You Were Asked to Learn Magic, and You're Treating Wandless Spellcasting Like a Machine Gun
Chapter 96: New Hunting Ground and Thousand-Year Serpent Blood
The scene cuts back to the Hospital Wing.
The pungent scent of Essence of Dittany drifted throughout the room.
Madam Pomfrey clutched the parchment medical records, staring at Draco's recovery progress—which could only be described as a medical miracle—and for the third day in a row, she marveled at its sheer expertise.
Normally, with every rib broken and severe internal organ damage, one wouldn't even be able to get out of bed for three months.
But after being backed by that savage and fiercely protective magic, the boy's HP bar recovered as if he were using cheat codes.
On a single-seater sofa in the deepest part of the ward.
Cassius sat with his legs crossed, a brick-thick copy of 'Anatomy of Extraordinary Creatures' spread across his knees.
But he didn't spare even a glance for the pages; he was currently closing his eyes to perform an internal inspection.
An eleven-year-old body was still too fragile.
To forcibly keep his foolish brother alive, that zero-frame startup of overclocked output had ultimately left behind hidden dangers, leaving fine cracks within his meridian network.
While Auror-level combat power allowed him to walk sideways through the Hogwarts'starter village,' crushing any opposition...
...what if he wanted to face a full-level Lord Voldemort or Dumbledore head-on in the future?
This amount of mana and physical resistance wouldn't even be enough to fill the gaps between their teeth.
The physical limits of his mortal body had to be forcibly raised.
The book's pages were filled with illustrated blood samples of various magical creatures.
Cassius knew clearly in his heart that dragon blood was as coarse as high explosives, and Unicorn blood carried an unfortunate curse debuff.
He needed the essence blood of an extraordinary creature that was extremely durable and possessed a vast foundation of ancient magic to directly tear down and reshape his physical fibers.
Just then, a rustling sound came from the hospital bed.
Draco was awake. The pain of bone reconstruction was no joke; his already pale face contorted with agony, and cold sweat instantly drenched the stray hairs on his forehead.
But this time, the pampered young master gritted his teeth and didn't make a single sound.
He struggled to move his eyes, and when his gaze swept to his younger brother sitting imperiously in the corner, even his breathing hitched.
"Brother..." Draco's throat was parched, his voice sounding like sandpaper rubbing against the ground. He stared intently at Cassius, his tone carrying a slight, uncontrollable tremor. "This time... did I bring shame to the Malfoy name?"
Cassius casually closed the thick book and stood up with a 'thud.'
He walked to the bedside, looking down at his brother who was wrapped up like a mummy. The image of the boy pushing Ron aside and using his small body to face the stone statue's greatsword flashed through his mind.
Cassius raised his hand, and though the movement carried a bit of stiff masculinity, he still gave Draco's sweat-soaked blonde hair a firm rub.
"Yeah. Very cool."
Those few simple words, falling into the ward at this moment, were more effective than an Order of Merlin, First Class.
Draco's eyes instantly turned red. He suddenly turned his head away, burying it deep in the pillow and biting the corner of the quilt, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
From two beds away, Harry and Ron were hit by this wave of emotion and fell silent.
Ron looked at his hand, wrapped up like a pig's trotter, and his own eyes began to sting.
Having walked through the gates of death together, they had witnessed Draco's hesitation-free team-fight initiation on low health, and then faced Cassius's god-like dimensional strike.
The prejudices the two Gryffindors held against the Slytherin brothers shattered into dust on the spot. All that remained was pure, unadulterated respect.
...
That evening, the Hogwarts End-of-Year Feast took place.
The Great Hall was so noisy it could have lifted the roof off. The onlookers from the four houses were frantically spreading all sorts of ridiculous gossip.
The rumors had evolved from "Cassius dueling You-Know-Who" to "Cassius tearing You-Know-Who apart with his bare hands to make a stir-fry."
"Creak—" The heavy oak double doors were pushed open.
Cassius, wearing his crisp, neatly pressed Slytherin black robes, stepped through the entrance with one hand in his pocket.
The Great Hall, which a second ago had been as loud as a wet market, was instantly muted, falling into absolute silence.
At the Gryffindor table, the roast chicken leg in Seamus's hand dropped into his plate with a 'clatter'; the high-achieving seniors at Ravenclaw were so startled their backs snapped straight.
At the neighboring table, Harry and Ron instinctively puffed out their chests. Their eyes no longer held the previous wariness and prejudice, but instead showed a post-survival awkwardness and deep awe.
