Inside the Forbidden Forest, bathed in full moonlight.
Lucien placed a single Mandrake leaf into his mouth.
Then he waved his wand.
"Haerens, haerens, haerens, haerens."
With a simple spell, Lucien firmly fixed the leaf to his upper palate.
This was the first step toward becoming an Animagus.
For an entire month, from one full moon to the next, he had to keep the Mandrake leaf in his mouth—never swallowing it or taking it out.
If he failed, he would have to start all over again.
To be honest, having something stuck to his upper palate felt odd.
But at least he didn't have to worry about accidentally swallowing it while eating or sleeping, and it didn't interfere much with speaking.
Lucien felt the leaf in his mouth, recalling the steps that would follow.
During the next full moon, he would remove the leaf, place it in a small crystal vial filled with his saliva, and expose it to pure moonlight.
Then he would add one of his own hairs and a teaspoon of dew.
Finally, he would include a chrysalis of a Death's-head Hawkmoth.
Once all the ingredients were prepared, the solution would be placed in a quiet, dark location.
It could not be checked or disturbed until the next thunderstorm with lightning.
After asking Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall and learning the detailed steps to becoming an Animagus, Lucien felt that, besides talent and skill in Transfiguration, luck was also a crucial factor.
For example, on the night of the second full moon, the leaf absolutely had to be illuminated by moonlight.
If, by bad luck, the moon was hidden behind thick clouds that night, he would have to find a new Mandrake leaf and start all over again.
However, after Lucien pressed him for a solution, Dumbledore actually provided one.
It sounded simple: the key was that the leaf must be bathed in moonlight within one minute of being removed from the mouth.
If the sky was truly overcast that night, he could simply ride a broomstick and break through the clouds.
Or he could climb to a high enough mountain peak beforehand; if luck wasn't too bad, he might still catch a glimpse of the moon.
Man can conquer nature, after all.
But after Dumbledore finished speaking, he quickly added: "Flying above the clouds requires extremely advanced broom-handling skills and an exceptional broom."
Lucien naturally understood Dumbledore's meaning—it was a warning not to recklessly attempt such a method and risk his safety.
But then again… Lucien glanced at the happy Lumen, who was mimicking the Mooncalves' dance.
Hmm, flying through clouds?
That wasn't difficult at all.
Hadn't he done it himself when Lumen first began growing?
Flying broomsticks and the like were simply too outdated.
Lucien began to organize his upcoming plans.
Next, his main focus would be on mastering the Animagus transformation.
With the help of the Chimera Handbook, his progress in Transfiguration involving living creatures had already advanced rapidly.
On one hand, the handbook contained a vast amount of biological information, providing ample foundational knowledge for Transfiguration related to living creatures.
On the other hand, after successfully creating a real Chimera, his understanding of biological structures had deepened considerably.
Moreover, over the past few days, he had been closely observing Scabbers—an Animagus who had maintained his form for over a decade.
He had learned a great deal about Transfiguration from this, which would further assist him in becoming an Animagus.
By his estimation, by the next full moon—when the Mandrake leaf was ready to be bathed in moonlight—he would likely have fully mastered living Transfiguration.
At that point, he would have completed all the prerequisites for becoming an Animagus...
...
Headmaster's Office.
Snape sat down in front of Dumbledore.
Looking at Dumbledore, who was already in his pajamas and wearing a nightcap, Snape pulled a Potion bottle from his pocket.
"This month's Potion for preventing cavities... urg.. Dumbledore, you could easily make such a simple Potion yourself."
Dumbledore chuckled as he took the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and drank it down in one go.
"Haha, I've never been particularly skilled in Potions. How could I compare to the youngest Potions Master?"
Snape snorted softly, feeling that the man before him simply enjoyed finding excuses to make others do his work.
As for Dumbledore claiming he hadn't studied Potions much—ha, only fools or those who had never encountered magic would believe that.
As the greatest wizard of the century, Dumbledore only had things he was good at and things he was even better at.
Ignoring Snape's attitude, Dumbledore simply tapped his wand, summoning a plate of Chocolate Frogs and a jug of sweet sparkling water onto the table.
