Chapter 166: Draco's Water Cut and Goyle's Crushing Defeat
In the Slytherin Common Room, the fireplace cast dark red shadows, carving everyone's faces into patches of light and shadow.
The air was thick with a mixture of old parchment, fireplace soot, and tension.
Since Cassius returned, the dormitory door had remained tightly shut. Draco sat in the corner of the Common Roomlike a pale statue, his eyes fixed on the glass water tank on the table.
Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his fingernails dug deep into the leather sofa's armrest, gouging out white marks that would never fade.
In the water tank beside him, the water rippled without wind, subtly reflecting his cheeks, which were sunken and thin from overexertion.
"He's been staring at it for three hours." Pansy Parkinsonfinally couldn't bear the oppression; she lowered her voice, her fingers nervously twisting the expensive lace at the edge of her robes—a habit she couldn't break when anxious. "Zabini, if he keeps this up, he'll go mad. What kind of spell did Cassius cast on him?"
Blaise Zabini closed *Advanced Potion-Making*. He didn't even look up at Draco, merely using his quill to draw a flawless, elegant period at the end of the page.
He placed the book neatly into his bag, every movement precise and perfectly aligned—a compulsion left to him by his father, a high-ranking official in the Ministry of Magic.
"This isn't a potion, Pansy; this is sword-forging." Zabini's tone was flat, almost cold. "Fear is Slytherin's new currency, and our young Master Malfoy is learning how to mint it. Just watch; he's reaching his limit."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Draco moved.
He stood up abruptly, his right hand splayed wide like an iron claw against the tank's glass. His movements carried a sense of desperate resolve.
The whispers in the Common Room came to a sudden halt.
The once-calm water in the tank began to churn uncontrollably.
A vortex formed at the center, spinning with extreme speed. The water surged with immense power, slamming against the glass walls with heavy, rhythmic thuds, like an out-of-control heart pounding in a chest.
"What is he doing?" A younger student cowered in the corner of a sofa, voice trembling. "The Common Room is going to be flooded!"
No one paid him any mind. Everyone's gaze was fixed on Draco's trembling right hand.
Sweat pooled from his sickly pale forehead into lines, dripping from his taut jaw onto the expensive carpet, leaving a small, dark stain.
His arm muscles spasmed violently, and blue veins bulged beneath his skin—the wail of a body pushed to its limits after magic had been forcibly compressed.
"Condense," Draco squeezed the word from deep in his throat, his voice as raspy as sandpaper.
Under the pressure of an invisible force, the frantically spinning mass of water rapidly collapsed in volume.
The water turned from transparent to a deep indigo; light no longer reflected off it but was swallowed instead.
It was no longer liquid water, but a solid energy body endowed with extreme mass, its density comparable to a dwarf star. Web-like cracks appeared on the glass tank, emitting an ear-grating, screeching sound of shattering.
Draco's eyes were bloodshot. A moment before the tank completely disintegrated, he suddenly clenched his right hand.
A cubic meter of water was now reduced to the size of a fingernail, hovering just above his fingertips. That point of eerie blue light heavily oppressed the surrounding air, even causing the fireplace flames to bend away as if avoiding a singularity of mass.
He gasped for air, his shirt soaked with sweat, and a sense of exhaustion made him nearly unable to stand. Yet, a feverish pleasure, mingled with pain, surged from his magic core through his entire body.
"Nothing more than a trick."
A gravelly voice rang out from the back of the Common Room, breaking the suffocating silence.
Goyle and Crabbe stood in the shadows. Goyle's knuckles cracked as he squeezed them, jealousy and resentment practically overflowing from his face.
Since Cassius's rise, lackeys like Goyle, who only knew how to solve problems with brute force, had become the bottom-tier jokes of Slytherin.
Draco turned his head slowly, his gaze sweeping over that burly face before he broke into a deeply mocking smile.
"A trick?" Draco asked, his voice hoarse from exhaustion.
"Yes, a trick!" Goyle's anger was ignited by this contempt. He strode forward and drew his wand from his robes, his wrist trembling slightly from the sheer force of his grip. "If you have the guts, stop playing those ghostly games. Use your wand and duel me fair and square!"
Draco didn't even touch his wand. He simply waved Goyleoff like he was shooing a fly. "You go first."