The way the entire school looked at this blonde boy had completely changed. This wasn't like looking at a classmate; it was like looking at a walking tactical nuke!
Cassius didn't even bother to look at these background characters.
He walked straight to the head of the Slytherin table and sat down as steady as a mountain on the silver serpent chair that symbolized absolute power.
In the center of the staff table, Dumbledore stood up and tapped his goblet with a smile.
The process of tallying the scores went very smoothly.
The old fox awarded a massive amount of points to Harryand Ron in one go. Seeing Gryffindor's total score skyrocket, they actually tied with the first-place Slytherin!
The air in the entire hall froze. Snape sat at a corner of the staff table, his empty black eyes quickly sweeping over Cassius's back, his fingers at his side curling slightly—he knew better than anyone in the hall that the person sitting in that chair wasn't an eleven-year-old student, but a peerless monster who could rub the Grim Reaper's face in the dirt.
The old Principal's bright blue eyes swept over Harry and finally pinpointed Draco, who had just been discharged and was sitting at the long table.
"Lastly, given that Mr. Draco Malfoy showed textbook courage and the chivalrous spirit of self-sacrifice when facing a desperate situation—ten points to Slytherin!"
The entire student body and staff gasped simultaneously.
The next second, a roar that could have brought down the ceiling erupted from the Slytherin table.
All the little snakes were frantically pounding the tables and cheering; they had completely won this round!
But those who knew the score saw through it.
These ten points weren't just for Draco's prestige; they were a political olive branch of the highest level, silently extended by the greatest white Wizard of the century in the face of Cassius's unreasonable martial power and bottom line.
The old Principal's subtext was clear: as long as you, Cassius, don't flip the table at Hogwarts, the school's rules can be broken for you.
Green and silver confetti, symbolizing Slytherin, fluttered through the air.
Cassius didn't even lift his eyelids as he picked up the goblet filled with pumpkin juice in front of him.
He ignored the boiling revelry of the young masters and ladies around him, and paid no attention to the old fox on the staff table who was signaling goodwill.
His gaze penetrated the hard, thick stone floor tiles, plunging straight into the coldest and deepest depths beneath Hogwarts Castle.
An Auror-level mana pool was still too weak, and the limitation on the damage his meridians could sustain annoyed him immensely.
In that Chamber of Secrets passed down for a thousand years by Slytherin, there was still an old Basilisk that had been slumbering for a millennium.
The essence blood of that thing could not only seal his damaged meridians perfectly but was also the best material to push his entire physical body to its maximum level.
The whole school was scared to death of it, but in Cassius's eyes, it was nothing more than an oversized buffet sashimi with extremely high nutritional value, sealed underground!
The outdated customs and habits of the wizarding world could not bind him.
All laws are observed by the masses, but he, Cassius, was born to crush them all!
"Gulp." Cassius tilted his head back and drained the pumpkin juice in his cup.
Deep within his pure blue pupils, a naked desire for the hunt was churning wildly.
The cold, hard lines of his mouth pulled into a sharp and terrifying curve.
The second school year, a new blood pack. He had reserved it.
Chapter 97: The Daily Prophet's Front Page and the Ministry of Magic's Panic
The morning sunlight pierced through the massive floor-to-ceiling window of the master bedroom on the second floor of Malfoy Manor, casting a long pillar of light across the hand-woven Persian rug in the hallway.
Lucius, dressed in a well-tailored dark green dressing gown, walked down the spiral staircase, holding a cup of steaming Earl Grey tea in his left hand and The Daily Prophet, just delivered by a House-elf, in his right.
He stopped at the entrance to the dining room and glanced down at the striking headline on the front page.
The corners of his mouth slowly curled upward into a smile.
"Narcissa, you must see today's paper."
He pushed open the door, entered the dining room, and flattened the newspaper on the center of the round oak table.
Narcissa sat upright in a high-backed velvet chair, a delicate silver breakfast tray before her, holding a teacup with her long, pale fingers and taking a shallow sip.
"Amused by a newspaper so early in the morning? I thought you were only this happy when looking at a Gringotts statement."
Lucius pushed the newspaper in front of his wife, tapping his finger on the large headline that occupied the entire front page.
"A Night of Terror at Hogwarts, Freshman Bravely Thwarts Dark Wizard."
Narcissa picked up the paper and read it carefully, her eyes scanning quickly through the lines.
