At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

Hermione felt her face burning.

Her front teeth were growing uncontrollably, now past her chin, lodging ridiculously on her collarbone like a beaver. She desperately covered her mouth with both hands, tears blurring her vision, turning the chaotic scene before her into a distorted blur of light and shadow.

"How dare you—"

Seamus, his face covered in dust, roared at the Slytherin crowd, his wand still sparking.

Beside him, Dean Thomas was trying to hold back Neville, the usually timid round-faced boy who was now blindfolded and struggling left and right.

"He deserves it!" Goyle wiped the blood from his nose, his face filled with arrogance and shamelessness, showing no fear whatsoever but rather pride. "That kind of blood doesn't deserve to be at Hogwarts!"

A single figure stood out conspicuously and awkwardly in the presence of this pack of angry lions.

Percy Weasley.

This prefect, who always had the school rules on his lips, now had a face as red as a liver, having just escaped the devil's vine. He had originally opened his arms to stop his brothers, but after hearing Goyle's insult, his hands froze in mid-air.

Percy was trembling.

If he were to mutter a pointless remark about deducting points at this point, or take the teacher's side and reprimand his own people, his prestige in Gryffindor would be completely destroyed.

The prefect's authority comes not only from the professor's appointment but also from the college's recognition.

Percy whirled around, as if he had made up his mind, and pointed angrily at the Slytherin captain, his voice trembling.

"Control your pack of mad dogs!"

"Oh, so you're protecting them now?" Malfoy's drawn-out, nauseating voice rang out. "The Weasley prefects really only know how to shield paupers and idiots..."

"They'll all be petrified!"

"Armor for protection!"

A jumble of incantations flew through the corridor once more.

……

"What are you all doing?!"

Professor McGonagall's voice was extremely penetrating.

Through her fingers, Hermione saw the professor striding towards her in a plaid dressing gown, his hair pulled back tightly, his lips pressed into a straight line.

Following closely behind was an even more suffocating black figure.

Snape stood silently between the students of the two houses, his black robes motionless, yet more imposing than any movement.

As a top student, Hermione's first reaction was:

It’s over.

"Brawling like Muggles..." Snape stared at Harry and Percy. "Gryffindor manners are truly eye-opening. Weasley, is this the house you manage?"

"Professor, they started it—" Percy tried to explain.

"Disrespecting a professor, deduct ten points," Snape said quickly. "I saw it clearly; a mob of thugs was attacking my student."

"Severus!" Professor McGonagall's voice trembled with anger as she strode forward. "You can't just take one side of the story! Look at Mr. Longbottom's face! And... good heavens, Miss Granger?"

Hermione flinched. She didn't want to be called out at this moment, didn't want her ridiculous teeth exposed to everyone. She buried her head even lower.

But at that moment, Hermione keenly noticed an extremely incongruous detail.

A blood-covered figure appeared in the corner and slightly raised its eyelids.

Lucian.

Even through the tears and the chaotic crowd, Hermione could feel the weight of that gaze. The boy leaning against the corner, half-covered in blood.

He seemed to glance at Ron, or perhaps Harry, almost imperceptibly.

But... there was clearly no one in that corner just now.

The thought flashed through Hermione's chaotic mind, too quickly for her to grasp.

Was it a Disillusionment Spell? Or was it just that I was confused and didn't notice?

The next moment, Ron, who had seemed to be shrinking back, suddenly stepped forward.

"Professor!" Ron, seemingly unable to contain himself any longer, roared, his face flushed and neck bulging. "This isn't a fight! We're demanding justice! Malfoy cast a curse on Neville, nearly breaking his neck in the hall!"

A low chuckle came from Slytherin's direction.

"Where's the evidence, Weasley?" Snape asked gently. "Do you have any evidence? Or is this just another case of your barren brains conjuring up persecution complexes?"

"And!" Ron pointed at Malfoy, his fingers trembling violently, as if it took a great deal of courage to shout the words, "Just now, when we confronted him... he called Hermione 'Mudblood'!!"

Hermione saw Professor McGonagall gasp, her stern face contorting with the righteous indignation of a righteous wizard.

And Snape,

The man who always wore a mocking sneer seemed to be petrified.