"Protego!" Goyle bellowed, waving his wand.
Just as the faint light of the Shield Charm enveloped his bulky frame, Draco flicked his right index finger with nonchalance.
The water droplet shot out.
There was no incantation, no blinding flash.
Only a sharp, ear-piercing whistle remained in the air, like cloth being torn at high speed.
*Zip—*
The indigo line of water easily pierced Goyle's proud Shield Charm. The barrier didn't even have time to ripple before it was sliced clean through.
The line of water grazed Goyle's cheek and flew past, gouging a deep, straight fissure into the stone wall at the end of the Common Room, sending scorched stone chips flying.
Absolute silence fell over the Common Room.
The crack stretched from the corner all the way to the ceiling; the cut was smooth and even, its edges slightly charred as if sliced by some unknown high-temperature energy.
*Clatter.*
Goyle's wand slipped from his limp hand to the floor.
He froze in place, beads of blood from his cheek flowing into the corner of his mouth as a heavy, metallic smell of rust filled the air.
He couldn't even feel the pain, only a cold numbness.
If that strike had been off by half an inch, his head would have been sliced in two, just like that stone wall.
Goyle's legs gave way and he slumped to the floor. A warm liquid quickly soaked his trousers, its acrid smell overpowering the scent of blood.
Draco looked at him coldly, his voice icy. "Still think it's a trick?"
Pansy and several other girls from pure-blood families stared at Draco. The critical scrutiny with which they usually viewed their peers had vanished, replaced by an unmistakable fervor and fear.
It was the most primal submission to absolute power.
Zabini unhurriedly buckled his bag, the leather making a soft rubbing sound.
He smiled at Draco, a smile that was no longer just simple admiration, but a recognition of his own kind.
Beneath the throne of Slytherin, a sharp enough sword was needed.
Just then, the dormitory door slid open silently.
Cassius stepped out from the shadows behind the door.
He didn't even look at anyone first, merely glancing at the fresh cut on the wall and then sweeping his gaze over Goyle, who was slumped like mud on the floor. Finally, his eyes landed on Draco. His face remained unmoved, as if everything before him was exactly as expected.
"You succeeded." Cassius approached, his footsteps exceptionally clear in the dead-silent room. "But too slow."
All the pride and fervor Draco had just gathered quickly cooled and crumbled under Cassius's flat evaluation. He lowered his head, his spine bending into a humble arc. "Yes, I will improve."
"From activation to impact, zero point three seconds." Cassius reached out and patted Draco's shoulder with enough force to make his knees tremble, nearly causing him to collapse. "On a real battlefield, those zero point three seconds are enough to get you killed ten times over. Remember, Draco, power is just a burden if it cannot be released instantaneously."
Cassius stepped past him and headed straight for the Common Room exit.
"Brother, where are you going?" Draco couldn't help but ask.
Cassius stopped at the door and turned to look toward the Forbidden Forest, where the night was at its thickest.
"To see how far that 'The Savior' has fallen," he said with a hint of amusement.
Cassius pushed open the door and disappeared into the hallway, his steady footsteps fading into the distance down the silent stone corridor.
Chapter 167: Luna's Prophecy: The Tainted The Savior
On the last day before the end-of-term feast, a strange atmosphere permeated the corridors of Hogwarts.
On one hand, there was the relaxation of the upcoming holidays; on the other, there was an invisible pressure emanating from Harry Potter.
Since the incident in the Forbidden Forest, Harry had become a different person. He no longer moved with Ronand Hermione, always keeping to himself. His face was perpetually pale, but his eyes often flickered with an unsettling, excited red light. At the Gryffindor table, almost no one dared to speak to him.
Cassius leaned against a window on the eighth floor, overlooking the entire campus. The sensory network of the Dual-Soul Furnace told him that the erosion level of the soul fragment within Harry had stabilized at 19%. That fragment was clever; after being warned by Cassius, it chose to lie low, using a gentler and more insidious method to gradually reshape the core of Harry's soul.
"He's cultivating you as a more advanced Horcrux." This was the precise evaluation Draco gave after learning of the situation.
A light pitter-patter of footsteps came from behind.
Cassius didn't turn his head; he knew who it was.
"Lost your shoes again?" he asked flatly.