"The entire article sensationalizes Harry Potter's heroic deeds, but every transition in the key paragraphs hints that the unnamed Mr. Malfoy beside Potter was the one who truly turned the tide of the battle."
She set the paper down and blew gently on her teacup.
"The reporter who wrote this is very clever; he didn't dare put Cassius's name in the headline, only using three anonymous detailed descriptions in the body of the text."
Lucius gave two smug chuckles and sat down across from his wife.
"Of course they didn't dare write it directly; the entire Ministry of Magic, from top to bottom, has been scared out of its wits by that unconventional destructive power."
He leaned back in his chair, swirling the teacup in his hand.
"But the more they try to hide it, the more those in the know will seek the truth. Cassius's name will spread through the wizarding world faster than if it were printed on the front page."
Narcissa folded the newspaper neatly and placed it at the edge of the table.
"How do you plan to utilize this wave of public opinion?"
Lucius stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the large, neatly manicured lawn of the manor.
"There's no need to do anything; just let it ferment on its own. The status of Malfoy Family has already been raised to the very top of the wizarding world's pyramid by the power Cassius displayed. I only need to sit here and drink tea."
Narcissa watched her husband's smug back, a faint trace of worry flashing through her eyes.
"Lucius, have you ever considered the weight behind the words 'it is cold at the heights'?"
Lucius turned around.
"With Cassius here, who would dare let us feel the cold?"
Meanwhile, in the Ministry of Magic's communication corridors deep beneath London, one Flying Memo after another flapped its paper wings, emerging from the entrances of various departments.
Cornelius Fudge's office door was tightly shut, the heavy oak door panels muffling the noisy flapping of paper wings in the corridor.
No lights were on in the office; only the faint embers in the fireplace illuminated Fudge's anxious, pudgy face.
Holding this morning's Daily Prophet in one hand and leaning on the edge of the desk with the other, he paced back and forth behind the wide desk.
"Look at this report: 'A Night of Terror at Hogwarts, Freshman Bravely Thwarts Dark Wizard, You-Know-WhoSuspected to Have Reappeared'."
Fudge slammed the paper onto the desk, his voice carrying an unmistakable panic.
"Words like 'You-Know-Who reappears' have been published, yet the report Dumbledore submitted was vague. At such a critical moment, he's actually playing tai chi with me. How am I supposed to explain this to the public?"
Fudge raised his hand to wipe the cold sweat constantly breaking out on his forehead.
Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office, who had been standing silently by the window, turned around.
His mane-like, grizzled hair looked even more imposing in the dim light of the fireplace.
"Minister, The Daily Prophet's wording is vague, but the internal memo Dumbledore submitted privately is much more direct."
Scrimgeour pulled a roll of parchment sealed with the Hogwarts crest from an inner pocket of his robes and spread it out on the desk.
"The report describes the scene of a large-scale, high-level magic circle physically shattered within the third-floor restricted area, along with evidence of an adult Cerberusbeing instantaneously crushed into the ground by an unknown force."
He looked up and stared directly at Fudge.
"This kind of physical, beyond-standard magical destruction is simply not something an eleven-year-old student could achieve, yet Dumbledore's report pointedly fails to mention any record of a Professor taking action."
Fudge plopped back into his leather swivel chair, which let out a sharp creak under his weight.
"What exactly are you trying to say?"
Scrimgeour leaned in, his hands gripping the edge of the desk, his yellow eyes glinting dangerously in the shadows.
"What I'm saying is that if this report is true, then there exists an individual within our jurisdiction whose threat level even the Auror Office cannot assess."
He rapped his knuckles on the desk.
"Minister, we must immediately organize personnel to conduct a comprehensive investigation into Cassius Malfoyjust in case. At the very least, we need to find out where the upper limit of this power lies."
Fudge waved his hands repeatedly, the motion so large he nearly swept the ink bottle off the desk.
"I think you've gone mad. Lucius Malfoy is currently the Ministry's largest donor. The new wing of St. Mungos and the renovation budget for the Ministry Atrium were all paid for by him."
"Investigating his son would be equivalent to cutting off our source of funding and publicly offending the entire pure-blood upper class."
Fudge lowered his voice by half a notch.
"Do you know how many seats in the Wizengamot belong to Lucius's people? I'm not about to lose my position over a child who's still in school."
Scrimgeour stood up straight, the expression on his face turning cold to the extreme.
"Then you had better pray that this power we completely fail to understand is never aimed at the doors of the Ministry of Magic."
He turned and walked toward the office exit.
