At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

The mornings at Hogwarts are always accompanied by the cold mist rising from the Black Lake.

But for the few who experienced last night's fire, the air this morning seemed to forever retain a lingering smell of charcoal and the dryness of embers.

However, when the sun rises as usual, the soaked people still have to face bread, pumpkin juice, and the daily routine of this ancient castle.

Inside the Great Hall, the clinking of cutlery against silver plates continued as always, while the enchanted ceiling reflected the gloomy clouds outside. At the four long tables, hundreds of young wizards whispered among themselves as usual, discussing the upcoming final exams, the strictness of a certain professor, or dozing off in the history of magic class.

The only unusual thing was that Hermione Granger was absent from breakfast.

At the Gryffindor long table, Harry stared at the empty seat beside him and whispered to Ron:

"Hermione didn't come."

His gaze swept across the entire auditorium, his unease making him almost drop his pumpkin juice glass. The lingering fear of last night's fire made him wary of anything unusual around him.

"Who knows?" Ron mumbled indistinctly, his mouth full of half a fried egg, not even bothering to look up at the empty seat. "Maybe he's catching up on sleep in his dorm, or maybe he went to the library early again. If you ask me, if he almost burned to death last night, he really should get a good night's sleep the next day."

"Eat more, Harry. You look like you've been fighting Dementors all night."

"How can I eat?" Harry said in a low voice, rubbing his messy hair in frustration and unconsciously touching the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. "Hagrid... and that rule, and Professor Dumbledore's punishment! The Forbidden Forest night patrols all around! Why did he let us into the Forbidden Forest? It's not a place for first-year students!"

"Professor Dumbledore saved us. No points were deducted, and he didn't even tell Professor McGonagall." Ron tore off a piece of toast, took a big bite, chewed it twice, and swallowed it whole, shrugging indifferently.

He lacked even the most basic awareness of the risks hidden in Harry's words, as if nothing of the sort mattered.

"So, let's just pretend nothing happened. As long as we're not suspended or locked in the dungeon, it's the same as not breaking the rules. That's how adults handle trouble, isn't it?" Ron casually wiped the crumbs from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled nonchalantly. "As for the Forbidden Forest, let's go. Go with Hagrid, consider it a walk. You have to look on the bright side."

Looking at the carefree Ron, Harry couldn't help but think that if Hermione were here, she would definitely slam down her knife and fork and scream:

"This is absurd!"

"That's a dragon! On the edge of the Forbidden Forest! This is a serious violation of the prohibition of the 1709 Wizarding Conference! And Professor Dumbledore not only did nothing about it, he... he actually condoned your use of those underhanded channels to transport the dragon away!"

But she hasn't said that since that conflict at the college, she's been going to the library more often, and lately her smiles have been rather forced.

Ron's actions interrupted his thoughts.

He suddenly slowed down his chewing, glanced around to make sure no one was watching them.

"I've already sent a letter to Charlie." Ron leaned closer to the two of them, his voice so soft that only the two of them could hear it.

"When was it sent?" Harry asked in surprise.

"The owl hut this morning. I used the Weasley family's secret code. I didn't mention dragons, just that there was a 'scaled Scottish contraband' that urgently needed him to have a friend pick up." Ron's tone was ambiguous. "Many of Charlie's brothers in Romania are undocumented, not recognized by the Ministry of Magic. They operate in the gray area, and as long as there's money or fun, they never ask where it comes from. Charlie replied quickly; at the latest, they'll be waiting for him at the top of the Astronomy Tower late this weekend."

Harry looked at Ron and suddenly felt touched.

To protect the people they care about, they broke school rules and the law.

He nodded in response:

"Then let's wait until late weekend night and go to the Astronomical Tower to solve it."

……

As for the fire last night

Dumbledore instructed them to keep their story consistent.

"The fire was an accident."

The entire school seemed oblivious, yet everyone seemed to vaguely sense something amiss.

This morning, the situation between the colleges remained turbulent and unpredictable.