"No. They're being very good today, staying on my feet." Luna's voice carried a hint of ethereal laughter. "I just felt that the Wrackspurts around your head are a different color today. Usually they're blue, but today they're a bit purple."
Cassius remained silent.
"You seem to be waiting for someone." Luna walked to his side, imitating him by leaning on the windowsill, her bare feet swinging gently.
"Mhm."
Just as he spoke, Harry Potter appeared at the corner of the corridor.
He walked very slowly, holding a thick book with a black cover. It was something he had "borrowed" from the Restricted Section.
Luna's gaze shifted from Cassius to Harry. Her misty, large eyes became incredibly clear and sharp for the first time.
Harry saw them too, his footsteps faltering for a moment as a flash of alertness and loathing crossed his eyes. He moved to bypass them, intending to walk past on the other side.
"Wait a moment."
Luna suddenly spoke.
Harry stopped with a frown and asked impatiently, "Is there something you want, Lovegood?"
Luna didn't answer him; she just tilted her head and examined him meticulously, as if looking at a strange specimen.
"It's so noisy," Luna said suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere.
"What are you talking about?" Harry felt it was nonsensical.
"Inside your head." Luna reached out a finger and pointed at Harry's forehead. "There are two very noisy Fwoopers living there. One is crying, the other is laughing. They're about to eat you up."
Harry's face turned deathly pale in an instant!
Those words were like a bolt of lightning, accurately striking his deepest secret!
Fwoopers? One crying, one laughing?
Wasn't that exactly his own original, fragile soul and the fragment of Tom Riddle that was constantly eroding and mocking him?
This crazy girl—how could she know?!
"What kind of nonsense are you talking!" A storm surged within Harry. The extreme panic and shame of having his secret exposed instantly overthrew his reason.
He didn't even draw his wand!
A thick, dark-red magic with a decaying aura erupted from his body, shooting toward Luna like a venomous snake!
This was the most direct soul-attacking curse he had learned from that book of Dark Arts!
Luna didn't dodge. She just quietly watched the magic, her face calm, as if it weren't a lethal attack but merely a gust of wind.
However, that dark-red magic suddenly froze less than half a meter away from Luna.
Cassius was already standing in front of Luna at some point. He did nothing but stand there; the naturally radiating, physical-like Gravity Field around him held Harry's pathetic dark magic firmly in mid-air, unable to move.
"Potter." Cassius's voice was as cold as ice. "It seems the lesson I gave you last time wasn't deep enough."
Harry's pupils contracted violently when he saw Cassius. The instinct of fear made him want to retreat, but the anger of his secret being exposed overrode everything.
"Get out of the way, Malfoy! This is between her and me!" Harry hissed, more dark magic pouring out of him as he tried to break through that invisible barrier.
Cassius frowned in annoyance.
He raised his hand and pressed down lightly in Harry's direction.
BOOM!
An invisible force, heavy as a mountain, descended instantly. The stone floor tiles beneath Harry's feet shattered on the spot, letting out a groan of being overburdened. His legs buckled, and with a thud, he was forced to his knees.
His kneecaps collided with the ground, making a sickening cracking sound.
"Agh—!"
Harry let out a shrill scream. He felt as if an entire Castlewere pressing down on him; every inch of his bones groaned, and every blood vessel was on the verge of bursting. The dark magic that had been so arrogant just a moment ago was pressed directly back into his body by this unreasonable Gravity Field. The backlash of pain turned his vision black, and he nearly fainted.
"You dare move against my people?"
Cassius looked down at Harry, who was struggling on the ground like a dying dog, with utter indifference in his deep blue eyes.
Students from both ends of the corridor were drawn by the commotion and gathered from a distance, but no one dared to approach. They only saw the The Savior, Harry Potter, kneeling before the Slytherin Tyrant in an extremely humiliating posture.
"Stop it! Cassius!"
A roar came as Ron and Hermione rushed over. Seeing Harry's miserable state, Ron drew his wand without a second thought.
But Hermione grabbed him.
"Don't!" Hermione's voice was trembling. "You can't break his Gravity Field! Going up there is just suicide!"
"Then you want me to just watch Harry be tortured like this?!" Ron shouted at her.
Hermione bit her lip hard, looking at that figure standing in front of Luna like a god or demon, her heart filled with powerlessness. She could calculate the yield of an explosion, but she couldn't calculate this pure power that overrode all physical laws.
