Chapter 437: A Tiny Program

After Professor Snape substituted for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the young wizards’ lives were no longer so leisurely.

They had to prepare for their final exams while also handling the heavy workload left by Professor Snape.

Fortunately, Easter was approaching, and the young wizards could finally catch their breath.

The Great Hall had been decorated, as usual, with ribbons; Hagrid’s giant pumpkins had been carved into lanterns large enough to fit three people inside.

Wizard Sean had been nowhere to be seen, not even Hermione or Jia Jia Siting could find him.

He was naturally busy.

The magical hand mirror was about to be released for Easter, and he needed to provide the Fairy Tale Workshop with some “premium products.”

For example, a multi-panel magical hand mirror allowing multiple wizards to speak simultaneously;

for example, a magical hand mirror capable of storing wizarding messages;

and furthermore…

“This is necessary, my dear student. Alchemists disdain participation in conflict, but when conflict arrives, they must still possess the ability to control their creations.”

Professor Terra’s eyes gleamed with sharpness.

“I… understand, Professor.”

Wizard Sean stared at the modified magical hand mirror.

Its materials and craftsmanship had not been altered in the slightest—it was Wizard Sean’s own alchemical ritual, one even Professor Terra would require considerable time to fully comprehend, let alone the wizards working in the workshop.

So what exactly had been changed about it?

Of course, a small, harmless self-destruct program.

Accurate transmission of information was important; both Professor Terra and Wizard Sean understood this.

Thus, when necessary, Wizard Sean could use this tiny magical circuit to sever the future communication network.

He did not yet know what this magical circuit would bring, but Professor Terra’s words left him deep in thought.

So even magic telephones—no matter how advanced—could not escape the fate of being eavesdropped on or having their networks destroyed?

“The world has never been fair, my dear student.

But magic is fair: wizards who expend their talent, sweat, and soul receive everything they desire.

This is especially true in alchemy.”

Professor Terra was pleased that Wizard Sean had not clung to trivial matters.

“Professor, does it contain any magic for stealing information?”

Wizard Sean asked cautiously.

“Oh? A good idea—I’ll notify the workshop to add it immediately.”

Professor Terra was intrigued.

“I think it’s unnecessary, Professor.”

Wizard Sean shook his head in refusal.

Perhaps it was because he rarely shook his head so vigorously, or perhaps because his teasing had received a perfect reply, Olivia felt delighted.

Her student was a blank sheet of paper.

Even when ink needed to be applied, it had to be done by her.

After receiving Professor Terra’s approval, Wizard Sean’s time was evenly divided between study and alchemy.

Of course, there was also a small investigation—the investigation into Malfoy—that Wizard Sean and Headmaster Dumbledore had been conducting together.

…

Before long, it was the final day before Easter.

That morning, something unusual occurred: Jia Jia Siting had somehow acquired a Pensieve, its silver-white threads intriguing Harry greatly.

Jia Jia Siting was always generous; he shared the Pensieve with Harry, resulting in an event no one could have anticipated.

“It’s Malfoy!”

Harry suddenly shouted, startling everyone.

“What Malfoy?”

Ron asked, clutching his ears.

“Lucius Malfoy—he put the diary in Ginny’s pocket. He wants to kill Ginny!”

Harry turned to Ron, fists clenched.

“What? I knew he was suspicious! Think about it—who else would harm Ginny? That diary didn’t just appear out of nowhere, did it?!”

Ron’s eyes turned red with rage as he roared,

“He’s a Death Eater—his whole family are. My father knew he was dangerous and always wanted to catch him. Now he’s retaliating—damn bastard, he dares to target Ginny.

My father will kill him—I swear it!”

While Harry and Ron were furious, they still glanced toward Wizard Sean’s seat—he wasn’t there, and the atmosphere froze.

“What did you say, Harry? You must take responsibility for your words—do you understand?”

Hermione asked urgently.

“Look for yourself, Hermione!”

Harry fell silent, too angry to speak.

Jia Jia Siting, Hermione, Neville, and Ron approached the Pensieve; they had barely managed to activate it.

When they withdrew from the memory threads, they remained speechless for a long time.

“He needs to be punished.”

Jia Jia Siting said.

“Find Wizard Sean.”

Hermione said.

Ron and Harry also calmed down; they always shared an uncanny knack for seeking out Wizard Sean.

Unfortunately, because Wizard Sean had been so elusive lately and none of them were Ravenclaws, they could not find any trace of the young wizard.

Just as Jia Jia Siting decided to use the magical hand mirror to locate Wizard Sean, the penultimate match of the season—the fifth Quidditch match—was about to begin.

Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

No one knew what Slytherin had protested to the school, but the school had agreed to a rematch, as the Beaters in the previous match had clearly malfunctioned.

“It’s definitely Malfoy—his father’s a school governor!”

Ron growled.

Harry nodded in agreement.

Their expressions deepened Hermione and Jia Jia Siting’s concerns.

This year, aside from their initial loss, Slytherin had led the league by two hundred points thanks to Malfoy’s sponsorship of the Nimbus 2001—meaning Harry’s team needed to win by more than two hundred points to claim the Cup.

This also meant the burden of victory fell mostly on Harry, since catching the Golden Snitch earned one hundred fifty points.

“So you can only catch it when we’re ahead by more than fifty points,”

Oliver kept telling Harry before the match,

“Only when we’re ahead by fifty points, Harry—otherwise we’ll win the match but lose the Cup. Do you understand? You must catch the Snitch, but only when we—”

“I know, Oliver!”

Harry shouted.

His attitude surprised everyone, yet delighted Oliver:

“That’s it, Harry—fight like a warrior!”

The entire Gryffindor House was focused on the upcoming match.

Since the era of the legendary Charlie Weasley (Ron’s older brother) as Seeker, Gryffindor had never won the Quidditch Cup.

Still, Harry suspected no one—not even Oliver—wanted to win as badly as he did now.

His hatred for Malfoy had reached its peak.

Harry had not forgotten the Basilisk in the Chamber, the young wizards wandering on the edge of danger, or Ginny’s near-death.

He had a score to settle with Malfoy.

In everyone’s memory, no match had ever arrived under such a volatile, explosive atmosphere.