Chapter 392 - Ch: 174-185

Chapter 174: "Harry"

Ugh... Ron felt a wave of nausea rise within him.

As for Harry, he froze completely on the spot.

His gaze shifted from Sirius's gaunt yet triumphant face to the short, portly man shivering in the snow.

Deep within his mind, everything twisted into an incomprehensible, tangled mess.

Julian stood on a high platform diagonally opposite Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, his right hand resting lightly on Astoria's shoulder, his fingertips trembling slightly in the air.

A dark purple glow locked his consciousness onto Harry's fragile and chaotic mental sea.

"Harry..." A low, icy, and suggestive voice exploded directly within the depths of Harry's soul.

This was not ordinary telepathy, but a direct manipulation of Harry's perception of his surroundings using the logic of reality.

"Look at him, that madman... He's right in front of you. He destroyed your family, and now he wants to silence a witness in front of everyone."

"The Aurors are hesitating, Fudge is afraid. If you don't act now, he'll escape with the truth, or kill everyone."

"Aren't you the chosen one? Don't you want to avenge your parents? Kill him, Harry. Use your wand, tear out the traitor's throat. Don't wait for Dumbledore, he's old, he can't protect you."

Harry's breathing became abnormally rapid, his pupils began to dilate, and a layer of violent red veins covered his originally emerald-green eyes.

He felt a fire burning in his chest—uncontrollable rage, a traumatic stress response amplified by Julian.

In his vision, the tears in Sirius's eyes twisted into cruel mockery; Peter's humble pleas for mercy were rewritten as blasphemy against the Potters.

"Ah——!"

Harry let out a beast-like roar. He roughly shoved Ronaside, the action so violent that Ron fell directly into the thick snow.

He drew his wand, his arm trembling with extreme agitation.

"Sirius! You beast! Go to hell!"

Harry screamed. A red spell shot from the tip of his wand, but it wasn't the Expelliarmus Snape had taught him. It was some kind of more destructive impact curse.

Sirius froze.

He looked at Harry, at those eyes so identical to his father James's, now filled with pure killing intent.

He didn't dodge. He even subconsciously lifted his foot from Peter's throat, making no move to evade.

"Harry... if this makes you feel better." Black murmured, a look of release in his eyes.

The surrounding Wizards gasped in horror.

In their eyes, Harry Potter, the boy representing light and hope, now looked like an out-of-control madman, trying to kill a defenseless, unresisting fugitive.

The Aurors exchanged glances. Minister Fudge was so frightened he stumbled back several steps, nearly knocking over a trash bin.

"This is the hero Dumbledore chose?" Fudge's eyes were filled with disgust and fear.

Just as the spell was about to strike Sirius's chest, a barrier of pitch-Black magic materialized out of thin air.

"Protego!"

Accompanied by a cold, deeply disgusted murmur, a Black figure leaped from a second-floor window of the Three Broomsticks, landing precisely between Harry and Sirius.

Snape. With a backhanded flick of his wand, he effortlessly deflected the spell that could have seriously injured Black. It struck a nearby lamppost, causing a shower of blinding sparks.

"Enough! Potter!"

Snape turned. His Black eyes flashed with undisguised contempt and fury.

He seized Harry's wrist, his grip so strong it almost crushed the bones.

"Look at yourself! Rolling in the mud like a Troll, devoid of reason, driven only by a base desire to kill!"

Snape's voice echoed in the silent street, reaching everyone's ears clearly.

"In front of the Ministry's officials, in front of so many citizens, you attempt to execute a Wizard who has surrendered without trial? Is this Gryffindor courage? Or is this your privilege as the chosen one?"

Harry struggled violently, roaring at Snape, "Let me go! He killed my parents! He betrayed..."

"Shut your mouth that spews nothing but idiocy!" Snapeviolently flung Harry's hand away, pushing him into the arms of an approaching Auror.

"Peter Pettigrew is right there! Open those eyes clouded by mania and look! The truth is festering, and you're trying to kill the only witness!"

Julian watched the scene quietly from the high platform. He could feel the once-bright halo of the chosen onearound Harry rapidly dimming.

The surrounding crowd began to whisper.

"How did Potter become so violent?"

"The way he looked just now... almost like a little Death Eater. They never should have let him be raised by Muggles."

"Thank Merlin Professor Snape stopped him. If Black had died here, the truth would have been buried forever."

Minister Fudge's gaze also changed. A hint of wariness entered his eyes as he looked at Harry.

An uncontrollable chosen one was a significant threat to the Ministry.

Julian smiled slightly. He turned to look at Daphne beside him.

Daphne was staring intently at the scene below. Her fingers were tightly gripping her scarf until Julian's hand covered hers.

"Julian... did you do this?" Daphne whispered, her eyes full of confusion.

"I merely helped amplify the voice in his heart, just a little." Julian leaned close to her ear.

"This world doesn't need a perfect hero, Daphne..."

Astoria, however, was completely indifferent to the machinations below. She simply watched Julian quietly. As long as Julian was by her side, even if all of Hogsmeade exploded right now, she would probably see it as a brilliant firework display.

On the scene, the Aurors finally reacted.

They quickly moved forward, binding the shivering Peter Pettigrew with heavy silver chains.

Sirius Black was surrounded by another group of Aurors. Though his eyes still bore into Peter, under Snape's mocking gaze, he merely snorted and offered no resistance.

"Take them away! All of them!" Minister Fudgebrandished his cane, his voice shrill. "I will conduct the interrogations personally! And... escort Mr. Potter back. His current mental state is clearly unfit to remain on the scene."

Snape stood in the center of the snowy ground. His Black-clad figure appeared particularly solitary and coldly proud amidst the chaotic crowd.

He glanced up at Julian on the high platform.

Their gazes met in the air.

Snape gave a slight nod—a signal only an ally could decipher.

He had successfully executed Julian's plan: preserving Black while completely shattering Harry's heroic image in the public eye.

Chapter 175: Miserable Peter

"Let's go, the show is over."

Julian let go of Astoria and elegantly smoothed out the wrinkles in his overcoat.

"Now, the rest will be left to that late-arriving Headmaster."

He led the two sisters slowly away along the snow-covered path.

Behind him, the chaos in Hogsmeade continued, but it no longer mattered.

The seeds of causality had been sown, and the cracks in reality were widening.

And he was walking up the stairs leading to the Divine Throne.

By the time they returned to the Slytherin Common Room, the news had spread through the Castle like it had wings.

All the students were discussing what had happened in Hogsmeade: the resurrected Peter, the maddened Black, and Harry Potter, who had almost killed someone.

Julian sat in an armchair in front of the fireplace, holding a book, but he didn't read a single word.

He was sensing.

Sensing the bursts of pleasure coming from the Specter in his shadow, which was the top-tier fear drawn from Harryand Fudge.

"Julian, are you thirsty? I made some tea for you." Astoriasquatted obediently by the sofa, holding the warm porcelain cup in both hands, her eyes sparkling.

Julian took the teacup, his fingertips brushing against the girl's soft back of her hand, causing a slight quiver.

"Thank you, Lia."

He turned his head and looked at Daphne, who was sitting opposite him.

Daphne was staring blankly at the flames in the fireplace, her expression somewhat grave.

"What are you worried about?" Julian asked softly.

"I'm thinking... what Dumbledore will do." Daphne looked up, her gaze complex. "He must know all this is related to you, Julian. You've been too obvious."

"Obvious?" Julian put down his teacup, the corners of his mouth curling into a playful arc. "No, Daphne. In Dumbledore's eyes, this is just a coincidence of fate. He might suspect, but he won't find any evidence."

"Because in this world, only I can redefine the meaning of coincidence."

Just then, the door to the common room was pushed open abruptly.

Malfoy rushed in impetuously, his face wearing an almost distorted excitement.

"Have you heard?! That idiot Potter! He went mad in public at Hogsmeade! He almost killed someone who didn't even have a wand!"

Draco rushed up to Julian, gesturing wildly as he described it. "My father has already written to the Board of Governors. He said he wants Potter expelled tomorrow! the chosen one is completely finished!"

Julian looked at Draco's petty, triumphant face, a flicker of faint contempt flashing in his eyes.

"Draco, don't be happy too soon." Julian spoke calmly. "Potter won't be expelled; Dumbledore will protect him. But... he's no longer 'the boy who lived'."

"He's now just a... dangerous, unstable orphan with violent tendencies."

Julian stood up and walked to the window, looking at the shadows deep within the Black Lake.

"That's the interesting part of reality. When you tear off that golden disguise, the rotting flesh underneath is always hard to look at."

He could feel that up in the Castle's high tower, Dumbledore was watching this place.

"But so what?"

The truth had been exposed, and causality had been reversed.

