At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

Chapter 89 A False Coronation

The Hogwarts Express travels through the magnificent scenery of the Scottish Highlands, its wheels clanging against the rails.

Sunlight streamed through the car windows, cutting out patches of light and shadow in the aisle.

For most Hogwarts students, it was a journey home filled with laughter and joy.

The private room was filled with magically enchanted pumpkin pies, boxes of chocolate frogs, and endless anticipation for the long summer vacation that was about to begin.

But in a private compartment near the rear of the car, the atmosphere was completely out of place with the cheerful tone.

Harry and Ron are engaged in a fierce battle of wizard chess. Harry's knight has just been brutally smashed by Ron's castle, and Ron is excitedly waving his fists and loudly boasting about his heroic performance in the "real game" in the basement.

Hermione Granger sat by the window, holding a book called "Standard Spells, Level Two," but her gaze was unfocused on the fields rushing past outside the window.

Today, the adorable twins mingled among their many friends, and she couldn't get a chance to join them.

Harry's request gave her a sudden urge to reconnect with her "old friend".

"Hermione, what's wrong with you?"

Harry finally noticed her absent-mindedness. "You've been acting strange since dinner last night. You didn't even eat your favorite pudding."

"I'm fine, Harry. I'm just a little tired." Hermione forced a smile and withdrew her self-light.

"She must be worried about her courses next semester."

As Ron directed the bishop forward, he said, "After all, the second-year textbooks are much thicker than the first-year ones."

"Honestly, Hermione, you should relax. The Mystic's been chased away; at least we'll have a peaceful summer."

The mysterious man was driven away.

Hermione silently repeated the sentence to herself.

She looked at the lightning bolt-shaped scar on Harry's forehead, and at the pure, unwavering faith in Dumbledore and the magical world in his eyes.

She suddenly felt a deep sadness.

Harry is a sword, a sword carefully forged by Dumbledore to fight Voldemort.

But the sword will never know what kind of schemes are hidden in the hand that holds it and in the furnace that forged it.

"I'm going to the restroom."

Hermione stood up, opened the sliding door of the private room, and walked into the corridor.

The hallway was filled with the cloying sweet smell of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and the lingering stench of the Weasley twins' prank fireworks.

Hermione wandered aimlessly forward until she reached the quietest carriage on the entire train.

Most of the boxes here were empty, with some Ravenclaw and Slytherin students who preferred quiet scattered among them.

Hermione stopped in front of a box with the door half-open.

Lucian Ashford sat inside alone.

Instead of wearing a wizard's robe, he changed into a well-tailored dark gray linen shirt with the cuffs slightly rolled up.

There were no snacks or magic toys on the small table in front of him, only a red stone and several pieces of parchment covered with patterns and unfamiliar symbols.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat for a moment.

Philosopher's Stone.

That legendary artifact that led Voldemort to lie in wait for a year, prompted Dumbledore to lay a trap, and nearly cost Harry Potter his life, was now casually placed on the table by Lucian like a cheap paperweight.

Seemingly noticing the gaze from outside the door, Lucien looked up.

"It seems the Gryffindor revelry isn't for you."

Lucian's voice was calm, carrying a detached composure. "Come in and have a seat. If you don't mind sharing a room with the 'thief.'"

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then pushed open the door and went inside, sitting down opposite Lucien.

Her gaze was fixed on the red stone.

"It is—"

"A miracle that Nicolas Flamel traded six hundred years of his life."

"Aren't you afraid I'll tell Dumbledore? Or the Ministry of Magic?" Hermione bit her lower lip, forcing herself to look Lucian in the eye.

Since her persistent sleepwalking, she felt even more excited about Lucien. "You won't, Hermione." Lucien smiled slightly, a smile that carried an all-knowing certainty.

When you open that book, *Alchemy and the Reincarnation*, and begin to doubt its correctness, you can no longer return to the fairy tale they wove for you.

What should we tell them?

Tell Dumbledore that his perfect trap was easily dismantled by a first-year student?

