Standing center-stage under blinding golden lights, Harry hoists a sleek, silver-glinting pair of "glasses" that pulse with tiny magic runes like they're breathing.
"Everybody's dying to know—how the hell did I pull that off?"
His voice booms across the Great Hall, crystal-clear.
"Thanks to Lucien's brain and his latest invention, let me introduce the Virtual Eye."
He thrusts it sky-high so every wide-eyed kid in the room gets a good look.
"You still grinding Defense Against the Dark Arts and hitting a brick wall? Spells coming out like wet farts?"
His tone drips pure hype-man energy.
"We all wish we had a coach in our pocket. With the Virtual Eye, you get a ghost sparring partner 24/7. It tracks every twitch, roasts your janky incantations, and can even recreate legendary duels—yeah, you versus history's biggest badasses across time…"
"Snag one during the promo window and score a free Defense Against the Dark Arts crash-course. First come, first served…"
Off to the side, Lockhart's face is doing the five-flavor sour patch routine.
Something about Harry's infomercial swagger feels way too familiar.
Oh right—last summer's book signing, Harry straight-up jacked the spotlight.
Lockhart's ego is still bruised. Savior-of-the-World status means one casual flex and the press eats out of your hand.
The more he stews over Harry's clout, the tighter he clings to his secret plot with Tom.
Lucien watches Harry crush the pitch and gives a subtle nod. Kid's ad game is leveling up—lines smoother, no more tomato-face. Solid.
Once the final East Wind broom drops, he's hitting the road to refresh the shop shelves anyway.
---
Harry's pitch detonates the Great Hall like a glitter bomb.
Little witches and wizards are practically vibrating—nobody's even tried the Virtual Eye yet, but Harry and Malfoy's duel was the slickest trailer imaginable.
Who wouldn't kill to move like that?
Sure, most of them know the same spells Harry and Malfoy slung—Expelliarmus, basic shields—but pulling them off with that buttery flow, nailing the perfect counter at the perfect second? Nope.
Biggest kicker: if the Defense professor wasn't a walking meme, demand might've stayed lukewarm—toy-level at best. But…
Half the kids sneak a glance at Lockhart. The image of Snape yeeting him with a single Disarming Charm is burned into their retinas.
Our actual DADA prof got bodied by the Potions guy?
Suspicion levels: spicy.
Before tonight they figured Lockhart was just "holding back." Now? Dude's cover's blown wider than a busted piñata.
"Virtual Eye sounds dope—are we pooling cash? Group discount, hello!"
"You buy one, I buy one—we're basically the same person, quit wasting galleons."
"How the hell does Lucien crank out wizard tech like it's nothing? Same classes, same textbooks!"
"Bro's invented, like, twelve game-changers. Think he does custom orders?"
"What, you want a love potion that works on yourself?"
"First dose is for you, pal…"
Harry clocks the chaos and knows Lucien's "hype mission" is mission-accomplished.
Meanwhile, Malfoy slinks offstage still salty. Slytherin underclassmen swarm him anyway—no shade, just props. Mostly first-through-third years who know they couldn't have lasted half as long.
Slytherin's cutthroat but fair: chase glory, worship power, bow to the bigger snake.
Malfoy shoots Harry a death-glare. Win that duel and the spotlight would've been mine, damn it.
---
The Dueling Club legit lit a fire under everybody's ass.
You can't walk two steps without overhearing spell combos or frame-by-frame breakdowns of Harry vs. Malfoy.
Kids keep ambushing Lockhart begging for the next club meet—Christmas break drop feels like a lifetime away.
Good thing the Seventh Workshop is mobbed daily; twins are drowning in pre-orders for the Virtual Eye. Everyone's itching to grind Defense and duel tech.
Harry trudges back from the library looking like he lost a fight with a thesaurus. Because…
"Harry! Thoughts on the win? Who's your biggest spell coach? Favorite hex?"
Colin Creevey—Gryffindor's pint-sized paparazzo and Harry's #1 stan—clutches a notebook and quill, eyes sparkling like Christmas came early.
The rapid-fire Q&A gives Harry a migraine. Colin got petrified a few days ago, woke up same-night thanks to Lucien's industrial-grade Mandrake stash.
Kid remembers jack squat—just snapping castle candids, then bam, rigor mortis.
Faculty hoped the camera caught the attacker; film was fried, camera half-melted, Reparo ain't fixing that overnight.
"Colin, you feeling okay after the whole… stone thing?"
Harry tries derailing the interview.
Colin shakes his head, practically bouncing.