Since the farce in Hogsmeade ended, the atmosphere of the entire school had become extremely eerie.

Dumbledore hadn't appeared in the Great Hall for three whole days. It was said he was busy handling the legal mess that Sirius Black had accumulated over twelve years, traveling between the Wizengamot and the Ministry of Magic.

And Harry Potter, the former Boy Who Lived, was now more like a shadow abandoned by the world, hiding in the Gryffindor tower all day, refusing to see anyone.

Julian walked along the damp and cold stone path.

At the corner leading to the temporary cell, a tall and gloomy figure was leaning against a stone pillar.

Snape wore his perennial Black robes, arms crossed over his chest. His face looked even paler than usual in the dim light.

"You are three minutes later than the appointed time, Rosier." Snape's voice was as low as a block of ice being dragged across marble, without a hint of warmth.

"I took a slight detour to avoid Filch's annoying cat." Julianstopped elegantly, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Snape gave a cold snort and slid a key shimmering with a dull silver light from his sleeve, tossing it over.

"The Minister's group of stupid Aurors are guarding the Castle gates, drinking hot cocoa and bragging. And that stinking rat is now locked in the Detention Room behind the Fifth Underground Classroom.

"His current state... Heh, I think you'll be very satisfied. He's almost lost even the ability to seek death."

Because Dumbledore intervened, Fudge hadn't successfully taken Peter and Sirius away.

During the time Peter was locked in the Dungeons, Snapehad frequently drugged him.

Killing someone was easy for Snape; torturing someone was even more effortless for him.

Over the past few days, Peter hadn't drunk a single normal glass of pumpkin juice.

"Thank you for your hard work, Professor." Julian took the key, his fingertips lightly brushing over the cold metal surface.

"In return, I can assure you that when Peter enters Azkaban, the pain he will suffer will far exceed your imagination."

Snape didn't speak; he just stepped aside, clearing the path to the deeper parts of the underground.

He watched Julian's silhouette disappear into the darkness, a flicker of complex emotion flashing in his eyes.

It was a wariness toward this thirteen-year-old boy who possessed such calculating schemes, as well as a twisted pleasure that a great grudge was about to be avenged.

Passing through the final door, Julian entered the narrow, damp cell that emitted a nauseating smell of urine and rot.

Peter Pettigrew was curled up in a pile of withered straw in the corner.

His once-fancy clothes had long since turned into tattered rags, and his exposed skin was covered in scratches and bruises.

His wretched face was now horribly distorted, his eyeballs bulging and bloodshot. His lips were cracked and trembling neurotically as he uttered some meaningless gibberish.

In Julian's eyes, Peter was not just a traitor, but a perfect vessel.

His fear was so pure that the logic of reality around him had already shown visible cracks.

"Peter," Julian spoke softly, his voice echoing in the narrow space with a hair-raising tenderness.

Peter shuddered violently, shrinking even tighter like a startled rabbit, his cloudy eyes filled with extreme terror.

"No... no... please... don't kill me... I was forced... the Dark Lord... he forced me..."

Chapter 176: Seed of Nothingness

Peter pleaded hoarsely, snot and tears mixing as they flowed into his mouth.

Julian walked up to him and extended his right hand, fingers splayed. Dark purple magic leaped at his fingertips like a group of cheerful lightning spirits.

"Kill you? No, Peter, you are still of great use to me. A dead man cannot help me manage Azkaban."

Julian's gaze suddenly sharpened, and the surrounding air instantly grew heavy, as if gravity had increased several times over in that moment.

"Reality Weaving: Seed of Nothingness."

As Julian murmured, the dark purple lightning in his palm rapidly collapsed, finally condensing into a crystal the size of a grain of rice.

This crystal seemed like a miniature Black hole, greedily absorbing all the light and heat around it.

Julian slammed his hand onto Peter's forehead.

"Aaah—!!!"

A shrill, agonizing scream pierced the dead silence of the Dungeons.

Peter's body convulsed violently, his back arching at a bizarre angle as his bones made a tooth-grinding grinding sound.

In Peter's world of consciousness, he was experiencing an unspeakable horror.

He felt his soul being torn apart bit by bit by something cold, then forcibly reshaped into an unknown form.

His memories, his emotions, and his self-awareness all became blurred under the parasitism of this seed.

Julian could clearly sense the growth of the seed.

It was extending countless tiny tentacles, tightly entwining around Peter's central nervous system and emitting a special vibration.

This vibration was imperceptible to humans, but for the Dementors who fed on souls, it was the most delicious delicacy in the world.

"This seed will absorb your fear and convert it into an inducing signal," Julian whispered into Peter's ear, looking at his already dilated pupils.

"In Azkaban, those Dementors will constantly surround you..."

Peter's screams gradually subsided, replaced by unconscious twitching and foaming at the mouth.

Julian withdrew his hand with satisfaction.

He could feel a link established between himself and Peter.

With just a single thought, this seed could instantly detonate, completely obliterating Peter's soul.

Julian turned and walked toward the cell door.

Peter remained slumped on the ground like a lump of rotten meat, but to outsiders, he would simply appear to have lost his mind due to excessive fear.

No one would be able to discover that seed deep within his soul.

Exiting the cell, Snape was still standing guard. He glanced at Julian, then at the lifeless Peter inside the cell, his mouth twitching slightly.

"Is it over?"

"It's over. Fudge will be very happy to send such a lunatic to Azkaban." Julian tossed the key back to Snape, his eyes reflecting a heart-stopping coldness.

"Professor, cooperate with me, and Harry will absolutely not be in danger."

Snape nodded, flicked his Black robes, and turned toward the shadows on the other side.

Julian walked alone down the long corridor of the Dungeons.

"Azkaban..." Julian murmured softly, looking up at the gloomy sky above the Castle.

That was his next hunting ground.

And Peter Pettigrew would be the first lever he used to pry open that ancient prison.

When he returned to the Slytherin Common Room, the fire in the fireplace was nearly out.

Daphne was sitting on the sofa wrapped in a thick wool blanket, dozing off. Her long golden hair fell over her shoulders, shimmering with a soft luster in the faint firelight.

Hearing footsteps, she jerked awake. Seeing it was Julian, her icy blue eyes were instantly filled with surprise and relief.

"You're back." She stood up and naturally stepped forward to help Julian take off his cloak, which carried the chill of the Dungeons.

"It's so late, why aren't you asleep yet?" Julian took the opportunity to wrap his arm around her slender waist, pulling her into his embrace.

Daphne's body stiffened slightly before she obediently leaned against his chest.

"I was worried about you... Dumbledore might be away, but Mr. Crouch came to the school this afternoon. He looked very angry," Daphne said in a low voice, her fingers nervously fiddling with Julian's shirt buttons.

"Crouch? That stubborn old lunatic." Julian sneered, leaning down to kiss Daphne's temple.

"He's just feeling ashamed of personally sending Black to prison back then. The higher he jumps now, the harder he'll fall."

A long time had passed since that upheaval in Hogsmeade, which was enough to be recorded in the school's history, but the aftershocks within the Castlewere far from over.

In the Great Hall, the looks the students gave the Gryffindor table were no longer just of admiration, but more of a mixture of suspicion and a sort of theatrical pity.

Harry, the boy once seen as the incarnation of light, was now curled up in the most remote corner of the Library.

It was a blind spot that even the unremarkable Madam Pince rarely patrolled. Layers of 'A Compendium of Medieval Wizarding Law' stood like a thick wall, completely isolating him from this noisy world.

He hadn't attended classes normally for a long time, and he hadn't even gone to Hagrid's hut in the Forbidden Forest.

Julian closed the profound book in his hand, 'Ancient Runes and Reality Anchors'.

His steps were as light as a breeze passing through the bookshelves, without making the slightest sound.

When he turned past the last row of bookshelves, he saw the boy with his head buried in his arms.

Harry's hair was even more disheveled than usual, and his famous round-rimmed glasses lay crookedly to the side. There was a faint crack on the lens, reflecting the gray sky outside the window.

"The lighting here isn't very good, Harry." Julian's voice was very soft, carrying a perfect amount of concern, like casual small talk between old friends.

Harry jerked his head up. His eyes, which were usually as green as if they'd been washed, were now bloodshot, and a flash of wariness crossed his gaze.

But after seeing that the newcomer was Julian, his tensed muscles slowly relaxed.

In Harry's fragmented social circle, Julian was a special existence: he wasn't like Ron, who was always filled with a certain blind passion, nor was he like Hermione, who always tried to use logic to correct his mistakes.

Julian was always quiet, scholarly, and had given some unbiased advice when Harry was at his most pathetic.

"Julian..." Harry's voice was incredibly hoarse, as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper. "Are you here... also here to tell me how crazy I was that day?"

"No, Harry." Julian pulled over a rickety wooden chair and sat opposite him, maintaining a distance that was both close and not overbearing.