Slytherin Table

Theodore Nott was slicing a bloody steak on a plate with a silver knife. As the heir to a powerful, pure-blooded family, he was known for his coldness and keen insight.

"If my sense of smell hasn't been ruined by the pumpkin juice yet," said Cassius Warrington, the sixth-year prefect sitting diagonally across from him, in a low voice, "there's a smell of sulfur and some kind of burnt feather in the wind. And last night, Professor Snape surprisingly canceled the closed-door patrol around the cellars."

"What do you want to say, Cassius?" Nott didn't even look up, but simply put the sliced ​​beef into his mouth and chewed slowly.

"Gryffindor must have done something utterly rebellious, right on the edge of the Forbidden Forest," Warrington sneered. "But this morning, not a single ruby ​​was missing from the hourglass. The old madman is favoring his lion cubs again."

"Since you know it's biased, why complain like a child who didn't get candy?" Nott put down his knife and fork. "Since he's decided to turn the page, it means he needs these stupid lions to keep jumping around in front of the stage."

On the other side of the auditorium, there is a Ravenclaw table.

"The flames match the characteristics of dragonfire," Roger Davis concluded. He was not only the Quidditch captain but also an extremely knowledgeable and outstanding student.

"But such flames are directly stripped of the concept of combustion."

"It's the principal," Penelope whispered from the side.

"He took matters into his own hands. To cover up something that shouldn't be at the school."

"Should we write to the Department of Education at the Ministry of Magic?" Roger frowned; Ravenclaw's drive for progress and thirst for knowledge made him uncomfortable with this secrecy.

"And then? Prove we're smarter than the greatest wizard of our time, or prove we're tired of living?" Penelope downed her pumpkin juice in one gulp. "Stop your ridiculous curiosity, Roger."

The Ravenclaws exchanged knowing but scheming glances, then lowered their heads in unison and watched coldly.

In contrast, the Gryffindor Long Table is at the center of the storm.

Even though most Gryffindors had no idea what had happened at Hagrid's Hut the night before, the lions' primal territorial instincts were still triggered.

"Did those vipers take the wrong medicine this morning?" Cormac McClargan slammed his wine glass onto the table. He leaned on the edge, glaring defiantly back at Slytherin. "They look at us like we're Azkaban fugitives!"

"Let them see, a bunch of cowards hiding in the cellar, rotting away." Angelina scoffed from the side.

In Gryffindor's logic, there's no need to know why they're being targeted. If Slytherins show hostility, they'll bare their fangs without hesitation. A near-blind sense of collective honor binds them tightly together, making them extremely aggressive in their ignorance.

"If anyone dares to pull out a wand in the hallway, I'll comb their hair with my front teeth like a big stick," Lee Jordan said dramatically, eliciting laughter from those around him.

The entire auditorium was thus divided horizontally.

Slytherin's probing and malice, Gryffindor's brutality and overreaction, Ravenclaw's self-preservation, and the trembling whispers at Hufflepuff's table...

All the emotions intertwined, forming an invisible, tense net that held these young wizards firmly within it. Each of them was secretly on edge, defending their ridiculous academy honor, their bloodline purity, or their own sense of security.

Fighting with others is truly a source of endless joy.

No one bothered to investigate the truth behind that fire.

No one considered whether the magical sky above them was turning gray.

This is exactly what Dumbledore wanted to see.

In the VIP section, the director was cracking open a hard-boiled egg with a small spoon. He looked down through his half-moon shaped glasses at the turbulent auditorium below.

Watching those children secretly pull out sticks from under the table over the slightest argument or glance...

He sighed softly, adding a spoonful of honey to his black tea, continuing to preserve the fragile illusion called Hogwarts in this decaying twilight.

……

In the common room of Slytherin's cellars.

Draco Malfoy sat in a high-backed chair. He toyed with his wand in his hand, his gaze unfocused on the leaping flames.

Crabbe and Gore paced heavily behind him, while Pansy and Bress Zabini sat on the sofa beside him, noticing the young master's unusually low mood.

