"Weasley!"
Malfoy's furious roar echoed through the Great Hall, drawing the attention of many students.
He clutched the mechanical frog in his hand, squeezing it so tightly that it creaked.
Ron, feeling a twinge of guilt, still couldn't stand Malfoy—but in this case, he had to admit that Malfoy was the innocent one.
He glanced at the mushroom slices and creamy soup dripping from Malfoy's hair... then cleared his throat.
"Sorry, my mechanical creature wasn't calibrated properly. I'll help you clean it up."
He pulled out his wand, intending to cast a cleaning spell.
"Weasley! Don't point that filthy, broken wand at me!"
Malfoy's furious shout made Ron freeze.
Spreading his palm, Malfoy looked down at the slightly dented mechanical frog and sneered.
"Heh, since when did the Weasley family have the money to buy new magical items? Don't tell me this was cobbled together from another second-hand junk pile?"
"It's a disgrace to wizarding families!"
With a smack, Malfoy slammed the little frog onto the floor, scattering its gears and parts across the tiles.
Ron's face turned as red as his hair, his chest heaving. Trembling with anger at Malfoy's insult, he raised his wand.
Ron's impulse was quickly halted by another voice.
"This is the first I've heard that the Malfoy family enjoys washing their hair with cream of mushroom soup."
Harry looked straight at Malfoy's dripping hair, his grin completely unrestrained. "But that doesn't look very healthy, Malfoy. I should send you a bottle of shampoo. The one my aunt uses works pretty well."
"Potter!"
Malfoy immediately shifted his fury toward Harry, who, unwilling to back down, started bickering right back.
The Weasley twins watched the scene with cold expressions.
Teasing Ron was one thing—it was just sibling fun—but they would never tolerate outsiders bullying their little brother.
Of course, they weren't so petty as to attack a younger student outright or beat up that foul-mouthed Malfoy brat.
However, the twins exchanged a quick, knowing glance.
A harmless prank wouldn't really count as bullying, would it?
As everyone's attention turned to the shouting match between Harry and Malfoy, Lucien noticed Ron quietly gathering up the scattered parts of his mechanical frog, piece by piece, into his hand.
With a flick of his wand, Lucien sent the remaining parts on the floor flying neatly into Ron's palm.
Ron looked at Lucien, his eyes slightly red. "Sniff.. Thank you, Lucien."
Lucien put away his wand and said calmly, "Don't mind his words. Temporary glory and prestige are just appearances. The true foundation lies in a family's knowledge and heritage."
Hearing this, Ron pressed his lips together and nodded firmly.
But it wasn't just Ron who heard—others did too.
"Grafton!"
Malfoy abruptly stopped arguing with Harry and turned toward Lucien, his face pale with anger. "What right do you have to judge noble pureblood families?"
"Heh, you're nothing but a filthy Muggle-born!"
Malfoy's fury boiled over. He'd been embarrassed by Ron, mocked by Harry, and now, hearing Lucien's words, the memory of being rejected by him resurfaced.
How could a wizard from a Muggle family dare to reject the goodwill of a pureblood—and even speak about the glory of purebloods!
"Malfoy!"
Harry immediately pulled out his wand, unwilling to let Malfoy insult his friend any further.
Malfoy sneered, lifting his chin arrogantly. "What did I say wrong? Muggle-born wizards, no matter how hard they try, will always be beneath purebloods."
Those words echoed through the crowd, unexpectedly drawing scattered murmurs of agreement.
Most of the voices came from Slytherin students, their smiles mocking as they looked at Lucien with open disdain.
Slytherin had the highest number of pure-blood wizards, and their defining trait was ambition.
They took immense pride in their lineage and often looked down on half-bloods and especially Muggle-borns, whom they considered beneath them.
Lucien regarded Malfoy calmly, without a hint of anger.
"How much strength has your family's glory and bloodline truly given you, that you have the confidence to speak to me like this?"
Malfoy, blinded by rage, glared at him. "How dare you question the House of Malfoy!"
Lucien shook his head, his tone cool and detached.
"I'm not questioning your family. Your ancestors, in their own way, have carried it forward to this day, passing on its so-called glory to you."
"But are you worthy of that inheritance? Are you fit to speak of your family's glory?"
Those words completely ignited Malfoy's fury. He yanked his wand from his robes.
"Grafton! I challenge you to a duel!"
"I'll make you regret ever disrespecting pure-blood honor—and you'll apologize for insulting me!"
Lucien met Malfoy's furious expression with a faint, amused smile.
Always so eager to duel over the slightest offense.
How childish.
Indeed, when the difference in strength is too great, even the fiercest outburst only seems cute and amusing to the opponent.
Lucien hadn't even replied when Harry spoke up mockingly, "Lucien, there's no need to agree. Malfoy's just a liar and a coward."
"Oh?"
"Malfoy once challenged me to a duel in the trophy room—but he didn't even have the guts to show up!"
Harry still remembered how Malfoy's trick had landed them face-to-face with the Cerberus, and the memory filled him with anger.
So he exaggerated, painting Malfoy as a deceitful liar and a coward who never honored his word.
Malfoy's pale face flushed red, his lips trembling with fury.
"Tomorrow at noon—right here!" he shouted. "I, Draco Malfoy, will have a wizard's duel with Lucien Grafton! I swear on the honor of the House of Malfoy, I will not go back on my word!"
His loud declaration caused a stir; more students began to gather, eager to watch the commotion.
Even the professors who had just entered turned their attention toward the scene.
Lucien, standing at the center of it all, looked perfectly calm.
Malfoy had already announced the time and place before he could even respond.
Pure-bloods from Slytherin really were troublesome.
Always so prejudiced—tsk. It really had been the right choice not to join Slytherin. At least in Ravenclaw, he could study in peace.
Never mind. Better to strike first and spare himself unnecessary trouble.
It was just a farce anyway. He'd simply deal with it quickly—show some impressive magic and put an end to future provocations.
He'd come to Hogwarts to learn, not to waste his days playing childish "showing off and face-slapping" games with students like these.
Lucien glanced at Malfoy's slender frame.
Hmm… the spell should look impressive and powerful, but he'd have to hold back. He couldn't actually kill a classmate—that would be a real hassle.
Two weeks in the hospital wing should be enough. That way, it wouldn't interfere with the final exams.
Ah, he really was too kind—still worrying about a classmate's academic progress.
"Troll—"
Professor Quirrell suddenly burst into the Great Hall, his purple turban askew.
He ran toward Dumbledore in a panic, shouting breathlessly as he went,
"Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know— thud."
After speaking, Quirrell collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
While the other students stood frozen in confusion, unsure what to do, Lucien quietly observed Quirrell's performance.
Fainting right on cue—he really deserved an award.
[Ding, loan triggered: Changeable Flesh Puppet]
[Do you wish to borrow?]
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11 Advance Chaps- P@treon/DarkDevil1