At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

The air in the underground corridor became stuffy and viscous.

The personal feud between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, instigated by Lucian, has escalated into a war between the two houses.

As the stone doors to the Slytherin common room opened, more and more upperclassmen poured into the narrow corridor.

The green robe and the red robe were clearly distinguishable.

"Isn't that Oliver Wood?"

Marcus Flint pushed his way through the crowd. He looked like a freak, grinning to reveal jagged, large teeth. His short, thick wand was pointed unceremoniously at the Gryffindor Quidditch captain's nose.

"What are you doing here with your bunch of brats? Trying to admit defeat prematurely?"

"Shut your stinking mouth, Flint!"

Wood didn't back down at all; instead, he took a step forward, their noses almost colliding. "I'm here to teach you a lesson! If you hadn't so shamelessly broken Arya's broom tail from behind last semester, you would have been back in the sewers by now!"

"That was a legitimate tactical charge!" Slytherin's batter, Boor, roared, waving his thick arms. "Only cowards like you would cry and run to the umpire!"

"A reasonable collision? Ha! What about the year before last? Who put glue on Jordan's broom?" Lee Jordan pushed his way in, wand still spitting sparks. "And the year before that, you put a nest of Cornish elves in our locker room!"

The tips of both wands began to glow dangerously.

In this tense and chaotic situation, Draco Malfoy rediscovered his "arrogance".

Just minutes before, he had to face the wrath of dozens of Gryffindors, so frightened he almost pressed his back against the wall.

But now, looking at the wall of Slytherins in front of him, and at Flint's broad back,

The fear receded, replaced by tenfold shame and malice.

"Why aren't you saying anything, Potter?"

Malfoy peeked out from behind Flint, his pale face bearing his usual irritating fake smile, and said in a drawn-out tone:

"Weren't you all so smug just now? Is this all the Gryffindors are capable of? Charging in like a bunch of barbarians, then standing there like cowards?"

"Malfoy!" Ron was so angry that his face turned purple. He tried to rush forward, but was blocked by Fred in front of him.

"Bring him over here, Weasley!" Malfoy raised his chin defiantly, his eyes full of contempt. "Let's see if your secondhand wand is better, or mine..."

"Stop it, all of you!"

A furious roar came from the end of the corridor, tearing a hole in the almost exploding space.

Percy Weasley's prefectural badge was polished to a gleaming shine; he came running over, panting, as the situation escalated.

Hermione Granger followed behind, her face equally anxious.

Such a large-scale confrontation between the colleges was too much of a commotion, and someone had already tipped them off.

Hermione, who was well-informed, immediately followed after hearing that Harry and Ron were in trouble.

"What are you doing! This is a serious violation of school rules!"

Percy waved his arms, trying to squeeze himself between the two groups. "I'm the prefect! I order you to disperse immediately! Or else I'll..."

"What are you going to do? Cry and run to your mother, Weasley?" A burst of laughter erupted from the Slytherin crowd.

Percy's ears turned bright red.

Hermione, however, didn't care about any of that.

She immediately spotted Harry and Ron, who were squeezed at the very front, and Neville, whose face was streaked with tears, being protected behind them.

"Harry! Ron! Put your wands down!"

Hermione rushed to the front, her tousled hair slightly disheveled from running, but this did not diminish her imposing presence. She grabbed Harry's arm, which was holding his wand, and forcefully pressed him down.

"Are you crazy? If we fight in the hallways, Gryffindor will lose all its points! We might even be expelled!"

"He attacked first!" Harry struggled, his eyes bloodshot. "He used the Leg-Standing-Standing Curse on Neville! And he humiliated him!"

"Then we can go tell Professor McGonagall! Instead of fighting like...like savages here!"

Hermione turned around, spreading her arms to stand between the two groups. Facing the group of Slytherins who were much taller than her, her voice trembled slightly, but her thoughts were clear:

"Calm down. If a fight breaks out now, and Professor Snape comes, nobody will escape. I mean... it's not good for anyone, is it?"

The atmosphere eased briefly.

Hermione's words poured cold water on everyone's enthusiasm. Even Flint frowned, seemingly weighing the pros and cons.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the situation seemed to be under control.

But she forgot that some people don't need reason, they need a stage.

Malfoy looked at the girl who had suddenly appeared and was trying to take control of the situation.

It's her again.

That know-it-all who stole the show in Charms class, was always the first to raise his hand in Transfiguration class, and despite his humble origins, always managed to outdo him.

Now, she actually dares to stand in front of the great Malfoy and lecture him like a professor?

Especially when Malfoy had just recovered from extreme fear and desperately needed to prove his authority in an extreme way.

"This scene is truly touching."

Malfoy slowly walked out from behind the crowd and stood in front of Hermione.