Cassius didn't even bother to acknowledge their argument.
He slowly withdrew the Gravity Field.
Harry collapsed onto the floor like a pile of mud, gasping for breath, saliva mixed with blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
"Get out." Cassius said only one word.
Ron hurried over, wanting to help Harry up. But Harrypushed him away, staring fixedly at Cassius and Lunabehind him with a gaze full of deep-seated hatred.
Then, dragging a broken leg, he limped away without looking back.
Ron stood frozen, watching Harry's solitary back and then looking at the expressionless Hermione in the distance, a look of bewilderment and pain appearing on his face for the first time.
Why... did it turn out like this?
Cassius turned around and looked at Luna.
"See," he said calmly, "you've riled up that cowardly Fwooper."
Luna blinked and pulled a red candy from her pocket—the one Cassius had given her last time. She popped it into her mouth and said indistinctly:
"It's okay. The other Fwooper will eat him up completely sooner or later anyway."
She looked up into Cassius's eyes and smiled.
"When that time comes, Hogwarts will have an even more beautiful firework display. Right?"
Chapter 168: Dumbledore's Helplessness and Slytherin's Second Consecutive Victory
"He shouldn't have done that. Harry is crazy! How could he attack Luna?"
Ron's voice was filled with incomprehensible confusion and anger.
After helping Harry leave, he had returned and was now standing beside Hermione, watching those two figures at the end of the corridor, who seemed to be in another world.
Hermione did not answer him.
Her gaze went past Cassius's shoulder, staring fixedly at the spot where, just moments ago, Harry's dark red magichad been imprisoned, compressed, and finally annihilated by the gravitational field.
Her brain was racing, and parchment and a quill flew out of her bag on their own, frantically recording something in mid-air.
"Does the gravitational field's interference with pure energy... have a threshold? Or is it that as long as the mass is large enough, any form of energy can be distorted and constrained? If so, could the explosion core of the 'Arbiter' also be subjected to secondary constraint through a micro-gravitational field, thereby achieving a directional, cone-shaped armor-piercing effect..."
"Hermione!" Ron interrupted her muttering, unable to bear it any longer. "Harry is hurt! And you're still thinking about those damn formulas of yours!"
Hermione finally pulled herself out of that frenzied academic state. She turned her head and looked at Ronwith an extremely unfamiliar, calm, and almost cold gaze. "So what, Ron? Go to the Hospital Wing, drink a bottle of Skele-Gro, and I'll be able to get out of bed tomorrow. Does that solve the problem?"
"What problem? The problem is Malfoy! They've been bullying us all along!"
"No." Hermione shook her head, putting away her parchment with methodical precision. "The problem is that Harry initiated an attack on an unarmed classmate and used Dark Arts. The problem is that he is becoming less and less like the Harry we know. The problem is that the gap in strength between us, him, and Cassius Malfoy can no longer be bridged by courage alone."
With every "problem" she mentioned, Ron's face grew paler.
"I'm tired, Ron," Hermione said finally. "I don't want to participate in this kind of meaningless, emotional conflict anymore. I'm going to find answers—real answers."
After saying this, she gathered her books and walked toward the library without looking back, not even glancing at Cassius in the distance.
Ron stood alone in the empty corridor, watching Hermione's retreating figure, then looked in the direction where Harry had disappeared, and finally at those two "monsters" still standing by the window. An unprecedented sense of loneliness and helplessness completely engulfed him.
Cassius had no interest in the farce behind him. He simply asked Luna, "How do you know there are two things in his head?"
"I saw them," Luna said, licking the sugar off the corner of her mouth. "One is huddled in a corner trembling, very pitiful. The other is sitting on a throne, very tall, but has no face, and keeps laughing. They are playing tug-of-war, and the rope is Harry's soul."
Cassius was thoughtful. Luna's talent seemed to allow her to directly observe the physical state of the soul. This was far more precise than any magical detection instrument.
"Let's go, to the Great Hall. Otherwise, there won't be anything left to eat." Cassius turned and walked toward the Great Hall.
Luna skipped along behind him, humming a strange tune.
The atmosphere at the end-of-year feast was stifling to the extreme.