Seeing Dumbledore chewing on a Chocolate Frog and sipping the sugary drink, Snape's eyelid twitched slightly.
"To be honest, every time I drink a Potion and then taste a dessert, it always brings out a unique flavor."
"Severus, you should try it."
Dumbledore said, even pushing a Chocolate Frog toward him.
But Snape didn't want to eat sweets at this hour, and he had come for serious matters.
"Dumbledore, it would be better if you personally attended the next Quidditch match."
After hearing Snape's words, Dumbledore took a slow sip of sparkling water before replying:
"I know Harry's match today was dangerous, but the final result turned out well, didn't it?"
Snape frowned, his tone carrying a trace of displeasure.
"Yes, you can monitor the situation remotely with magic."
"Then you should know who was behind it—who was trying to kill that boy!"
"For example, Quirinus Quirrell, wasn't it?"
Snape paused, resting both hands on the table, and said slowly, word by word: "And if so.. Then do you also know who was directing him?"
Facing Snape's questioning, Dumbledore's tone remained calm.
"There is only one person in this world who most desires Harry Potter's death…"
"Lord Voldemort."
Hearing Dumbledore utter the name directly, Snape's expression shifted unpredictably.
Noticing his reaction, Dumbledore set down his cup.
"Severus, there's no need to be afraid. If you can't even speak his name…"
But those words ignited Snape's fury; he abruptly stood up.
"Yes, you're not afraid—you're Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of this century!"
"Yes, you're omnipotent!"
"Yes, you're not afraid of Lord Voldemort—so why don't you just deal with him directly!"
"You managed to intervene in time to save Harry this time, but what about next time?"
At first, Dumbledore listened to Snape's words with his usual calm expression; he had his own reasons, his own plans.
But when Snape mentioned that he had intervened to save Harry, a faintly amused expression crossed Dumbledore's eyes.
From what he had seen through the magical surveillance of the field, Dumbledore knew very well who had truly helped Harry.
But he had no intention of telling anyone else.
How could he even explain it? That a first-year student named Lucien Grafton had clashed in secret against an adult wizard of considerable strength?
Clearly, this "credit" or "blame" was something Dumbledore had to bear himself.
Facing Snape's anger, Dumbledore remained silent.
In his view, it was only natural for Snape to assume he had been the one to intervene and save Harry.
After all, following countless so-called "great achievements," more and more people had begun to see him as "the greatest wizard of the century."
In the eyes of many, Dumbledore was omnipotent—Capable, even from afar, of stopping and neutralizing dark curses.
But this time, Dumbledore truly hadn't intervened.
Moreover, by Dumbledore's estimation, not only Snape, but even Quirrell—and the one behind him—probably believed that he had stepped in, once again displaying deep and mysterious magical power.
Dumbledore had deliberately chosen not to attend the Quidditch match in person because he wanted to observe Quirrell's actions.
Would that once brilliant Ravenclaw graduate truly descend into darkness, completely obeying Lord Voldemort's every command?
Or would he struggle, resist, and perhaps seek help from others?
But the answer… Dumbledore had already witnessed through his remote-monitoring magic.
Of course, Dumbledore had made several backup plans; if Harry had truly reached a life-threatening point, the greatest wizard of the century indeed had a way to intervene.
After all, Dumbledore intended to temper Harry Potter—to forge him through life-and-death experiences—but he had no desire to let the boy die meaninglessly.
Harry's current level wasn't enough; he still needed time to grow before he could reach the future foretold by the prophecy.
However, thanks to Lucien's unexpected "intervention," Dumbledore hadn't needed to act at all.
Sometimes, Dumbledore found it all rather tedious; so many secrets could never be shared with anyone.
Just like this time—everyone believed it was he who had saved Harry, but Dumbledore couldn't possibly tell them the truth.
Fortunately, this time he could speak directly with the person involved.
Dumbledore was already looking forward to their next afternoon tea; he increasingly felt that spending time talking with this child, Lucien, always brought him some "unexpected" moments.
For a centenarian who had experienced almost everything, it was like ripples spreading across a calm lake—adding a touch of life to the solitude brought by reverence and distance.