"Because when that day comes, all that donation money in your hands won't save you for a single Knut."
The door slammed shut behind him.
Fudge sat in the empty office for a long time.
The last piece of coal in the fireplace gave a slight crackle in the ashes and then went completely dark.
Far away in the Hogwarts Headmaster's office in the Scottish Highlands, Dumbledore sat in his high-backed chair, using a small silver knife to cut himself a piece of lemon cake.
Fawkes the Phoenix perched quietly on his shoulder, tilting its head as it watched the old Headmaster carefully tie a wax-sealed letter to its leg.
"Old friend, please deliver this letter to the Ministry of Magic. Tell our dear Minister that everything is under control, and he should eat well and sleep well so he doesn't lose any more hair."
Dumbledore smiled slightly at the Phoenix, but his gaze drifted through the window to the distant horizon of rolling mountains.
"As for whether everything is truly under control..."
He picked up the freshman register on the desk, flipped to the Malfoy page, and let his finger rest on Cassius's name for a long time.
"Even I wouldn't dare guarantee that."
In the deepest basement of Malfoy Manor, the ancient stone walls were covered in dense defensive arrays.
Cassius sat cross-legged in the very center of the array, the Dual-Soul Furnace within him maintaining a low-frequency standby state.
A very thin blue light traveled slowly along his Meridians; every time it passed a tiny crack left over from the battle in the restricted area, it would pause for a brief moment.
With his eyes closed, he precisely measured the depth and extent of each injury in his mind.
The physical limit of his mortal body had severely restricted the full-power output of his magic.
If an eleven-year-old body was a handgun, what he needed now was to replace the barrel and rifling to a level that could withstand sniper rifle ammunition.
The thick, brick-like book, Anatomy of Extraordinary Creatures, lay open on the desk, turned to the chapter on the analysis of ancient snake blood components.
Cassius opened his eyes, his pure blue pupils reflecting the faint light of the array.
The Basilisk that had slept for a thousand years in the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts was the perfect blood pack he had designated.
Its Essence Blood could not only repair his damaged Meridians but was also the excellent material needed to push his entire physical body to the maximum level.
An official owl flapped its wings through the manor's outer defensive wards and dropped a letter sealed with the Minister for Magic's seal onto the windowsill of the second-floor study.
Dobby picked up the letter on tiptoe and carried it carefully to the basement door.
"Master, a letter from the Ministry of Magic."
Cassius did not open his eyes.
"Put it on the table."
Chapter 98: Refusing Guests and the First Appearance of the Diary
Sunlight flooded the floor of the manor's luxurious drawing room, illuminating the priceless antique vases until they shone like mirrors.
Lucius walked down the stairs holding a letter stamped with the Minister's seal, his steps considerably lighter than usual.
He walked over to Cassius, who was flipping through a monograph on Advanced Transfiguration Theory by the window sofa, and handed over the envelope.
"This is a personal letter from Cornelius Fudge; that fat man finally can't sit still anymore."
There was a clear sense of excitement in Lucius's tone.
"He is requesting to pay a visit tomorrow morning to offer his regards to the genius youth who has made a significant contribution to Hogwarts."
He paused, the corners of his mouth curling upward.
"He used three whole paragraphs in the letter to praise your courage and talent, and even mentioned that the Ministry of Magic is considering awarding you a Special Contribution Medal."
Cassius turned a page of his book without even looking up.
"Too noisy."
Lucius paused for a moment.
"You mean Fudge's wording is too exaggerated?"
"I mean the sound of you reading the letter is too noisy."
Cassius moved his finger from the page and finally glanced at his father, who was sitting opposite him with an expectant face.
"Tell him that the children of Malfoy Family do not need consolation, and the manor does not welcome boring visitors."
Lucius blinked.
"You are sure you want to refuse a personal visit from the Minister for Magic?"
Cassius lowered his head again to continue reading.
"Allowing a man who cannot even control his own subordinates to come to my home for tea would not be a waste of his time, but of mine."
Having received clear instructions, Lucius felt his confidence surge instead.
He walked with an elegant stride to the long desk in the study, sat down, and unscrewed a bottle of high-grade magical ink specially purchased from Paris.
The quill scratched across the parchment, every word written with the utmost arrogance.
Using the excuse that Cassius needed quiet recuperation during the holidays, he shut the door on the highest executive official of the wizarding world in fewer than a hundred words.
The end of the letter did not even include any polite pleasantries.
