned forward, and picked up the report.

Her eyes scanned the parchment quickly, her pupils contracting slightly.

"Dumbledore claims that the one whose name must not be spoken is possessing Quirrell."

Fudge stopped at the window, looking at the simulated London street scene outside.

He also said that the Dark Lord tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone, but was stopped by Harry Potter, and his remnant soul escaped from Hogwarts.

""

Fudge turned around and stared at Umbridge.

"He wanted to create panic; he wanted to put the ministry into a state of emergency."

Once a state of emergency is declared, who has the most power?

It was him, the chief magician of Wizengamo.

Umbridge placed the report back on the table and crossed his hands on his knees.

"Minister, Quirrell is dead, that's a fact."

It is also true that a violent magical conflict occurred in the basement.

"Quirok is a fool obsessed with dark magic."

Fudge walked back to his desk, bracing himself on the surface with both hands. "He messed up his brain while traveling in Albania."

He wanted to steal the Philosopher's Stone in an attempt to gain immortality.

He abused his position to bypass the school's security.

Fudge paused for a moment, looking into Umbridge's eyes.

"Harry Potter, an eleven-year-old boy, bravely stood up and stopped this corrupt teacher."

During this time, a magical backlash occurred, and Quirrell brought about his own demise.

That's it.

Umbridge's lips curled up in a smile.

She picked up the quill and dabbed at the edge of the parchment.

"A perfectly reasonable explanation, Minister."

The logic is sound, and the facts are clear.

"That name must never appear in official documents."

Fudge opened a drawer and took out a blank parchment document. "No resurrection, no remnants of souls. Quirrell acted alone."

"Then Harry Potter?" Umbridge asked.

"The boy who survived the ordeal has once again demonstrated courage."

Fudge picked up a quill and signed his name on a blank document: "Preparing a Ministry of Magic Youth Medal of Excellence."

We will present it to him personally, on the front page of the Daily Prophet, so that the public can see that the Savior has grown up under the Ministry of Magic's system of recognition.

"This will weaken Dumbledore's personal influence." Umbridge took the signed document.

"Not only that."

Fudge pointed to another document on the table, the Astronomy Tower Administrative Negligence Report, signed by Dumbledore. "This thing that Lucius Malfoy brought is an excellent starting point."

Hogwarts' security has huge flaws; a teacher can fall into corruption without anyone noticing and even set deadly traps in the basement.

Dumbledore was negligent in his duties.

Umbridge stood up and straightened her pink cardigan.

"Do you need me to draft an education law, Minister?"

"First, draft a 'Regular Campus Safety Inspection Mechanism'."

Fudge sat back in his chair. "There's no need to seize power immediately."

We will send observers to review their accounts and lesson plans.

Starting with the most basic administrative procedures, Hogwarts was brought back under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Magic.

"Dumbledore is old, he needs help."

"6

There was a knock on the door.

"Go in," Fudge said.

Smith pushed open the door. He was holding a brown paper bag and looked nervous.

"Minister, an urgent message from the Department of Mysteries."

Director Krock requests that you review this personally.

Fudge frowned, took the brown paper bag, and tore open the seal.

Inside was a stack of photos and a test report.

The photo shows a grayish-purple woodland. The tree trunks are irregularly twisted.

Fudge flipped to the test report. The conclusion consisted of only two lines.

He stared at the two lines of text, his breathing becoming heavy. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Minister?" Umbridge looked at his face.

Fudge stuffed the photos and reports back into the paper bag, opened the bottom drawer, threw the paper bag in, and locked it.

Tell Krock.

Fudge looked at Smith, "That piece of land is designated as a top-level restricted area."

No one may approach except the silent one.

The official explanation given was that the contamination was caused by the excrement of some high-risk magical creature.

Smith nodded and turned to leave.

The door closed.

Fudge leaned back in his chair. He stared at the locked drawer.

"Some things are more terrifying than panic, Dolores," he whispered.

On the edge of the forbidden forest.

The morning mist had not yet dissipated.

The red warning line raised by Haigel hung low in the humid air.

Outside the cordon stood six people dressed in seamless robes, their faces hidden in the deep shadows of their hoods, and none of them wore the Ministry of Magic's insignia.

They are the silent ones of the Department of Mysteries.

The leader is codenamed "A".

A stepped forward and stopped in front of the cordon.

The soil divides here; the left side is dark brown and overgrown with weeds.

The right side is grayish-purple, and not a blade of grass grows there.

He took a white mouse out of his robe pocket.

The mouse struggled in his hand.

Jia loosened his grip and threw the rat into the grayish-purple area.

The mouse landed. It didn't even make a squeak.

The moment its claws touched the purple soil, its fur began to peel off.

Next comes the muscles, and then the bones.

Three seconds.

The rat disappeared, leaving behind a small clump of grayish-white powder on the ground.

There was no blood, no remains.

A turned his head. B, codenamed "B", stepped forward, holding a piece of parchment and a quill pen.

"Vital signs erased, no pain response, no residual magical fluctuations," A said.

Record B.

A pulled out a silver metal probe. He plunged the probe into the purple soil.

When the probe was pulled out, the originally smooth silver surface turned black, and the edges showed signs of peeling.

"Silver has lost its magic resistance," A said.

B continued recording.

A raised his wand, the tip pointing at the twisted trunk of an oak tree in front of him.

"Completely crushed to pieces."

A beam of red light struck the tree trunk.

The red light vanished silently the moment it touched the tree bark.

"The offensive spell has failed; the magic has been absorbed or decomposed." A's voice was completely flat.

He turned around and gestured to the four people behind him.

Four people stepped forward, each holding a lead, four-sided metal stake.

They walked to the four directions marked with gray-purple spots, raised the iron hammers engraved with magic runes, and smashed them down.

The metal stakes were embedded in the soil.

Person A walks to the edge of the center of the spot.

He took out a special vessel made of a mixture of crystal and lead and put on dragon skin gloves.

He used a special shovel to scoop up a small amount of purple soil, put it into a container, covered it with a lead lid, and locked it with a clasp.

"Sampling complete," A said.

The four silent men simultaneously raised their wands, the tips pointing at the lead stakes in the ground.

"Closed off".

A semi-transparent gray barrier rose from four metal stakes, closed in mid-air, forming an inverted hemisphere that enveloped the entire area.

"This won't stop it," Yi said softly, watching the purple color gradually spread within the barrier.

"This only serves as a warning."

A puts the container containing the sample into the box.

"The rules have been changed. The magic we understand doesn't apply here."

"Should we report the details to the minister?" B asked.

"Fudge doesn't understand."

A picked up the box. "Take it back to the ninth basement level. Activate the 'Unconventional Magic Source' file comparison."

The six gray-robed men turned around and disappeared from the spot with a series of extremely faint crackling sounds.

The Forbidden Forest returned to its deathly silence. Only the purple within the hemispherical barrier continued to undisturbedly devour the last few fallen leaves.