The next morning, Hogwarts was wrapped in a thick layer of silver snow.
The sweet smell of roast turkey and cinnamon drifted through the castle halls.
But Lucian stood alone at the edge of the Astronomy Tower. The freezing wind of the Scottish Highlands carried shards of ice that brushed across his face.
He let the snowflakes land on his brows. The moment they touched the thin layer of magical light flowing across his skin, they silently dissolved into nothing.
Far in the distance, a thin trail of steam crawled slowly across the English countryside.
In Lucian's eyes, it was nothing more than a clumsy imitation of eighteenth-century Muggle industry. Wizards were copying machines they barely understood, building toys to satisfy nostalgia for an outdated era.
Lucian had no need for such slow iron shells.
He raised his wand.
°Accio Broom°
A few minutes later, something shot through the storm with a sharp whistle.
A worn training broom from the school broom shed flew awkwardly through the snow before stopping obediently in front of him.
It was an old Cleansweep Seven, the most common model used for practice. Its branches were messy, and the birch handle was worn smooth with age.
Lucian grabbed the handle.
The star spiral in his eyes turned slowly, and the Philosopher's Stone within him pumped out a surge of blazing magic.
A dark mercury-like sheen wrapped around the old broom.
Then came a harsh sound like wood growing.
The loose twigs at the tail twisted together and hardened, weaving themselves into long black feathers. The front of the broom swelled and reshaped, forming a curved beak and hollow eyes.
In a few breaths, the broom had become a massive raven with enormous wings.
Lucian stepped onto its back. His black Ravenclaw robes snapped in the wind.
The raven burst upward, a streak of black light tearing through the snowstorm and shooting into the sky.
He intended to measure the limits of this land himself.
As he flew beyond the boundaries of Hogwarts, crossing the Black Lake and racing toward the edges of the Scottish Highlands, a familiar pressure slowly descended.
When he passed over the mountains of Inverness-shire, small lights appeared below. They belonged to Muggle towns.
Lucian opened his Star Sight.
In his vision, the world below was gray and heavy, like a swamp.
It was the weight of reality.
He saw the Muggles.
Even in such remote highlands, their numbers were enormous. They filled the streets of the town of Keith.
Individually, each Muggle was weak like dust.
But together, thousands of them created a qualitative change.
They believed gravity could not be broken. They believed fire required fuel. They believed the dead could not return.
This collective subconscious shared by billions formed a dense net of reality that rejected everything abnormal.
This was the Iron Curtain.
Lucian felt the raven beneath him grow heavier.
The magical circuits that once flowed smoothly began to slow. The resistance in the air was no longer just wind.
Reality itself was correcting his impossible flight.
"Look at that," Lucian murmured as he hovered above Keith.
"What a powerful will."
Below him, Muggles shoveled snow from the streets.
"They have become wardens without realizing it. They are the prison itself."
Maintaining the raven's form here consumed magic at a terrifying speed.
If he stopped resisting the correction of reality, the alchemical construct beneath him would collapse and revert to the ordinary wooden broom it originally was.
The farther south he flew, the more people there were.
The pressure became worse.
Lucian turned sharply, cutting through the wind as he returned north.
When he crossed back over Inverness-shire, the weight vanished almost instantly.
Freedom and agility returned to the raven's wings.
This was the territory Rowena Ravenclaw had drawn a thousand years ago.
Here, that extraordinary witch had used immense power to tear open a gap in the Iron Curtain and create a sanctuary where miracles could exist.
"But the circle is too small."
Lucian landed on the highest spire of Hogwarts and casually ended the transfiguration.
The majestic raven twisted in the air and collapsed back into its original shape.
A worn broom.
It tumbled through the wind and flew back toward the broom shed.
.....
That evening, the Great Hall glittered with Christmas decorations.
Magical snow drifted gently from the enchanted ceiling, and the twelve enormous Christmas trees Hagrid had dragged inside were covered with shining icicles.
Lucian sat at the Ravenclaw table, turning a silver brooch between his fingers.
It was shaped like a serpent, its eyes made of fine emeralds.
"A gift from Draco? No. More likely Lucius' idea."
Lucian tossed the brooch into his pocket without another glance.
His attention moved to another package.
It was from Hermione.
The wrapping paper was simple, without the flashy ribbons favored by Slytherin students. The note attached was written in her neat handwriting.
[To Lucian. Merry Christmas.]
Inside the box was a silver pocket watch.
In the magical world, time often felt fluid. Wizards could even step slightly into the past.
Yet this Muggle creation ticked stubbornly with clear clicks, insisting on an unchangeable rhythm.
Tick. Tick.
Lucian closed the watch and slipped it into his robes.
"If you give me order," he murmured softly, "then I will return a miracle of chaos."
He stood and looked across the hall.
Harry sat alone at the Gryffindor table.
The plate in front of him was almost untouched. Beside him, Ron was happily devouring everything in sight.
Harry's gaze wandered across the hall without focus. Eventually, it always drifted toward the large doors leading outside.
"If the actor refuses to enter the role," Lucian said quietly, "the director will have a headache."
....
After dinner, Lucian walked through the castle corridors.
He climbed several winding staircases until he reached the fourth floor and stopped in front of an abandoned classroom.
Moonlight entered through dusty windows and illuminated a magnificent mirror covered with strange carvings.
Harry knelt before it.
The stone floor was freezing, but he seemed completely unaware. Inside the mirror stood James and Lily Potter, smiling gently at their son.
Lily's hand rested softly on Harry's shoulder.
"What a heartbreaking sacrifice."
Lucian's voice echoed through the empty classroom.
Harry jumped to his feet and spun around so quickly that he bumped into the mirror frame.
