Room of Requirement
The Weasley twins, Fred and George, curiously surveyed the unique setup of the room. Their eyes darted around, taking in every detail. Fred suddenly pointed at the motivational banners hanging on the walls.
"Lucien, this classroom you've conjured up is pretty cool," he said, "but aren't these slogans a bit… premature?"
George grinned and read one aloud: "'Work hard, and all O's on your OWLs will be within reach!'"
"We've still got two years before we even take those exams," George added with a chuckle.
Fred jumped in, laughing. "Yeah, exactly! This is the kind of thing Percy would be stressing over."
"You know, he's not just buried in his studies lately," Fred continued, scratching his head. "He's been sneaking peeks at some book… what was it called?"
George filled in the blank. "How to Gain Power as a Prefect."
"Can you believe it?" George said, snickering. "A sixteen-year-old reading something that dull and creepy!"
Harry and Ron burst out laughing at the twins' story. To kids their age, it was hard to relate to someone as overly serious and mature as Percy.
Lucien couldn't help but smile too. His impression of Percy was vague—just a strait-laced guy who followed every rule to the letter and was always sucking up to authority figures, dreaming of a big career in the Ministry.
After a bit of banter, the twins seemed to remember why they were there. Fred handed Lucien a book, while George passed Ron a letter.
"This is from Mum," Fred said. "She's thanking you for helping Ron out lately."
"She's thrilled about how well you're doing with your studies, Ron!" George added with a grin.
"Oh, and Lucien," Fred continued, "Mum says you have to come visit us over the holidays. Trust me, it'll be a blast!"
Lucien accepted the book with a polite smile. "It's my honor. I'll definitely visit."
Ron's tutoring payment has finally arrived, Lucien thought. He was curious about what kind of magical knowledge the Weasley family's spellbook might hold. Visiting their home—called the Burrow, wasn't it?—would be a unique experience. A pure-blood wizarding household was bound to be completely different from a Muggle one.
Lucien didn't immediately flip open the book. Instead, he glanced at Ron, who had already torn into the letter.
As Ron read, his eyes grew red, and his nose started to sniffle.
"What's got you crying?" George teased, snatching the letter from Ron's hands before he could react. Mimicking a high-pitched, motherly voice, George began reading aloud: "'My dearest Ronnie, I'm so happy to hear you're taking your magical studies seriously. And I'm even happier that you've made such wonderful friends. Remember to get along well with them…'"
After a few lines, George dodged Ron's grab for the letter, laughing. "See? I told you calling you 'Ronnie baby' was fine—Mum does it too!"
"George!" Ron's face flushed redder than his hair. He lunged at his brother like an angry puppy, desperate to reclaim the letter.
But Ron, two years younger, was no match for George's speed.
"Haha, Lucien, see? Our family's a riot, right?" Fred said, winking at him. "Nothing like that pure-blood nonsense Malfoy's always on about."
"Alright, enough chat," Fred added. "Take a look at that spellbook."
"Honestly," George said, "whenever Mum and Dad make us read those family books, it's so boring. Only Bill and Percy actually enjoy them."
Lucien opened the Weasley family spellbook. The cover was simple parchment, enchanted to prevent wear and tear, with "Weasley" scrawled casually across it. It didn't look like some ancient, revered family tome.
But after flipping through just a few pages, Lucien's opinion changed. This is a pure-blood family, after all—one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. The book's appearance might be plain, but its contents were anything but.
Spellcraft and Magical Circuits.
This was the Weasley family's magical legacy.
Lucien recalled that Bill, the eldest Weasley, worked as a curse-breaker for Gringotts. His talent in that field clearly wasn't just natural ability—it was backed by this family knowledge. Spellcraft required a broad range of skills, from Arithmancy to Charms, and even a foundation in Ancient Runes.
What intrigued Lucien most, though, was the section on magical circuits—the pathways through which magic flowed in wizards and magical creatures. Different species had distinct circuits, which was why transforming into a magical creature or altering one with Transfiguration was so difficult. Without replicating the proper magical circuit, you'd only get a hollow imitation, lacking the creature's innate magical abilities.
Lucien flipped through the book eagerly. It focused primarily on studying a wizard's own magical circuits to enhance casting speed and power. It also included observations on the magical circuits of certain magical creatures for comparison.
This is exactly what I needed, Lucien thought. The ideas and methods in the book were a perfect starting point. He was already comfortable with living transfigurations, and the next big step was becoming an Animagus. This book would be invaluable for tackling magical creature transfigurations, especially the challenge of constructing magical circuits.
Beyond that, it was a treasure trove for refining his own spellcasting abilities. He'd have to teach some of this to Ron later—alchemy was useful, but a wizard's core magical skills were their foundation.
Lucien glanced at Ron, who was clutching the reclaimed letter to his chest. He's getting the hang of alchemical constructs. Time to ramp up the difficulty. For magical circuits, though, Lucien would need better tools for observation and perception.
He mentally reached out to his system. "System, show me some loan options."
[Host, missing me already? ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ]
[Here are some loans that might suit your needs…]
Ignoring the system's increasingly playful tone, Lucien scanned the options and narrowed it down to two:
[Loan: Analytical Lens (Weekly Loan)]
- Details: A nifty alchemical gadget. When worn, it allows the user to see the magical circuits of wizards or magical creatures. Maximum usage: 3 hours, with a 1-hour cooldown.
- Task: Observe the magical circuit of a magical creature.
