Malfoy is Made Difficult, Let's Create Greater Panic

Slytherin Stand.

Malfoy watched the game intently, especially the broomstick ridden by the Ravenclaw Seeker.

As the match progressed, Malfoy's eyes grew brighter and brighter.

"Faster, more agile steering, oh and those short, sharp climbs... Lucien has really improved the East Wind Broom!"

Just as Malfoy was immersed in his excitement, a strong figure pushed through the crowd, stood beside him, and a rough, loud voice rang out:

"Did you see that, Draco?"

Flint gestured with his chin in the direction the East Wind Broom had just flown, a smug smile spreading across his face.

"That's the real deal. Go find your friend Lucien and get seven more for our team."

Malfoy's pale face flushed instantly, and he growled incredulously:

"I just donated seven brand-new Nimbus 2001 to the team! They're the best brooms on the market right now!"

"It used to be,"

Flint waved him off, his voice low and laced with undisguised threat.

"We put you on the team because the brooms you provide make us faster and allow us to crush Gryffindor and their old-fashioned brooms. But now, ' East Wind ' has arrived!"

He took a step closer, and his tall shadow loomed over Malfoy.

"Listen, kid. As Seeker, I can find students better than you! Don't think the team can't function without you."

That's just being deliberately difficult.

Malfoy knew perfectly well that during Flint's confinement, he had organized several impromptu team training sessions, which probably made the captain, who was used to absolute pronouncements, feel that his authority had been challenged.

This is just an excuse to make a fuss!

Anger and dissatisfaction churned within him, but Malfoy still did not directly refute Flint.

He always felt that he wasn't strong enough to deal with Flint, that foolish but incredibly strong guy.

the next day.

After thinking about it all night, Malfoy finally mustered up the courage to find Lucien and stammered out his explanation of the situation.

Lucien listened quietly, stroking a Thunderbird Feather that flickered with eerie blue arcs of electricity in his hand, and remained silent for a moment.

Common school bullying, especially in Slytherin, only reinforces stereotypes.

Malfoy really loves Quidditch, he just wants to stay with the team...

Or perhaps they don't want to leave this platform where they can compete and chase after Harry?

Lucien suddenly asked a seemingly unrelated question:

What is the most important requirement for selecting Quidditch players?

Malfoy paused for a moment, then instinctively replied:

"Flight skills, physical fitness, reaction time..."

Lucien nodded slightly. He had already confirmed during the flight training that Malfoy had at least a basic understanding of flying and a love for Quidditch. At least in this respect, he was not the kind of spoiled brat who acted on a whim.

Your position is Seeker.

Lucien looked at him calmly.

"So, where do you rank among the current Slytherin players who are qualified and willing to join the team as Seeker?"

Upon hearing this, Malfoy was stunned; he had never actually considered it from this perspective before.

"I..."

He hesitated.

"Actually, very few older students participate in Quidditch anymore. On the one hand, they're busy preparing for the two major exams, OWLs and NEWTs; on the other hand, those who really wanted to participate would have already done so."

"And freshmen aren't even qualified to join the team, no need to consider it. It's unlikely there will be another guy like Potter..."

He followed Lucien's line of thought and continued his analysis:

"So, my real competitors are mainly those students from second to fourth grade..."

Hogwarts doesn't have many students to begin with, Slytherin is even less so.

Malfoy's mind raced as he considered the names of his potential competitors.

He is agile in flight and his physique is well-suited for the Seeker position.

Most importantly, the Malfoy Family's resources allowed him access to more and better training.

Although Slytherin has no shortage of wealthy Pure-blood families, not all Pure-blood love Quidditch as much as he does and personally participate in the game.

Not to mention those who specifically compete for the Seeker position, which demands extremely high individual skill levels.

All things considered, Malfoy's skill as Seeker is actually quite good within Slytherin.

Seeing the light gradually brighten in his eyes, Lucien knew he had figured it out, and then spoke calmly and firmly:

"So instead of constantly trading Galleon for a precarious qualification, why not focus your energy on honing your Quidditch skills?"

"As long as you can become Slytherin's irreplaceable, best Seeker, and as long as your house team still wants to win trophies, then it's not you who needs to beg them, but they who must beg you. It has to be you."

