The Prisoners of Hogwarts

Chapter 47 Pureblood Superiority Theory

The oak grandstand landed steadily on the ground in front of Hogwarts Castle with a dull thud, raising a small cloud of dust.

The young wizards seemed to awaken from a dream, and their long-suppressed excitement and amazement burst forth like a flood.

The stands were instantly engulfed by a massive roar.

"That's amazing!"

"Merlin's mustache! I'll never forget that line in my life!"

"He made the entire stands fly into the air! How did he do that?!"

"Do you remember that sea of ​​clouds? I want to see it again! It's a pity the meteor shower at school can't fly that high..."

The students eagerly untied the oak railings around their seats and rushed down the steps of the stands.

Harry, Ron, and Seamus, along with their roommates, huddled together. Ron waved his arms excitedly, loudly recounting every shocking detail he had just witnessed. Neville's pale face flushed with excitement, and his steps became unsteady.

The younger students ran around excitedly, seemingly with inexhaustible energy, while the older students gathered together, discussing with great enthusiasm the journey to the clouds and the power Lynch had demonstrated.

Professor McGonagall, along with several other professors, stood below the stands, guiding the students into the castle in an orderly fashion.

Professor Flitwick excitedly gestured to Professor Sprout, discussing the magical principles they had just learned.

Snape's face was even more somber than usual. His sharp gaze swept over the excited students, finally settling on Lynch in the center of the arena, his lips pressed into a cold, straight line.

A little further away, Professor Quirrell did not follow the crowd toward the castle. Instead, he walked unsteadily to the edge of the crowd and finally found an inconspicuous spot to stand.

His purple scarf was still wrapped tightly around his face, but the part of his face that was exposed looked even more sallow than usual, and there were still traces of cold sweat left on his forehead.

Lynch stood quietly at the edge of the podium, watching the noisy crowd leave. The crow on his shoulder perched quietly, its small head turning slightly.

The golden rays of the setting sun slanted across him, casting a long shadow on the ground.

A soft, distinctive sound of footsteps came from behind, carrying a familiar buzzing quality.

Dumbledore walked over to Lynch and stood beside him, also watching the students pouring into the castle.

His long, silvery-white beard swayed gently in the evening breeze, and his blue eyes behind his crescent-shaped glasses shone with a gentle yet profound light.

"An impressive presentation, Professor Lynch." Dumbledore's distinctively resonant voice reached Lynch's ears.

His gaze remained fixed on the students, his tone still gentle: "You have presented a profound theory in an... unparalleled way."

That sea of ​​clouds, like molten gold, will indeed be etched deep in the memory of everyone who experienced it firsthand.

He slowly turned his head, his gaze falling on Lin Qi's calm profile, his blue eyes behind the glasses as deep as the sea.

"But, Professor Lynch," Dumbledore's voice turned serious, "the height of the stands far exceeds the height you stated in your application."

You have placed the safety of all the teachers and students of Hogwarts in a dangerous situation.

I hope you remember this: the more power originates from within yourself, the more responsible you are for its flow and the ripples it may create.

Lynch nodded slightly, his usual warm smile seeming to have faded a little. He turned to Dumbledore and said, "Sometimes, it takes some unconventional displays to break down the barriers people have in their minds."

I am fully aware of the risks involved in this demonstration and have made thorough preparations for it…

I'm so sorry... but I need these children to remember that sentence.

A brief silence enveloped the two, with only the faint sounds of excited chatter from students in the distance.

Dumbledore's deep blue eyes gazed intently at Lynch: "To overturn the theory of pure-blood superiority...?"

After a moment, he spoke again, his voice returning to its calm, humming quality, but the topic had changed: "It has been a thousand years since Salazar-Slytherin proposed the idea of ​​'only admitting pure-blood students'."

He spoke slowly, his gaze returning to the distance, "This idea has provided fertile ground for some families to transform the divide between wizards and Muggles into a blind veneration of bloodlines."

He paused, his tone heavy: "After the International Law of Secrecy came into effect, many important positions in the Ministry of Magic were gradually taken over by families that believed in the supremacy of pure blood. They even tried to legislate to prohibit wizards from marrying Muggles. That was their most glorious time."

"Then in the 1930s, an anonymous wizard published the Book of Purebloods, which listed twenty-eight pureblood families that were not tainted by Muggle blood," Lynch continued, picking up where Dumbledore left off.

His tone was calm and even, as if he were recounting a history that had nothing to do with him. However, because he had seen Professor Quirrell in class earlier and knew that Voldemort was on the field at this moment, he chose to avoid mentioning his name: "After that, he sought refuge with that being, wanting to restore the glory of yesterday, but he did not expect that he would fail unexpectedly, which instead made the pure-blood family decline even more severely."

Headmaster Dumbledore, I am very familiar with this history of pure-blood development.

Dumbledore's deep blue eyes looked at Lynch again, his gaze seemingly able to see through appearances, carrying a hint of understanding: "Then you must also know that even after experiencing failure, these families who believe in the pure-blood theory still occupy a force that cannot be ignored in the wizarding world."

They still firmly believe in the superiority of pure blood and are willing to fight to the end for it.

The core of the pure-blood superiority theory is that pure-blood wizards possess greater magical abilities than Muggle wizards because their bloodlines are purer.

In other words, they believed that magic originated from blood, not the soul.

Your views and conclusions are a blatant provocation against them.

Lynch finally turned around completely, meeting Dumbledore's gaze head-on. The setting sun cast two tiny golden rays in his dark eyes.

A faint smile curved his lips, a smile devoid of sarcasm but carrying an all-knowing calm: "Magic originates from the sparks that bloom deep within the soul, not from the surnames that flow in the veins."

I regret that the answer they have held onto for thousands of years was wrong from the very beginning.

"Any reasonable person knows the absurdity of pure-blood superiority, but what makes you so convinced that you are right?" Dumbledore asked.

"Myself," Lynch answered without hesitation. "My naturally superior magical power is the best proof of that."

No one understands better than me that this power comes from a strong soul.

Dumbledore paused for a moment, then looked at Lynch: "Now is not a good time for you to fight with the pure-blood families. We need to focus our attention on more important things."

Lin Qi raised an index finger and shook it gently: "In this world, simply waiting won't bring you a good opportunity. Many things only present a good opportunity after you take action."

He lowered his arm and looked at Dumbledore: "And who do you think will be the first to rush up and fawn over him when he returns?"

At that time, the power of purebloods was his power.

There's no harm in weakening them in advance.

"They will definitely come after you and make you retract your statement or admit your mistake," Dumbledore said with certainty, describing the actions the pure-blood family would inevitably take next.

Lynch smiled. "I'm really looking forward to their reaction."