Who let this evil dragon into Hogwarts!

Chapter 19 The Glory of the King of Pranks, Betting on the Future

"A truly ingenious structure..."

"Can different effects be adjusted?"

When Persson drew up the rough blueprints for the Dragon's Breath Bullet, the Weasley brothers instantly abandoned their frivolous ways and became like two professional scholars who put on their glasses, took out paper and pen, and began to study the feasibility of the blueprints.

Poisson was not surprised by the two men's reactions.

Dragon's Breath Bullet is only a basic alchemy item, but basic does not mean simple.

On the contrary, the Dragon Breath Bullet embodies all the understanding of alchemy from another world. It is a treasure that countless predecessors have modified and optimized time and time again, and painstakingly created!

"Beautiful, absolutely beautiful! Every line is perfect, every structure is flawless, it's like the work of a god..."

Fred muttered to himself, then suddenly looked up. "Persson, did you design this? I've never seen such a simple yet beautiful structure. Even Dr. Philipp's fireworks can't compare!"

"Of course not."

Persson shook his head; he had no intention of turning himself into an alchemical genius.

"This was passed down from my ancestors. Due to various reasons, it was damaged in many ways, so I wanted to repair it."

Yes, the Dragon's Legacy, in a sense, can be considered as something passed down from our ancestors.

"Ancestors?" Fred gently stroked the blueprints, his fervent expression almost like that of someone caressing a lover. "Your ancestor was undoubtedly a great wizard!"

"Greater than Dr. Philippa," George added.

"No, I can't watch anymore!"

Fred snapped the drawing shut, his hands trembling slightly from the force, his bluish fingers almost tearing the paper!

He abruptly turned his head, as if he were holding Pandora's box. George understood Fred's meaning, forcibly snatched the blueprints from his hands, and returned them to Poisson.

"This is far too valuable," George said solemnly.

As children born into a pure-blood family, even the poorest pure-blood family, the Weasley brothers were well aware of the value of this knowledge passed down through generations.

The prominence of pure-blood families has never relied on some kind of magic flowing in their blood, but rather on these mysterious family secrets!

So, no matter how much he longed for it, Fred dared not watch any longer; he could not afford the price of this knowledge.

But Poisson simply smiled slightly.

The drawings were pushed back.

"It's not about how valuable it is, it's just an incomplete blueprint. Rather than taking it to the grave, I'd rather make it a reality."

"this……"

Fred stared blankly at the blueprints in front of him, and it wasn't until George nudged him that he finally snapped out of it.

"Between my future title of King of Pranks, Persson, I assure you, we will not fail this blueprint, and we will absolutely create the most magnificent fireworks in the world!"

Poisson shrugged indifferently: "It doesn't matter how dazzling it is, as long as it's powerful enough."

He wanted to create the Dragon's Breath Bomb, not to compete with Dr. Philippa for market share, but to blast those damned giants into the sky!

"I'll let you know as soon as I have the results!" Fred clutched the blueprints tightly to his chest, his right leg involuntarily stepping back, making a soft thud on the floor.

"Please feel free to contact us if you need any help."

George spoke seriously, and Fred nodded solemnly; this time it was clearly not a joke.

"Oh, right!"

Before being kicked out of the library by Mrs. Pince, George suddenly slapped his forehead.

"Hermione seems to have gone to see you. Although Percy advised her not to go near the Slytherin common room, that girl doesn't seem like the type to listen to advice, does she?"

"Hermione?" Persson frowned slightly.

When Potions class ended, Hermione came to see him, but before she could say more than a few words, she was driven away by the hostile looks from the other Slytherins.

Unexpectedly, this little girl still wouldn't give up.

"Tsk, this is troublesome..." Persson sighed. After a week in Slytherin, he had gained some understanding of the educational philosophy of this house.

Exclusion, arrogance, and inbreeding.

He can be described as a prime example of being both stupid and wicked.

Hermione would definitely not get away with it.

"No matter what, Hermione is my friend in name only, so I can't just ignore her."

Persson stood up, left the library, and walked toward the Slytherin common room.

On the bright side, his willingness to stand up for a Muggle-born wizard is definitely a plus in Dumbledore's eyes, and might even earn him +10 points in favorability.

……

A lone candle flickered on the damp walls, and the musty smell from years of poor ventilation permeated the dungeon.

The once quiet Slytherin common room is now crowded with people.

"Go back home, you mudblood, you don't belong here!"

Malfoy stood guard in the middle of the doorway, the faint firelight illuminating his pale face, making him look like a corpse.

The senior students were hidden in the shadows, their expressions obscured, and only a few indistinct whispers could be heard, like a thick city wall.

As upperclassmen, they won't get involved in conflicts between lowerclassmen, but that doesn't mean they'll let Mudbloods tarnish Slytherin's honor.

By using this invisible deterrent, they can force outsiders to back down.

As a brave Gryffindor, Hermione did not back down at all, even though her legs were trembling slightly.

"According to Section 11 of the Anti-Discrimination Act of 1975, using any discriminatory term, including 'Mudblood,' is a violation of the Anti-Discrimination Act. Malfoy, you wouldn't want your father to find out from the newspaper that his son has been sent to Azkaban, would you?"

"you--"

Malfoy was so angry that his face turned pale, but he really didn't dare to make any rash moves. He had heard his father complain about the Anti-Discrimination Act, but he didn't know the specific details.

What if it's true?

Seeing that Hermione had taken control of the situation, Perseus stopped watching and came to her side.

On the right wall of the dungeon hung a portrait of a woman intently stirring a cauldron. Suddenly, a well-dressed old man squeezed in, ignoring the woman's piercing screams, and impatiently pushed his way to the front of the frame.

The man was Phineas, the former headmaster from the Black family.

Realizing that Dumbledore's spies were in place, the audience finally took their seats, and Persson strode to the center of the stage, his footsteps making a crisp thud on the stone floor.

"Malfoy, do you have a problem with my friend?"

Persson raised an eyebrow, and Malfoy, standing in front of him, subconsciously took a step back, then defiantly pushed forward, his mouth moving slightly, but he could only utter meaningless mutterings.

"Making friends with... Muggle-born guys?" An annoying voice suddenly interrupted. Lucien stepped forward, a nauseating grin on his face, making no attempt to hide his malice.

"Persson, your thinking is quite unusual... Don't you agree with the supremacy of pure blood, or the great Slytherin ideals?" he said pointedly.

"Do you intend to betray Slytherin?"