Lucien leaned forward slightly, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his dark green eyes.

"After all, Seeker catches the Golden Snitch in a game, they can directly win 150 points and decide the outcome of the game. I don't need to say more about its importance."

Malfoy stood there, the resentment and panic from Flint's earlier harassment gone, replaced by a new and more solid "ambition" that slowly grew in his heart.

The Box World.

"Roar--"

The massive Norbert lay prone on the ground, letting out a suppressed growl.

Its jet-black scales gleamed with a cold, hard metallic luster. Upon closer inspection, countless fine and dazzling golden patterns were visible on those deep black scales, flickering slightly with Norbert's heavy breathing.

Standing beside it, Lucien appeared tiny in comparison.

His expression was focused, and his wand moved lightly through the air, pointing at specific points on Norbert's back and wings.

With each light tap, a ring of imperceptible magical ripples spread from the tip of the staff, and the golden patterns glowed faintly, as if in response.

"Relax, Norbert, it's just one last step."

He gently soothed the slightly agitated behemoth in a steady voice.

He is using Magic Weaving to reorganize and optimize the Fire Dragon's natural Magic Circuit.

Once completed, Norbert's strength will surpass that of the Norwegian Ridgeback of its kind.

However, this final step was stalled by a crucial material called "the Heart of Divination Poison".

When Lucien first saw the name in the information about Magic Weaving, he was also completely baffled. The materials in the Wizarding World are vast and numerous, and many ancient terms have long been lost or have changed their meanings.

Later, after asking his teacher Nicolas, he learned that the so-called "Heart of Divination Poison" actually referred to the heart of the Basilisk.

That heart, imbued with the Basilisk's deadly venom and its unique powers of immediate death and petrification, served as an irreplaceable catalyst in certain forbidden Alchemy involving the alteration of life's essence and the transfer of magical power.

The Basilisk's heart...

Lucien's gaze returned to Norbert, looking at the slightly hesitant golden lines at their ends.

Perfect timing, I can "borrow" the Basilisk's heart.

Inside the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.

Lockhart felt a throbbing in his temples. He put down the ornate Peacock Quill, pinched his brow hard, and his gaze lingered on the open, old diary:

"Petrified... Pure-blood?"

Lockhart muttered to himself, his voice filled with confusion and unease.

This actually deviates from the original plan.

According to Tom's initial plan, the target should be those Muggle-born young wizards, which is both in line with the "tradition" of the Heir of Slytherin and safe enough.

But now, Tom has made such a bold and dangerous request...

Lockhart took a deep breath, picked up his pen again, and carefully wrote down his confusion:

"Tom, I don't understand. Didn't the writing you had me leave on the wall in the beginning clearly state that it was to 'eliminate those unworthy of learning magic' and to expel Muggle-born wizard? Why is the target now... Pure-blood?"

Inside the diary.

Nourished by precious life-giving items such as dragon's blood, continuously provided by Lockhart, the image of young Tom has become clearer.

His features were clear and handsome, with black hair and black eyes, and a calmness and sharpness beyond his years.

He could sense that reshaping his physical body and breaking free from the constraints of this diary was just around the corner.

Looking at the question Lockhart wrote, Tom's lips curled into a barely perceptible, cold smile.

Foolish and vain fellow.

On the new page of his diary, Tom wrote his reply in clear and elegant handwriting, his words filled with seductive allure:

"Gilderoy, my friend, you need to think long-term. Attacking Muggle-born may create panic, but Pure-blood families will only ignore it or even approve of it."

"But what if a Pure-blood young wizard were attacked... just imagine the uproar that would cause?"

"All students and parents, regardless of their background, will be gripped by genuine panic. Fear will spread like wildfire throughout Hogwarts, and may even reach the Board of Governors and the Ministry of Magic."

He paused, then continued gliding the pen, casting out a bait Lockhart couldn't refuse:

"The more chaotic the situation, the deeper the fear. When you step in as a hero at a time when everyone is in despair, defeat the monster in the Chamber of Secrets, defeat the Basilisk..."

"Then the praise and glory you receive will reach their peak, won't it?"