Or should we tell the Ministry of Magic that Hogwarts is buried beneath arcane rules they cannot comprehend?

Lucian picked up the magic stone and examined it in the sunlight.

"In Albus Dumbledore's eyes, this stone was the touchstone of greed; in Voldemort's eyes, it was a potion to reshape the body; in Nicolas Flamel's eyes, it was amber that froze time."

"And what about in your eyes?" Hermione couldn't help but ask.

"A miracle."

Hermione was stunned. This was completely beyond anything she had learned in "The History of Magic" and "The Standard of Charms".

"What—what exactly do you intend to do with it?"

"Use it, and then, surpass it."

"Let's take a look at arcane magic first; I'm sure you're interested in this unfamiliar system."

Lucian pushed a piece of parchment covered in runes in front of Hermione.

The runes on it were not the ancient runes taught by Hogwarts professors, but a kind of diagram woven from rigorous logical reasoning and axioms.

"This is the language of the spellcaster."

A wizard's spells "borrow" power from nature, while arcane magic "issues commands to the world."

"You're very smart, Hermione," Lucien said, looking at Hermione's widening eyes.

Your mind should not be confined to the current Hogwarts education system.

If this world is destined to be torn apart, would you rather be a Muggle-born witch weeping amidst the ruins, or a player who can redefine the rules of those ruins?

Hermione's heart began to pound.

She remembered the desolate, purplish-grey spots at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Dumbledore's stiff smile, and Harry's blind adoration.

"What should I do?" She heard her own voice trembling.

"Observe." Lucien put away the parchment and the magic stone.

"We're almost in London, and the show is about to begin."

Look with your own eyes at how those adults who rule this world perform their pathetic power plays in the sunlight.

Remember that sense of absurdity; it will be the first driving force for you to grasp the truth.

The train began to slow down, its whistle echoing through the London sky.

King's Cross Station, Platform 9¾.

A dozen or so Aurors cast spells on the platform, forcibly isolating the parents who came to pick up their children from the outside.

In the center of the cordon, there was a red carpet.

Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, wearing his signature pinstripe cloak and green bowler hat, stood radiantly in the center of the red carpet.

Standing beside him was Dolores Umbridge, her pink cardigan standing out starkly against the backdrop of formal attire.

Dozens of reporters and photographers from major media outlets such as The Daily Prophet and Wizarding Weekly held up huge cameras, their flashbulbs ready to go.

As the Hogwarts Express came to a slow, steady stop and the doors opened, thunderous applause erupted on the platform—led by Ministry of Magic employees at Umbridge's prompting.

As soon as Harry Potter stepped off the carriage, before he could even look for Mrs. Weasley, he was "invited" to the center of the red carpet by two tall and strong Aurors.

Ron and Hermione were pushed to the edge of the crowd.

"What's going on?" Ron looked around blankly. He tried to rush onto the red carpet, but was ruthlessly blocked by an Auror wielding a wand. "Hey! I'm Harry's friend! We fought together in the basement!"

"Step back, boy. Today is the time for the savior and the Ministry of Magic," the Auror said coldly.

Hermione stood beside Ron, her gaze sweeping over the throng of people and taking in everything on the red carpet.

Fudge strode up to Harry, grabbed his hand, and held it tightly.

"Harry Potter! Our brave boy!" Fudge's voice echoed across the platform through the amplification spell, making everyone's eardrums ache. "The wizarding world is proud of you!"

Harry seemed extremely uncomfortable, blinking incessantly as he tried to avoid the spotlights that were practically touching his face.

"Your Excellency—what—what happened?" Harry stammered.

"A victory has been won by you, child!"

Fudge turned to the reporter and said, "In the basement of Hogwarts, a corrupt teacher—Quirinus Quirrell—is attempting to steal dangerous items from the school."

It was our Harry Potter who, with his extraordinary courage and wisdom, stopped this disaster!

"Snap! Snap!"

