At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

The school clinic was filled with the bitter smell of bone-strengthening liquid and disinfectant.

Mrs. Pomfrey had just hurled all the unrelated people out while cursing, leaving only the injured student to stay in the hospital for observation.

Hermione lay on her side on the hospital bed furthest to the side. Under the blanket covering her head, her brown eyes were swollen and had lost their former luster.

Across the partition, Harry and Ron were snoring softly. They had been injured in the brawl a few hours earlier, but Madam Pomfrey's potion had put them into a deep sleep.

Hermione was not asleep.

She was trembling because of the image that wouldn't leave her mind.

The corner that was originally empty suddenly became filled with blood, and the victim's position was too perfect.

Suddenly, a sound of fabric rubbing together came from behind.

Hermione paused, then hesitantly pulled the blanket down.

First, a tangled mess of brown curly hair peeked out from the edge of the blanket. Because she had been cooped up in bed for too long, the unruly strands made her look like a little squirrel that had just crawled out of a tree hole.

Then, her eyes timidly peeked out, only reaching the tip of her nose, while most of her face remained hidden under the soft white quilt, carrying a childlike innocence, an attempt to gain a sense of security through concealment.

The figure that she found so mysterious walked in. Lucian hadn't changed into a hospital gown; he was still wearing his blood-stained Ravenclaw robe, the bandages glaringly obvious in the dim light.

"A fine night, isn't it? For displaying Gryffindor courage."

Lucien's voice was soft, yet it extinguished the warmth in the room. He leaned casually against the railing at the foot of Hermione's bed, watching her.

Hermione stared at his still-bleeding shoulder, not offering her usual polite greeting, but her voice was hoarse, carrying a suppressed accusation:

"That corner... was originally deserted."

Lucian's face remained expressionless. "Your observation skills have always been excellent, Granger."

"continue."

"I was pushed against the wall, and my gaze just happened to sweep over there." Hermione stared into Lucien's eyes, trying to find a clue. "It was empty there. But you appeared the instant the explosion happened. And... Harry's spells were flying around, but I don't remember him firing an Explosion Charm into that blind spot."

She took a deep breath and uttered the guess that had sent a chill down her spine:

"Did you injure yourself? Or did you cast the spell? Did you take advantage of the chaos... to frame Harry?"

Lucian suddenly laughed.

"Excellent reasoning. Clear logic and keen observation."

He lowered his head, and the admiring look in his eyes made Hermes shrink back.

"But that doesn't change anything, does it?"

"You admit it?" Hermione's eyes widened.

"I am praising your intelligence, not admitting to your accusation."

"However, let's assume you're right, even if there was no one there to begin with, and even if the spell's trajectory is somewhat bizarre. But what's the result?"

He stretched out his good hand and pointed to the bed next door where someone was snoring.

"Who drew their wand first in the hallway? Who lost their temper because of a single provocation? Who recklessly used area-of-effect magic in a confined space?"

Hermione opened her mouth, but found herself unable to refute.

"You saw Snape's reaction, and Professor McGonagall's disappointment," Lucian's voice was seductive. "If Potter and Weasley could have controlled their emotions, if they could have tried to solve the problem with reason or rules like you have, then this disaster wouldn't have happened, regardless of whether there was anyone in that corner or whether there was a conspiracy."

"Flies don't land on eggs without cracks, Granger. Traps only work on those who charge blindly."

Hermione closed her eyes in anguish: "But... Malfoy called me a 'Mudblood.' Harry and the others were trying to protect me..."

"To protect you?"

This rhetorical question was full of contempt.

Lucian leaned down, his face close to Hermione's, his dark eyes reflecting the girl's pale face.

"It's really touching. But do you really believe it?"

"Look at the situation now. Malfoy only has a swollen mouth, it's just a superficial injury."

And it was just a light deduction of 50 points, but I bet Snape will get his money back with interest in Potions class. And you—”

Lucian's gaze fell on Hermione's still swollen cheeks.

"Besides having your front teeth enlarged and becoming the laughingstock of the whole school, you also have to bear the guilt of losing 160 points in Gryffindor. All your efforts, every point you earned in class... vanished in their so-called momentary indignation."

"Is this how they protect you? Using you as an excuse for violence, as a trigger for their excess energy?"

"Shut up!" Hermione growled, tears welling up again. "You're not welcome here! You're doing this on purpose...you just want to see Gryffindor suffer!"

Lucien straightened up, looking at her with a pitying gaze, as if she were looking at a wounded little animal.

"I don't hate Gryffindor, I just hate stupidity."

"I'm here to give you some advice, Hermione."

"Lions are social animals; they rely on roaring and biting to solve problems. But you are not a lion."

Lucian's voice grew low and gentle, as if stating a cruel truth: "You are too clever, too orderly, too eager for recognition through the proper channels. You will only suffer among these reckless brutes who act on instinct. Because whenever you try to build something, they destroy it out of impulse."

"Just like tonight."

Hermione looked at the piece of paper, and her body trembled even more violently.

She wanted to argue, to say that Harry and Ron were her best friends, to say that such impulse was also a form of courage. But in the face of that 160 points, in the echo of that Mudblood, these words seemed so pale and powerless.

She was exhausted. All along, she had been pulling them along, checking their homework, helping them look up information, and then cleaning up their messes when they got into trouble.

Tonight, not only did she fail to stop them, she also became the victim who was protected but looked disheveled.

"Think about it carefully. You still have that Galon, right?"

Lucian turned and walked toward the door, the billowing black robes reminding Hermione of Snape.

He stopped when he reached the door.

"Rules are tools used to bind the weak, and also tools for the strong to exploit. You're so smart, you already discovered a certain truth, yet you're powerless to change the outcome. What does that tell you?"

"This means that as long as you stand on the side of what is right and the rules, you will always be forced to watch yourself be sacrificed."

The curtain fell, and the footsteps faded into the distance.

Hermione Granger sat alone in the darkness.

In the next bed, Ron rolled over and mumbled in his sleep, "Well done... Harry..."

This murmur in her sleep was the last straw that broke Hermione's psychological defenses.

She reached out with trembling hands to pick up the corner of the blanket and wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes. Then, her hand reached into her pocket and touched the gold coin engraved with an ouroboros.

Looking at the moonlight spilling onto the ground, she should have felt anger or sadness, but at this moment, she felt an unprecedented clarity.

She knew that Harry and Ron were her friends.

She knew Lucien was trying to sow discord.

She knew that Ravenclaw had ill intentions.

But the scariest thing is—

Perhaps... Lucian is right.

In this world, some wars cannot be won by shouting and firing sparks. And cleaning up their messes seems to be slowly draining all her strength.

Hermione wiped away her tears, but a certain light in her eyes dimmed, or perhaps became more profound.