Hogwarts' Golden Glory

The classroom was so quiet that you could hear the rustling of a quill pen nib scratching against parchment.

Harry stared at the problem before him, and his scar suddenly throbbed with pain.

"If sacrificing one person could save a hundred, what would you do?"

His quill pen hung in mid-air.

I don't know where to start.

He was actually very clear about this issue.

His own parents were among those who sacrificed themselves fighting against Voldemort.

If his parents were to sacrifice themselves, he would absolutely write "Never sacrifice anyone" without hesitation.

But Harry felt it wasn't that simple—

The ink finally fell.

But it came out in a crooked and distorted way: "That depends on who was sacrificed, and... who those hundred people were."

The handwriting flickered three times on the paper, then suddenly reformed into a new question:

"What if you were the one who sacrificed yourself?"

Harry looked up abruptly.

They met Professor Old's gaze, which held a half-smile.

Draco's quill pen drew deep lines of ink beneath the words "Pure Blood or Game of Thrones?"

He recalled the portrait in his father's study—all the Malfoy patriarchs wore the same arrogant expression.

But Kane's earlier words lingered in his mind like a venomous snake: "Glory? When the Dark Lord made you kneel and lick the hem of his robe, why didn't you mention glory then?"

His quill pen began to move, writing: "Glory should come from strength, not blood."

Draco now deeply admires his brother!

Hermione's test paper was covered in dense writing, but the question at the top remained unchanged:

Should there be forbidden zones for knowledge?

As she was writing the third paragraph about the "necessity of controlling dangerous spells," a quill suddenly flew up and hit the back of her hand.

A line of blood-red annotation appeared on the parchment:

"Don't lie."

Hermione's lips trembled.

Yes, she certainly secretly read the contents of the forbidden book section.

What I wrote was completely different from what I thought.

When she finally wrote, "True control should be about prohibiting abuse, not about complete prohibition."

The entire parchment suddenly transformed into the 1943 edition of The Daily Prophet.

A young Dumbledore was defending the lifting of the ban on Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks.

Ron stared at the question before him, "For whom would you give your life?", cold sweat beading on his forehead.

(Merlin, this is even worse than Percy's ethics class...)

He stealthily reached into his sleeve—where Fred had hidden the "automatic quill pen" he'd given him.

"Just keep saying 'Weasley is our king'..."

Ron whispered something in his ear, activating the magic quill.

The pen tip just touched the parchment.

The pen suddenly transformed into a miniature Hungarian wood wasp, spitting fire and chasing after Ron's nose to bite.

"Ouch! Professor! This thing is trying to murder me!"

Ron jumped up and shouted.

Professor Old waved his wand without turning his head.

The bee transformed into a larger quill and began writing automatically on Ron's exam paper:

"I, Ron Weasley, solemnly declare: I would rather eat a ton of fox eggs than die for Fred and George—unless they first pay back the 37 silver sieves they owe me."

The whole class burst into laughter, and even Pansy Parkinson's face turned red.

Kane's exam paper was the most unusual.

What will you fight for?

He stared at the words for a long time, so long that the sunlight had moved to the edge of the parchment.

When he finally put pen to paper, he wrote down a different question:

"Who defines war or non-war?"

The ink was instantly absorbed by the parchment, revealing Grindelwald's handwritten reply:

"Defined by history—and history is in your hands."

Kane's pupils contracted slightly.

He caught a glimpse of a gold pocket watch slipping from Professor Old's sleeve.

The inside of the watch case is engraved with Dumbledore's profile.

No one noticed that Neville Longbottom's exam paper was glowing.

His question was, "Can fear become strength?"

His answer transformed the parchment into the design of the Gryffindor sword:

My grandma said... true courage is going forward despite fear.

Professor Older suddenly appeared behind him, a hint of admiration flashing in his eyes: "Mr. Longbottom, your grandmother was right."

Neville's face flushed slightly.

When the clock struck midnight, all the exam papers automatically flew to the podium.

"Everyone else can leave."

His voice was soft, yet it made all the students who reached the door quicken their pace involuntarily. "Mr. Malfoy, please wait a moment."

"Your answer is very interesting, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Alder's voice was deep and magnetic.

He slowly walked down from the podium.

"Who defines war or non-war?"—This question alone reveals your ambition.

Kane raised his eyes, his grey-blue pupils appearing particularly sharp in the dim light: "Ambition? I thought that was just a philosophical question, Professor."

Professor Old—or rather, Gellert Grindelwald—chuckled.

His heterochromatic eyes gleamed dangerously in the shadows: "Philosophy? No, this is the essence of power."

With a gentle wave of his wand, Kane's exam paper floated into the air.

It was transformed into countless fragments and reassembled into a dynamic map.

That was a power structure diagram of the entire European magical world, but a strangely empty space was left at the core.

"Look at this vacancy."

Grindelwald's voice coiled around Kane's thoughts like a venomous snake.

"The Ministry of Magic is corrupt, the International Confederation of Wizards is incompetent, and Dumbledore..."

His gaze swept over the gold pocket watch on his cuff, "Engrossed in being a gentle headmaster."

Kane did not answer immediately.

His gaze fell on the location of Hogwarts on the map—marked as a golden crown, but cracks were beginning to appear at the edges.

"You want to ask me if I will become the next Dark Lord?"

Kane finally spoke, his voice eerily calm.

The candlelight suddenly shot up, creating a dark blue wall of fire between the two of them.

"What I want to know is, when the Malfoys' ambition meets sufficient power... what kind of fruit will it bear?"

With a flick of his finger, three scenes appeared within the wall of fire:

Silhouette of Lucius Malfoy bribing officials at the Ministry of Magic

Draco, trembling, picked up the memory fragments from the black box.

The scene where Kane stands alone atop the Astronomy Tower, overlooking the entire school.

Kane looked at these scenes and wasn't surprised at all that his actions had been recorded.

"Power is like this raging fire."

Grindelwald's voice became seductive.

"You can choose to get burned by it, or..."

The wall of fire suddenly parted, revealing a path leading to the podium. "Master it."

Kane stood up, but did not walk down that road.

The tip of his wand gleamed silver, drawing ancient runes in the air.

That was the Malfoy family motto, but the last letter was deliberately distorted:

"Pure and eternal" has become "Pure and eternal".