He reached instinctively for his Invisibility Cloak, but when he saw Lucian's familiar silver-framed glasses, he relaxed slightly before becoming cautious again.
"Lucian? What are you doing here?"
Lucian didn't answer.
He walked slowly to the mirror and looked into it.
In his sight, James and Lily Potter were truly there. Not illusions, but fragments of their souls.
Golden threads covered the entire mirror frame, pulsing faintly.
Lucian understood.
No wonder Harry was so captivated. The mirror offered him genuine warmth from his parents' lingering souls.
"This mirror is like a fishing line," Lucian said quietly.
"The bait is the souls of your parents. It gives warmth, yet coldly calculates what kind of savior that warmth will create."
"How merciful. And how cruel."
"Stay away from the mirror," Lucian said as he stood beside Harry.
He glanced at the inscription carved across the top.
I show not your face but your heart's desire.
"So this is the candy Dumbledore gave you, Harry?" Lucian continued. "You think you see hope, but what you're looking at is a past that's already rotting."
"Don't say that!"
Harry shouted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. His voice trembled with tears.
"You don't understand anything! People like you only care about dusty books and potion ingredients! That's my mum and dad! They're right there!"
"They are not there, Potter. They turned to dust long ago, dying on a meaningless night."
Lucian stepped closer. His shadow stretched across the floor like it was trying to swallow Harry.
"If you keep indulging in this mirror, you will learn sacrifice. You will learn selflessness. You will become a perfect martyr."
"Don't you want to change anything?"
"Change what?" Harry shouted. "They're dead! Hagrid said no magic can bring the dead back! That's common sense!"
"Common sense?"
Lucian laughed softly.
"For ants, fire is a divine miracle. For ancient humans, lightning was the anger of gods. For modern wizards, death is the end."
He raised his hand, his finger nearly touching Harry's forehead.
"But what if we stood higher than that? Harry, what if magic is more than waving a stick? What if death itself is only a slightly complicated equation? What if you could…"
A tiny silver light appeared at his fingertip.
"Look."
Harry suddenly gasped.
The Mirror of Erised changed.
The hand Lily Potter placed on Harry's shoulder glowed briefly with silver light.
For a single moment, it felt real.
It was as if his mother's hand had crossed the boundary of death and gently patted his shoulder.
"This… this…" Harry stammered as he stared at Lucian in shock.
"Just a small demonstration," Lucian said as he lowered his hand.
"Proof that so-called common sense is merely the shallow understanding of ordinary people. Magic exists precisely because it surpasses common sense."
Suddenly Harry screamed.
He clutched his forehead in pain. The agony exploded violently, cutting off the conversation between them.
Lucian's eyes darkened.
The air in the classroom had suddenly become thick like liquid metal.
This wasn't just Voldemort's fragment reacting.
No.
"It is warning me not to contaminate its piece on the board."
Instead of feeling fear, Lucian felt a faint sense of amusement.
The door creaked open slowly.
A tall figure entered the room.
He wore robes covered in star patterns. His long white beard reflected silver under the moonlight.
Dumbledore stood there quietly.
Behind his half-moon glasses, his blue eyes were sharper than Lucian had ever seen, even though his voice remained gentle.
"Good evening, children."
Dumbledore stepped into the classroom.
With each step, Lucian could feel the invisible pressure around him growing stronger.
"Professor!" Harry said weakly, looking at Dumbledore with desperate hope.
"Come here, Harry," Dumbledore said softly as he placed a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder.
Then he turned to Lucian.
"Mr. Ashford," Dumbledore said calmly, "I have always believed that Ravenclaw students understand restraint. They also understand the danger of secrets that lie beyond their age."
Lucian quietly suppressed his presence.
He could feel the immense magic surrounding the old wizard, strengthened by the will of an entire era.
At his current level, Lucian could not confront that force directly.
"My apologies, Headmaster," Lucian said politely. "I was simply lost and attempted to guide a fellow student who had become trapped in an illusion."
"Sleepwalking can indeed be dangerous, Mr. Ashford," Dumbledore replied while watching him closely.
"But remember this. Some words can be more poisonous than dreams.
Children should not live entirely within fantasies, but neither should they attempt to dissect the world before learning how to love it."
Lucian nodded slightly.
He knew the larger predator had arrived, and tonight's confrontation was over.
As he passed Harry, his fingers brushed the boy's robes casually. A cold alchemical Galleon slipped silently into Harry's pocket.
It was engraved with a raven and an ouroboros.
At the same time, Lucian's voice echoed quietly inside Harry's mind.
"When you realize that the greatness you trust cannot give you answers... come find me."
Lucian left the classroom without looking back.
Behind him, he could hear Dumbledore calmly explaining the mirror, and Harry's breathing gradually calming down.
But Lucian knew the coin in the boy's pocket carried a cold feeling completely different from the warmth of the old wizard's words.
This was a necessary risk.
Lucian walked through the deep corridors of Hogwarts. His footsteps echoed across the empty stone floor.
He knew his actions in front of the Mirror of Erised had been excessive.
Trying to influence the Chosen One in front of Dumbledore was like dancing on the nose of a sleeping dragon.
But he had to do it.
The savior's timeline was the anchor of this world.
If he didn't throw a stone into that carefully shaped heart, Lucian would remain nothing more than a spectator.
And the cost was not small.
Lucian looked down at his right index finger. The unnatural pale color was slowly fading.
As the distant cry of a Ravenclaw eagle faded away, he knew there was no safe way to alter the script further tonight.
"Too conspicuous… but otherwise I could never catch two hunters that intelligent."
He gave a faint, self-mocking smile.
Then he hid all traces of sharpness in his expression.
His eyes returned to their usual calm, like a deep and silent well.
__________
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