Snape's sallow face lost all color and turned deathly pale.

That look made Hermione forget to cry; she had never seen such a terrifying expression on a professor's face.

He stared intently at Malfoy, as if he could see through the boy before him some kind of ghost that he loathed and tormented.

"Which word did you say?"

Malfoy's smug expression vanished. He took a step back, frightened by the murderous glare from his own father, Professor Malfoy: "I... Professor, I just..."

"Slytherin, deduct fifty points."

Snape spat out the words through gritted teeth, "For your disgusting, foul language, Malfoy."

The corridor was deathly silent.

Even the Gryffindors were stunned.

The old bat actually deducted points from his own academy?

But it was only for a moment. Just as Harry and his friends were feeling the exhilarating satisfaction of justice being served, Snape turned his head, and that pent-up anger and resentment burned back into Gryffindor.

"but."

Snape's black robes billowed again. "That's no excuse for dozens of you to be fighting in the hallway. Verbal offenses are not a license for violence."

He looked at Professor McGonagall, his eyes filled with a sinister glint: "Minerva, since it's a fair trial..."

Professor McGonagall gripped her wand tightly, her chest heaving. Emotionally, she wanted to put all of Slytherin in solitary confinement.

But in terms of the rules, the rules that bound her and Hermione together,

Gryffindor did indeed strike first, and that did cause chaos.

As the vice principal, she cannot only act on emotions.

"...Gryffindor," Professor McGonagall closed her eyes, her voice hoarse, "is indeed in violation of school rules. For...for this brawl, Gryffindor will lose fifty points."

"What?!" the twins exclaimed in disbelief.

"This isn't fair!" Harry shouted.

"Fair?" Snape scoffed, his gaze sweeping across the room, finally settling between the still defiant lions and the venomous vipers. "That's the greatest fairness. Everyone pays the price for their stupidity."

Hermione leaned against the cold wall, watching this scene unfold.

There are no winners.

Gryffindor's justice was crudely converted into a score, becoming a so-called fairness that applies equally to both sides;

Slytherin's malice was glossed over, leaving only a few mild reprimands.

Percy was still trying to argue with Professor McGonagall, the twins were still giving Slytherin the middle finger, and Malfoy, though penalized, was still mouthing provocations to Ron despite being in the crowd.

The conflict remains unresolved. The muddy water has merely been covered up, while beneath the darkness, deeper hatred is festering.

Hermione covered her mouth, feeling her two ridiculously large front teeth become even heavier, making it difficult for her to lift her head.

At that moment, Snape seemed to notice the strangeness in that corner. He squinted at the figure in blue robes, then walked straight over.

The Slytherin students pushed and shoved to make way, revealing the boy who was leaning against the wall.

Lucian's robe was completely torn at the left shoulder, and blood dripped down his arm onto the floor.

Tick, tick.

Snape stepped forward and reached out to check the wound.

Unlike the others, Lucien did not show pain, fear, or accusation. He simply turned slightly to the side, following Snape's movement, fully exposing the bloody wound to the torchlight.

"Is this Gryffindor's 'courage'?"

Snape turned around, his black robes billowing. His voice was no longer its usual dry sarcasm, but rather a suppressed rage.

"To openly use an explosive charm in the hallway..." Snape pointed to Lucian's gruesome wound, "...attempting to murder a Ravenclaw?"

"We didn't!" Harry shouted, his voice trembling with panic. "It was an accident! Everyone was just randomly casting spells..."

"Accident?"

Snape gave a short, cold laugh. "Mr. Potter thinks that blowing up a classmate and leaving him covered in blood was just an 'accident'?"

"professor……"

Lucian spoke up.

"It was indeed an accident."

The boy leaned against the wall, his lips bloodless from blood loss. He looked at Professor McGonagall, not Snape, his voice carrying a heartbreaking calm and rationality:

"I was just passing by... I didn't expect to get involved in the exchange between the two houses. Gryffindor probably didn't aim at me on purpose... even if the spell did come from the direction of Harry's wand."

Hermione's swollen eyes widened.

This sounds like an attempt to exonerate Harry, but every word is a definitive conclusion.

