At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

The days slipped by on a taut string.

By the weekend, Hogwarts, who had been suppressing their emotions for so long, finally found an outlet at the Quidditch pitch.

If the cellars and towers represent the conspiracies and suffering of a select few, then the stadium bathed in sunlight at this moment is a celebration for the masses.

Lucian stood alone in the shade at the edge of the stadium.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin stands were clearly separated in the distance. The conflict between the two houses had escalated completely due to the brawl in the corridors a few days prior. Slytherin's side was plastered with banners mocking Gryffindor for losing 160 points, while the atmosphere in the Gryffindor stands resembled a volcano ready to erupt at any moment.

The whistling sound of a broom cutting through the air came from above.

Fred and George Weasley hovered in mid-air above Lucian, one on each side of the Seven Stars. They held bats in their hands, and their eyes, which had been playful as usual, were now filled with embarrassment and obvious guilt as they looked at Lucian.

"Look at George. Our poor Ravenclaw friend."

"Yes, Fred. Seeing him standing in the shadows breaks my heart, even though it's as hard as stone."

The twins exchanged a glance, and the broom slowly descended a little.

Lucien was also implicated in the corridor incident that night and was mistakenly injured and taken to the infirmary.

Although directly causing Gryffindor to almost wipe out their House Points, for these seemingly cynical but actually extremely loyal brothers, dragging an innocent bystander into the Gryffindor mess clearly made them feel uneasy.

"About that day, buddy," Fred scratched his red hair, his joking tone fading, "while it was Malfoy who started it, our men definitely dragged you into it."

"Sorry, Ashford," George said sincerely, slinging his bat over his shoulder. "After this game, we'll send you a whole box of the latest dung balls as compensation, if you don't mind."

Instead of apologizing, we should think about how to resolve the problems in the heavens.

Lucian gestured with his chin toward the center of the field, indicating, "The referee doesn't seem to be planning to make things easy for you."

The twins followed his gaze.

Severus Snape, dressed in a black robe and with a somber expression, walked to the middle of the lawn. Without any ceremony, he kicked open the game box, and the Bludger and Quaffle shot into the sky.

"Merlin's beard! That old bat!" Fred cursed.

"Thanks, Ravenclaw! We'll send the apology!" George shouted.

The two grabbed their brooms, soared into the air, and plunged into the arena.

Lucien withdrew his gaze, not taking the little incident to heart. His attention was immediately drawn to the almost elusive golden streak.

The Golden Snitch.

It is said that the Golden Snitch was not originally used in Quidditch matches, but rather a bird called the Golden Snitch.

However, due to the popularity of hunting golden pheasants, the number of these birds has decreased dramatically, and they have eventually been listed as an endangered species.

Later, skilled metalworker Bowman Wright invented a substitute for the Golden Snitch.

The Thief weighs exactly the same as the Golden Flying Man, and has rotating wings that mimic birds, allowing it to change direction with lightning speed and the precision of the Golden Flying Man.

Legend has it that in 1884, a thief flew across the Bodmin Moor for six months without being caught, and both teams, watching their respective seekers' performance, eventually gave up in disgust. Cornish wizards still maintain to this day that the thief is still roaming that moor.

However, for Lucian, the Golden Snitch was not so difficult to find in mid-air.

The sky was vast and cloudless, and the rapidly moving source of magic was exceptionally conspicuous in Lucian's eyes.

"This magical image..." Lucian narrowed his eyes slightly.

The magical structure of the thief in the sky is similar to Kinetoplast. This mesh-like topological material has high fault tolerance when replicated and repaired. Even if there is a partial break, the overall framework can still remain intact and adapt to environmental pressure. This gives the thief extremely high material strength, lightning speed, and absolutely agile change of direction.

A brilliant idea popped into my head.

What if we could extract this rhomboid magical structure and engrave it on our own Silent Wings? According to the theory of magical interconnectivity, the talents of magical creatures, the spells of wizards, and the magical cycles of alchemical items are all interconnected at their underlying logic.

A single feather modified with this magical pattern can bring about a dramatic increase in flight speed and braking power.

This is an extremely valuable research direction.

Just as he was immersed in his alchemical ideas, the situation on the field took a sharp turn for the worse.

Snape began to interfere in the game with impunity. He deducted points from Gryffindor for absurd reasons and even ignored Slytherin's fouls on several occasions.

The anger of the entire audience was completely ignited.

In the audience not far away, Ron and Draco Malfoy got into a physical fight over a taunt, their punches landing squarely.

Beside them, Hermione sat motionless, unresponsive.

Just as this chaos reached its peak.

Harry Potter, mid-air, suddenly slammed his broom down.

He swooped down, pulling himself up abruptly just inches from the ground, while simultaneously extending his right hand.

He held that golden ray of light firmly in his palm.

The curses and screams from the stands paused for a moment.

The next second, the red wave engulfed the green ocean.

"Gryffindor wins!"

Commentator Lee Jordan's voice nearly cracked, the booming of his megaphone spells echoing throughout the stadium: "One hundred and fifty points! Potter caught the Snitch! We won right under Professor Snape's nose!"

This comment, clearly imbued with personal emotion, elicited no response from Professor McGonagall, a rare occurrence.

In the stands, the students who had been fighting stopped. Ron shoved Malfoy aside, ignoring the bruise on his lip, and began wildly waving his arms.

Lucian stood in the shadows, watching it all unfold.

"Despite the twists and turns, did you still manage to reach the finish line?"

Even though his interference caused Gryffindor to lose points and created a rift in the trio's relationship.

But in the crucial heroic moment, the world's will—no, its performance today is not manipulation but bestowing extreme good fortune—still precisely fed the savior the moment of glory.

Just then, Lucien's gaze swept across the edge of the field.

A figure was quietly leaving.

Rupert Hagrid.

Logically, as a die-hard Gryffindor fan, Hagrid should have rushed to hug Harry and cried his eyes out after seeing him win the match.

But at this moment, he seemed rather furtive. He was wearing that huge mole-skin coat, and it seemed like he was carrying something in his arms. He didn't even bother to greet Harry before hurrying toward the cabin at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Lucian keenly sensed the scorching, magical aura.

It was an ancient, volatile, nascent life force.

Norwegian Spinosaurus.