"I just feel that, compared to the cheap sympathy and gossip in the Great Hall, you might need a bottle of warm Butterbeer right now, or... an afternoon where you don't have to play the chosen one."

Chapter 177: Ordinary

Julian pulled a small pouch enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm from his robes and retrieved two bottles of still-steaming Butterbeer, sliding one across the table.

Harry was taken aback, instinctively accepting the bottle. The warmth radiating from his palm caused his chilled body to tremble slightly.

He took a large, hurried gulp. The spicy yet cloying liquid slid down his throat, kindling a sluggish warmth within.

"I messed up, didn't I?" Harry stared at the foam on the bottle and smiled self-deprecatingly.

"In front of the Minister, in front of the whole school... I attacked someone without a wand like a Death Eater. Snape was right. I'm just a Troll blinded by rage."

"Professor Snape has a fondness for using the harshest words to obscure the truth." Julian's slender fingers gently traced the bottle as he looked at Harry with profound eyes.

"But Harry, have you ever considered why you felt that uncontrollable rage?"

Harry looked up, somewhat bewildered.

"Because you've been burdened with too many 'musts'." Julian's words were like a precise scalpel, beginning to meticulously dissect the false heroic shell around Harry.

"You must be brave. You must be just. You must remain calm when facing your parents' murderer. You must become the perfect symbol Headmaster Dumbledoreexpects."

"But you're only thirteen, Harry. In Pure-blood families, thirteen-year-olds are still learning how to politely take afternoon tea. Yet, you've been thrust before Dementors and murderers."

Julian stood up and walked to the window, watching the rain wash over the glass, leaving winding trails.

"Headmaster Dumbledore is a great Wizard, that is beyond doubt. But he is also a masterful chess player. In his view, the world is a grand scale. For the so-called 'greater good,' he can sacrifice many things, including a child's childhood, even... a child's mental well-being."

Harry's hand clenched the bottle tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

Julian's words struck the darkest, most untouched corner of his heart.

Whenever he faced danger, whenever he had to confront those terrifying monsters, Dumbledore always appeared at the critical moment, offering praise and guidance.

Yet he never truly asked: Harry, are you afraid?

"Sometimes I really wish... I was just Harry, not Potter." Harry murmured softly, his eyes revealing a near-desperate longing.

"That's precisely my point, Harry." Julian turned around, leaning against the windowsill. Shadows enveloped most of his figure, making him look like a sage guiding a lost lamb.

"Ordinariness is not a disgrace; it is a luxury. Dumbledorewants to reshape the magical world's order through you. He wants to break the traditions of Pure-blood families and establish an equal world governed by his will."

"But this equality is built upon sacrificing you. He has molded you into a banner to fight the old regime, making you bear hatred and pressure that never belonged to you.

"You see, the moment you slip slightly, those who once supported you will immediately turn against you."

Julian walked back to the table, leaned down, and looked directly into Harry's eyes.

"Do you feel you owe this world anything? Your parents' sacrifice has already repaid all debts. You don't need to save everyone; you only need to save yourself."

Harry's breathing became rapid; he felt an unprecedented sense of liberation.

If he accepted his ordinariness, if he stopped trying to be the chosen one, would those heavy burdens disappear?

"But... Lord Voldemort... he's not completely dead. And Black, even though he's innocent now, Peter..." Harrystruggled to say.

"Those are matters for adult Wizards to worry about, Harry. The Ministry of Magic has Aurors; the school has Professors. If you were just an ordinary third-year student, you should be worrying about tomorrow's Potion Class essay, not playing games with traitors in the Dungeons."

Julian reached out and gently patted Harry's shoulder. A faint, soothing magic gradually seeped into Harry's mental sea, further solidifying this perception of ordinariness.

"Accept your ordinariness, Harry. It doesn't mean you're weak; it means you've reclaimed sovereignty over your own life. Dumbledore cannot give you a peaceful life; he can only give you endless adventures and scars."

Harry remained silent for a long time, then nodded subconsciously.

"Thank you, Julian... No one has ever said these things to me."

A gentle smile appeared on Julian's face, yet a sharp glint lay deep within his eyes.

By dismantling Harry's heroic sense of mission, he could not only sabotage Dumbledore's long-term cultivation plan but also buy breathing room for Pure-blood families.

When the chosen one is no longer willing to charge into battle, Dumbledore's strategy of using a 'commoner hero' to suppress the 'old nobility' would develop a critical fault line.

Just then, hurried footsteps echoed from the Libraryentrance.

Hermione rushed in, carrying a stack of thick reference books. Her hair was slightly disheveled from the rain, and her eyes were filled with anxiety.

When she saw Julian sitting across from Harry, her steps involuntarily faltered, and a complex emotion flickered in her eyes.

It was the soul's instinctive reverence and an indescribable dependency born from being deeply marked by Julian.

"Harry! I've been looking for you all day!" Hermionehurried over, but her voice unconsciously softened upon meeting Julian's deep gaze.

"Julian... you're here too."

"I was just keeping Harry company for a chat, Hermione. He's been too tired lately." Julian stood up and nodded gracefully to Hermione.

Hermione pressed her lips together. She could sense a subtle change in the aura around Harry.

The previously tense, ready-to-erupt anger had vanished, replaced by a calmness, even a hint of... passivity.

"Harry, Professor McGonagall wants you in her office. She said Headmaster Dumbledore has returned and wants to see you." Hermione looked at Harry with concern.

Upon hearing Dumbledore's name, Harry's body stiffened slightly.

He glanced at Julian, who merely gave him an encouraging and meaningful look.

"I know, Hermione. I'll go now." Harry stood up, his movements somewhat sluggish, yet his eyes were clearer than before.

Harry picked up his glasses and put them on. Without looking at Hermione again, he said softly to Julian, "I'll remember what you told me today."

Chapter 178: The Interview

Watching Harry's departing figure, Hermione turned her head, looking at Julian with some unease.

"What did you say to him? Julian. He looks... not quite right."

"I merely gave him a dose of truth, Hermione." Julianwalked over to Hermione, his fingers lifting a damp strand of hair near her ear, his movements ambiguous and domineering.

"The truth always makes one feel not quite right, doesn't it? Just like when you first realized you couldn't refuse me."

Hermione's breath hitched, her body involuntarily leaning towards Julian.

Her intelligent eyes were now filled with struggle and surrender.

"Dumbledore will find out. He'll discover you're influencing Harry."

"And what if he does?" Julian chuckled lightly, his eyes carrying a hint of arrogance.

"Since he intends to move against us, as long as he doesn't overturn the table, he must be prepared to withstand our resistance. Hermione, which path do you think Harry will ultimately choose?"

Julian paid no further attention to Hermione, lost in thought, and turned to leave the Library.

The rain outside fell harder, the surface of the Black Lakepelted into a dense pattern of ripples.

He could feel subtle shifts occurring in the reality dimension within the Castle.

Harry Potter, originally the core pillar, was seeing the causal weight of his existence decline, while he, Julian Rosier, was filling that void.

This was a game of positions, a transfer of power.

Dumbledore sought to use Harry to usher in a new era for Muggle-born Wizards, while he, Julian, aimed to stop, or rather, dominate it before that era could begin.

This wasn't about justice or evil; it was simply a matter of Julian, standing from a pure-blood perspective, having no choice but to act.

Returning to his dormitory, Julian sat at his desk, spreading open the notebook Dumbledore had given him, his pen tip gliding slowly across the page.

"Reality Reconstruction: Phase One Complete."

He silently recited in his mind.

Undermining the chosen one was merely the beginning.

Next, he would make the entire magical world understand that true order is never built upon cheap goodwill, but upon absolute power and unbreakable causality.

Just then, a shrill bird cry came from outside the window.

An Owl, pitch-Black all over, pierced through the rain curtain and slammed heavily against the window.

Julian frowned slightly and waved his hand to open the window.

The Owl dropped a letter soaked through with rainwater before collapsing from exhaustion, its body rapidly decaying into a pool of Black pus.

This was the Rosier Family's secret signal, their highest-level alarm.

Julian opened the letter. On it was only a single line written in blood using Runic Script:

"Grindelwald's followers have gathered at Nurmengard."

Julian looked at the line, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes.

It was ambition, fervor, and a thrill anticipating the coming storm.

It seemed his peaceful days at Hogwarts were also nearing their end.

But he wasn't worried.

Because he had already sown enough seeds here.

Whether it was Harry's corruption, Hermione's surrender, or Peter's puppeteering, all would become the cornerstone of his future conquest of the world.

Julian tossed the letter into the fire, watching it be consumed by dark purple flames.

He stood up and walked to the mirror, looking at the elegant, cold, and powerful youth reflected in it.