His eyes were filled with malice.

"Since you're so nosy..." Malfoy leaned forward and said in a voice that could only be heard by a few people in the front row:

"Nobody asked for your opinion, you filthy little mud-blood."

The moment those three words were uttered...

Hermione was stunned.

She felt extremely insulted.

That was a denial of her background, her parents, and her very existence.

"How dare you!!"

The roar came from Ron.

Ron's sanity completely crumbled in that instant. As a member of a pure-blood family, he knew better than anyone what that word meant.

Ron clutched the inherited ash wood wand tightly in his hand. It was an old wand that had long lost its luster, and the end was even worn down to reveal a section of grayish-white unicorn hair.

But now, this wand, which usually ignored him, unexpectedly responded to its master's overwhelming rage.

He was simply following the instincts that flowed in the Weasley family blood, pointing the old wooden stick firmly at that pale face.

"You damn fool—get out of here!"

"Flipendo (Repel)!"

Red sparks, accompanied by a loud bang, exploded in the corridor.

Although no spell was cast and no one was injured, the tension in the air, which had lasted all night, remained.

broken.

"Kill them!!"

No one knew who shouted it, but the shout, filled with Gryffindor's recklessness and passion, ignited the entire underground corridor.

The first wave of attacks belonged to Harry Potter.

At that moment, the savior did not use any profound magic. Anger made his actions faster than his thoughts, and the dung ball in his hand flew out with a whistling sound.

"Snapped!"

The shot was incredibly accurate. The dung ball exploded on Draco Malfoy's astonished face, which hadn't yet managed to wipe the fake smile off.

A thick, foul-smelling yellowish-green smeared all over Malfoy's face.

"Ah!! My eyes! My eyes!!"

The once arrogant Malfoy now let out a pig-like scream, clutching his face and stumbling backward, bumping into Goyle's broad belly like a headless fly. His wand flailed wildly, a red spark even accidentally injuring Pansy Parkinson beside him, causing the latter to scream repeatedly.

"attack!"

As Gryffindor batters, Fred and George Weasley displayed remarkable fighting skills. They didn't waste any time chanting spells.

They simultaneously reached into the pockets of their robes, which were their armory.

"Make way! I've arrived, having gone through so much trouble to pull out the fireworks!"

A dozen or so colorful fireworks were thrown into Slytherin.

Blue fire dragons slithered beneath the feet of the crowd, specifically targeting the ankles of the Slytherin girls; firecrackers, as if alive, crackled and popped inside the robes of the older boys.

"Damn Weasleys! I'm going to kill you all!"

Marcus Flint roared as his monstrous body charged through the sparks. As Slytherin's Quidditch captain, his fighting style was extremely brutal.

"They'll all turn to petrification! They'll be torn to pieces!"

Flint's spell transformed into a streak of purple light, grazing Harry's scalp before striking a suit of armor behind him.

With a loud crash, the centuries-old hollow tin frame instantly shattered into pieces, sending metal fragments flying and slashing the cheeks of several younger students.

"Flint!!"

Oliver Wood's eyes were bloodshot. Even without a broom, he was still the same Wood's goalkeeper.

He launched a perfect diving tackle, ramming his shoulder into Flint's arms, and the two began to wrestle.

Unable to use their wands at close range, they resorted to fists, elbows, and knees.

"Disarm you!"

"Grinning widely!"

"Legs stiffen and he dies!"

Multicolored beams of spells flew erratically in the narrow space, bouncing off the walls or colliding in mid-air, sparking sparks.

Amidst the interplay of light and shadow, Harry felt an unprecedented sense of dread.

This was the most primal expression of anger. He dodged a beam of yellow light, then retaliated with a "Legs-Standing Dead" on Crabbe, watching the big guy fall straight down with his legs together, crashing into a group of Slytherins. Harry even felt a sense of satisfaction.

"Release that big thing!"

In the chaos, Lee Jordan excitedly leaped onto a stone block. He was usually the Quidditch commentator, and his voice was incredibly loud. Now, holding up a small box, he shouted down:

"This is a gift for you, you vipers!"

He tapped his wand, and the large, furry wolf spider that he had treasured for so long jumped out of the box.

"Grow bigger quickly!"

The spider, which was originally only the size of a palm, swelled up to the size of a washbasin.

Its eight dark, gleaming eyes flashed with a fierce light as it swiftly climbed up the ceiling toward the torch stand near Slytherin.

"A spider! A giant spider!"

"Aaaaaah! It's right on my head! Get it away!"

The few timid Slytherins were terrified, and a breach appeared in the previously tight human wall.

"No refunds allowed! No refunds allowed!"

Flint, while wrestling with Wood, roared in an attempt to maintain order.