[Loan: Eye of Arcane Sight (Monthly Loan)]
- Details: A magical technique combining potions, alchemy, and Transfiguration to modify the user's eye structure, granting the ability to directly perceive magical circuits.
- Task: Locate an Animagus in their animal form and record their hidden magical circuit.
The lens was simple enough. Lucien had a Mooncalf and an Acromantula in his gourd—either would do for the task. But the Eye of Arcane Sight wasn't much harder. Finding an Animagus was rare, with only a handful registered at the Ministry. But Lucien had one right in front of him: Professor McGonagall.
Observing her as a tabby cat, though… that felt a bit awkward.
Then again… Lucien's eyes flicked to Ron, or rather, to his pocket. There's an Animagus right there. Scabbers, Ron's rat, was none other than Peter Pettigrew.
Lucien had already planned to study—well, observe—Scabbers to learn more about Animagi and prepare for his own attempt. Taking the Eye of Arcane Sight loan would let him kill two birds with one stone, and the enhanced perception would be a huge boon for both research and combat.
The lens, on the other hand, was less practical. The cooldown was annoying, and having to put it on during a tense battle? Not ideal. The Eye of Arcane Sight, being a permanent modification, was far superior—assuming the risks weren't too high.
"System, what's the risk with the Eye of Arcane Sight modification?"
[Host, have you forgotten? When I joined you, I swore: System products are always—]
"Alright, enough with the old catchphrase," Lucien cut in. "I'm taking the Eye of Arcane Sight loan."
[Ding! Loan application successful.]
[Loan: Eye of Arcane Sight (Monthly Loan)]
[Repayment Deadline: 30 days]
[Note: Don't forget to recite the incantation to activate the Eye of Arcane Sight…]
Lucien nearly rolled his eyes. What's with this chuunibyou nonsense? Did I stumble into the wrong story? Oh, wait—this was a magical world where incantations were standard.
[Just kidding, Host!]
For a fleeting moment, Lucien felt a spark of anticipation. What if the system turned out to be some cliché high-dimensional entity pulling the strings? He'd love to take it on in a proper showdown.
Shaking off the thought, Lucien disconnected from the system. After a bit more chatter, the Weasley twins left, muttering something about pranks and teaching someone a lesson.
---
A Few Days Later, Great Hall
Draco Malfoy picked at the sticky slug slime in his hair, fuming. "Who's the idiot that put a dungbomb at the entrance? Another stupid prank!"
"Young Master, let me clean it up for you," Goyle said, stepping forward, ignoring the slime on his own robes as he reached to help.
"No need. Sort yourself out first," Draco said, his tone unusually gentle for once.
After his quick surrender in the duel with Lucien, some Slytherins had started shunning him, whispering that he'd tarnished pure-blood pride. For the first time, Draco faced mockery and—dare he admit it—discrimination.
It gave him the tiniest glimpse into how Muggle-borns and half-bloods must feel when scorned by certain pure-bloods. Just a glimpse, though.
He glanced at Goyle and Crabbe, his two dim-witted followers, who were busy cleaning slime off each other. They'd stuck by him these past few days, same as always. Maybe I'll get them something for Christmas, Draco thought. Nothing too fancy, but decent enough to keep up appearances.
A flutter of wings interrupted his thoughts. A grey-black owl swooped down, dropping a heavy package in front of him. Draco held up a biscuit to feed it, but the owl glanced at the slime on his robes and flew off.
"Stupid bird," Draco muttered, tossing the biscuit. The owl caught it mid-air with ease.
He turned to the package, noticing the Malfoy family crest on the envelope attached. His face paled. Here it is. Father found out.
As a Hogwarts governor, Lucius Malfoy had no trouble keeping tabs on his son's school life. Wiping his hands nervously on his trousers, Draco opened the letter with trembling fingers.
"My Dear Draco,
My proud son, you've done well!"
Draco blinked, rubbing his eyes to make sure he'd read it right. His first thought was that his father didn't know about the duel—about how he'd surrendered and humiliated the family.
But as he read on, his jaw dropped, his eyes glazing over.
"I've heard about your encounter with Lucien Grafton. I've also looked into this student's recent activities. Draco, your choice was correct. 'Malfoys are always friends with the strong'—you've begun to understand this principle. I'm very pleased…"
Draco's mind reeled. What is Father talking about? Shouldn't he be scolding him for his weakness, for throwing away pure-blood honor? Shouldn't there be a punishment, like cutting his allowance?
He kept reading.
"I spoke with your Head of House. Professor Snape's praise for Lucien is rare, and you know how discerning he is. Through certain channels, I also learned some intriguing details, including how Lucien defeated a troll on Halloween Eve.
Years ago, I had the foresight to befriend Severus. Draco, you're truly my son—you take after me. Go to Lucien and apologize. Don't worry about pride; it's merely a tool to seize greater opportunities when the time is right. Friendship—with the strong, with those who have potential—is the foundation of the Malfoy family. Reflect on this.
(The package contains a gift you'll find useful.)"
Draco sat frozen, the letter in his hands. This was not what he'd expected. He grabbed the envelope, inspecting the crest, then held the parchment up to the light to check the watermark. It was genuine—no prank.
These days, he'd been the target of too many annoying pranks. They didn't hurt him, but they were humiliating.
After a moment, he began unwrapping the package, muttering to himself, "What excuse am I supposed to use to talk to Lucien?"