"The performance has only just begun, Dumbledore."

He murmured softly, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

Early the next morning, the atmosphere in the Great Hallgrew even more peculiar.

Harry appeared at the breakfast table, but unlike usual, he didn't engage in lively discussion with Ron and Hermione. Instead, he quietly drank his porridge, his eyes as placid as a pool of stagnant water.

Even when Malfoy deliberately taunted him in front of others, calling Black an old madman, Harry merely gave him a faint glance, offering no retort, showing no anger.

This abnormal calm unsettled Malfoy with a nameless panic and caused Dumbledore, seated at the staff table, to furrow his brows deeply.

The Principal's gaze swept over the Slytherin table, finally settling on Julian, who was elegantly cutting his steak.

Julian raised his wine glass and, across the noisy crowd, offered the great White Wizard a flawless smile.

In that moment, Dumbledore knew his greatest fear had finally come to pass.

This world was slipping from his control.

After breakfast, Dumbledore finally couldn't resist and invited you to the Principal's office for "tea."

When Julian stepped into that room filled with rare treasures, Dumbledore was seated behind the enormous desk.

The greatest White Wizard of the century looked somewhat weary. Behind his signature half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes held less of their usual humor and more of a scrutinizing depth.

"Julian, my boy, please sit." Dumbledore gestured gently to a Cushioned armchair opposite the desk. On the table were already two steaming cups of Black tea and a plate of candies that looked sickeningly sweet.

"Thank you, Principal." Julian sat down gracefully.

He could feel a very subtle pressure permeating the air. It was Dumbledore's unconsciously emitted magical field, attempting to probe his emotional fluctuations.

"I imagine you must be wondering why I've called you here on such a busy morning," Dumbledore said, picking up his teacup and gently blowing on the steam.

"It's about Harry, isn't it?" Julian spoke up proactively, his tone carrying just the right amount of concern.

"He was in a very poor state last night. I thought, as a friend, I should show him a bit more care."

Dumbledore set down his teacup, his gaze piercing as he stared at Julian.

"Harry did mention you to me. He said you made him understand some... truths he had never considered."

In that instant, Julian felt an incredibly powerful and subtle mental force, like a silver needle, attempting to pierce his cerebral cortex.

It was Legilimency.

For an ordinary third-year student, such an attack would be undetectable and unstoppable.

But for the current Julian, this mental intrusion was more like a pebble dropped onto the calm surface of a lake.

He did not resist, nor did he use Occlumency to erect a rigid defensive wall, as that would be tantamount to walking into a trap before Dumbledore.

He activated Reality Reconstruction.

In Dumbledore's perception, what he saw was not Julian's dark schemes, but a vivid memory fragment filled with realism:

These memories were so lifelike, with every breath's rhythm and shift of light and shadow adhering to physical logic.

Julian had even woven into the memory some of his own superficial understanding of pure-blood glory, making this image better fit Dumbledore's preconception of him as a gifted youth from the House of Rosier.

Dumbledore's eyes softened for a fleeting moment. He seemed to see in Julian's memory a youth who, though arrogant, was not inherently evil.

"Principal," Julian set down his teacup, lowering his voice slightly, his expression growing solemn.

"Actually, the reason I said those things to Harry is because I've recently received some... unsettling news."

Dumbledore's eyebrow raised slightly. "Oh? News that unsettles a Rosier must be quite extraordinary."

Julian retrieved from his robes the letter soaked with rainwater, its edges slightly charred.

Of course, this letter had also been altered.

"This was passed to me by family elders through secret channels. They say... near Nurmengard, some long-dormant forces are stirring once more."

Julian deliberately paused, observing Dumbledore's reaction.

Chapter 179: Diverting Attention

As expected, upon hearing the word "Nurmengard," Dumbledore's fingers gripping the teacup trembled slightly.

Although he hid it well, that momentary emotional leak did not escape Julian's perception.

That was the biggest scar of Dumbledore's life, and his only weakness—Gellert Grindelwald.

"The letter says that Grindelwald's former followers are gathering; they seem to be looking for some kind of power that can break the cage."

Julian pushed the letter in front of Dumbledore.

"They believe the current wizarding world is corrupt and needs a true mentor to guide them once again.

Principal, I am worried this will affect the stability of Hogwarts. After all, if those people truly cause a stir, the Ministry of Magic might not have time to concern itself with these small matters at school."

Dumbledore took the letter, his long, age-spotted fingers lightly stroking the parchment.

He did not read it immediately but instead fell into a long silence.

The air in the office seemed to freeze, with only the portraits of past Principals on the walls whispering among themselves.

Julian knew he had succeeded.

By exploiting Dumbledore's complex feelings for Grindelwald, he successfully diverted the White Wizard's attention from Harry toward the distant European continent.

Compared to a thirteen-year-old boy's psychological issues, the movements in Nurmengard were clearly a higher priority threat.

"Julian, the news you have provided is very important," Dumbledore finally spoke after a long while, his voice sounding somewhat hoarse.

"Nurmengard... that is a cursed place. If trouble truly breaks out there, the entire world will fall into turmoil."

He looked back at Julian, a hint of complexity in his gaze.

"Why are you telling me this? As the heir of a Pure-blood families, shouldn't you want to see the situation become chaotic so you can gain profit?"

"Because I am a Hogwarts student first, Principal." Julianstood up and bowed slightly, his tone so sincere it was impossible to doubt.

"I like the Library here, and I like the quiet. I do not wish to see the flames of war spread to this place. And... I believe your wisdom is enough to calm any storm."

These words both expressed his stance and skillfully offered a bit of flattery.

Dumbledore looked at him deeply and finally waved his hand. "Go, child. Do not mention today's events to anyone, including Harry."

"As you wish, Principal."

As Julian walked out of the Principal's office and the Stone Gargoyle slowly closed behind him, the humble smile on his face vanished instantly.

He could feel that Dumbledore had taken the bait.

In the following days, Dumbledore indeed became busier, frequently contacting the outside world through the fireplace and even leaving the Castle late at night several times.

This created a huge amount of space for Julian's next moves.

Meanwhile, Harry's changes continued.

He behaved more and more like an ordinary student in the Great Hall, no longer participating in any discussions of adventure, and even reduced his training with the Gryffindor Quidditch team, citing a need for more study time.

Ron was furious about this, while Hermione fell into a long silence.

Julian used this time to further consolidate his dominance in Slytherin.

With the support of multiple Pure-blood families behind him, he gradually became the Shadow Prefect of Slytherin.

Every Slytherin student would instinctively lower their voice when facing him, their eyes full of awe.

Late night, Slytherin Common Room.

Julian sat in the high-backed chair, with Astoria curled up at his feet like a well-behaved Persian cat, her head resting on his knees.

Daphne stood behind him, carefully massaging his shoulders.

"Julian, will Dumbledore really go to Nurmengard?" Daphne asked softly, a hint of curiosity in her voice.

"He has to go." Julian closed his eyes, feeling the pressure of Daphne's fingertips.

"Nurmengard doesn't just hold Grindelwald; it also holds Dumbledore's lover. As long as it involves that man, he cannot maintain absolute calm."

He reached out and gently stroked Astoria's soft, long hair.

"And we just need to turn this school into our territory while he is busy running around outside."

Julian opened his eyes, a dark purple light flashing momentarily in his pupils.

He could feel that Peter Pettigrew, far away in Azkaban, had already begun to play his part.

Through that Seed of Nothingness, Julian could already vaguely sense the emotions of those Dementors.

It was greed, hunger, and an instinctive submission to a new master.

Everything was proceeding according to his script.

Harry's mediocrity, Dumbledore's distraction, the Dementors' defection.

This world was collapsing bit by bit, and he would build a new order from the ruins.

"Julian..." Astoria looked up, her bright eyes reflecting only him.

"Whatever you want to do, I will always follow you."

Julian looked down and left a cold kiss on the girl's forehead.

"I know, Lia. Because you are my most perfect masterpieces in this world."

Just then, a purple figure slowly emerged from the shadows of the common room.

It was the Purple Fiend.

She had completely adapted to her role as a maid, her purple eyes flashing with a non-human light.

"Master, Blanche sent back news from Diagon Alley," the Purple Fiend's voice was hoarse and seductive.

"That thing has been found."

Julian's eyes narrowed.

That thing.

It was his strongest trump card, prepared for the coming storm.

"Very well." Julian stood up, his black school robes cutting a sharp arc in the air.

"Take me to see her."

Julian put on a black hooded robe, his figure appearing blurred and elusive in the curtain of rain.

He appeared at the entrance of Diagon Alley, stepping through the familiar brick wall into the dead silence of the wizarding commercial street late at night.

Blanche's Magical Pet Shop was located at the end of the street, its sign creaking in the wind.