"That's an illusion! Burn it with a fire spell! You bunch of useless trash!"

But this had no effect. Panic spread through the lower grades of Slytherin.

Gryffindor's situation is not easy either.

After realizing what was happening, the older Slytherin students displayed the typical Slytherin traits.

They stab people in the shadows or behind the crowd.

Hermione has been trying to stop the riot.

She opened her arms,

"Stop! You can't... that's against the rules! Stop now..."

"His front teeth are like a big stick!"

A pale yellow light passed over Neville's head and struck Hermione's front tooth.

She covered her mouth in horror, feeling her front teeth growing wildly, extending past her lower lip and all the way to her chin in just a few seconds, looking both comical and terrifying.

"Hermione!"

Harry witnessed this, and in that instant, anger completely overwhelmed his fear.

This is Slytherin, this is the "pure-blood" superiority that Malfoy spoke of.

A bunch of cowards who only know how to hide behind others and humiliate girls and the weak! "I'm going to kill you all!"

Harry burst out of the crowd, his wand pointing directly at the Slytherin sixth year student who had just cast the spell.

Meanwhile, Percy Weasley is experiencing the darkest moment of his life.

"Since none of you will listen..." Percy was furious. He tried to use a binding spell to control the most insane ones.

But nobody took him seriously.

In the chaos, a Devil's Web seed, thrown by some Slytherin, took root and sprouted at his feet, its tendrils instantly wrapping around Percy's ankles.

The prefect, who was usually very particular about his appearance, exclaimed in surprise and fell face down on the ground. His gleaming prefect badge hit the marble floor with a crisp sound before rolling into the corner.

"Prefect?" A more unrestrained jeer erupted from the Slytherin crowd.

"Hang him on the lamp stand!"

"Get out of my way!"

George kicked a Slytherin student who tried to approach Percy, sending him flying. "Only we can bully Percy! You snakes aren't worthy!"

The situation is completely out of control.

The portraits on the wall frantically covered their ears and fled in terror; the row of medieval armors tilted and fell under the spell's influence, helmets and gauntlets scattered all over the floor; the stench of dung balls and the sulfurous smell of fireworks...

Everyone's face looked ferocious and distorted under the flickering magical light.

Gryffindor is like a pack of enraged lions, chaotic yet overwhelming in their momentum; Slytherin, on the other hand, is like a pack of venomous snakes cornered, vicious and ruthless, each counterattack aimed straight for the vitals.

Neville Longbottom cowered in the corner, terrified.

He watched Harry roar, watched Hermione clutch her teeth and cry, watched Ron writhe on the ground in agony.

At that moment, a flame called courage was ignited within his clumsy body.

"Don't...bully them!!"

Neville, with his eyes closed, rushed in, waving his wand haphazardly. Although he didn't even utter a single spell, his burly frame accidentally bumped into Crabbe, who was attacking Harry, causing him to stumble.

……

In the blind spots where the torches couldn't reach.

Lucian was shrouded in an illusion spell.

As the instigator of all this, he coldly looked down at the group of young wizards tearing each other apart like wild beasts.

"Tsk, how ugly."

The all-out war between the two academies is far more exciting than the minor skirmishes in the original story.

However, just as Lucian was watching with great interest as Neville crashed into Crabbe like a meat bomb,

A strange, chilling sensation swept over me.

"Damn it—"

Lucian instinctively wanted to activate the Ironclad Spell.

But it was too late, and too coincidental.

In the center of the battlefield below, two spells that had originally missed their mark...

A "Shattered Bones" spell from a senior Slytherin student and a "Powerful Blast" spell from Gryffindor collided unexpectedly in mid-air, slamming into Lucian.

With a muffled thud, Lucien felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder.

Caught off guard, the protective magic barrier shattered, but the aftershock still tore a gash in his shoulder.

Blood soaked through the black robe.

Lucian's figure swayed in the shadows, nearly falling. He quickly regained his balance and repaired the shaky illusion spell.

He looked down at the deep, bone-revealing wound on his shoulder and the dripping blood.

Lucian's face, which always carried a hint of elegance and mockery, was now filled with silence.

While I was just watching the show, I was accidentally hit by stray bullets from a bunch of kids?

Sure enough, he was plagued by "inauspicious energy," what bad luck!

"...Okay, very good."

This feeling of being struck down by fate made him very unhappy.

It's like you've meticulously designed an arena, only to be hit on the head by a gladiator's flying axe while sitting in the stands.

"Since you've made me bleed..."

Lucian squinted.

"Then I can't just take this for nothing."

Lucian was never one to suffer a loss without fighting back.

Since the calamity has forcibly entangled him with this chaotic situation, why not go with the flow and stir up the muddy waters even more?