Lucius blew the parchment dry, checked it against the light, and satisfied, called an owl to send the reply away.
Narcissa walked out of the side hall carrying a tray of exquisite refreshments and glanced at her husband's smug expression.
"What did you just write that made you so proud of yourself?"
Lucius stood up with a smile and took the refreshment tray from his wife.
"I have just refused the Minister for Magic's request for a visit in our son's name."
Narcissa sighed softly.
"Lucius, it is easy to offend Fudge, but Scrimgeour from the Auror Office behind him is no pushover."
"With Cassius here, everyone is a pushover."
Lucius carried his teacup toward the window, his entire being radiating an aura of insufferable pride.
The Minister for Magic's office remained dim and oppressive.
Fudge held the reply with trembling fingers, standing behind his desk for a long time.
He read the letter over and over three times, the color of his face changing from flushed red to iron blue and then to pale white.
"What audacity! Lucius actually dares to use such a flimsy excuse to openly flout the entire Ministry of Magic."
He crumpled the parchment into a ball and threw it into the wastepaper basket in the corner, his entire body shaking with rage.
"Does he think he's still dealing with those old scholars at Hogwarts? I am the Minister for Magic of Great Britain!"
Fudge paced the room twice and then suddenly pressed the emergency communication bell on his desk.
"Immediately send orders to the Intelligence Department."
He shouted into the bronze speaking tube.
"Starting today, monitor all movements at Malfoy Manortwenty-four hours a day. All personnel entering or leaving must be registered, and report to me personally once a week."
There was two seconds of silence from the other end of the tube.
"Minister, monitoring a pure-blood noble family requires an authorization warrant from the Wizengamot."
"I will handle the warrant; you just execute the order!"
Fudge shut off the speaking tube and flopped back into his chair, staring blankly at the crooked flying memos on the ceiling.
In the basement of Malfoy Manor, the flames of magical torches cast flickering shadows on the stone walls.
Cassius closed his book and stood up, stretching his arms to the sides.
He walked up to Lucius, who had been waiting on the steps outside the door.
"Father, I need some things."
Lucius immediately set down his teacup and stood straight.
"Tell me."
"I need some items containing ancient magic for research—the older the better, preferably related to the era of the Four Founders of Hogwarts."
He looked at Lucius as he made this request, his tone flat but undeniable.
Lucius pondered for a moment.
"What do you want such things for? Most of the antiques in the family vault only have collection value."
"I need them to verify a theoretical framework regarding the essence of magic; you don't need to know the details."
Lucius did not ask further.
He gestured for Cassius to follow him, and the two walked through the crisscrossing corridors of the manor's basement to a heavy iron door.
The iron door was covered with more than seven layers of Dark Arts seals. Lucius pulled out the tip of his snake-headed cane, aimed it at the keyhole, and injected a segment of extremely complex unlocking magic.
The iron door emitted a series of dull mechanical grinding sounds as it slowly opened.
Inside was a modest secret vault, its four walls embedded with permanent moisture-proof and anti-corrosion charms.
Shelves displayed various Dark Arts artifacts and ancient objects emitting a faint, dim glow.
Lucius walked to the innermost shelf, reached down, and took out a heavy metal box.
The patterns on the surface of the box were extremely ancient, so old that even Lucius himself could not say for sure where it had come from.
"I obtained this many years ago from an old acquaintance. He only said one thing at the time: 'The secrets of Slytherinare hidden within.'"
Lucius opened the box and placed it on a stone pedestal to show his younger son.
An ordinary-looking black diary lay quietly on the velvet cushion.
The brownish-brown leather cover was already old, with some wear at the corners, looking like a cheap item forgotten in a second-hand bookstore.
But the moment Cassius's gaze touched the diary, the rotation speed of the Dual-Soul Furnace inside him suddenly increased by half a notch.
He reached out and picked up the diary.
The instant his fingertips touched the cover, an extremely faint but intensely distorted soul aura penetrated the leather fibers and traveled up.
It had the same underlying magical signature, yet it had been torn and distorted into a completely different frequency by some extremely cruel means.
This was no ordinary Dark Arts residue.
This was a Horcrux.
Tom Marvolo Riddle's Horcrux.
Cassius flipped through the diary with an impassive face, the blank pages rustling between his fingers.
"I will keep this for research for now."
Lucius nodded.
"As you wish; it was just gathering dust in the vault anyway."
Cassius walked out of the secret vault with the diary tucked under his arm.