Pushing open the door, a mixture of hay, animal hair, and some stale magical potion scents hit him.

"You are more punctual than I imagined, my master."

Blanche was sitting behind the counter, playing with a snow-white owl specimen in her hand.

Today she wore a deep purple velvet dress, her ink-black hair loosely tied back, her deep blue eyes reflecting a feline playfulness in the dim candlelight.

"You know I never waste time." Julian took off his hood, revealing a face that looked even colder in the shadows.

"Where is the thing I want?"

Blanche chuckled and pulled out a wooden box wrapped in layers of black Forbidden Seals from under the counter.

Chapter 180: The Bone

Blanche chuckled lightly, then pulled out a wooden box from under the counter, wrapped in layers of black forbidden curses.

Dark red patterns, like active blood vessels, coiled around the surface of the wooden box, pulsating slightly with a certain rhythm.

"For this thing, I personally made a trip to Little Hangleton. The weeds there were taller than a man, and it had a rotting, earthy smell."

Blanche pushed the box towards Julian, raising an eyebrow, her eyes glinting with undisguised shrewdness.

"Tom Riddle's father's remains. What do you want with a dead man's bones? Planning a necromancer's party at Hogwarts?"

"That's none of your business, Blanche." Julian reached out, his five fingers hovering above the box.

He could feel the causal connection contained within that bone; it was his father's bone, inadvertently given away.

In Lord Voldemort's future resurrection ritual, this was the most crucial cornerstone for constructing his physical body.

If this cornerstone were altered from its logical foundation, then the Dark Lord's reconstructed body would become very interesting.

"Matter Disintegration."

Julian's pupils instantly transformed into a deep dark purple.

He didn't open the box directly but, through the gaps in the forbidden curses, intervened directly at the molecular and conceptual level of matter's essence.

The human thigh bone inside the box began to disintegrate in a tear of the real dimension. The original grayish-white calcium turned to dust under the wash of purple magic, then was completely erased.

At the same time, Julian grabbed a handful of faintly glowing powder from the void.

It was something he had prepared in advance: fragments of a spine bone from a mutated Yeti and Thestral hybrid.

The bones of this creature naturally possessed extremely strong magical conductivity, but also carried a fatal exclusiveness.

Under Julian's magical intervention, these alien bones began to rearrange and reconstruct.

They were conceptually defined as Tom Riddle's father, but their physical properties were permanently altered.

Blanche held her breath beside him. Although she couldn't understand Julian's specific magical path, the oppressive aura that made even the air tremble instinctively alarmed her.

She looked at Julian's calm, almost godlike profile, and her petty avarice was instantly replaced by a deeper sense of awe.

"Done." Julian withdrew his hand, and the purple light in his palm dissipated.

The pulsating dark red patterns became dormant again, and the wooden box looked no different than before.

But its internal essence had long been swapped out.

"I used magic to disguise it, so even Lord Voldemorthimself wouldn't detect anything unusual about this bone."

Julian looked at Blanche, his tone as nonchalant as if discussing tomorrow's weather.

"The moment he resurrects, this bone will be the only foreign object in his new body, and my remote control over him."

"You're truly a madman, Julian." Blanche stuck out her tongue, yet couldn't help but laugh, a hint of madness in her smile.

"But I like this kind of madness. Compared to those White Wizards full of benevolence, or Death Eaters who only know slaughter, someone who manipulates reality like you is much more interesting."

"Profit will make you find it more interesting." Julianpulled a heavy bag of Galleons from his robe and tossed it onto the counter.

"This is your payment. Also, I need you to continue monitoring the movements in Knockturn Alley. After Peter Pettigrew went to Azkaban, Lord Voldemort's lingering soul will definitely speed up its search for assistants."

Blanche skillfully put away the money bag, winking playfully at Julian.

"Don't worry, as long as the money is in place, I'll be your most loyal cat. But..."

She suddenly leaned in, with a feline's characteristic aggression, closing in on Julian's face.

"If you ever mess up, remember to tell me in advance. I don't want to be erased along with you."

Julian said nothing, merely reached out and roughly yet precisely pinched Blanche's chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"You just need to remember, Blanche, in the reality I weave, there is no 'messing up' option."

Blanche's breath hitched slightly. She felt a cold and fervent current spread down her spine.

This intertwining of fear and pleasure, being absolutely dominated by a powerful individual, made her self-serving heart pound violently.

She didn't struggle; instead, she submissively pressed against Julian's palm, as if enjoying a dangerous caress.

"As you wish, my young master."

Julian released her hand, no longer paying attention to this woman full of contradictions.

He pulled up his hood again and vanished in a flash.

When he reappeared in his Hogwarts dormitory, the rain outside had stopped.

The first ray of dawn was piercing through the clouds, sprinkling onto the calm surface of the Black Lake.

Julian sat back at his desk and opened the notebook.

"The trap is set. The father's bone will become the noose that strangles the Dark Lord."

He could feel that with this successful alteration of a crucial future node,

his Reality Weaving ability had once again improved, and deeper mysteries were vaguely visible.

At the same time, he could sense Peter Pettigrew far away in Azkaban.

On that isolated island surrounded by Dementors, Peterwas curled up on a cold stone bed, the Seed of Nothingness deep within his soul greedily absorbing the surrounding despair.

The Dementors tormented him more severely than ordinary prisoners; one Dementor after another hovered and moaned outside his cell.

"Peter will become the guide, Lord Voldemort will become the sacrifice."

Julian closed the notebook, his eyes revealing an indifference that seemed to look down upon all beings.

He knew that while Harry was still complacent about his cheap sense of normalcy, the true transfer of power had already begun deep underground.

Dumbledore might be on his way to Nurmengard, trying to seek solace through conversation with Gellert Grindelwald.

But he would never imagine that his proudest school, the chosen one he placed so much hope in, and the archenemy he had fought his entire life, were all deviating from their paths.

Julian stood up and walked to the mirror.

The young man in the mirror was still elegant and composed, his Slytherin crest shining brightly in the morning light.

"Another peaceful day."

He murmured softly, a mocking curve playing on his lips.

Chapter 181: Lupin's Test

Eight in the morning, the Great Hall.

Julian appeared at the dining table on time, looking refreshed as if he had truly just had a good dream last night.

Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table, mechanically cutting his sausage, not even noticing Ron's angry outburst beside him.

"Harry! Are you mad? You're saying you don't want to play Quidditch anymore?" Ron's voice was so loud it could almost be heard throughout the entire Great Hall.

"I just think that time could be better spent reading a few more books," Harry replied without looking up, his tone unsettlingly flat.

Sitting at the staff table, Professor McGonagall watched Harry with concern, turning to say something to Snapebeside her.

Snape responded with his usual cold sneer, his gaze shifting between Harry and Julian, a flicker of something dark in his eyes.

Julian raised his teacup, offering a slight nod of acknowledgment towards Snape.

Snape withdrew his gaze and continued with his breakfast.

This unspoken understanding pleased Julian.

In this school filled with foolish heroism and hypocritical morality, only a handful understood that true power never needs to be shouted.

After breakfast, Julian encountered Astoria in the corridor.

The young girl seemed particularly excited today, clutching a thick stack of Parchment—her recent research notes on the echoes of the Blood Demon Curse and soul restoration.

"Julian! Look, I've discovered that if I align with the energy flow patterns of past Blood Curses, my magical output becomes incredibly stable!"

Astoria excitedly tugged at Julian's sleeve, her sparkling eyes filled with admiration for him.

"Well done, Lia," Julian said, ruffling her hair, his gaze holding a fondness reserved for a perfect creation.

"Keep delving deeper. I'm certain you will become a powerful Witch."

"Yes! I'll definitely work hard!" The little girl nodded vigorously, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

Watching Astoria's joyful figure disappear down the corridor, the smile gradually faded from Julian's face.

Astoria was an excellent assistant, while Daphne was the perfect executor.

Add to that Hermione, who was now completely ensnared.

His foundation at Hogwarts was beginning to take shape.

...

In the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Due to Headmaster Dumbledore's sudden absence, the atmosphere within the Castle remained tense.

Lupin stood before the massive, violently shaking wardrobe. His patched brown robes looked somewhat shabby, but his eyes held an intensely sharp alertness.

He was a Werewolf, which meant his senses were closer to those of a predator of the wilds, capable of detecting faint ripples of magic in the air.

"Alright, class, today we will once again be facing a Boggart," Lupin said with a gentle smile, but when his gaze swept over Julian by the Slytherin table, the warmth did not reach his eyes.

"It's been a while since you last saw one. I hope your performance today will show improvement."

The students formed a line. Harry stood in the middle, seeming distracted.

It was Julian's turn.

When he stepped forward, he immediately drew the attention of many students present, the memory of the last incident still vivid in their minds.