The green banners and silver serpent crests of Slytherinhung all over the Great Hall, but the long table was deathly silent.
All the Slytherin students sat up straight, even the sound of their knives and forks clinking was cautious, and their gazes drifted ever so slightly toward the seat at the head of the long table.
Cassius was slowly and methodically cutting the steak on his plate, while Draco beside him sat up straight, enjoying this silent awe born of fear.
The atmosphere at the Gryffindor table was even colder. Harry did not appear; it was said that his kneecap injury was more serious than expected, and he was spending the night in the Hospital Wing.
Ron sat alone in a corner, eating with his head down, ignoring everyone.
Hermione sat far away from him, with a thick notebook filled with formulas spread out beside her. The Weasleytwins had also put away their usual playfulness, and the atmosphere was heavy.
At the staff table, the Professors were also preoccupied with their own thoughts.
Professor McGonagall's face was livid, while Snape was as expressionless as ever, but in the look he cast toward the Slytherin table, there was a trace of complex emotion he himself was unwilling to admit.
Finally, Dumbledore stood up.
The Great Hall instantly fell silent.
"Another school year has come to an end." Dumbledore's voice sounded somewhat weary. His blue eyes swept across the room, finally lingering on Cassius for half a second.
"Before we settle the final standings for the House Cup, there are some things that need to be addressed. This year, many things have happened... the Chamber of Secrets was opened, and students were attacked. But equally, students have also shown extraordinary courage."
He began awarding points to Harry and Ron because they had "discovered the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets" and "provided key information." Scattered applause rang out from the Gryffindor table.
Then, he praised Hermione for "using her vast knowledge to resolve multiple crises in critical moments" and awarded her another fifty points. Hermione just nodded absentmindedly, continuing to write and draw in her notebook.
Dumbledore paused, seemingly organizing his thoughts.
"At the same time, we must not forget that in the face of a thousand-year-old monster, in the face of a disaster that could have plunged the entire school into panic, someone... in a way we cannot comprehend, put an end to it all." His gaze turned toward Cassius again. "Although the process... was highly controversial and caused tremendous damage to the Castle, the result is beyond doubt. For this, SlytherinHouse is awarded one hundred points."
The Great Hall was in an uproar.
One hundred points! This was an unprecedentedly high score!
Draco puffed out his chest even more, a sickly flush appearing on his face. The way Pansy and the other Slytherin girls looked at Cassius was already bordering on fanatical.
Dumbledore raised his hand, signaling for silence. There was a hint of a bitter smile on his face. He knew this still wasn't enough.
He did not, like last year, conjure up decisive points for Gryffindor at the last minute. Because he knew it was useless now.
After the Chamber of Secrets incident, Cassius, through Lucius, had directly "bought out" all the Castle's repair costs with Galleons and also "donated" a huge sum of money to the school for "strengthening security." This amount of money was so large that it left the Board of Governors collectively speechless.
And Cassius's own strength displayed in Dueling Classand Potion Class, along with the "legend" of him tearing the Basilisk apart with his bare hands, had earned Slytherin a massive amount of points.
Not to mention that just moments ago in the corridor, Harry Potter—Gryffindor's "The Savior"—had been stepped on like a bug by Cassius.
Under such absolute crushing power, both in strength and financial resources, any small move attempting to create balance through rules seemed incredibly pale and ridiculous.
"So, I will now announce the final result." Dumbledore took a deep breath, his voice laced with a deep sense of helplessness.
He looked at the house point hourglasses. The emeralds representing Slytherin had far surpassed the sum of all other houses, piling up into a mountain of despair.
"The winner of this year's House Cup is—Slytherin!"
As the words fell, a burst of hesitant, then suddenly frenzied, cheering erupted from the Slytherin table. They shouted the name "Malfoy," not out of glory for the house, but in submission to the tyrant sitting on the throne.
Dumbledore waved his wand, and the Gryffindordecorations on the ceiling reluctantly turned into the green and silver of Slytherin.
Cassius had no reaction to this; he simply wiped his mouth with a napkin, as if this supreme honor were nothing more than a boring dessert after a meal.
Dumbledore watched this scene, a flash of determination in his blue eyes.
He knew that traditional means of checks and balances had completely failed against a monster like Cassius, who didn't play by the rules.