He returned to his room and placed the diary in the center of the stone table, his pure blue pupils gleaming with a cold light in the dimness.
The appearance of this Horcrux suddenly made his previously vague hunting plan clear.
Lord Voldemort had torn his soul into fragments and hidden them in different containers; as long as even one Horcrux remained intact, the remnant soul would never truly perish.
He now held a key in his hand.
At that moment, a grey owl with ruffled feathers crashed into the window glass outside the manor with a dull thud.
Dobby hopped over to open the window and took the package tied to the owl's leg.
Inside was a copy of The Quibbler smelling of strange ink and a handwritten interview invitation written in carrot juice.
Chapter 99: A Bizarre Invitation from The Quibbler
The luxuriously decorated dining room was filled with expensive silver cutlery, and the portraits of the patriarchs of the House of Malfoy hanging on the walls were squinting their eyes and dozing off out of boredom.
Lucius used the tip of his wand to disdainfully lift that copy of The Quibbler, his face looking as sour as if he had just swallowed a lemon whole.
"Narcissa, look at this rubbish! The front-page headline is actually discussing whether 'Wrackspurts' will affect the Ministry of Magic's personnel appointments!"
He flipped a page with a "snap," his expression becoming even more distorted.
"The second page, an editorial titled 'The Hidden Connection Between Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and Pure-blood Politics'! The accompanying picture is a slug crawling on Fudge's bald head! What on earth is this!"
Narcissa took the newspaper from her husband's hand and glanced at it, a hint of a smile involuntarily tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"My dear, although it is absurd, the picture does indeed capture the essence of Minister Fudge's expression."
Lucius was in no mood to appreciate his wife's dry humor; he tossed the newspaper aside like trash and picked up the invitation. The stationery was cut from old newspapers, the edges were frayed, and the handwriting was crooked, but the attitude was overly enthusiastic.
"Signed... Xenophilius Lovegood, self-proclaimed Editor-in-Chief and sole reporter of The Quibbler, inviting Cassiusfor an exclusive interview regarding the Hogwartsincident."
Lucius finished reading and slapped the invitation onto the table with a "thwack."
"Absurd!" His volume rose an octave. "Every single one of the Lovegoods is out of their mind! Our House of Malfoymust never have anything to do with such outcasts among pure-bloods!"
He raised his snake-headed cane, sparks flying from the tip, intending to burn the letter to ashes.
"The Daily Prophet is putting us on a pedestal right now; paying attention to a madman at this time is purely lowering our status and losing face!"
Cassius happened to be walking down from the stairs.
He was wearing the dark dressing gown Narcissa had newly made for him, and he was still fiddling with that black diary he had brought out from the secret vault.
He reached out and, unerringly, pulled that scrap of paper out from between his father's wand and the invitation. The sparks extinguished with a "hiss" just an inch before his fingertips.
"I'll go see them."
Lucius's hand, holding the wand, froze in mid-air.
"...What did you say?"
"I said, I'll go see Lovegood."
Cassius spread the invitation out on the dining table, his gaze sweeping over the crooked handwriting.
In his mind, an image of a blonde girl flashed—wearing a pair of radish earrings, staring at everything in the world calmly with a pair of silver-grey eyes so clear they seemed distorted.
Luna Lovegood.
In the original story, she was the only mad person who could maintain absolute clarity amidst the chaos.
"I don't understand, why would you waste your time on a recognized madman?" Lucius sat down across the table, the fire in his voice not yet extinguished.
"The Daily Prophet's side, I've already made arrangements; the next three issues will be entirely positive reports about us! As long as we cooperate, the reputation of Malfoy Family will steadily rise to another level!"
He tapped the floor irritably with his cane.
"The Lovegood family's reputation in the wizarding world is worse than that of Mudbloods! Getting involved with them will only lower our standards!"
Cassius placed the diary on the table and looked up at his father.
"The Daily Prophet?" He gave a light chuckle. "That's fodder fed to sheep."
His tone was flat, yet it carried an indifference that looked down upon all living things.
"People who read it can only see what others want them to see. Although this newspaper is eccentric, at least it has a sentence or two that makes you question life."
"That's much more interesting than a whole page of 'correct' nonsense."
Lucius opened his mouth, finding that he couldn't come up with a single word to retort.
Cassius had already stood up from his chair and folded the invitation, putting it into his inner pocket with a forceful movement that left no room for negotiation.
"Besides, I'm a bit interested in the Lovegood daughter."
Narcissa put down her teacup and looked over curiously: "You know her?"