As he stood before the wardrobe that thumped and rattled, the temperature in the entire classroom seemed to drop several degrees in an instant.

Lupin unconsciously tightened his grip on his wand.

"Your turn, Mr. Rosier," Lupin said quietly, his eyes filled with scrutiny.

Julian said nothing. He simply stood there quietly, his black school robes hanging down to his ankles.

The wardrobe door clicked open.

The Boggart, which should have swiftly transformed based on the observer's fear, fell into an eerie stasis at this moment.

This time, it did not manifest the Void Eye.

It first attempted to become a monster covered in tentacles.

But then, the black mist twisted violently, emitting a piercing shriek.

The Boggart could not define Julian.

The Boggart tried to delve into Julian's mental sea, but what it collided with was a void,

*Crack—Crunch—*

The light in the classroom began to refract bizarrely. The smooth stone walls around the Boggart developed ripples like water.

This was a sign of compromised Reality Stability.

The Boggart's black substance began to collapse. It could not simulate Julian's fear because what it saw in Julian's soul was only endless, self-evolving laws.

It began switching forms chaotically: one moment a rotting Giant, the next a withered sun, then a shattered mirror.

Each shift was accompanied by violent explosions of magic, filling the air with the smell of ozone.

"Mr. Rosier! Step back!" Lupin sensed something was wrong. He tried to rush forward to intervene, but an invisible pressure pinned him firmly in place.

Julian raised his head slightly, beginning to observe the collapse process of this lowly creature in the face of absolute truth.

"Is this your limit?" Julian murmured softly, his voice so faint only he could hear it.

The Boggart finally could no longer hold on.

Its true form—that grey, slimy substance—began to rupture from within.

There was no smoke, no light effects, only a complete, material-level annihilation.

The violently shaking wardrobe instantly turned to dust. The Boggart's shrill scream cut off abruptly.

Where the wardrobe had been, only a void remained.

The Boggart, unable to locate Julian's fear within reality, had caused its own existence logic to zero out.

The students in the classroom recoiled in terror. They didn't fully understand, but they sensed it was something formidable.

Harry stared dumbfounded at the scene, feeling the ordinary desires deep within his heart magnified infinitely at this moment.

Hermione clutched the collar of her school robes tightly.

"My sincerest apologies, Professor Lupin."

Julian turned around. The dark purple glow on his face vanished instantly, replaced once more by that gentle, elegant, and harmless facade.

"It seems I've... damaged your teaching aid. If necessary, I am willing to provide compensation."

"...It's quite alright, Mr. Rosier." Lupin's hand trembled. He stared fixedly at Julian, a fine sweat breaking out on his forehead.

In truth, using the Boggart again was primarily because Lupin had sensed Julian was no ordinary student and wanted to test him once more.

But he hadn't expected...

As a member of the Order of the Phoenix, he had seen many powerful Dark Wizards, even Lord Voldemort at the height of his power.

But the power of those individuals had been traceable, based on destruction and ruin.

What this young man before him displayed, however, was something... unknown.

Lupin's voice was hoarse. He forced himself to calm down, trying to maintain his dignity as a Professor.

"Perhaps this Boggart was simply too old... You may return to your seat."

Julian gave a slight bow and walked gracefully back to the Slytherin table.

Daphne quickly stepped forward to pull out his chair for him, her eyes filled with fervent adoration.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and the students filed out of the classroom in an orderly fashion.

Chapter 182: Shock and Doubt

Lupin stood alone in the empty room, gazing at the pile of wardrobe wreckage on the floor.

He suddenly realized that Dumbledore's departure might have been a grave mistake.

What was being nurtured within this school was far more terrifying than those followers in Nurmengard.

He strode quickly to the desk, grabbed a piece of Parchment, and with a trembling quill wrote:

"Albus, return at once."

However, he did not know that the moment this letter was sent, it would be intercepted and altered by Julian.

In the letter Dumbledore received, Lupin would only report that all was well, with Harry's mental state being slightly despondent.

After leaving the classroom, Julian did not go to the Great Hall for lunch, but instead made his way to the Black Lake.

The lake's surface was unusually calm after the heavy rain, the distant Forbidden Forest faintly visible through the mist.

The Purple Fiend appeared silently behind him, her purple maid uniform reflecting a cold sheen in the sunlight.

"Master, Blanche has already reinserted the bones," the Purple Fiend's voice was soft, yet carried a chilling air of lethality.

"Peter Pettigrew's performance in Azkaban has been quite 'remarkable,' and the Death Eaters inside have already begun to take notice of him."

"Well done. Continue to keep an eye on them," Julianreplied distractedly, his fingers lightly plucking at the empty air.

"Yes, I will make the arrangements," the Purple Fiendanswered with a bow of her head.

"Also, have our people below stay alert," Julian's lips curled into a cold smile. "It is not yet time for the harvest. I intend to wait until the day Lord Voldemort returns to life, and then present him with a grand gift."

He turned his head, looking towards the Castle.

There, he could sense several distinct magical sources intertwining.

During dinner in the Great Hall, the candle flames on the long tables flickered slightly, casting elongated shadows on the stone walls.

Julian elegantly cut into the French lamb chop on his plate, the silver knife gliding through the tender meat with a subtle, satisfying sound.

The surrounding clamor seemed isolated from him.

The Slytherin students would deliberately or inadvertently lower their voices when conversing, their gazes occasionally drifting towards the youth at the head of the table.

The news of the Boggart's collapse had spread through the school like a plague. Now, in the eyes of most students, Julian Rosier was no longer merely a genius, but a kind of "aberration."

Fear was often the highest form of awe.

"He can even kill a Boggart..." a first-year Wizardwhispered to his companion, shrinking his neck.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile curled at the corner of Julian's lips. He greatly enjoyed this feeling of being surrounded by fear.

It was far more potent than the so-called fame of the chosen one.

He looked towards the Gryffindor table. Harry was staring blankly at a bowl of oatmeal porridge, his once-vibrant green eyes now clouded over with a dull haze.

He had completely lost interest in the outside world, like a marionette with its soul drained away.

Ron, sitting beside Harry, was complaining animatedly about Professor Lupin's cowardice, while Hermione was not in her seat.

Julian withdrew his gaze and took a sip from his wine glass.

Hermione should be in the Library now, or more accurately, carrying out his will.

Eleven o'clock at night, the Library.

Madam Pince had already completed her rounds and fallen asleep, with only a few dim oil lamps flickering between the bookshelves.

Julian passed through the layered Restricted Section, his leather shoes making no sound on the wooden floor.

In the deepest corner, a slender figure was buried in a mountain of Parchment.

Hermione's brown hair was now neatly tied back.

As Julian approached, she abruptly looked up, her quill scratching a long ink mark across the paper.

Seeing it was Julian, the wariness in her eyes instantly transformed into a near-servile fervor. She immediately stood up, her movements even somewhat flustered.

"Julian... you've come," her voice was hoarse, trembling with the exhaustion of prolonged sleep deprivation.

"How are things progressing, Hermione?" Julian walked to the table, his fingers lightly tracing the densely packed magical circuit diagrams.

"It's... it's already done," Hermione eagerly pulled a small, copper mirror from her robes, its edges engraved with Runic Script.

"I used my assistant's identity. While helping Professor McGonagall organize files in the Principal's office, I hid it beneath the base of that silver instrument.

"Now, all owl post entering or leaving the Principal's office, as well as Floo Network communications through the fireplace, will first pass through the filter of this mirror."

She paused, nervously scratching her wrist where a faint, purple magical mark was visible.

"That letter Lupin sent to Dumbledore... I intercepted it. I altered it as you instructed, reporting that teaching activities were proceeding normally, and that the Boggarthad suffered a 'magical overflow due to age and disrepair.'"

"Well done, Hermione," Julian extended his hand, lifting her chin.

Hermione's body trembled slightly as she was forced to look directly into Julian's dark purple eyes.

"Do you think we are betraying them?" Julian asked softly, his tone gentle as a whisper in a lover's ear.

"No... no," Hermione shook her head, her gaze unfocused.

"We are correcting. Dumbledore is too old, his thinking outdated. He is binding us with the chains of a bygone era.

"Julian, you have shown me the truth. Reality can be redefined, and you are the one who can change the rules."

She extended a trembling hand, wanting to touch Julian's cheek, but stopped mid-air, seeming somewhat awkward.

Julian seized her hand, pulling her closer.

The air in the Library was filled with the scent of old paper and the faint odor of sweat from Hermione.

He could feel her heart pounding violently, a product of fear of the unknown intertwined with a thirst for power.

"Since you have proven your worth, then I should give you a little reward."

Julian's hand slid down her neck, coming to rest on her heaving chest.

Hermione's breathing became extremely labored. She closed her eyes, allowing Julian's magic to permeate her senses.