"Severus, don't be so agitated. Sometimes, power alone doesn't determine the future. In the prophecy—"
However, as soon as the word "prophecy" left his lips, Dumbledore stopped speaking.
And Snape also fell silent.
The two stood there wordlessly for a long moment.
Finally, Snape turned abruptly, standing up and heading for the door.
With his back to Dumbledore, his voice was low and quiet:
"Prophecy? The Boy Who Lived? That was Lily's protection—bought with her life... How could a one-year-old child possibly defeat Lord Voldemort..."
Hearing Snape's quiet words, Dumbledore sighed softly.
"I'll be present at all future Quidditch matches."
After Dumbledore spoke, Snape's footsteps paused for a moment before continuing toward the door.
"I'll bring the Potion again at the next full moon."
...
On the way to the Potions classroom.
Malfoy suddenly leaned close to Lucien, glancing around cautiously to make sure no one else was nearby.
"Lucien, can we talk about something? I can give you another magic book—or you can name any other terms you want. It's fine. I want to learn something else."
Lucien gave him a sidelong glance.
"What's this, regretting learning Potions already?"
"No, no, not at all! You teach really well. I just realized why Potter's been improving so fast lately—it's because of you... Uh, no, let's get to the point. I want to learn from you—learn that!"
As he spoke, Malfoy freed one hand, which had been holding his Potions kit, and gestured animatedly in the air.
"It's that thing from Halloween night—the one you used to defeat the Troll, that, that…"
Lucien immediately understood what Malfoy meant. He was referring to the Chimera.
It seemed that the incident had left quite an impression on him.
But if he really wanted to learn it, that wouldn't be easy.
"Have you heard the Muggle saying, 'Don't bite off more than you can chew'?"
Malfoy quickly nodded.
"I've heard it. It means if you try to learn too much at once, the results will be worse."
"Good. You understand."
Seeing Malfoy behaving so sensibly, Lucien added another point.
"What you want to learn falls under Transfiguration—a rather complex branch of it. It's not something you can master in a single term, or even a single school year."
Hearing Lucien's words, Malfoy immediately put on a look that said, I understand everything.
"Got it. I'll bring you more magic books next year—I guarantee you'll be satisfied. After all, knowledge is valuable."
…This kid was too sensible.
That wasn't what Lucien meant at all.
Why did it feel like he was being bribed? He wasn't some bully collecting protection money.
Shaking his head slightly, Lucien entered the Potions classroom and took his seat.
When the class bell rang—
"Zabini, why must Runespoor skin be soaked in mercury?"
"Boot, when should Star-Moon Flowers be harvested—and how?"
"..."
Today, Snape's questioning was even more intense than usual.
The young Wizards, whether called on or not, all trembled like quails in winter.
Tsk tsk, what's gotten into Snape? Who provoked him this time?
Harry wasn't even in this class.
Why were there so many questions—and why were a third of them beyond the first-year syllabus?
"Lucien, how do you determine whether Unicorn hair is of superior quality?"
"Its color should be pure white, unstained by dust, and when examined closely, it gives off a faint, starlike glow. When waved, it leaves a silvery trail."
"Hmm, Ravenclaw, one point."
When it came to the brewing stage of the Potion, the real torment began.
The weather was already cold, and Potions class was held in the dungeons.
The young Wizards could only huddle close to their bubbling cauldrons for warmth.
And after harshly criticizing the previous student's mistake, Snape would glide silently behind the next unfortunate victim.
In his usual cold, cutting tone, he pointed out their errors and delivered remarks even chillier than the dungeon air.
"Bosworth, the Shrinking Solution requires mouse spines ground into powder. These obvious granules—are you planning to eat them as snacks?"
"Dock, adding Wiggenweld Root before Pufferfish eyes—your method is better than mine, perhaps you should be the Potions Professor!"
"..."
Lucien calmly and methodically brewed his Potion, as though the surrounding "massacre" had nothing to do with him.
Even the Slytherin students weren't spared today; the old bat was truly in a foul mood.
The weather was indeed freezing… Looking at the bubbling cauldron, the Potion was almost done.
He should make some hotpot when he has the time.
________
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