At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

Chapter 53 Paper Airplane in the Shadows

The auditorium ceiling still mimicked the gloomy gray-blue of the outside world, a damp chill unique to April.

Harry Potter looked down and fiddled with the mashed potatoes in his plate. He could sense an unease spreading across the long table.

This pressure is not like the simple fights or spell exchanges between students in the past; it is a net that tightens quietly from the silence of the teachers' seats and the suppressed conversations at the next table, making it hard to breathe.

His eyes involuntarily glanced towards the teachers' section.

Dumbledore was calmly cutting a piece of smoked meat, but to his left, in the seat that should have belonged to Professor Quirrell, sat a strange middle-aged man.

The man was dressed elegantly but appeared uneasy; other badges on his robe indicated that he came from the Ministry of Magic.

"That's Chilton, from the Department of Magical Creatures Control."

Hermione's voice was extremely low. She hadn't been as talkative as she used to be in a long time, and this was even the first time she had initiated a conversation today. Her hands were gripped tightly to the book on her knees.

"He arrived at 2 p.m. this afternoon. I saw him carrying a stack of official documents from the ministry, and he went straight into Professor McGonagall's office."

"Is he here to arrest Norbert?" Ron's face was pale against the dark sky, and his hands trembled slightly under the table. "Damn it, Charlie hasn't replied to his letter yet. If they make their move now—"

"If it doesn't follow procedure, they can't just take action," Hermione said confidently.

At this time, the Ministry of Magic was far from the unbridled centralized power it had become during the later Umbridge era.

In the early years of Cornelius Fudge's reign, a fragile bureaucratic balance was maintained within the ministry:

They revered Dumbledore's prestige, yet they also tried to assert their administrative presence in every minute detail of rules and procedures.

Just as Lucius Malfoy had calculated, the Department wouldn't send Aurors into the castle; that would be a political incident.

They dispatched an inspection team.

Just then, a purple paper airplane flew through the vaulted ceiling of the auditorium and landed in front of a man named Chilton in the guest section.

For a fleeting moment, Harry noticed that Dumbledore paused.

To Harry, this reaction carried a heavy meaning.

"Look over at Slytherin." Ron nudged Harry.

Draco Malfoy was slowly tearing open a small croissant. He didn't laugh out loud or make faces as he usually did.

Instead, he behaved with unusual politeness, even wearing a pitying, polite smile when he looked at Harry.

That air of complete composure sent chills down Harry's spine more than any provocation.

Draco wiped his hands, displaying a lingering air of elegance.

He is now completely different from the disheveled figure he was on the muddy grass.

“Look at Potter’s face,” Draco said slowly, cutting an egg, his voice smooth and drawn-out, making sure the lion at the next table could hear him clearly, “that house-elf look on his face, like he’s been choked. I bet he’s praying right now, praying that a miracle will magically erase the heinous crime of smuggling dragons from the law.”

"Don't be ridiculous, Draco. The Ministry of Magic doesn't care about God's opinion when it comes to its work."

Pansy Parkinson let out a sharp laugh, snuggling closer to Draco with eyes full of adoration. "They're looking at—the rules. And the rules are usually interpreted by big shots like your father."

“That’s right, Pansy.” Draco put down his silver fork. “Father said in his letter last night that since our headmaster prefers to use the term ‘accidental fire’ to gloss over the situation, then the Ministry of Magic has no choice but to step in and help him investigate Hogwarts’ fire safety management issues.”

After all, Hogwarts isn't a lawless place, is it?

He turned his head to look at Theodore Nott and Bress Zabini sitting opposite him, his eyes revealing the arrogance of someone who had seized power.

"Do you know what the best part is?" Draco lowered his voice, but couldn't hide his smug excitement. "Dumbledore wants to protect that half-giant and savior. The more he favors him, the clearer the chain of evidence becomes."

If they are caught red-handed at the Astronomical Tower tomorrow night, it will no longer be a case of mischievous children in school, but rather a case of transnational black market trade and cover-up.

Even the chief of Wissengamo couldn't turn black into white in front of everyone in this kind of situation.

"I can already picture that big oaf Hagrid being thrown into Azkaban, and Porter being stripped of his Seeker status and sent back to the Muggle world in his sorry state."

Crabbe added in a muffled voice, joining Gore in that malicious chuckle.

"That scene would be even more exciting than the Quidditch final."

Blaise Zabini toyed with the pumpkin juice in his hand, his tone calm but his eyes gleaming with a hint of mockery. "Draco, you've certainly won a big victory for the Malfoys this time."

This manipulation of administrative procedures—tsk, so typical. Like my father said, it's better to strangle someone's reputation with a parchment than to point a magic wand at their head.

Draco looked at Harry again, and this time, he didn't shy away. Instead, he raised his pumpkin juice glass and made a gesture of respect from afar.

His every move proclaimed victory.

In his view, his father's official documents in the ministry were already meticulously planned and were being tightened up inch by inch.

Dumbledore's tacit approval at that moment became the most fatal knot in this noose.

"Eat slowly, Potter," Draco thought. "This is one of the few decent dinners you'll have at Hogwarts."

97

"Harry, we can't wait any longer," Ron said in a low voice. "Hagrid just glanced at me in the hallway, and he was crying."

He thought he could save Norbert, but little did he know that those damned people were already after him.

"Wait until late Saturday night."

Harry looked at Draco's victorious smile, and a sense of powerlessness almost overwhelmed him.

Magic and friendship—they all seemed to lose their power in the face of those official letters sealed with sealing wax.

No, this can't be. I must fight for Hagrid and Norbert's lives!

Harry gritted his teeth, staring at the churning clouds on the ceiling. "If the department is waiting for the process, then we'll get ahead of it."

Charlie's friends were waiting at the Astronomical Tower; once the dragon left the castle, there would be no evidence.

"evidence?"

Lucian, who had been silent all along, pushed aside the plate in front of him. He stood up at the Ravenclaw table.

He looked at Harry, then swept his gaze over Draco's excited expression in Slytherin, and finally settled on the Ministry of Magic official on the teachers' table who was busy examining paper airplanes.

From his perspective, this game is entering its most uninteresting phase.

On one side, an aging deity guards the crumbling bottom line; on the other, a greedy vulture tests that line.

But these children believed they were pawns to break the deadlock.

"Is this what they mean by 'the joy of fighting with others'?" Lucien murmured to himself.

He walked out of the auditorium.

Behind him, the purple paper airplane took off again, flying towards the cellar.

That was a message for Snape.

The entire castle was heading towards late Saturday night.

Rain began to patter against the stained glass, and the Astronomy Tower awaited in the darkness late Saturday night.