In the Headmaster's Office.
Hearing Dumbledore's words, Lucien thought, As expected.
There were too many informants, and their reports came too quickly.
From the moment he began dueling Malfoy to the time he reorganised the new Halloween decorations, it had only been a short while—yet Dumbledore already knew.
Hmm, perhaps it was because of M,k8alfoy's declaration last night that word reached him so fast.
After all, there had been many witnesses, and several Professors had shown up afterward.
Lucien feigned deep thought, then said after a brief pause, "It was my first time competing with a peer in magic. To be honest, the experience felt a bit short."
At that, Dumbledore chuckled softly, pushing up his half-moon spectacles.
"Haha, no young wizard your age possesses such skill," he said. "It's only natural for someone to surrender quickly."
After a short pause, the smile in his eyes deepened. "And the little snack-sized bats you conjured afterward were quite delightful. They gave me some inspiration. Next Halloween—no, this Christmas—I'll try a similar spell myself."
"Lucien, what sweets do children your age like? Lemon drops, cockroach clusters, sugar muffins, licorice wands, chocolate frogs..."
Listening to Dumbledore list off a pile of sweets as if he knew them by heart, Lucien's mouth twitched slightly.
Old Dumbledore just wants to eat them himself, doesn't he?
Tsk. Magic and Potions really are too convenient—no need to worry about diabetes.
Whether old or young, as long as they can eat and don't get tired of it, they can indulge all they want.
Anyway, with Madam Pomfrey and Snape, those two workaholics, always around, there's nothing to worry about.
Lucien also caught on to Dumbledore's words—surrender, snack-sized bats.
He really did know what happened in the Great Hall instantly.
Wait a minute… was old Dumbledore using some sort of spell to watch a live broadcast?
Who knew what kind of magic this greatest of Wizards usually studied?
Before Lucien could speak, McGonagall interrupted Dumbledore's "spell-casting," her brows slightly furrowed.
"Dumbledore, don't let the children eat too much sugar. A proper diet is—"
But before Professor McGonagall could finish, Dumbledore murmured softly, "Eating sweets makes one happier."
Lucien couldn't help but laugh.
Between the Headmaster and the Deputy Headmistress before him, Professor McGonagall clearly seemed to handle more of the school's daily affairs, always worrying about the students' studies and wellbeing.
Dumbledore, on the other hand, was the school's face—its protector and umbrella.
If it weren't for his immense reputation that made people hesitate to approach him, he would probably have been the kind of old professor who got along well with the children.
"Lucien, this time, the conflict… the cause should be pure-blood wizards and…"
Dumbledore hesitated, but Lucien understood what he was about to say and continued calmly, "Yes, pure-bloods' discrimination against Muggle-born wizards."
Lucien's straightforward answer took Dumbledore by surprise. He had thought the boy might show some resentment or defensiveness, but instead, he was composed and matter-of-fact.
"Wizards from pure-blood families," Lucien went on, "because of inherited knowledge, accumulated resources, and strong magical bloodlines, do tend to achieve more than most Muggle-borns. So it's quite normal for them to look down on—or even despise—Muggle-born wizards."
Such a direct statement left both Dumbledore and McGonagall momentarily stunned.
Especially Dumbledore—he had been about to comfort Lucien, to tell him not to let such things affect him.
He still feared that a young wizard with great talent might fall into darkness because of others' malice.
Lucien sighed softly.
"In the Muggle world, even though everyone is human and equal in facing birth, aging, sickness, and death, there are still differences in power and wealth. Many rich and powerful people look down on ordinary folk who work hard just to live."
"Especially those born into wealth—they're often incapable of understanding or empathizing, even though their own parents or grandparents once lived ordinary, humble lives."
"And in the magical world, beyond power and wealth, there's also magic itself—this true, extraordinary force that creates such vast differences between people. That only deepens the inequality and discrimination among wizards."
Hearing Lucien's words, Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged glances.
This didn't sound like something an eleven- or twelve-year-old child would say.
"Of course, here at Hogwarts," Lucien continued, "discrimination is relatively restrained. After all, school is a place for learning. No matter their background or bloodline, at least here, everyone is just a student, right?"
Lucien's purpose in saying all this was simple—to make Dumbledore and the others pay closer attention to the attitude displayed by those pure-blood students.
Indeed, Dumbledore's authority and stance had already made those pure-bloods less willing to cause open trouble, though superficial compliance was still common.
Lucien had come to Hogwarts to study, and naturally, he wanted a peaceful, stable environment.
As for fundamentally changing the arrogance and prejudice of those pure-blood families—he neither had the power nor the intention to do so for now.
Of course, once he truly grew up, he believed that the so-called pure-blood discrimination would never dare to touch him again.
If he ever wanted to change the widespread bias of pure-bloods against other wizards… he would wait until he became the Headmaster of Hogwarts or the Minister for Magic, and then push for real reform through policy and guidance.
Dumbledore and McGonagall both understood Lucien's thoughts and intentions. They shared his views, but they also knew how difficult it would be to truly put such ideals into practice.
"Lucien, you're right," Dumbledore said solemnly. "At least within the school, everyone is a classmate—there should be no high or low, noble or humble."
Dumbledore was genuinely surprised by Lucien's words and composure.
He was the one who had been provoked and insulted, yet he remained calm, addressing the issue rationally and reasonably.
The more level-headed Lucien appeared, the more reassured Dumbledore felt.
After chatting a while longer, Lucien excused himself and took his leave.
After leaving the Headmaster's Office, Lucien didn't head back to the dormitory or the library.
Instead, he took a winding path that led him to the door of the Potions Master's office.
...
Inside the dimly lit room, Snape winced as he carefully applied a healing potion to his wound.
The gash, bloody and deep enough to expose bone, was slowly closing, but faint traces of Dark Magic still lingered, corroding the flesh and hindering recovery.
It was a bite from the Cerberus.
Ordinary bite wounds were nothing—Snape could have healed one with ease.
The real problem was the Dark curse infused in the Cerberus's fangs, which greatly slowed the healing process.
"It's a pity," Snape muttered, "that the rare qilin saliva Lucius gave me is nearly gone. The little that remained lost much of its potency after being brewed into a potion—barely enough to dispel part of the Cerberus's curse..."
Knock, knock, knock—
Hearing the knock, Snape frowned. Who would come to visit him on a holiday?
He pulled down his robe to cover his legs and feet; even a light touch on the wound made him clench his teeth in pain.
"Come in!"
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11 Advance Chaps- P@treon/DarkDevil1