The flash went off, capturing the "great" moment when Fudge and the Savior were in the same frame.

There is no Voldemort.

There is no magic stone.

There is no Dumbledore.

Only with the wise leadership of the Minister of Magic and the courage and fearlessness of the Savior.

Umbridge stepped forward, carrying a velvet tray with a gold medal on it.

"In recognition of Mr. Harry Potter's outstanding achievements, the Ministry of Magic hereby awards him the Medal for Outstanding Contribution to Youth."

This demonstrates the Ministry of Magic's high regard for the safety of Hogwarts students and is the highest praise for heroes!

Umbridge announced.

Fudge picked up the medal and solemnly hung it around Harry's neck.

Harry wanted to refuse, he wanted to say it was thanks to Headmaster Dumbledore, he wanted to say it was his mother's love that protected him, but he found himself unable to get a word in edgewise.

Fudge's hand was pressed tightly on his shoulder.

On the outskirts of the crowd, Hermione clenched her fists tightly.

She finally understood what Lucien had said on the train.

"They will crown him, and then tighten the crown around his neck."

This was the Ministry of Magic's scheme. They bought out the truth that Harry had risked his life to uncover with a cheap medal;

They used a grand ceremony to characterize everything that happened at Hogwarts as a "security incident" that could be controlled by the Ministry of Magic;

They used this banner, called "The Savior," to slap Dumbledore hard across the face.

Hermione saw Harry's bewildered and helpless face under the flashing lights.

The boy who stood firm against the flames and the dark wizard in the basement is now being manipulated like a puppet in this quagmire called "politics".

And who are the real masters of this situation?

Hermione turned her head and saw Lucian at the exit of King's Cross Station, behind the crowded throng.

No spotlights were shining on him, and nobody paid any attention to this Ravenclaw freshman pushing a stroller.

He caught Hermione's gaze.

Across the noisy crowd, Lucien slightly raised his right hand towards Hermione.

He then turned and walked into the bustling streets of London, disappearing completely into the torrent of Muggles.

absurd.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

The entire magical world is celebrating a false victory, cheering for a emasculated truth.

The one who truly took the miracle and wielded the power to overturn the rules of the world slipped away unnoticed, like a passerby.

"Hermione, what are you daydreaming about!" Ron finally squeezed through the Aurors' shoving, angrily pulling Hermione along. "My mother's over there, we have to get there right now, these Ministry guys are insane!"

Hermione opened her eyes.

Those authorities she had once trusted so deeply—whether it was Dumbledore's benevolence or the Ministry of Magic's impartiality—collapsed at this moment.

"Let's go, Ron," Hermione said, her voice unusually calm. "It's all just a show."

She turned around, slung the backpack that once contained "A History of Hogwarts" over her shoulder, while "Alchemy and the Reconstruction of Origin" lay quietly in the deepest part.

Two days later.

The Minister of Magic's office.

Fudge sat in a chair, holding a newly printed copy of the Daily Prophet.

The front page headline was a moving photo that took up half the page.

In the photo, Fudge is smiling broadly as he hangs a gold medal around Harry Potter's neck.

Harry looked somewhat bewildered, while Fudge appeared confident, authoritative, and exuded leadership.

Title:

[Guardian of Peace: Cornelius Fudge's Historic Handshake with the Savior]

"Very good, Dolores. This report is very well written." Fudge put down the newspaper and said to Umbridge, who was standing at the table.

"This is a well-deserved compliment, Minister," Umbridge said with her signature sweet smile. "The people need to know that it is the Ministry of Magic that is protecting them, not some old headmaster hiding in a castle."

"Has Dumbledore reacted?" Fudge asked, picking up his teacup.

“No. He accepted our Senior Investigator appointment very quietly,” Umbridge said. “He had no power to resist. The Quirrell affair was his inescapable responsibility.”

Fudge took a satisfied sip of tea.

"Dolores, are you ready to go to Hogwarts next semester?"

7

"I'm ready at any time, Minister. I'll correct all the mistakes there."