At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

The following morning, the dome of the auditorium was shrouded in leaden-gray clouds.

An army of owls blotted out the magical ceiling, and packages and letters rained down.

At the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy caught an envelope dropped by a eagle owl. The envelope was sealed with the Malfoy family's exquisite wax seal.

Draco eagerly tore off the sealing wax. He had expected his father to offer comfort about his train or even promise revenge, but the familiar cursive handwriting on the letter conveyed an unprecedented severity.

Draco:

Regarding Ashford, the family is reassessing the risks. Before the full details are investigated, set aside your arrogance, observe carefully, and refrain from any rash actions.

Additionally, to confirm that rumor: is the nature of his magic truly as... "abnormal" as the report states?

Lucius

Draco instinctively turned his head, his gaze passing through the noisy crowd and landing at the end of Ravenclaw's long table.

Lucian Ashford sipped his unsweetened black coffee while flipping through an ancient book as thick as a brick. He was oblivious to the feathers fluttering and the noise around him, as if the entire Hogwarts morning had nothing to do with him.

……

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, in Wiltshire, at Malfoy Manor.

In the luxurious yet chilly drawing room, heavy velvet curtains blocked out the sunlight. The flickering firelight from the fireplace illuminated Lucius Malfoy's pale and anxious face. Opposite him sat Nott and several heads of pure-blood families, the air thick with the aroma of aged brandy.

"A once-diagnosed Obscurus, instead of withering away from the backlash of magic, has instead gained a level of control comparable to that of an adult wizard." Lucius ran his fingers over the silver surface of the snake-headed cane. "He even inflicted a certain...intellectual humiliation on the old scholars of the Ministry of Magic in some aspects of magical theory. This is abnormal."

"Perhaps it's some kind of smokescreen left behind by old Ashford?" Nott swirled his glass, speculating.

"There's no record in magical history that the Obscurus can be healed, especially after undergoing that kind of ritual. But that's precisely what's most unsettling." Lucius felt a chill run down his spine. He narrowed his eyes, staring at the intelligence report in his hand about the Ashford family in the New World. "Ashford... if an unknown serpent has truly sprung from this long-rotten mire, we need to know whether its venom is lethal or whether we can bottle it up."

"Continue to probe." Lucius tossed the parchment into the fireplace. The flames instantly engulfed the text. "If it's a threat..."

Before he could finish speaking, the heavy oak door was suddenly flung open.

A figure draped in a black robe with a hood pulled low strode in, with a human body bound by invisible ropes floating behind him.

The visitor was August Travers.

Lucius stared intently; the floating figure was in a semi-conscious state, its eyes vacant and unfocused, its limbs twitching unnaturally, clearly having just endured a gruesome ordeal. The ring on its hand, engraved with a burning ash tree, gleamed glaringly in the firelight.

Cassius Ashford.

Lucius abruptly stood up, slamming his cane on the ground, and roared, "August, are you insane? What are you doing?!"

August pulled back his hood, revealing a sinister smile: "Still playing guessing games, Lucius? The real culprit is right here. If you want to know anything, just pry open his head and ask him."

Having said that, he released the levitation spell. Cassius crashed heavily onto the carpet, gasping for breath like a dying fish, his body convulsing from the excruciating pain.

"Have you forgotten those people on the Mayflower?" Lucius's voice changed. "Do you want to provoke that bunch of Puritan lunatics in the New World who eat communion and bok choy and will do anything for immortality?"

August curled his lip. "How long has it been since they crossed the Atlantic? They're a bunch of dead men."

"But now that kid's alive!" Lucius swallowed hard, his face ashen. "The Ashford bloodline continues, and those lunatics will come back... they'll come back for that 'miracle'."

……

Hogwarts, the underground classroom.

Potions class. The air here is always filled with the smell of sulfur and rotting plants.

When the man in the black robe swept into the classroom like a giant vampire bat, the temperature dropped to freezing.

"Potter! What's the difference between Aconitum carmichaelii and Aconitum davidii?"

Harry looked bewildered, while Hermione frantically raised her hand beside him. Snape's gaze swept past them, locking onto the back corner where Lucian was writing furiously in his notebook.

"Ashford," Snape's voice was slick and dangerous, "it seems you find my questions too shallow to be worth your precious time?"

Lucian paused, then looked up, his expression completely unchanged: "I'm taking down your question, Professor."

Snape slid silently behind him, his black robes billowing. He looked down at the notebook:

"While they share the same biological classification (both belonging to the Ranunculaceae family), in terms of potion-making properties, the former focuses on nerve paralysis, while the latter focuses on cell wall destruction. The definition on page 32 of the textbook is vague and needs to be revised."

Snape stared at the words. Finally, he simply said coldly, "Sit down. One point deducted from Gryffindor for your defiance."

The next task is to prepare a medicinal solution for treating scabies.

The classroom was soon filled with the sounds of chopping. Lucien stared at the silver knife in front of him. Physical cutting? That would irreversibly damage the slug's glandular structure, causing the loss of its active ingredients.

He levitated a horned slug with his wand, silently chanting:

"Separation".

Under his control, the magic transformed into high-frequency micro-oscillations.

The next second, the pure, unadulterated mucus was perfectly detached from the gland and dripped into the crucible.

Heating process. Lucian stared at his pocket watch, his left hand hovering beside the crucible, using magic to help control the temperature, forcibly locking the liquid at a perfect constant 85 degrees Celsius in a water bath.

The book requires stirring four times.

Lucian stirred for two and a half rounds before his wrist abruptly stopped.

In his mental calculations, the solute had reached its saturation point. An extra one and a half turns of stirring would only introduce unnecessary oxygen, causing the solution to oxidize and become ineffective.

"idiot!"

A scream shattered the silence of the cellar. Neville's cauldron had exploded, sending plumes of thick green smoke billowing into the air.

Amidst the chaos and wailing, Lucien looked at the test tube in his hand.

In the dim candlelight, the vial of medicine displayed a color that even textbooks dared not easily describe: a perfect, translucent azure, like liquid morning sky.

After dealing with Neville's accident, Snape took the test tube. He stared at the pure liquid, his expression somber and complex. He thought of Lily's eyes…

"The steps don't match 'Potions and Elixirs' at all... Ashford." Snape stared into his eyes. "You skipped one and a half turns of stirring."

"Excessive stirring will cause the medicine to oxidize, Professor," Lucien said calmly. "Furthermore, high-frequency oscillation separation can improve the purity of the active ingredient by 30% compared to physical cutting."

"Ravenclaw gets 5 points." Snape turned around, his black robes billowing behind him. "Because finally someone here with their brain in class. But because of your arrogance and disregard for the rules, deduct 2 points."

Lucian sat down, checked the "Potions" section in his notebook, and wrote a comment next to it:

"The chemical experimental equipment was crude, and the operating procedures were primitive. But the tutor possessed extremely high appreciation and insight. This discipline has enormous room for improvement."