Hogwarts, Great Hall.
Breakfast time.
The usually noisy Great Hall was eerily quiet.
All the students were huddled in corners, stealing fearful yet excited glances at the Slytherin table.
Two people sat there.
On the left was Ivan Potter, using an alchemically modified power drill to punch holes in a slice of bread (for better flavor absorption).
On the right was a new transfer student.
He had hair as dazzling as molten gold, blue eyes as cold as arctic glaciers, and features so handsome they seemed measured by God's ruler—except for a hairline that was slightly concerning.
Gellert Grindelwald.
The future Dark Lord, currently a Durmstrang exchange student.
"This is your 'theoretical foundation'?"
Grindelwald held a copy of Introduction to Industrial Magic written by Ivan. A scornful smile played on his lips, and his magnetic voice could make young witches blush. "Explaining spell trajectories with 'Newton's Three Laws'? Optimizing potion brewing with the 'Second Law of Thermodynamics'? Potter, you are turning noble magic into... vulgar assembly line work."
Ivan put the drilled bread into the toaster without looking up.
"Vulgar? Technology that allows a troll to learn the Stunning Spell is vulgar? An idea that lets a Dementor power your A/C is vulgar?"
"Those are clever tricks, but tricks nonetheless." Grindelwald leaned forward, his blue eyes locked onto Ivan, exuding a dangerous charm. "Magic is the extension of will, the dominion of the soul. Only the purest blood and strongest will can harness supreme magic like the Deathly Hallows. And you..."
He chuckled softly, tapping the table in a strange rhythm that caused the surrounding air to vibrate.
"You are turning magic into 'math problems'. That is blasphemy against magic."
> [System Alert: Grindelwald (Intellectual Dominance + Contempt for Ivan's Theory + Ambition Exposed): Emotion Value +666!]
Ivan finally looked up, eyeing the legendary villain with interest.
The young Grindelwald indeed had the capital to be arrogant; that "I am number one in the world" aura was even more infectious than Voldemort's.
Unfortunately, he met a cheater.
"Dominion Theory?" Ivan wiped the breadcrumbs off his hands. "You mean that theory about sacrificing the few 'For the Greater Good'?"
A trace of surprise flashed in Grindelwald's eyes. "You've heard of it?"
"Heard of it? I can even add a suffix for you." Ivan pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket and drew a complex 3D coordinate system on the table. "Your Dominion Theory is based on 'Macro-Magical Mechanics', but at the 'Micro-Potion Particle' level, your theory is full of holes."
Ivan pointed to the erratic light dots in the coordinate system.
"Look, this is the magical ripple generated by your tapping just now. According to your theory, it should propagate linearly. But in reality, due to interference from 'Magical Dust' in the air, it underwent 'Quantum Tunneling'."
Grindelwald froze. "Quantum... what?"
"Quantum Mechanics." Ivan smiled like he was looking at a country bumpkin. "Simply put, your magic is uncertain at the microscopic level. You think you control magic, but actually, magic randomly chose you within a probability cloud. Like Schrödinger's Cat—before you open the cage, whether the cat is alive or dead depends entirely on my mood."
Ivan snapped his fingers.
The pumpkin juice in front of Grindelwald suddenly levitated in violation of gravity and instantly decomposed into countless tiny droplets, arranging themselves in a perfect Fibonacci spiral in the air.
"Is... is this wandless magic? Or alchemy?" Grindelwald's pupils contracted sharply.
"This is 'programming'." Ivan yawned. "I wrote a code for this glass of juice, telling it to spiral at this timestamp. Can your 'will' achieve control precise to the micrometer?"
Grindelwald stared dead at the juice, a layer of fine cold sweat appearing on his forehead.
As a top-tier Dark Arts master, he could sense the terrifying control contained within. This wasn't magic; this was... rewriting the rules!
"Interesting..." Grindelwald suddenly laughed, a bit madly, a bit excitedly.
Instead of being discouraged, he seemed to have found a lifelong rival (or toy).
"Potter, I admit you have something." Grindelwald pulled an Elder Wand (though he hadn't recognized it as the Elder Wand yet) from his robes and tapped it lightly on Ivan's drill. "Since I can't convince you theoretically, let's see the truth in action. For the final exam's 'Defense Against the Dark Arts Practical', I challenge you."
"Not interested." Ivan refused flatly. "Beating you doesn't earn me Galleons."
"If you win," Grindelwald leaned back confidently, "I'll tell you a secret about the 'Deathly Hallows'. I know where the Resurrection Stone is."
Ivan paused.
"And if I lose?"
Grindelwald looked Ivan up and down, his gaze lingering for a second on Ivan's face, which was more exquisite than a girl's, and a wicked smirk curled his lips.
"If you lose, you wear this—"
Like a magic trick, he pulled out an extremely gorgeous, extremely complicated pink Lolita dress full of lace and bows.
"—And then, at the Halloween Ball in the Great Hall, in front of all the teachers and students, dance to that song... what was it called? Cyndi Loves You?"