"Draco, you didn't even bother Potter today," Pansy said tentatively. "That's not like you."

Draco's wand shot out sparks, nearly setting the sofa ablaze.

Go and cause trouble for Porter?

What should we use? Those childish curses? Or our father's name?

Dumbledore's gaze from last night resurfaced in his mind.

"Fairness is the mercy that the strong bestow upon the weak..."

"Your father is desperately repairing the window, forbidding anyone from opening it..."

The Malfoy family's pride and joy, the Ministry of Magic's laws, and the glory of pure-blood status were reduced to paper walls that kept the dilapidated school running, according to the old man's words.

Draco felt an unprecedented sense of humiliation. This humiliation wasn't because he hadn't been able to deduct Gryffindor's points, but because he suddenly realized that the beliefs and pride he had always relied on for survival were merely dispensable chips at the poker table for the big shots.

Since the rules are dead, and since Dumbledore can favor Potter for the sake of a so-called buffer, trampling the law underfoot.

"Brace," Draco suddenly spoke.

"What's wrong?" Zabini asked, puzzled.

"What would you do if I told you that those three Gryffindor idiots are plotting to move a real, living Norwegian Spinosaurus out of Hogwarts?"

Upon hearing this, the Slytherins around him were all stunned.

"Are you crazy, Draco? This is Hogwarts!" Goyle stammered.

"I'm not crazy. The school is crazy." Draco stood up.

Do you know what I hate most?

Draco continued:

"What I hate most is that they enjoy privileges but pretend to be innocent. Dumbledore thought he could control everything, he thought he had everything under control, and he thought we were all just pathetic creatures slowly waiting to die on the track he set."

Draco glanced around at his childhood friends, his eyes revealing a newfound ambition and madness that instilled fear in them.

Like a madman who wants to tear open the curtain of the world.

"Doesn't he disregard school rules? Doesn't he think we're just playing house?" Draco laughed.

"Then let's play something big with him."

Crabbe, Goyle, keep an eye on every intersection near the Inpatient Court and Hagrid's Hut. Blaise, I need you to use your mother's connections to find out if any unidentified people from Romania have recently entered the country. Pansy, please ask your family's acquaintances in the Department of Magical Creatures at the Ministry of Magic.

"Draco, what exactly do you want?" Pansy was starting to panic.

"I'm going to steal it," Draco said resolutely. "Since Potter and Weasley want to be smugglers, and Dumbledore wants to be their protector, then I'll be the one to break the unwritten rules. I'm not an Auror, I'm not a professor, I'm going to snatch that dragon myself and dump it in the Slytherin common room, or just leave it in front of McGonagall's office!"

He wanted to prove to Dumbledore that he, Draco Malfoy, wasn't a puppet dancing on the edge of a grave. Since the rules were rotten, he didn't mind being a thug.

He wanted to show Dumbledore what it would be like when the illusion was completely torn apart.

……

On the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the burned-down oak cabin is slowly being rebuilt.

Hagrid waved his pink umbrella, his massive body busily working through the ruins. Under the influence of a repair spell, the charred planks were barely pieced together, but gaps still let in drafts at the joints.

Inside that dilapidated house, a box covered with cloth was placed in the very center.

The sounds of flapping wings and low growls could be heard from inside. Every now and then, a wisp of black smoke would drift out from the seams of the cloth.

"Quiet down, Norber, Mom is preparing something delicious for you." Hagrid wiped the soot off his face, his eyes red-rimmed.

Harry and Ron stood outside the door, watching this scene, their hearts filled with mixed emotions.

Hermione was still in the library and did not appear.

"It's growing too fast," Harry said worriedly. "That box can't hold it for more than a few days. If we wait until the weekend..."

"We have to wait until the weekend!" Ron gritted his teeth. "Charlie's men are already at the country's border. They need time to evade the Ministry of Magic's patrols. If we make any sudden moves now, and get spotted by the Ministry's patrols or those Aurors, it'll be all over."

This was the first time in their lives they had faced such a long and agonizing wait.