Love Letter, Oh Love Letter

Actually, Valentine's Day doesn't have any special meaning for first or second grade wizards.

They were mostly just watching for the spectacle—to see how the upperclassmen would act all coy and blushing on this day.

This year's festivities are especially spectacular.

The little angels who called themselves "Cupid" Accio the castle, their white wings fluttering and scattering starlight.

They will dutifully deliver Valentine's Day cards and love letters to the designated people, and when reading the letters, there will be different musical accompaniment—the gentle sound of the harp, the melodious sound of the trumpet, the lively sound of the drum—as well as the scattering of beautiful petals.

These little Cupid are also exceptionally "sensible".

If the target of the message is in class or unable to come, they will automatically choose to wait based on the time, or find another target first and come back later.

Throughout the morning, not a single Cupid barged into the classroom to interrupt the lesson, nor was a single letter delivered to the wrong person.

The art style was originally very beautiful—using these adorable, angelic little creatures to convey feelings to the person you admire.

However, there are always people who can discover the "ingenious uses" within the normal rules.

For example, a pair of twins.

They tacitly wrote each other an extremely abstract and difficult-to-express "confession," and Cupid to read it aloud in its entirety.

It is said that after hearing this, those present remained silent for a full three seconds before bursting into deafening laughter.

Once this precedent was set, it was as if a new world had been opened for the young wizards.

Why is it that confessing your feelings is the only option?

It can be used to prank your friends! It can be used to publicly humiliate people you don't like!

"Hey, what do you think about me writing myself a letter? Otherwise, it's embarrassing not to have received a single letter."

"Great idea! I'll write myself a letter too, saying I'm a secret admirer!"

In the corridor.

Lucien and Harry Ron were walking and talking.

Several Cupid Accio from the front.

They all thought they would just pass by like before, but the little guys stopped right in front of them.

"Hmm?" Lucien raised an eyebrow.

Cupid, who was in the lead, pulled out a pink envelope and cleared his throat.

The others automatically dispersed and took their positions—one played the harp, one blew a horn, and one scattered flower petals.

Then, Cupid, in a clear, childlike voice, spoke to someone:

Harry Potter:

Harry's smile froze on his face.

Upon hearing his friend's name, Ron, who had witnessed this scene several times that morning, widened his eyes, unsure of what would happen next.

Was it a shy girl's heartfelt confession to her the Chosen One, or a prank orchestrated by his two older brothers?

Cupid continued reading:

Every time I see your emerald green eyes, I feel like they are two bottomless lakes, making me want to jump in and drown.

"Your hair is always a mess, but that's exactly what I love about it—it reminds me of our House-elf just waking up."

"You are so special, so special that there isn't another person like you in all of Hogwarts-- "

Clear children's voices, beautiful music, soft light, and falling petals.

It was a beautiful scene.

However, coupled with this cheesy and sarcastic "confession," the scene became extremely awkward.

Harry was completely dumbfounded.

He didn't know whether he should rush away or laugh and pretend he didn't care about his current predicament.

His face flushed red then turned pale, then red again; his lips moved, but he couldn't utter a single word.

Ron could only silently mourn Harry's "luck" while secretly rejoicing that no one had sent him such a "love letter."

Seeing Harry's embarrassment, Lucien helplessly rubbed his forehead.

These Cupid were Alchemy Puppet he created, and they did indeed possess a certain degree of intelligence—they knew to wait for students to finish class, to avoid obstacles, and to read aloud and play music.

But asking them to understand and distinguish whether a love letter is a sincere confession or a prank is a bit too much for them, or rather, too much for the dolls.

Lucien glanced around and saw that quite a few young wizards had stopped and were craning their necks to look in their direction, their faces full of "this is going to be interesting" expressions. Some were even whispering among themselves, "Who wrote this?" and "That's so mean!"

Well, at least it's quite lively.

And the main event today is tonight; love is like fire, how can it be without dazzling fireworks and vows?

Lucien was about to look away when he caught sight of a familiar figure.

Malfoy.

He stood at the corner of the corridor not far away, arms crossed, looking like he was just passing by watching the show.

But the expression on his face betrayed Malfoy —his lips were forced down, his eyes were bright, and he exuded a tense feeling of "No, I can't laugh yet."

Lucien looked away, and then realized who had sent the "love letter."

Cupid finally finished reading that long "confession".

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and was about to find an excuse to leave quickly when Malfoy couldn't wait to open his mouth, ready to make a sarcastic remark.

Then another Cupid pulled a letter from his bag, flew forward, cleared his throat, and unfolded the letter.

Dear Draco:

Malfoy's mouth was still open, but the words were stuck in his throat.

"Every time I see your platinum blonde hair Winky in the sunlight, I feel it's a gift from Merlin to me."

Your grey eyes are deeper than the finest wine in a cellar, and your cold smile is more precious than any jewel.

"If I could, I would want to become the Slytherin badge on your chest, forever etched in your heart..."

Music, flower petals, children's voices.

Perfect coordination.

The surroundings became completely quiet.

"Puff!"

Ron couldn't help himself and was the first to burst out laughing, which was like lighting a powder keg, and laughter erupted.

Malfoy's expression was priceless—from white to red, from red to blue, finally settling on a complex expression that seemed to ask, "Should I be angry, ashamed, or pretend nothing happened and maintain my elegance?"

He instinctively looked at Harry.

Could it be a prank by Potter?

But Harry could only stifle a smug laugh; he felt no joy at his successful scheme.

Malfoy could still discern the difference in Harry's expression from his face.

no?

Who sent that?!

far away.

In a corner of the corridor, a girl with a face like Lions was hiding behind a pillar, secretly observing Malfoy's reaction.