Boom!
The eavesdropping students around them exploded.
Snape sprayed out the potion he had just sipped, and Filch dropped his chains.
Ivan Potter, the Slytherin Prefect, the Pilgrim of the Dark Lord, the one who walked Voldemort like a dog, wearing women's clothes and dancing a sweet pop song?
That would be worse than killing him!
Everyone thought Ivan would be furious, would draw his wand and Avada Grindelwald.
However.
Ivan looked at the pink dress, and his eyes lit up.
"You said it." Ivan snatched the dress, even measuring it against himself. "Nice material, made of dragon hide, right? Good bulletproof properties. Deal!"
Grindelwald: ???
All the provocative lines he had prepared were stuck in his throat.
The script is wrong! Shouldn't a normal person rather die than submit?
"You... you're willing to wear it?" Grindelwald looked at him in disbelief.
"Only if you can beat me." Ivan stored the dress in his System Space, revealing a "nuclear-kind" smile. "But for fairness, the stakes need to change."
"Change how?"
"If you lose," Ivan pointed to Grindelwald's dazzling blonde hair, "I'm shaving you into a Mediterranean hairstyle (balding on top) and tattooing a QR code on your forehead. When scanned, it reads 'Slytherin Mascot'."
Grindelwald's smile froze.
He touched his perfect hairline and suddenly felt a chill.
But he had absolute confidence in his Dark Arts mastery.
"Fine! It's a deal!" Grindelwald gritted his teeth. "I'll make you cry and beg me to let you take the dress off!"
Just then, a trembling voice interrupted.
"Um... excuse me... you two students..."
Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge stood by the table, frantically wiping sweat with a handkerchief.
He had come to inspect the Forbidden Forest incident where "Dark Wizards were kicked like sandbags," but upon entering the Great Hall, he heard terrifying conversations about "Deathly Hallows," "Cross-dressing dancing," and "Shaving heads for QR codes."
"Minister Fudge?" Ivan took a bite of his drilled bread. "Want to place a bet too? Grindelwald winning pays 10 to 1, me winning pays 1.1 to 1."
Fudge's legs were shaking.
On one side was the future Dark Lord, on the other was the current Hegemon of Hogwarts.
If these two fought, would Hogwarts even survive?
"N... no..." Fudge squeezed out a smile uglier than crying. "I wanted to say... um... Mr. Grindelwald, your exchange student paperwork... seems to have some issues. And Ivan... Headmaster Dumbledore invites you to his office for... for tea..."
"Tea?" Ivan glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's 8 AM, what tea? Tell the Old Bee I'm discussing a multi-hundred-million Galleon business deal with the future Dark Lord, no time."
Grindelwald also glanced coldly at Fudge. "Scram, fatty. Don't block my discussion of 'Quantum Dominion Theory' with Potter."
Fudge: Life is hard.jpg
Just as Fudge was about to reach for his heart medication, the Great Hall doors were pushed open again.
Hagrid rushed in panting, holding a muddy piece of parchment.
"Ivan! Bad news! That Mechanical Fluffy... after eating the Malfoy vault empty, it went and chewed up the Ministry's archives! Now it's blocking Moaning Myrtle at the girls' bathroom, saying it wants to discuss 'The Humidity of Souls' with her!"
Ivan sighed and put down the drill.
"Looks like the 'Graphics Cards' still didn't fill it up."
Ivan stood up and glanced at Grindelwald.
"Put the bet on the tab. I have to go deal with that big idiot first. You'd better memorize a few more Dark curses while you can, don't cry when you lose."
Grindelwald huffed, spinning his wand in his fingers.
"Don't worry. I'll show you what true 'Reaper's Art' is."
At the door, Ivan stopped suddenly, turned back, and gave a weird smile.
"By the way, Grindelwald. Do you know why your hairline is higher than your peers?"
Grindelwald paused. "Why?"
"Because you think too beautifully (dream too big)."
Ivan waved his hand and left the Great Hall with Hagrid and the bewildered Fudge.
Leaving Grindelwald sitting alone at the table, touching his forehead, falling into deep self-doubt.
In a corner of the Hall.
Hermione Granger was frantically taking notes in her notebook.
"Quantum Magic Theory... Dominion Theory... Micro-Magic Interference... Heavens! This is the future of magic!"
She looked up at Ivan's retreating back, her eyes shining with a fanaticism even greater than when looking at Harry.
"Ivan Potter... if you can publish these theories, I'm willing... I'm willing to be your lab assistant!"
Ron, chewing on a chicken leg next to her, mumbled indistinctly, "I think you should worry about what Ivan looks like in women's clothes first. I bet five Knuts he looks better in a dress than Hermione."
Harry looked at this chaotic mess and covered his face in despair.
"So... Godfather is being a dog, a centaur is learning math, the Dark Lord is setting up a fight, a mechanical dog is hitting on a ghost... Is there any hope for this world?"