He was not a second Lord Voldemort; he was even harder to deal with than Lord Voldemort.
Lord Voldemort had ambition and desire, and could be predicted. But Cassius, apart from his family, seemed to care about nothing else.
His only logic of behavior was to crush everything that stood in his way.
He had to find a new pawn, someone who could understand the monster, or even... someone who could empathize with the monster.
Dumbledore's thoughts drifted to the employment letter that had just been sent out.
"Remus Lupin..." He whispered the name, his last shred of hope pinned on this weather-beaten old friend. "I hope you can bring me something different."
Chapter 169: Parting Ways on the Express
"Hermione, are you really not going to sit with us? Harry, he..."
On Platform 9 3, the red steam engine of the Hogwarts Express was belching white mist, the air thick with a mixture of coal smoke and the scent of departures. Rondragged his luggage, standing anxiously at a compartment door, trying to persuade the person inside.
Inside the compartment, Hermione Granger didn't even look up. Her table wasn't covered in snacks or WizardChess, but instead spread with over a dozen large sheets of parchment filled with precise runes and complex mechanical structural diagrams. She was using a specially modified, self-inking quill to rapidly verify a dizzying string of data.
"Ron, I've already said, I have a lot of work to do." Hermione's tone was as calm and flat as if she were stating a law of physics. "What Harry needs is Madam Pomfrey and quiet rest, not my meaningless company. Also, please close the door; the airflow from people passing by will affect my calculations of the magic decay rate in different media."
Ron's face turned a deep shade of purple. He wanted to get angry, wanted to demand when she had become so cold-blooded, but looking at Hermione's focused, almost unrecognizable face and the diagrams where he couldn't understand a single character, the words stuck in his throat.
In the end, he could only shut the compartment door with a dejected 'bang' and drag his heavy steps toward another compartment.
There, Harry Potter leaned against the window, pale and silent. His knees had recovered, but his gait was still somewhat stiff. It wasn't a physiological problem, but a psychological brand left behind after being crushed.
His gaze didn't linger on his parents outside the window, nor on Ron beside him; instead, it pierced through the crowded throng, staring fixedly at a cleared area of the platform in the distance.
The Malfoy family stood right there.
Lucius Malfoy was chatting and laughing with a senior official from the Ministry of Magic, his face glowing with health. That official, who was usually quite haughty, now wore a fawning expression. Narcissa stood elegantly to the side, gently straightening Draco's collar.
Cassius, however, just stood quietly at the back, hands in his pockets, as if everything around him had nothing to do with him. Yet, anyone who approached that area would subconsciously steer clear, leaving an invisible circle with a five-meter radius.
"Whistle—"
The whistle blew long and loud, and the train slowly began to move.
Harry continued to stare in that direction until the figures of the Malfoy family vanished from sight. His hands, resting on his knees, unconsciously clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white from the force. His lips moved silently, as if he were chewing over a name.
"Harry, have something to eat." Ron handed over a Chocolate Frog.
Harry didn't take it; he slowly closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat.
"Not hungry."
In his mind, a smiling, cold voice was echoing:
"Do you see, Harry? That is power. Authority, respect, even fear—they are all just byproducts of power. And you, right now, have even been stripped of the right to stand before him."
"Shut up!" Harry roared internally.
"Hehe... don't be in such a hurry, my little host. You're very talented, much more interesting than I was at eleven. This summer, we can have a good 'chat'—a chat about how to take back everything that belongs to you, bit by bit..." The voice was full of temptation.
Harry's breathing gradually became heavy, and a faint, imperceptible red light flickered slightly beneath his closed eyelids.
At the other end of the train, in a section of carriages occupied entirely by Slytherin students.
Draco sat opposite Cassius, sitting bolt upright with an excited expression.
"Brother, did you see? Father was talking to the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Transportation! That old guy was trying to cause trouble for our family last year, but this year he's like a lapdog!" Draco's tone was filled with the satisfaction of vindication. "This is all because of you! Because of you, the Malfoy name is now worth more than gold!"
Cassius didn't speak; he simply took a silver pocket watch from his pocket and glanced at the time. His movements were steady and precise, as if every lift of his hand had been meticulously calculated.
"Potter... he seems a bit off." Once Draco's excitement subsided, he remembered his arch-rival kneeling on the ground, and his tone became somewhat complicated. "I've never seen him like that. It's like... like he was replaced by someone else inside."
