At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

The air inside the room was dry and quiet, carrying a musty, stale scent of turned pages.

Lucian stood in the center of the room, eyes closed, trying to verify a bold conjecture.

To sketch out a specific image: a "control console".

"I need to see the Hogwarts loops," he thought to himself, "to display the real-time flow of all magical nodes within the castle."

The air trembled, and countless tiny golden dust particles gathered. In the void before Lucien, they constructed a vast and intricate 3D perspective model of Hogwarts.

He sensed that the model seemed to be connected to a sleeping behemoth beneath his feet. The model was astonishingly complex, with layers of nested magical structures, where a change in one part would affect the whole. When he focused his mind on the dome of the hall in the model, he sensed a connection with the real dome.

Lucian understood. The Room of Requirement was the control center of the castle, and Dumbledore didn't seem to mind him going there, perhaps believing that his meager magic as a first-year wizard would be like scratching an itch through a boot—completely ineffective against the behemoth.

Lucian's eyes reflected the model before him. The magical pathways that should have flowed smoothly were now marred by large, alarming dark red spots. Some nodes glowed faintly like flickering candles, while others were a dangerously scorched yellow due to the accumulation of magical energy.

The passage of a thousand years has not only eroded the walls, but also filled the internal structure of this giant magical creation with flaws and blockages.

"The dome of the auditorium, node A7."

Lucian's wand passed through the afterimage and touched the red dot flashing above the model. With his will, the red dot rapidly magnified before his eyes, being analyzed layer by layer, finally revealing its core microstructure.

What should have been a perfect tetrahedral energy loop was the fundamental magical unit supporting the stable operation of the Weather Simulation Spell. But now, this bottom-level geometric unit had been severely deformed due to long-term magical erosion; one edge had broken, causing the entire energy loop to jam, like a misaligned gear groaning in distress.

"The collapse of the basic unit is due to structural fatigue," Lucian diagnosed. "It can be considered as a short circuit in the logic gates at the lower level of the code."

He raised his wand gently, releasing a thin stream of high-frequency vibrating magic. His magic, like a probe, pierced the complex magical structure, precisely 'touching' the damaged node.

Under his micro-manipulation, the distorted magical base unit was straightened again, and the broken edges were repaired by the vibration and welding of magic, restoring it to a perfect geometric shape.

In the field of vision, the stagnant red light flashed violently for a moment, and then the obstruction was completely cleared. With the reconstruction of the underlying unit, the previously chaotic data flow instantly became orderly, the red light faded, and turned into a stable emerald green.

A faint but exceptionally pure feedback magic flowed back into Lucian's body through the structure, giving his constantly tense nerves a sense of indescribable relief, but leaving him extremely exhausted, like a college student who had stayed up for two nights straight for final exams.

Restoring the Ru porcelain piece, which depicts "night rain dyeing the sky and water blue," would enchant him.

Repairing the ancient castle, whose stone walls had turned a bluish-gray color, was also an unparalleled achievement for him.

Lucian looked at the screen full of red dots without getting impatient. This was a long-term project.

……

At the same time, in the principal's office.

The greatest white wizard of this century was sitting behind that huge claw-shaped table, with half-moon spectacles perched on his nose, looking as focused as if he were studying some kind of black magic that could destroy the world.

But in front of him was a Muggle textbook with a brightly colored cover, titled "Elementary School Mathematics: Basic Arithmetic." Next to it were stacked "Junior High School Physics, Book 1" and a popular science book about the composition of matter.

"Focusing..." Dumbledore's long fingers gently brushed over the diagrams of atoms and molecules on the pages of the book. "If the assumptions made by that child in the Transfiguration class hold true, then we will have to redefine the nature of 'transformation'."

He picked up a lemon-flavored shabu-shabu, popped it into his mouth, and looked at Fox thoughtfully.

"This is far more difficult to understand than ancient runes, Fawkes. Muggles, without any magic, are actually trying to use mathematical formulas to analyze God's creation." The old man sighed softly, with a hint of respect. "If this is the underlying code of the world, then we wizards are indeed somewhat uninformed."

Suddenly, a very faint humming sound came from the walls of the principal's office.

This fluctuation is inaudible to ordinary people, but to the past principals whose names are displayed on the wall, it's like scratching a blackboard with fingernails.

"Oh my God!"

The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black jolted awake; he covered his ears, his pale, angular face contorted in agony. "Stop! Albus, stop! It feels like someone is forcibly stretching my canvas!"

“It’s not just stretching, Phineas,” said another plump female headmistress, Delis De Winter, frowning. “I feel a… very clear flow.”

Dumbledore put down his book and looked up.

He felt it more clearly.

As the holder of access to Hogwarts, he could detect that a very minor flaw in the castle's system had been fixed.

"No one is doing any construction, Phineas," Dumbledore said gently, a smile playing on his lips. "Perhaps, this old house has simply found a new doctor."

"A doctor? I think he's crazy!" Phineas muttered as he straightened his robe.

He suddenly realized something was wrong, his face filled with surprise and doubt: "No, you're still here, who can control the castle?"

"The night is always too short for a seeker of knowledge," Dumbledore murmured to himself.

……

Upon leaving the Room of Requirement, Lucien encounters a ghost in the corridor leading back to the Ravenclaw Tower.

Helena Ravenclaw, Ms. Grey.

Her pearly white, translucent figure hovered silently in the middle of the road, her usually melancholy and empty eyes now fixed on Lucien.

"What did you do?" The ghost's voice was ethereal.

Lucian stopped and nodded politely. "Good evening, madam. I don't understand what you mean."

"The castle... took a 'deep breath' in that instant."

Helena drifted closer. "At that moment, I felt the rhythm of my mother's era. That ancient feeling."

Lucian paused for a moment, then calmly replied, "It's nothing, I just noticed it was slightly misaligned and put it back in place."

Helena gazed at the first-year student before slowly disappearing through the wall, leaving behind only a meaningful whisper: "Be careful, child. Some wounds, once opened, don't necessarily bleed."