Of course, Tom had other motives.

Those Pure-blood parents might normally be happy to see the elimination of Muggle-born wizard, but their attitude changes drastically when their own precious children are in danger.

They will inevitably unite to put pressure on Dumbledore, and may even take the matter to the Ministry of Magic.

Tom knew that Dumbledore was a boring person who, despite possessing great power, willingly confined himself to the "rules".

That old guy's energy will be greatly diverted...

If he's lucky, Dumbledore might even be temporarily transferred away from the school.

Tom's only fear was Dumbledore. While the other professors at the school were certainly capable, how many people could they save in the face of the Basilisk, especially under a sudden and unexpected attack?

Leaning gently against the wide back of the principal's chair, Tom whispered:

"First, eliminate Harry Potter, this stumbling block, then unleash a massacre worthy of being recorded in history..."

"At that time, Dumbledore, as the headmaster, will likely be unable to protect the school, resulting in the deaths of many young wizards... He might not even be able to keep his position as headmaster and could be directly tried and sent to Azkaban..."

Thinking of this, Tom suppressed the burning desire in his heart and continued writing in his diary, his tone becoming persuasive:

"As for you, Gilderoy, there's absolutely no need to worry. At the appropriate time, you can even step forward to 'help' analyze the suspicious points and subtly steer the truth towards the legend of the Chamber of Secrets monster. This will not only temporarily clear your name but also highlight your wisdom and insight..."

Outside of the diary.

Lockhart frowned as he watched the persuasive words gradually emerge on the parchment.

Tom's explanation sounded reasonable; taking some risks for fame and honor seemed worthwhile.

The scene of the "hero's entrance" he described made Lockhart's heart race.

"Petrified Pure-blood..."

The snow fell heavily around Hagrid's Hut, covering it with a thick white blanket.

Hagrid's Balaclava Woolen Hat was also covered in snowflakes, and the buzzing sound made the snowflakes on his beard fall in a flurry.

"Thank you for casting the spell for me, Lucien, otherwise even more roosters would have died."

Hagrid's enormous figure looked worried beside the chicken coop.

Lucien waved his wand, and the last, thin thread of magic disappeared into the air around the chicken coop.

A series of ingenious traps have been laid, enough to deal with the "foxes" or "vampires" Hagrid mentioned.

Hagrid believed they were responsible for killing several of his roosters.

But Lucien knew in his heart that the real culprit was sitting in the Defense Against the Dark Arts office.

The Basilisk, the monster born from the male egg hatched by a toad.

But it is also naturally restrained by the rooster's crowing, which is fatal to it.

Lockhart is clearing obstacles for the monster, and Hagrid's roosters are naturally the primary targets.

"You're welcome, it was nothing."

Lucien put away his wand, his tone calm.

"By the way, Hagrid, could I borrow a rooster?"

Without a second thought, Hagrid's bearded face immediately broke into a warm smile:

"Great! Lucien, are you planning to make that delicious chicken stew with mushrooms with the rooster? Speaking of which, I picked some mushrooms in the Forbidden Forest this summer and dried them. Do you want to use them...?"

"No, it's not for cooking."

Lucien interrupted him softly, and seeing Hagrid eagerly turning to get the dried mushrooms, he gave a brief explanation.

Hagrid then readily took a spirited, brightly feathered red-crested rooster from the henhouse, put it in a sturdy cage, and handed it to Lucien.

Taking the cage, Lucien prepared to return to the castle.

Just then, Hagrid suddenly called out to him, his voice much lower:

"Lucien, the school isn't safe lately. That Chamber of Secrets Chamber of Secrets... it was opened fifty years ago."

He rubbed his large hands together, looking very uneasy, as if hesitating whether he should say what he was about to say.

"That really... really could kill people. But the current petrification... makes me unsure if it's related to what happened back then."

Lucien noticed the fear and confusion in Hagrid's eyes, because Hagrid had been wrongly accused and knew the horrors of the Chamber of Secrets.

Lifting the cage containing the rooster, Lucien offered a consolation:

"It's alright, Hagrid, the truth will come out."

Lucien turned and stepped into the snowstorm, and the rooster in the cage crowed a clear, crisp crow.