"I don't." Cassius walked towards the door. "But in her bloodline, perhaps some ancient talents that mainstream families have long since lost are preserved. I want to confirm it for myself."
He stopped at the hallway as if suddenly remembering something, and turned his head back:
"Father, if you're really that bored, why don't you go check the No. 2 and No. 7 defense nodes in the basement. When I was tuning the magic last time, I seem to have accidentally burned them out."
With one sentence, he successfully diverted Lucius's attention completely. Lucius's face changed; he no longer cared about any newspaper and hurried towards the basement.
Narcissa held her teacup, watching her younger son's disappearing back, the corner of her brow arching into a beautiful curve as she whispered to herself, "This child, what scheme is he up to again?"
That afternoon, Cassius sat in his study and personally wrote a reply.
His handwriting was cold and neat, and his choice of words was extremely concise; the entire letter was only three lines long.
First line: Interview agreed.
Second line: Time and place, 10:00 AM the day after tomorrow, Malfoy Manor drawing room.
Third line: Bring your daughter.
He sealed the letter and gave it to Dobby.
"Send it out first thing tomorrow morning with the fastest owl."
"Yes, yes! Master!" Dobby took the letter tremblingly and ran off.
Cassius turned and went back to his basement.
The black diary was once again placed in the center of the stone table.
The Dual-Soul Furnace slowly activated within his body, emitting a low rumble like muffled thunder. Wisps of pure blue light traveled along the patterns of his skin, like living blue vines.
He closed his eyes and probed a thread of magic, thinner than a strand of hair, into it.
That familiar soul aura, of the same origin yet violently torn apart, coiled up coldly once again, bringing with it a rotting stench and a scream that went deep into the bone.
Sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle had sealed a part of himself within this diary.
Cassius did not go deep, only lingering on the Horcrux's outer shell, sensing its structure and magic seals.
He had no intention of activating it, let alone any interest in chatting with the remnant soul inside.
The time was not yet right.
He had to first figure out how many pieces that slippery bastard Voldemort had cut his soul into, and in which godforsaken places he had hidden them.
The morning after the reply was sent.
The magical wards surrounding Malfoy Manor suddenly erupted into a shriek like a stuck pig! The alarm echoed through the skies!
Dobby was so startled he rolled right out of the kitchen, still clutching a half-peeled potato.
A strange middle-aged man wearing lemon-yellow robes and a blonde little girl appeared just like that, strolling boldly onto the lawn at the main gate of the manor.
A full two hours earlier than the appointed time.
Chapter 100: The Abrupt Visit of the Lovegoods
Dobby poked half his head out from behind a pillar in the porch, his pair of large bat-like ears twitching frantically.
"Enemy intrusion, enemy intrusion, Dobby must protect the young masters."
He snatched up a silver candlestick nearby, holding it over his head in a fighting stance, his small body shaking like a sieve.
Xenophilius Lovegood completely ignored the defensive arrays flickering with dangerous red light.
The lemon-yellow robes he wore were washed to a faded pale, a triangular badge made of bent copper wire was pinned to his chest, and on his feet were slippers—one blue and one green.
"Look, Luna, there are at least three burrows of Gulping Plimpies in the lawns of Malfoy Manor; they must be stealing and eating the rose roots."
He squatted by the lawn, poking at a perfectly normal anthill with his finger while pointing things out to his daughter.
"Observe the angle at which they dig their tunnels; it's perfectly consistent with the tilt of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack's nostrils. This is definitely no coincidence."
Beside him, Luna tilted her head and took a serious look at the anthill.
"Daddy, those are just ordinary ants."
"Ants are one of the favorite forms for Gulping Plimpies to disguise themselves as."
"Alright."
Luna nodded and looked up at the manor's main gates.
In her silvery-grey eyes, there was no wonder at the luxurious building, nor any nervousness about the unknown environment.
Lucius came striding out from the main entrance, carrying his snake-headed cane, his black robes billowing behind him.
He looked at the father and daughter outside the gate, whose attire was outrageously bizarre, and the veins at his temples throbbed three times.
His aristocratic mask of elegance was on the verge of cracking.
"Dobby."
Lucius squeezed the command out from his throat through gritted teeth.
"Immediately drive these two uninvited intruders away from the gates of my manor. If they refuse to leave, notify the Ministry of Magic's patrol."
Dobby, holding the candlestick, took two trembling steps forward.
"Sirs, please leave the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Dobby's master does not welcome, does not welcome you."