Under the effect of Reality Weaving, the physical space of the Library began to distort.

The surrounding bookshelves seemed to come alive, slowly closing in, enveloping the two in an absolutely private cocoon woven of magic.

The light vanished, replaced by a soft, purple glow.

"Julian... please..." Hermione murmured, having completely lost the rationality of the top student.

Julian did not speak. He merely responded to her with action.

He roughly tore open her neat school robes. Buttons scattered across the floor, their crisp clatter echoing in the silent Library.

Chapter 183: News

Goosebumps prickled Hermione's skin, raised by the cold and her excitement.

Julian pressed her onto the table piled high with Parchment, the precious documents swept mercilessly to the floor.

"Look at me, Hermione," Julian's voice was cold and commanding.

He displayed none of the typical teenage eagerness; instead, he resembled a scholar conducting a precise experiment.

He guided her magic, synchronizing it with the frequency of his own reality.

This was not merely a physical union, but an invasion of logic.

Julian carved new axioms deep within her psyche:

Julian is truth. Julian is reality.

Hermione's nails dug deeply into Julian's back as she desperately sought more, as if trying to merge her entire being into this young man's shadow.

Hermione's sweat soaked the Parchment on the table.

In that moment, she was no longer the clever Ravenclawdescendant, nor the righteous Gryffindor know-it-all.

She was merely a character written by Julian's pen, a tool whose fate had been completely rewritten.

An hour later, the magical cocoon slowly dissipated.

The Library returned to normal, save for scattered buttons on the floor and a few crumpled pieces of Parchment.

Hermione slumped in the chair, a blissful smile playing on her lips.

The nature of her magical fluctuations had undergone a qualitative change; the once pure white light was now threaded with faint streaks of dark purple.

"Go back, Hermione. Tomorrow morning, I want to see the report on the abnormal Dementor patrols on the Principal's desk."

Julian instructed flatly as he adjusted the collar of his school robe.

"Yes... I know what to do," Hermione replied, swaying as she stood up, picking her school robe off the floor and draping it over herself.

The look she gave Julian held no trace of struggle, only absolute emptiness and submission.

After she left, Julian walked to the window.

On the surface of the Black Lake, a giant squid glided slowly, leaving ripples in its wake.

He could sense that Dumbledore, far away in Nurmengard, was sinking into a state of profound anxiety.

Because every inquiry he sent back to Hogwarts was being rewritten into innocuous small talk by the "Reality Filter."

This White Wizard was being isolated by the very communication network he had established.

"Next, it's the Dementors' turn."

Julian murmured to himself, flicking a purple flame from his fingertip that cleanly incinerated the remaining traces on the floor.

Early the next morning, in the Slytherin Common Room.

Daphne was arranging her golden hair before a mirror, her movements elegant and deliberate, every angle calculated.

Astoria sat on the rug by the fireplace, holding a cat teaser and playing with a black-and-white cat—Blanche's Animagus form.

The cat seemed distracted, its golden slit-pupiled eyes occasionally darting towards the common room entrance.

When Julian entered, Daphne immediately stopped what she was doing and turned to curtsy.

"Julian, you didn't return last night?" Daphne's tone carried a subtle hint of jealousy, though well concealed.

"Busy with research in the Library," Julian replied, walking directly to the head seat and sitting down.

Astoria happily ran over and threw herself into his arms, rubbing her small head against his chest.

"Julian, Blanche brought back interesting news!" the little girl looked up, her eyes sparkling.

The black-and-white cat nimbly leapt onto the table and, amidst a twisting wave of magical energy, transformed back into the vibrant young woman.

Blanche stretched, her deep purple velvet dress accentuating her graceful curves.

"Ah, the beds at Hogwarts are truly a headache-inducing hardness," she complained, then her expression turned serious.

"Julian, that Barty Crouch Jr. you had me watching has made a move."

Julian raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Tell me."

"It's unbelievable, but he really isn't dead. His father swapped him out using his mother, who was dying of illness. Now he's under the Imperius Curse, locked up at home."

Blanche sneered, a glint of shrewdness flashing in her eyes.

"But I discovered his Imperius Curse is failing. He seems to have made contact with that remnant soul hiding in the Albanian forest through some method."

"Interesting," Julian said, his slender fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest.

Julian was, of course, aware of everything Blanche was saying, but the fact she had investigated so thoroughly clearly meant she had put in significant effort.

"Barty Jr. is a fanatical believer and an exceptionally capable executor.

If he reunites with Lord Voldemort, the Bone-Chill Project can commence ahead of schedule."

"Need me to do something?" Blanche leaned closer to Julian, a hint of provocation in her tone.

"Give him a hand, but don't expose your identity," Julianlooked at her, his gaze icy.

"I want him to believe fate is favoring him, allowing him to escape his father's control.

Let him seek out Lord Voldemort. Inform him that Fudgehas his eye on Dumbledore, and Hogwarts is at its most vulnerable now."

"As you command, my young master," Blanche licked her lips, her form shifting back into the black-and-white cat before disappearing into the shadows.

Julian stood up and looked out the window at the gloomy sky.

He could sense a great storm brewing.

This wasn't just about the next school year or Lord Voldemort's resurrection, but about the complete restructuring of the laws of reality.

He had already sown enough seeds within this school.

Harry's mediocrity, Hermione's corruption, Lupin's fear, Dumbledore's troubles.

And that seed of nothingness growing stronger within Azkaban.

"Julian, what are you looking at?" Astoria tugged at his sleeve, asking with some unease.

"I'm looking at the dawn of a new world, Lia," Julianturned back, offering a perfect, gentle smile.

"Soon, you won't have to worry about any jinxes or any dangers.

Because in this world, aside from my will, no other power will be able to harm you."

The little girl nodded, not fully understanding, and tightly grasped his hand.

She didn't know that the young man she relied on was preparing to personally bury the last remnants of this old era's twilight.

Chapter 184: Deep in the Black Lake

During Charms Class in the afternoon, Professor Flitwickwas explaining Expecto Patronum.

"This is one of the most profound spells!" the tiny Professor exclaimed, standing on a stack of books and excitedly waving his wand.

"It requires you to recall your happiest, purest memory! Come, Potter, you try first."

Harry stood up. He mechanically waved his wand, chanting the incantation: "Expecto Patronum."

A thin, even somewhat murky, white mist emerged from the tip of his wand, quickly dissipating.

As expected, due to Julian's intervention, Harry couldn't easily cast the Patronus Charm as he did in the original story.

"Oh... it's alright, Potter, it's very difficult," Professor Flitwick consoled him, a bit awkwardly.

Harry sat down silently, not even showing any frustration, merely accepting his failure calmly.

It was Julian's turn.

The entire class held their breath.

Julian slowly drew his Black wand, his movements as elegant as if conducting a symphony.

He didn't search for any "happy memories," because for him, emotions were merely byproducts of reality.

"Expecto Patronum."

He softly uttered these two words.

In that instant, all the lights in the classroom extinguished.

A pure, dark purple light erupted from the tip of his wand.

It wasn't an animal-shaped Patronus.

It was a giant, distorted nebula composed of countless geometric shapes.

It emanated not warmth, but an absolute, soul-shaking tranquility.

The nebula slowly expanded within the classroom, and wherever it passed, all negative emotions, all clamor, were instantly erased.

The students stared blankly at the scene. They felt an unprecedented serenity, but beneath this serenity lay an unfathomable dread.

Professor Flitwick fell off the stack of books, staring in astonishment at the "Patronus."

"This... this isn't a Patronus... what exactly is this?"

Julian withdrew his wand, the dark purple nebula vanished instantly, and the classroom lights flickered back on.

"Sorry, Professor." Julian smiled at Flitwick.

"My happy memories might be a bit peculiar. I suppose this counts as a success, right?"

Professor Flitwick wiped the sweat from his forehead, trembling, unable to speak for a long time.

Julian, meanwhile, calmly sat back in his seat and opened his textbook.

He no longer needed to prove anything.

He was reality itself.

In the evening, Julian came to the Shrieking Shack alone.

This was where Lupin transformed, and where Sirius Black once hid.

Now, it had become his meeting place with certain "special friends."

Several dark figures knelt on the dilapidated floor, emitting a strong stench of decay.

They were Dementors.

Thanks to the "Seed of Nothingness" Julian had planted in Azkaban, these monsters, who originally only obeyed the Ministry of Magic, had now begun to lean towards him.

"Master..." one of the Dementors emitted a grating, sandpaper-like sound.

"Azkaban... gates... loosened."

"Very good." Julian looked down at these monsters.

"Continue to await my command. When that person revives, I want you to serve as a welcoming ceremony and completely take over that prison."

The Dementors let out a low cheer, then dissipated into the shadows, returning to the icy sea.

