At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

The afternoon sunlight pierced through the firing holes in the castle's thick stone walls, cutting into thin lines of gold that cast dappled shadows on the stone slabs.

Lucian was sitting in meditation at a secluded corner of the stairs.

But tranquility is always fleeting.

Footsteps and complaints drifted up the spiral staircase.

"My teeth are definitely cracked, I bet they are." Ron's voice sounded terribly muffled, as if he had a piece of charred wood stuffed in his mouth. "Hagrid's rock crust is practically a relative of granite. If anyone ever calls that stuff a snack again, I'll shove it up Goyle's nostril and he'll suffocate for the rest of the year."

"Stop complaining, Ron." Hermione's voice sounded a little tense. "At least Hagrid told us the direction we should be investigating... even if it was an accidental slip of the tongue."

"Nico Flamel..." Harry's voice followed, tinged with confusion, "I feel like I've seen that name somewhere before."

The trio turned the corner and stopped.

Lucian leaned against the wall, calmly watching the three reckless intruders. His gaze fell on the brick-like brown object in Ron's hand.

Lucian commented, "If you're planning to use it to murder a dentist, it's a pretty good murder weapon."

Ron, who had been rubbing his cheeks, immediately hid the rock cake behind his back, his face turning bright red.

Looking at Lucien's calm and all-knowing demeanor, he felt a pang of unease.

Ron muttered to himself:

Look at his behavior! His tone of voice is even more infuriating than Snape's. I really don't understand why Harry and Hermione are so wary of him.

But Hermione did not back down.

The girl with fluffy brown hair wasn't as timid as a typical first-year girl. She stepped forward, blocking Harry and Ron's view, and looked directly into Lucian's eyes.

Her hand instinctively went to her pocket, where the handkerchief Lucian had given her was still.

Since Halloween, an intuition had taken root in her mind: she must not lose this handkerchief, or something bad would happen.

"Lucian," Hermione began, her tone tinged with caution, "regarding certain things from before... I think we need to talk about it."

Lucian closed the book in his hand.

"If it's an apology about Halloween, or an accusation that I intentionally or unintentionally cast a spell on you," he stood up, his long black robe draped like raven wings.

"There's no need for that. I have no intention of engaging in meaningless social interactions."

Hermione bit her lip. She could feel that suffocating sense of alienation.

"No," Hermione took a deep breath, "I meant... Professor Snape. Perhaps you are right, our suspicions lack logical support."

Harry and Ron behind her stared wide-eyed. This was Hermione! The Hermione who always trusted books and teachers was actually admitting a mistake?

Lucian looked at her. In the Mind's Eye, the golden threads above Hermione's head were fluctuating violently. The will of the world was trying to silence her, or to make her say something more in line with Gryffindor's impulsive nature, to bring her back to the original script of blindly hating Snape.

But she stubbornly endured it, even with the help of a handkerchief that was now barely useful.

Lucian nodded.

"very good."

"Learning to question the script is the first step to breaking free from being a puppet."

He was preparing to leave, and this level of contact was enough to draw the world's attention.

He doesn't plan to waste his credit limit on this.

"Wait!" Harry suddenly shouted.

He subconsciously touched the Galleon in his pocket; the cold touch gave him courage. "Do you know who Nicolas Flamel is? We're looking for him."

"We questioned Hagrid, and he accidentally let it slip," Ron quickly added, trying to prove they had crucial information: "What Snape wanted to steal is definitely related to him!"

Lucian stopped in his tracks.

"You've spent two weeks flipping through books in the library, yet you haven't even opened the cover of 'The History of Modern Alchemy'?"

"What's so strange about that?" Ron muttered. "The library has thousands of books..."

"Nico Flamel, Professor Dumbledore's partner, is the last remaining master alchemist of the old era."

Lucian's voice echoed in the empty stairwell.

"At the same time, he is also the only known creator of Philosopher's Stones in the magical world."

"What stone?" Harry and Ron asked in unison.

Only Hermione gasped, her eyes lighting up: "The Philosopher's Stone?! I've read about it in books! The ultimate creation of ancient alchemy!"

"Ancient alchemy involves the fundamental transformation of matter." Lucian ignored Hermione's excitement and looked at Harry. "It's a magical substance with amazing properties. The Philosopher's Stone can turn any metal into pure gold, and it can also create an elixir of immortality, making the person who drinks it never die."

"Turn stones into gold? And make people immortal?" Harry exclaimed in astonishment. "No wonder Snape was after it too! Everyone wants it!"

Ron's mouth dropped open, and he didn't even realize that the rock cake in his hand had fallen to the ground and hit his toe.

"Immortality?" He scoffed. "Nico Lemaître celebrated his 665th birthday last year."

"This kind of forced confinement of a decaying body by external means, this mere prolongation of life, you call it 'living'?"

"Moreover, using it merely to prolong that insignificant lifespan is the greatest desecration and waste of the Philosopher's Stone's miracle."

"That big dog must be guarding the stone!" Hermione's mind raced, grasping the key point. "Flame entrusted the stone to Dumbledore for safekeeping because he knew someone, like Voldemort, was after it!"

"The inference is basically correct."

Lucian nodded, without denying it.

"But let me offer a word of caution," Lucian said, stepping past Harry. "Sometimes, the dragon guarding the treasure isn't the most dangerous. The most dangerous is often the one who guides you."

After saying that, he disappeared around the corner, his footsteps so light they were almost imperceptible.

Harry stood there, clutching the coin tightly in his hand.

"What does he mean?" Ron picked up the rock crust and blew off the dust. "He always likes to say things that are incomprehensible to people."

"I don't know." Harry looked in the direction Lucien had disappeared, the scar on his forehead throbbing slightly. "...He seemed to know everything."

……

Meanwhile, turning another corner,

He reached inside his robe.

"The real key is already in the pockets of the bystanders..."

"However, it is necessary to see Nicolas Flamel's 'miracle' for yourself."

As they spoke, the bronze gate with eagle rings came into view.

The bronze eagle ring gleamed in the torchlight. Just as Lucien stepped onto the last step, his two eyes flickered.

It opened its beak,

"Flowers are precious because they wither, and stars shine brightly because they burn."

"If there is something that will never run out, never diminish, and never need to be cherished, is it a supreme gift or a long curse?"

Lucian stopped and looked at the eagle ring.

"The question itself is the answer."

Lucian quietly added a note:

There was no gift in question.

"If the inevitable end is removed, then the process itself... loses all its weight."

"That's not eternity, that's just... a meaningless repetition without a period."

"That makes a lot of sense."

The bronze eagle beak emitted a sound of approval.

The door silently spun inward.