"Replaced or not, does it make a difference?" Cassiusfinally spoke, his voice flat. "Is there any difference to a lion between a dog with a broken leg and a rabid dog that bites?"
Draco was stunned for a moment, then immediately understood Cassius's meaning.
Yes, there was no difference. In the face of absolute power, any change in the weak was meaningless.
He took a deep breath, suppressed those useless emotions, and pulled a thick book on Ancient Runesshaping from his bag, beginning to study earnestly. He knew he was still far too behind his brother's level; he had no time to waste.
Silence returned to the carriage, leaving only the rustle of turning pages and the rhythmic vibration of the train.
Meanwhile, in another independent compartment protected by Silencing Charms and Muggle-Repelling-style wards.
Hermione finished checking the data on the last sheet of parchment and let out a long sigh of relief. She pulled a small, dodecahedron model crafted from goblin steel from her robes.
The model was only the size of a fist, its surface engraved with dense runes finer than a strand of hair. This was the culmination of her theoretical research for the entire semester, and the first "product prototype" of her collaboration with Cassius.
"The design of 'The Arbiter' is still too complex, and the material requirements are too high for mass production." Hermione tapped the model lightly with the end of her quill. "The energy containment efficiency is only 78%. The remaining 22% leaks out in the form of heat and shockwaves, causing unnecessary waste and collateral damage."
She spread out a fresh sheet of parchment, her eyes flashing with the light of rationality and a hint of manic obsession.
"The structure must be simplified, using cheaper alternative materials. Sacrifice individual power for numerical advantage. Saturation... coverage... that is the truth."
She began to redesign. On the new parchment, it was no longer a single, precise dodecahedron, but a honeycomb structure composed of hundreds of smaller, hexagonal units. Each unit was an independent explosive that could be detonated programmatically.
"Point detonation, line detonation, area detonation..." Hermione's quill flew across the parchment. "It can form cutting lines, create blockade zones, or... instantly create a true snowfield of death."
At the top of the parchment, she wrote a brand-new code name, one filled with a chilling killing intent.
"Weapon Code Name: Blizzard."
Chapter 170: Summer Vacation at Malfoy Manor, New Weapon Code Name "Blizzard"
"Oh, my dear sons, welcome home!"
As Cassius and Draco stepped out of the fireplace carved from pure black marble in Malfoy Manor via the Floo Network, Lucius Malfoy spread his arms, a sincere smile—one more genuine than ever before—gracing his face.
His platinum-blond hair was meticulously groomed, and the snake-headed wand he held in his hand looked more like a scepter symbolizing power than a weapon.
"Father." Draco stepped forward and gave Lucius a hug.
He could feel that his father's embrace was stronger than ever, filled with a heartfelt pride and excitement.
Cassius merely nodded; he did not care for such physical contact.
He glanced around the drawing room. Narcissa was standing not far away, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked at them tenderly.
"Well done, Draco!" Lucius clapped Draco hard on the shoulder. "Two years in a row! How many years has it been since Slytherin had such glory? The entire Ministry of Magic is talking about you, talking about Malfoy Family!"
His voice trembled slightly with excitement. This was not just a victory for the House Cup; it was a complete upheaval of the power structure.
He, Lucius Malfoy, was no longer a former Death Eaterrelying on the Dark Lord's lingering prestige and gold to maintain his status; he was now the father of the "Hogwarts Tyrant."
Those pure-blood families who once paid him lip service were now as humble before him as House-elves.
"It's all thanks to my brother." Although Draco enjoyed the glory, he was acutely aware of its source. He looked at Cassius with eyes full of admiration.
Lucius also looked at his second son, who was taciturn yet as unfathomable as an abyss.
His gaze was even more complex, a mixture of pride, awe, and a hint of fear that even he hadn't noticed.
"Cassius," Lucius lowered his voice slightly, "your room has been rearranged according to your requests. The basement... has also been expanded threefold, with the highest-level defensive and silencing arrays added. All the materials you need have been prepared."
"Mm." Cassius gave a brief response and walked straight toward the stairs leading to the basement.
To him, summer vacation was not for resting, but a precious time to translate theory into reality.