Julian walked out of the Shrieking Shack, looking at the distant silhouette of Hogwarts Castle.

The ancient Castle looked so fragile in the sunset, as if a gentle push would turn it to dust.

"The game has begun, Dumbledore."

He whispered, his voice disappearing into the evening wind.

Time, like sand through fingers, quietly slipped through the ancient stone walls of Hogwarts.

This school year passed unusually "peacefully," at least on the surface.

With Peter Pettigrew's early capture and imprisonment, although Sirius Black's injustice had not yet been fully cleared at the official level, the Ministry of Magic's power center had subtly shifted.

More importantly, Dumbledore was largely absent from most important events in the second half of the semester.

The commotion in Nurmengard – the illusion of Grindelwald's old followers resurfacing, meticulously woven by Julian.

Like a huge magnet, it firmly absorbed the White Wizard's energy.

Without the Principal's constant attention, Hogwartscompletely became Julian's private garden.

June sunlight streamed onto the Castle towers, and the air was filled with the sorrow of farewell and the excitement of the holidays.

In the Great Hall, dark green silk drapes hung from the ceiling, and silver serpentine emblems shone brightly.

Without the chosen one at Hogwarts, Slytherin once again won the House Cup with an absolute advantage.

At the long tables, the young Slytherins raised their goblets, their faces beaming with arrogant and triumphant smiles.

Daphne sat beside Julian, accepting compliments from younger students like a true queen.

Julian, however, merely took a light sip of pumpkin juice, his gaze passing through the noisy crowd and falling on the bottomless Black Lake outside the window.

Such childish games could no longer stir his emotions.

The real game was beneath the surface.

Late at night, when the Castle fell asleep and only a few tireless ghosts roamed the corridors, Julian arrived at the Black Lake.

Moonlight spilled onto the lake, creating shimmering ripples, like a layer of shattered silver foil.

Purple Fiend was already waiting there. She handed him a bottle of fishy-smelling Potion.

This was the Gillywater essence, improved by Hermioneaccording to Julian's request, allowing one to breathe freely underwater like a Merperson while maintaining human form and language ability.

"Guard the shore. Anyone who approaches, whether student or Professor, make them sleep until noon tomorrow."

Julian took the Potion, drank it in one gulp, and then plunged in.

The cold lake water instantly enveloped him.

There was no sensation of choking; a slight tingling came from his neck, and then gills opened, bringing in plenty of oxygen with the cold water current.

Julian's pupils contracted to pinpricks in the darkness, his vision penetrating the murky lake water.

He began to descend.

The surrounding water plants swayed like ghostly hands in the currents, and occasionally a few Grindylows peeked out from rock crevices, revealing sharp teeth.

But upon sensing the pure, superior aura emanating from Julian, these dark creatures immediately recoiled in terror, trembling.

The deeper he went, the darker the light became, and the greater the water pressure.

Until the surroundings were completely plunged into a deathly darkness, with only an ethereal and eerie singing faintly audible from afar.

It was the Merperson's song.

A crude yet magnificent stone complex appeared on the lakebed's silt.

There were no fairytale shell palaces here, only dwellings built from rough rocks, overgrown with water plants and animal bones.

Dozens of Merperson warriors, armed with spears, swam out from the shadows. They had grey skin, shaggy green hair, and uneven yellow teeth.

They cautiously surrounded Julian, emitting threatening hisses from their throats.

"Take me to Merkus."

Julian did not draw his wand; he merely stood with his hands behind his back, suspended in the water.

His voice traveled through the water, transformed by magical vibrations into standard Mermish, carrying an undeniable tone of command.

The Merperson warriors exchanged glances. They had never seen a human Wizard dare to trespass alone into this forbidden territory, and he carried an aura that instinctively made them want to submit.

Moments later, the Merperson group parted, creating a path.

A large, bone-necklace-wearing female Merperson swam out.

Chapter 185: The Merpeople Tribe

The newcomer was the leader of the Black LakeMerpeople Tribe — Merkus.

"Human..." Merkus's voice grated like stone on stone, "You carry the scent of death, and also... the scent of power."

"It seems your nose is much sharper than those fools at the Ministry of Magic."

Julian swam over and sat down on a large rock, his posture as relaxed as if he were in his own living room.

"I'm not here for idle chatter, Merkus. I've come to propose a deal."

"Wizards are always full of lies." Merkus tightened her grip on her Trident, her yellow eyes filled with distrust.

"You treat us as magical creatures, restrict our range of movement, even forbid us from owning wands."

"That's the Ministry's law, not mine."

Julian pulled a scroll of Parchment from his robes — a specially waterproofed contract.

With a flick of his wrist, the Parchment unfurled in the water, densely covered with several maps.

"Look at this." Julian pointed to a marked location on the map.

"This is a private stretch of water off the north coast of Scotland, belonging to the Nott family. It has abundant fish, complex underwater caves, and is far from Muggleshipping lanes."

Merkus leaned in for a closer look. The hostility in her eyes receded slightly, replaced by a hint of greed.

"And this," Julian pointed to another location, "a private lake under the Greengrass Family's name. While not as large as the Black Lake, its water is crystal clear and rich with magical energy."

"What are you getting at, Wizard?"

"I can permanently transfer the usage rights of these waters to your tribe."

Julian's voice, filled with temptation, echoed in the icy depths.

"You could establish new settlements there, raise your young, no longer confined to this overcrowded Black Lake.

I will use the influence of Pure-blood families within the Ministry of Magic to secure a semi-autonomous status for you.

No one will disturb you. No Aurors, no idiot officials from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

Merkus fell silent.

It was an irresistible temptation.

Though the Black Lake was large, resources were already stretched thin for a tribe that kept growing.

Moreover, Hogwarts students were always throwing rubbish into the lake or experimenting on them.

"What do you need?" Merkus looked up, her gaze fixed intently on Julian.

"Simple." Julian swam closer, meeting her murky eyes directly.

"I need you to become my eyes and ears underwater."

"Next school year, Hogwarts will host a grand competition — the Triwizard Tournament. One of the tasks will take place in this very lake."

A cold smile played on Julian's lips.

"At that time, champions will dive here, searching for something they treasure.

I don't need you to attack anyone, nor do I need you to help anyone.

I only need you, at critical moments, to slightly alter the course of the competition... according to my instructions."

"For example... delay someone's rescue by a few minutes? Or let someone get tangled in the weeds a little longer?"

Merkus bared her sharp teeth, letting out a grating laugh.

"You are wicked, little Wizard. More wicked than that student named Tom from before."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Julian extended his hand.

"So, do we have a deal?"

Merkus hesitated for a moment, then finally extended her own hand, scaled and slick with mucus, and grasped Julian's.

"Deal. If you break your word, every strand of weed in the Black Lake will become your noose."

"If I break my word," Julian chuckled softly. Purple magical energy erupted from him instantly, pushing the surrounding water away to form a brief vacuum.

"This lake, along with your history, will evaporate in an instant."

The powerful display of strength shattered the last vestige of hope Merkus might have clung to.

She bowed her head in submission.

The deal was struck.

When Julian surfaced, it was already two in the morning.

He climbed onto the bank. The water droplets on him evaporated instantly under the influence of his magic, leaving his clothes dry and pristine.

Purple Fiend handed him a heavy cloak.

"Master, did everything go smoothly?"

"The fish has taken the bait." Julian looked at the calm lake surface, a glint of sharp light flashing in his eyes.

"Next semester's goblet of fire... the Black Lake will no longer be a testing ground for champions, but my stage."

Back at the Castle, Julian did not head straight for his dormitory.

He went to the Room of Requirement on the Eighth Floor.

Pushing the door open, he entered a vast, empty room. In the center, a complex magical model was operating.

It was his simulation model for analyzing the contractual rules of the goblet of fire.

Hermione stood before the model, a wand in her hand, constantly recording data in the air.

Hearing the door open, she turned around. Deep weariness marked her face, but her eyes were unusually bright.

"Julian, I've run the calculations." Hermione pointed to a flashing red node in the model.

"The goblet of fire's contract is ancient and powerful, but there's a vague logical flaw in how it defines participants.

You were right. If we use Confundo, combined with your Reality Magic, we could completely make it misjudge a non-existent school, or... a fourth champion, even a fifth."

"Not just misjudgment, Hermione."

Julian walked up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"I want to make it believe it's only natural... that Harry Potter must compete."

Hermione's body trembled slightly. She reached back, holding Julian's head, her fingers threading through his black hair.

"For your new world, I'm willing to give you everything."

"Good." Julian kissed her earlobe.

"Now, go and rest. Tomorrow is the day we leave the school. We need to put a perfect end to this term."

As he spoke, a Cocoon of Magical Energy materialized out of thin air...