Xenophilius was not affected in the slightest by this display.
He stood up, patted the grass leaves off his knees, and gave a bright smile toward the closed iron gates.
"Hello, Mr. Malfoy. I arrived two hours early because I noticed signs of Wrackspurt migration in the air currents near the manor. If I had waited until ten o'clock, they might have flown away, and that would have been a great pity."
Lucius's facial muscles twitched.
Cassius's voice drifted down from the steps behind him.
"Father, they are guests I invited."
Lucius turned and saw his younger son slowly descending the spiral staircase in the hall.
Cassius was wearing his inner armor woven from Core Spider Silk, with a sharply tailored black robe over it.
His gaze passed over the man in yellow robes and landed directly on Luna Lovegood.
The blonde girl wasn't looking at the manor's priceless marble fountain or the shrubs trimmed into the shape of peacocks.
Nor did she pay any mind to the infuriated master of the house or the trembling house-elf holding a candlestick.
She simply tilted her head, staring curiously at the empty space about thirty centimeters above Cassius's head.
"Hello."
Her voice was like a silver string gently plucked by the wind.
"You have a lot of buzzing Wrackspurts above your head."
Cassius stopped on the steps.
"They seem to really like the scent of the fire in your soul, which is why they keep following you and won't leave."
Luna's expression was extremely serious as she said this, her silvery-grey eyes showing not a hint of a joke.
Beside her, Xenophilius immediately clapped his hands in excitement.
"Wonderful, Luna! You've discovered another new habit of Wrackspurts."
He turned to Cassius and added,
"This shows you possess a very powerful inner strength. Only energy at the soul level can attract them to gather like this."
He pulled a tattered notebook from his satchel and began scribbling.
"Date: [today], Location: Malfoy Manor, Observation Subject: Wrackspurt density above the head far exceeds the norm."
Lucius listened from the steps, completely bewildered, his brow already tied in a tight knot.
"This is absolute nonsense. Cassius, are you really going to let such rambling lunatics into our home?"
He lowered his voice and leaned close to his younger son's ear.
"I had the senior reporters from The Daily Prophet prepare three exclusive interview plans. If you just nod, you'll be on the front page tomorrow. Why waste time dealing with someone who can't even sell a single newspaper?"
Cassius didn't look at his father.
His full attention was on the blonde girl.
The fire in his soul.
The amount of information contained in that sentence far exceeded its outward absurdity.
Luna Lovegood was able to bypass all physical disguises and magical barriers to directly perceive the essence of the energy emitted by the Dual-Soul Furnace operating deep within his soul.
This ability was not something learned.
It was an innate perceptual talent etched into her bloodline, many dimensions more advanced than the crude detection magic taught in a standard Wizard's Muggle Studies Class.
Cassius walked down the last two steps to the gate and raised a hand to signal Dobby to put down the candlestick and step aside.
He personally grasped the latch of the iron gate and pulled the heavy wrought-iron door open.
The hinges let out a low creak.
"Come in."
He looked at the father and daughter outside, his tone flat.
"I do indeed have some interest in that Wrackspurt theory of yours."
Xenophilius slapped his thigh happily and led his daughter across the threshold.
"Excellent, excellent! It's rare to find an open-minded Wizard among the youth who is willing to take the study of Wrackspurts seriously."
As Luna was pulled through the gate by her father, she looked back at the anthill on the lawn that her father had been poking for so long.
"But Daddy, those really were just ants."
"Not ants."
"Alright."
The two followed Cassius to a well-lit drawing room.
Dobby brought black tea and snacks, his hands still shaking.
Xenophilius had just sat down on the sofa when he scanned the priceless antique decorations in the drawing room.
"Mr. Malfoy, did you know? The glaze recipe for this vase of yours contains the dried nasal secretions of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. That's the real reason it hasn't faded for a thousand years."
Lucius, standing in the corner, saw his face turn completely green.
Xenophilius was completely immersed in his own world and didn't notice the master of the house's expression, which was on the verge of exploding.
He pulled an extremely odd-looking Detection Wand from his tattered satchel.
The wand's body was a crooked alder branch, and at its tip was embedded a shriveled eyeball taken from some unknown magical creature.
The eyeball slowly rotated at the top of the wand, emitting a faint, dark-green glow.
Cassius's gaze fell upon that Detection Wand.
He keenly noticed a string of extremely ancient runes carved on the wand's body, arranged in a way that was completely different from any known inscription logic in the modern magical system.
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