Just then, a grey owl flew in through the open window and accurately dropped a slender scroll made of stiff parchment onto the coffee table in front of Cassius.
The owl didn't ask for any payment; after delivering its task, it immediately flew away, as if staying a second longer would cause it to be frozen by the atmosphere here.
Draco curiously tried to reach for it, but Cassius was faster.
He unfurled the scroll and spread it on the table. It wasn't a letter, but a massive three-meter-long blueprint filled with structural diagrams and rune arrays so precise they were hair-raising.
The material of the blueprint was very special—neither parchment nor papyrus, but a flexible material with a faint metallic luster that felt cool to the touch.
"Blizzard"—at the top of the blueprint, this code name was written in a rigorous yet elegant script.
Lucius and Draco both leaned in, but they couldn't understand a thing drawn on it.
Those complex lines and symbols didn't look like any known spell or Alchemy circle; instead, they looked more like... mechanical design drawings from factories in the Muggle world.
"What is... this?" Lucius asked in confusion.
"A more efficient cleaning tool," Cassius replied flatly.
He rolled up the blueprint without further explanation and turned to walk into the dark passage leading to the basement.
The expanded basement had been completely transformed into a massive workshop blending post-modern industrial style with a classical Alchemy atmosphere.
The air was thick with the scent of metal coolant and the ozone produced after magical smelting.
Rows of workbenches made of goblin steel were neatly arranged, with various magical tools floating above them: cutters that could spray high-temperature jets, hydraulic devices capable of applying immense pressure, and countless energy force field generators for precise shaping.
This was no longer just one person's laboratory; it was the prototype of a production line for a violent arsenal.
Cassius suspended the "Blizzard" blueprint in mid-air, and the perception of the Dual-Soul Furnace instantly covered the entire drawing, decomposing it into tens of thousands of independent data modules.
"Structure simplified by 30%, main material replaced with Dragon scale powder mixed with Black ironwood, inner lining using secondary goblin steel, cost reduced by 70%. Rune micro-engraving simplified from twelve sets to three core circuits, sacrificing precision for faster energy filling speed..."
His brain was like a supercomputer; in just a few minutes, he had transformed the "artwork" Hermione had designed—which leaned toward theoretical perfection—into a "consumable" that could be produced on a large scale at low cost.
He walked to the start of the production line. There was a massive metal furnace connected to a complex array of molds below.
Cassius extended his right hand, palm upward. A whole crate of incredibly hard goblin steel ingots, purchased by Lucius at great expense, flew out of the warehouse and hovered above his palm.
He didn't use any spells. He simply slowly clenched his fist.
The goblin steel ingots, which could withstand most offensive spells, began to emit a tooth-gritting screeching sound under his physical grip. They were kneaded and compressed at a visible rate, finally turning into a mass of glowing, flowing liquid metal.
He poured the liquid metal into the furnace and then started the entire production line.
Molds opened and closed, stamping, cooling, shaping... hexagonal, palm-sized metal casings were rapidly manufactured and transported to the next station via a magic-driven conveyor belt.
The next station was rune micro-engraving. Dozens of magic threads thinner than hair extended from Cassius's fingertips, like the most precise scalpels, swiftly carving complex energy circuits onto those metal casings.
The entire process was smooth and fluid, filled with an industrial aesthetic that combined violence with precision.
Half an hour later, three hundred base unit casings for "Blizzard" were neatly stacked at the end of the production line.
Now, only the final and most dangerous step remained—high-pressure magic loading.
Cassius walked to a massive, reactor-like sealed device.
The core of this device was an Energy compression chamber composed of Obsidian and Ancient runes.
Its function was to forcibly "inject" the violent magic within Cassius's body into the unit cores of "Blizzard" under extremely high pressure, forming a highly unstable magiccrystal that could undergo a chain reaction at any moment.
He placed an empty casing into the loading port and then pressed his palm onto the device's activation panel.
Eerie blue magic flowed along his arm like a surging river, pouring into the core of the device.
The air in the entire workshop began to vibrate, and the runes on the walls lit up one by one, emitting a low humming sound.
Just as the violent energy was about to complete its compression, a piercing, urgent alarm suddenly rang out from the top of the basement!
That was the highest-level defensive alarm of Malfoy Manor!
Something was shaking the ancient wards of the entire manor from the outside!