At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

Although Lucien's thoughts had drifted to the little house, the noise around him pulled him back to reality.

Mrs. Hooch's whistle was completely drowned out by the cheers.

Lee Jordan, still shouting the score at the top of his lungs with the help of the megaphone spell, had turned the Gryffindor stands into a sea of ​​red. Students hugged each other and tossed their hats high into the air.

In stark contrast, the atmosphere in the Slytherin stands across the way was tense. Green banners were torn to the ground, older students wore sullen faces, while younger students whispered amongst themselves; the air was thick with undisguised hostility.

"Hey! Here you go!"

Two red figures, accompanied by a gust of wind, stopped in front of Lucien.

"What are you daydreaming about!"

Fred and George jumped off the broom, their faces smeared with red and yellow paint, sweat mixed with dirt, looking disheveled yet unusually excited.

"Here you go." Fred pulled a small bag from his jersey and shoved it into Lucian's arms. "A promise is a promise. The freshest dung bomb. As long as you don't use it to smash the Gryffindor common room, you can do whatever you want with it."

Lucian weighed the bag in his hand.

George leaned closer, lowered his voice, and said excitedly, "Besides the dung bead, there are two other good things inside. Remember that glass ball you helped us improve a few days ago?"

Lucian recalled the small ball inside which little lions were surging.

"Mischievous fireworks," Lucien said.

"That's right!" Fred snapped his fingers. "We took your advice and added a pressure-sensing charm and a delayed trigger. As long as it's subjected to enough pressure, or slammed hard on the ground..."

"Bang—" George made an exaggerated explosion gesture. "A special effects cloud that won't dissipate for at least half an hour. We just tested it in the locker room, and the effect is amazing. If those Slytherin guys can't take a loss and try to cause trouble later, this is our way of getting back at them."

Just then, the crowd in the stands began to surge toward the exit.

Because of Snape's blatant favoritism during the match, the tension was far greater than ever before. Students from both houses inevitably ended up crowding into one passageway as they descended the stairs.

Lucien put the small bag into his robe and looked at the swirling vortex that was gathering.

At the narrow entrance to the passage, red and green collided.

Malfoy, along with Crabbe and Goyle, were blocking the corner of the steps. Pansy Parkinson stood behind him, twisting a green scarf in her hands.

Harry and Ron walked at the very front of the Gryffindor group.

"Get out of the way, Malfoy." Harry was still clutching the now-struggling Snitch, his chest heaving.

"Why are you in such a hurry, Potter?" Malfoy drawled in that annoyingly drawn-out tone, his gaze sweeping up and down Harry. "Are you rushing back to celebrate your pathetic, bottom-of-the-class house grades?"

This statement hit the Gryffindors right where it hurts.

Although they won the match, Gryffindor's hourglass is still the ugliest of the four houses because of the heavy penalty imposed during the previous hallway brawl.

"Shut your filthy mouth." Ron's face flushed red, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked. "You only dared to hide behind Crabbe like a coward in the stands, and now you have the nerve to block my way?"

"You think you won honorably, Weasley?" Pansy interjected sharply. "If Professor Snape hadn't been merciful and let your rough fouls slide, you would have been ejected long ago."

"Show mercy?" a seventh-year Gryffindor boy squeezed through the crowd. "Snape never intended for us to win!"

"That's because you yourselves are flying around like headless flies!"

The pushing and shoving among the crowd intensified.

The wand was drawn from the robe's pocket. A conflict was about to erupt.

In the past, there would definitely have been a voice that spoke out at this time.

She would loudly recite Article 23 of the school rules, warn everyone that casting spells in the corridor would result in solitary confinement, and disperse the crowd with an unquestionable tone.

But not today.

Hermione Granger stood at the edge of the crowd. She didn't look at Malfoy, nor at Harry. She ignored him.

The surrounding shouts, the sparks flashing at the tip of the wand, and even the shove Ron took while protecting Harry, couldn't cause the slightest change in her expression.

She was like a ghost that dwelt outside of this world.

Lucian captured this moment.

She understood perfectly well, and had already made her choice through her actions.

"Looks like someone needs to calm down."

Fred whispered something to Lucian.

He gave George a wink.

George understood and took a half step back, his wrist flicking beneath his robes. The glass ball rolled silently down the sloping steps into the Slytherin crowd.

The glass ball rolled all the way to Malfoy's feet.

Malfoy, who was pointing at Ron's nose, was backing away, his heel landing on the glass ball.

The crisp cracking sound was drowned out by the clamor of voices.

A thick, almost tangible cloud of pink mist suddenly erupted from beneath Malfoy's feet. The mist expanded rapidly, instantly enveloping the Slytherins in the front row.

Immediately afterwards, the pink mist twisted and recombine in mid-air.

Two seconds later, a huge word composed of dazzling golden sparks floated above Malfoy and the others' heads:

I'm a complete idiot.

It shimmered with golden light, accompanied by a ridiculously off-key sound of music.

There was a brief pause in the passageway.

Then, deafening laughter erupted from Gryffindor.

"Well done!" Lee Jordan even jumped up on the steps.

"My eyes!" Crabbe waved his arms in the pink mist.

Malfoy's face turned a deep shade of rage. He waved his wand in an attempt to dispel the mist and the extremely insulting words above his head, but as the twins assured him, ordinary cleaning had no effect on these specially made fireworks.

The words even followed Malfoy closely as he moved.

"Weasley!" Malfoy roared in exasperation, a dangerous red light flashing at the tip of his wand.

But the Gryffindor crowd, taking advantage of the chaos, pushed their way past them, laughing. Harry and Ron turned back, made a face, and led the group quickly toward the castle.

A fierce battle that was about to break out ended in an extremely absurd way.

Lucian watched as the twins high-fived in mid-air before disappearing into the celebrating crowd.

He didn't give the enraged Slytherins another glance and turned to walk towards another exit of the pitch.

While the script's inertia may have brought Gryffindor their due honor, this powder keg, built on hatred and prejudice, was now fully formed. It only needed a spark to explode and shatter at any moment.

……

Neither Gryffindor's ecstasy nor Slytherin's furious departure has faded with time.

They were merely forced to lie low; beneath the ice, turbulent currents still surged.

The only thing that can temporarily suppress this academic antagonism is the final exam, an absolute force majeure event.

But everyone knows that ice is ultimately unreliable.