"Fit as a fiddle! Madam Pomfrey kept me bedridden forever—classes shmasses, I missed the duel. Missed you going god-mode. Could've snagged epic shots… oh right, camera's still toast."
"Biggest bummer? No pics of the petrifying creep. Would've mailed 'em to Dad—magic's wild!"
Lucien, lurking in the background, barely swallows the urge to yell filial piety level: expert.
Kid gets basilisk'd and his first thought is souvenir snaps for Pops. Lucky the film exploded—otherwise…
Hold up—could we weaponize recorded basilisk eyes?
Harry finally shakes Colin off and groans.
"Lucien, this year's already a circus. Upperclassmen say Hogwarts was chill before I showed up—like I'm a walking disaster magnet?"
Lucien side-eyes him. Finally clocking it, huh?
"Harry, old Eastern saying: 'Heaven forges great men through hellfire.' Translation—destiny's legends eat suffering for breakfast. You feel me?"
Harry nods, gears turning.
"So… you're saying you gotta grind these trials to become wizard Elon Musk?"
Lucien: "Uh… come again?"
Harry's on a roll.
"Think about it! Last year—Quirrell and Voldemort after the Stone—you smoked 'em. This year—Chamber heir siccing a monster on the school—you mass-produced the cure. Just keep flexing that big brain and OP magic, boom, world peace. Post-grad we—"
Lucien facepalms. Disaster magnet? Oblivious to the end.
He coughs. "What I meant—these Ls keep hunting you. Who's Voldemort's forever nemesis?"
Harry blanks, then points at himself. "Me?"
"Oh—speaking of pissed: last night in the bathroom, Dobby popped in again. Same house-elf I told you guys about. Begs me to bail because 'danger stalks Harry Potter.'
Apparently he jacked the Bludger to cave my skull—spent ten minutes groveling. No wonder I felt that chill…"
Lucien nods. So Dobby still made contact.
"Your move, Harry?"
"No chance I'm running. Hiding's for quitters. I told you—I want the juice to stare Voldemort down and not blink. Aunt Petunia's kitchen ain't teaching that. Hogwarts, the profs, you—that's the sauce."
"Speaking of—didn't you promise to teach us Protego? That's, like, fourth-year stuff, right?"
Harry's steel spine and fire earn a grin from Lucien. Attaboy.
"Protego's parked in upper years because it's brutal and wizard ed philosophy's soft. Real-combat spells? Only future Aurors grind them hard. Everyone else treats wands like selfie sticks."
---
Box World – Alchemy Wing
Lucien's fine-tuning the East Wind broom. Wind-howling, thunder-crackling aura is dialing down—not weaker, just coiled. Like the calm before a cat-5 shitstorm; unleash speed and boom, elemental rage on demand.
Final arc and gust snap into the frame—broom complete.
[Ding!]
[Loan Triggered: Basic Elemental Thunder Rune (Weekly)]
Lucien finishes the debug, then pulls up the deets:
- Loan: Basic Thunder Rune (7-day)
- Perk: Thunder affinity boost, faster lightning spell pickup, +10% zap damage
- Quest: Stop one motherfreakin' storm
Thunder affinity?
Learning speed's whatever—he's already a spell sponge. But flat 10% damage across the board? Chef's kiss.
"System, this buff—works on every lightning spell? Baby Arcane Bolt to cage-match Thunderlock Chains?"
[All thunder magic, no cap.]
Lucien's grin could power Diagon Alley. Universal buffs age like fine wine—10% on a nuke-tier spell is a nuke-tier flex.
And it's just basic.
Mid-tier, High-tier, Master, Grandmaster—each element's got its own tattoo pipeline.
Fire, water, wind… the multiverse is his sandbox.
"System, snag this loan and grease the wheels for more elemental sequels? Good credit gotta count for something."
[Premium borrower detected—future elemental loans prioritized! ( ﾟ∀ﾟ)ﾉ ～♡]
Five-star review incoming if the interface had a button.
Loan accepted—quest's cake. Whip up an amped anti-storm gizmo or sic Aether the thunderbird on some clouds. Bird makes storms; bird can break storms.
"System—gimme that thunder ink."
[Ding – Loan Approved!]
[Pro tip: Collect all elemental runes for a spicy surprise ( ^ ω ^)]
Spicy surprise? Elemental Avatar mode? Immortal lightning bod?
Lucien shakes it off, glances at his right thumb.
A faint silver lightning bolt now brands the pad—micro purple arcs flicker inside, jagged tips fraying like real bolts. Calm surface, barely-contained chaos.