He confirmed that the spell had come from Harry's direction, confirmed that the passerby had been innocently caught in the crossfire, and more importantly, his gentle, rational attitude, even defending the perpetrator, was worlds apart from the Gryffindor students at the scene who were holding dung balls and looking extremely agitated.

"Did you hear that, Minerva?"

Snape turned to McGonagall. "This is Gryffindor. Arrogance, recklessness, violence—this is the lion you're so proud of."

Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed together so tightly they were almost invisible. She looked at the blood on Lucian's body, at Hermione's deformed front teeth, and at the mess on the floor.

That look made Hermione feel worse than if she were under a curse.

That was extreme disappointment.

"Gryffindor, all in confinement."

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled slightly. "Everyone involved in the fight tonight."

"And also," Snape added, his gaze snaking around Harry like a viper, "Potter, for the serious harm you have caused to your classmate, you will be serving a month of community service in my office."

"As for the score..."

Professor McGonagall took a deep breath.

"Deduct another 100 points."

"What?" Harry exclaimed.

"One hundred points!" Professor McGonagall suddenly erupted, pointing angrily at them. "For wandering around in the dead of night! For this shameful private duel! One hundred and sixty points! Gryffindor will be disqualified from competing for the House Cup because of this!"

160 points.

Herman felt a sudden dizziness.

It's gone. All gone.

"Get out of here! Go back to your dorms!"

The crowd scattered in panic. The Slytherin students slipped back behind the stone wall with triumphant smiles, while the Gryffindor students left dejectedly.

Only Hermione remained standing there.

"Miss Granger," Mrs. Pomfrey exclaimed, arriving unexpectedly and staring at her long teeth that reached her chest, "Oh, Merlin, what kind of curse is this? Come with me quickly."

As she passed that corner, she inexplicably looked up.

Snape was stopping Lucian's bleeding. The boy was still leaning against the corner of the wall, his face as pale as paper, but his expression was as calm as if he were watching a clumsy farce.

Lucian's gaze drifted past Snape's shoulder and landed lightly on her.

Hermione lowered her head, averting her gaze, and let Madam Pomfrey lead her towards the end of the dark corridor.

The soreness in her front teeth persisted, but something far more terrifying was the emptiness that was engulfing her.

160 points.

Before that, this was proof of her existence.

Those were the spells she memorized countless nights, the parchment she rummaged through in the library, the arms she raised high in class until they ached. She thought this was the entirety of the magical world.

If you are smart enough, follow the rules enough, and work hard enough, you will gain recognition, and you will prove that word.

That "mud race" is wrong.

But tonight, reality slapped her hard across her swollen face.

Malfoy broke every rule, yet he emerged unscathed, simply because he lied and because he had a biased headmaster.

Gryffindor used violence, yet it was still considered a failure of courage, and they were even regarded as heroes.

And she.

She just wanted to stop them; she just wanted to maintain order.

The results of it?

She became the most ridiculous person. She became the beaver, the sinner of the academy, and a troublemaker even Professor McGonagall despised.

"Perhaps Lucian is right."

Once the thought arises, it can no longer be suppressed.

The torches in the corridor flickered, casting Hermione's shadow in a distorted and grotesque way.

If rules are merely chains to bind honest people, if hard work cannot bring justice, if so-called authority is so blind in the face of real power and calculation...

So what exactly is the "Hermione Granger" she has been desperately trying to protect, the model student who is always right and always orderly?

Is it a joke?

Tears welled up again, but this time there was no sound.

Hermione looked through her blurry vision at her hand gripping the wand tightly. The wand seemed so unfamiliar, so powerless at that moment.

At that moment, something that sustained her belief—that fairy tale about justice and fairness—silently shattered in the heart of this twelve-year-old girl.

She instinctively pressed her hand to the pocket of her robe. There lay a Galleon engraved with an ouroboros—the ticket Lucian had given her.

Previously, she felt that it was a path to breaking the rules.

But now, in that ruined inner world, she suddenly felt that it might be the only key to the truth.

For the first time, the world revealed its hideous and absurd nature before her eyes.

Since following the rules will inevitably lead to nothing, then...

Why not go and see the scenery outside the rules?