At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

Chapter 57 The Fire Dragon's Final Battle (Part 2)

Walking down the spiral staircase of the Astronomy Tower, I no longer felt the same trepidation I had when I came.

The night wind was still damp and cold, but to Harry, Ron, and Neville, it seemed to be blowing the banners of victory.

When they pushed open the heavy doors of the school hospital, Mrs. Pomfrey, dressed in her pajamas, was applying a white perfume to Ron's mangled hand, her face dark.

"Hiss—" Ron winced in pain, but his eyes shone with an astonishing brightness, brimming with uncontrollable excitement.

"Did you see that, Harry?" Ron whispered, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's glare, his grin almost reaching his ears. "That Umbridge face! One second she was swaggering around talking about Azkaban, the next she was silenced by the Headmaster!"

From his perspective, tonight was a perfect prank that would go down in Gryffindor history.

He didn't bother to think about what Dumbledore meant by "specific teaching experiment," nor did he care about the parchment that Umbridge had happily taken away.

All he knew was that the great Dumbledore had cleverly used a pretext to make a fool of those arrogant bureaucrats at the Ministry of Magic.

"That cunning Draco is dead meat," Ron smugly punched the mattress with his bandaged hand. "He thinks he's got it all figured out. Tomorrow morning, when he finds Hagrid perfectly fine feeding his teeth in the yard, and Norbert has been legally taken away, I'll want to grab a Muggle camera and take a picture of his stupid face!"

"I don't understand what kind of riddles the principal and that Umbridge are talking about, or what kind of teaching experiment they're doing—whatever!"

"As long as Dumbledore takes care of it, there's absolutely no problem!"

To Ron, the Malfoys' conspiracy was nothing more than a soap bubble to burst in the face of Dumbledore's absolute prestige. Gryffindor's courage, combined with the headmaster's protection, was the most invincible rule in this school.

Harry leaned against the wall of the school hospital. His palms were still sweaty from the tension, but a warm current surged through his chest.

He saved Hagrid. He protected his friend.

In his first year, Harry experienced the true feeling of being a hero for the first time.

The inferiority complex that had been weighing on him for so long finally dissipated at this moment.

At the top of the Astronomy Tower, when Umbridge announced their arrest, he did feel despair.

But Dumbledore's appearance, like the morning light that always arrives at crucial moments in a fairy tale, easily dispelled all the gloom.

"Dumbledore is right," Harry thought to himself. "Rules are rigid, but justice is not. As long as you dare to stand up, as long as you want to protect the people we care about, even if the process is a little reckless, the outcome will always be good."

He even began to think that Hermione's previous worries were a bit too much.

Hermione understood all the legal texts, but she didn't understand Dumbledore, much less the power of the white wizards that transcended parchment and official documents in the magical world.

Harry breathed a long sigh of relief, recalling Dumbledore's gentle parting words, "The line between courage and recklessness is often very thin." He took this as praise—the headmaster had not only not blamed them, but had also affirmed their intentions.

This sense of honor, recognized by the highest authority, gave Harry an almost unwavering faith in Gryffindor's courage.

He was neither able nor aware of the barely perceptible fatigue in Dumbledore's back as he signed the document.

In the eyes of this savior, Hogwarts tonight is still that utopia filled with miracles and protection.

Unlike Harry's certainty and Ron's excitement, Neville's reaction was much quieter.

Back in his dorm room, moonlight streamed through the stained glass and fell on his bed. He sat on the edge of the bed, stroking the right cuff that Dumbledore had magically repaired.

"Don't be afraid, Neville. Your grandmother will be proud of you for overcoming your fear and standing here."

The principal's voice echoed in his mind.

Actually, Neville's legs had been weak the whole way there.

He couldn't understand why the official named Chilton had suddenly changed his tune, nor did he understand why Umbridge had suddenly put on a fake smile.

The obscure political exchanges and witty banter between adults passed by him like the wind, leaving no trace.

All he could remember was one thing: he, Neville Longbottom, a fool who would break his wrist even in flying class, had carried a chest containing a dragon in front of Ministry officials tonight and received praise from Dumbledore.

"I did it—" Neville touched his sleeve, a blush rising on his face from excitement.

The inferiority complex that had been weighing on him for so long finally dissipated at this moment.

He finally felt he deserved the Sorting Hat's judgment. The fear of the dragon was real, as was the panic of almost being caught by Filch, but that didn't stop him from indulging in a self-satisfied feeling called courage.

At three in the morning, rustling whispers could still be heard from the first-year boys' dormitory in Gryffindor.

"Tomorrow's Potions class is going to be tough. Snape will probably find all sorts of ways to deduct points from our potions class." Ron lay on his four-poster bed and yawned.

"Let him deduct the points," Harry smiled and closed his eyes. "It's worth it no matter how many points he deducts. As long as Hagrid is alright."

"Yeah—it's worth it," Neville whispered in agreement from the other end.

They fell into a deep sleep, filled with the satisfaction of victory and boundless faith in Gryffindor-style brute force.

In their dreams, justice will always triumph over evil rules because of passionate fervor.

However, in this real world, true cruelty is often disguised as warmth.

Right above them, outside Hogwarts Castle, the rain intensified.

The three boys, their sleep filled with blissful smiles, had no idea that their courageous expedition, which they were so proud of that night, had precisely fallen into a calculated trap, just as Lucius Malfoy had anticipated.

They didn't realize that their impulsive and reckless actions had become the perfect excuse for the Ministry of Magic to breach Dumbledore's defenses.

They were even less aware that the "Hogwarts Campus Management and Security Risk Assessment Report" that Umbridge proudly tucked into his pocket would unleash a bloody storm that would strip the school of its autonomy in the future.

The vultures of the adult world have returned laden with their spoils and are beginning to carve up the flesh and blood of power and profit in the shadows.

Meanwhile, the lion cubs at the center of the storm, having lost Hermione, sang songs of courage and victory.