At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

Chapter 58 The Aftershocks of Power

On Sunday morning, it wasn't raining, but leaden clouds piled up in the sky, making the dome of the auditorium appear very low.

At the Gryffindor table, Harry, Ron, and Neville were huddled together, devouring sausages and fried eggs on their plates without any regard for decorum.

They had two distinct dark circles under their eyes, but every movement exuded the lightness and exhilaration of a triumphant return.

Hermione Granger sat across from them. The cereal in front of her remained untouched.

From the moment those three boys stepped into the auditorium, she sensed something was wrong.

No prefects came to confiscate their wands, no Professor McGonagall had a cold, stern face, and Dumbledore even slightly raised his wine glass in Harry's direction from the teachers' table.

"So—" Hermione took a deep breath, the spoon in her hand clinking against the rim of the bowl, "you went to the Astronomy Tower last night, got caught red-handed by Umbridge, and then—came back unscathed?"

"More than unscathed!" Ron swallowed a large mouthful of pumpkin juice, lowered his voice, and gestured animatedly. "You didn't see that toad-faced woman's expression! She pulled out a whole bunch of legal statutes to arrest us, but Dumbledore just walked out and shut her down with a single sentence!"

"What did he say?" Hermione's heart sank.

"The headmaster said it was an experimental study of magical creatures in extreme environments for a specific teaching phase!" Harry cut a fried egg, his tone filled with undisguised admiration. "He's practically a superman, Hermione. He legalized Norbert right in front of the Ministry of Magic! That old hag Umbridge was so angry she couldn't even keep up a fake smile, and in the end she could only slink away with a signed parchment."

"Wait a moment."

Hermione's mind went completely blank.

Using her knowledge of Muggle and magical laws, Hermione gleaned the most crucial information from this description.

"What kind of parchment did you just say the principal signed?" Her voice suddenly trembled uncontrollably.

"Who cares what kind of paper it is. Probably some kind of document proving the school has dragons," Ron shrugged nonchalantly. "The point is she's gone, Hagrid is safe, and we thwarted Malfoy's plot. That's Gryffindor's—"

"That's called the 'Hogwarts Campus Management and Security Risk Assessment Report' or something similar!" Hermione's voice suddenly rose, drawing the attention of several Ravenclaws at the next table.

She immediately covered her mouth, suppressing her terrified gasps.

Harry and Ron stopped eating and looked at her with some confusion.

"Hermione, what's wrong? We won." Harry's tone wasn't worried at all; instead, it carried a slight hint of dissatisfaction that she wasn't celebrating with them.

But Hermione looked at them as if they were two fools laughing as they stuck their necks into the guillotine.

"We didn't win, Harry—" Hermione felt her hands and feet go cold, and her eyes reddened slightly from the extreme absurdity and sorrow.

"The Ministry of Magic doesn't want to arrest you, nor does it want to arrest a dragon. They're waiting for Dumbledore to step in and bail you out. Once the headmaster signs that document acknowledging mismanagement or security risks, the Ministry of Magic will have the legal leverage to interfere in Hogwarts' internal administration! Next time, they won't send a few inspectors, but officials with a mountain of rules and regulations to take over the school!"

She shuddered as she looked at the three boys in front of her, who were brimming with blind optimism.

This passionate courage that belongs to Gryffindor is so fragile and vulnerable in the face of political execution—if it weren't for Dumbledore.

What's even more terrifying is that, as the ones wielding this double-edged sword, they are completely unaware of the extent of the damage they have caused to those who love them and to the castle that shelters them.

"Forget it, Hermione." Ron scoffed. "You always overcomplicate things. Dumbledore is invincible; Fudge is no match for him."

Hermione shut her mouth. She looked down at the cold oatmeal.

At this moment, she and Harry Ron seemed to belong to two different worlds, while on the other side of the Great Hall, the Slytherin table was enveloped in an eerie atmosphere.

Draco Malfoy's hand holding the silver fork stopped, unsure whether to raise it or put it down.

He stared intently at the Gryffindor table.

Harry Potter is laughing. That penniless Weasley is wolfing down his food. That foolish Longbottom is even drinking milk.

"This is impossible—" Draco's face contorted in disbelief.

He pushed the plate in front of him away, making a crisp clinking sound.

"Draco—didn't you say Potter was going to be fired this morning?" Pansy Parkinson cautiously leaned closer, her voice tinged with doubt.

Although Blaise Zabini, sitting opposite him, didn't say anything, his playful eyes were already scanning back and forth between Malfoy and Potter, as if assessing whether the Malfoy family had made some major mistake.

humiliation.

The humiliation of being publicly humiliated surged through Draco's mind.

He had even rehearsed his sarcastic remarks to Harry last night, just waiting to see the Auror drag Hagrid away in a spectacular fashion.

He believed that a scheme personally orchestrated by his father could not possibly go wrong.

Is Dumbledore really so powerful that he can forcibly alter even the written laws of the Ministry of Magic?

Just as Draco was about to stand up and confront Potter about whether he had used any underhanded methods, a eagle owl flew through the gloomy ceiling and dropped a letter bearing the Malfoy family's wax seal in front of Draco.

It was a letter from my father.

Draco's breathing quickened as he eagerly tore open the envelope. He expected to find his father's angry rebuke or a tirade against the incompetent idiots at the Ministry of Magic.

But when he unfolded the parchment, what caught his eye was Lucius Malfoy's leisurely and composed cursive handwriting.

The letter contained only a few lines: "My dear son:

When you see Potter still sitting in the auditorium having breakfast, don't let anger ruin your composure.

You've focused your attention on the fate of a coarse beast and the imprisonment of a Mudblood giant. That's far too narrow a vision for the Malfoy heir.

Always remember, if you want to hunt a lion king, don't waste your energy crushing its cubs under its paws. You need to force the old lion to willingly put its neck into the iron ring you've made in order to protect its cubs.

Thanks to Mr. Potter's extremely cooperative, blind, and foolish bravery, the Ministry of Magic has obtained the signed confirmation of the risks associated with Hogwarts' school autonomy. Dumbledore's impenetrable independent kingdom has developed a fatal crack.

He won last night's fairy tale. And we took away the power of the future.

My sincerest thanks go to that smug Mr. Potter.

Love, your father, Lucius.

After reading the last word, Draco suppressed his elation and slowly raised his head.

His frustration and irritability vanished without a trace.

His face displayed an arrogance even greater than before.

"Draco?" Pansy was startled by his sudden change in demeanor.

"It's nothing, Pansy." Draco folded the letter neatly and tucked it inside his robe.

He looked again at the Gryffindor table. Harry was laughing so hard he was doubled over because of one of Ron's jokes.

Before last night, seeing Harry laugh would have made Draco feel jealous and angry.

But now, Draco looked at Harry and sighed in a pretentious manner.

"Zabini," Draco said, picking up his pumpkin juice, "you're right. The Ministry of Magic doesn't care about God's will; they only care about their own interests."

He raised his glass and, across the long aisle, made a toasting gesture to the completely unaware Harry Potter, with utter sarcasm.

"Cheers to the great savior," Draco murmured to himself. "Keep dreaming your heroic dreams alive."

The storm is far from over. This ancient magic school, propelled downhill by its most fearless students, is accelerating its descent.

But the thought of being confined to the Forbidden Forest in a few days made Draco's face fall.

Then she remembered her father's words, "It's just a little hardship."

He was very pleased with himself.

"As long as I can make sure that these smug fools help my father tear down the walls of Hogwarts, I'd be willing to go to the Forbidden Forest or even just swim in the Black Lake."

At this power game, only the winners have the right to complain about mud on their clothes.