Hogwarts: Bloodline Legend

Chapter 660 186: Merlin Medal! Harry's Unusual Behavior!

Hogwarts was buzzing with lively energy.

Morning light pierced the illusory scenery on the hall's dome, scattering glimmering spots across the silver-plated trays on the long table. Ian absentmindedly pushed his fried egg around with the tip of his fork.

Earlier.

The milky white Crystal Ball that had slipped out of Malfoy's "crappy acting" rested in his other palm, shimmering with tiny waves, like a little bulb casting faint spiderweb patterns onto the tablecloth.

"Have you ever seen a Crystal Ball like this?" Ian jiggled the ball in his hand, a bit puzzled, and posed the question to his two roommates.

He might be a few dimensions above his roommates in raw power, but what he could cram into his head in a year was always limited—some things, especially those related to wizard family backgrounds, these two might know more about.

Especially William.

This guy's family was practically dripping with heritage.

"My mum might know, but I can only be sure it's not a natural Crystal Ball for Divination." Michael, oddly not fighting for food, leaned in for a good look and gave his response with certainty.

"Probably worthless."

He gave it a parting shot.

"You can tell if it's valuable or not just like that?"

Ian raised a surprised eyebrow.

"Trust in our Black talent," Michael chuckled, shamelessly making a race joke about himself, and continued in an authoritative tone.

"Plus, if you check historical stats, you'll see Black folks are more likely to become Prophets than white folks. You could say we're naturally drawn to this mystical class."

Clearly, Brother Xiao Hei didn't have much affection for Divination either—last semester, his worst subject at finals, just like Ian, lacking much natural talent in it.

Of course.

Ian could always ace it with a cheat sheet, while honest Brother Xiao Hei was a different story—he missed out on getting all As because of it, which for a Ravenclaw is pretty much unthinkable. Zen as Michael claimed to be, it still mattered to him, so his bias against divination stuff was very justified.

"You're right, Michael. Divination is just a bunch of hocus-pocus." Ian agreed with Brother Xiao Hei's take, though he had nothing to say about Michael's statistics.

This guy likes American blockbuster movies—who knows if his numbers were contaminated by Hollywood, where recent years' scripts for special characters were all about political correctness.

"I actually think it looks like a Memory Ball, but... it doesn't quite match." William, after staring at it up close for ages, finally spoke with a confused, uncertain tone.

"Eh, I know what a Memory Ball is, and this is definitely not it." The Crystal Ball in Ian's hand kept giving off faint light as the sizzling bacon aroma wafted over.

He really rarely ran into trouble with Alchemy.

"Where'd you get this thing? Knockturn Alley?" William guessed, mostly because last night Ian had regaled them with stories from Knockturn Alley.

"Actually, it's a gift from Mr. Malfoy." Ian looked over to the Slytherin table—the platinum blonde head was conspicuously absent from breakfast today.

No idea if he was hiding from the Little Wizard.

Even Mr. Savior wasn't there. Aurora probably thought Ian was looking her way; she waved, and Ian responded with a slight smile.

"Huh?"

Michael, hearing Ian's words, let his fork clatter onto his plate.

"That only child from the Malfoy family?"

He glanced at the Slytherin table, then dropped his voice to speak to Ian. "Their ancestors were never good people."

"Both his parents are Death Eaters, bad to the bone." Michael's tone was loaded with indignation and gritted teeth as he spoke.

"Malfoy giving you a gift can't be for anything good!"

He declared it with utter conviction.

William chimed in immediately, "I think Malfoy is trying to challenge you, maybe it's a bomb, or some evil Dark Arts Prop that'll slowly suck your Magic Power."

In the boy's family teachings, Voldemort was a terrorist, so naturally he saw anyone following him as a brain-damaged evil lunatic.

"I don't think he's gutsy enough." Ian recalled Malfoy's scared look and gave a quiet chuckle. If it really was some challenge or assassination attempt, he might actually find it amusing.

"Malfoys are all bad, but they're not idiots." Ian shoved the now-cold fried egg into his mouth, only for it to burst as soon as he bit down.

A jet of spicy, bitter chili sauce shot out from the cracked skin.

"Cough cough~"

Totally unprepared, the Little Wizard got hit hard, coughing his guts out for several seconds until he came around, then spat out the fried egg, now mixed with chili oil, back onto his plate.

"What the hell kind of combo is this!"

The Superpower, previously absorbed in studying the Crystal Ball, looked around at his equally speechless classmates and finally understood why Michael was suddenly eating so daintily.

Just look.

Some lobster-shaped dumplings waving their claws.

Managed to grab a first-year Little Wizard, making him howl nonstop.