School was finally out for summer vacation, and Lucius returned to the orphanage.
Before leaving school, Draco’s sulky mood still hadn’t lifted—it seemed he was still angry with her about that day.
Lucius, as always, didn’t think she had done anything wrong. There were many things she didn’t care much about, even her own birthday.
Lucius hadn’t told anyone that her twelfth birthday was approaching.
She didn’t like celebrating birthdays—not in this life, nor in her previous one.
Not wanting to disappoint Mrs. Grace’s kindness, Lucius smiled and ate a small piece of cake, earnestly making a wish over the candles: she hoped every day from now on would get better and better.
Throughout the entire vacation, Lucius kept herself meticulously organized. She had no intention of staying cooped up in the orphanage and, using the excuse of visiting a classmate’s home, smoothly left the orphanage.
Although the Patil sisters had sent an Owl not long ago with a letter enthusiastically inviting her to visit their home,
Lucius politely declined because she had more important things to do—like using her exceptional potions knowledge to earn her first fortune in the Muggle world.
As for the Ministry of Magic’s rules and all those rigid regulations, Lucius believed: as long as she could find loopholes in the fine print, operate in the gray areas, and use magic cautiously, no one would be able to catch her.
For example, Mr. Arthur Weasley’s flying car—the very man who helped draft those regulations—was a perfect example.
Of course, Mr. Weasley had a reckless son who messed everything up, but Lucius was confident she would handle things with far greater discretion.
More importantly, while studying the master’s manuscripts recently, she had discovered a major secret: how to effectively erase the traces left by a minor’s wand, and how to use spells—even Dark Magic—without being detected.
Wow, incredible! This was practically a godsend. Lucius thought to herself: once again, thank you, senior master.
Before long, a mysterious woman named Bai Lu appeared in the hidden underground market, running an unlicensed, illegal all-purpose potions shop with a strangely whimsical name: “Little Bai’s Miracle Shop.”
The shop wasn’t large, but it sold incredibly effective—and expensive—beauty potions, weight-loss potions, sleeping draughts, blood-replenishing potions, and even brain-boosting tonics.
It was no gimmick; the results were astonishingly good.
There were those who tried to dig deeper or harbored greedy intentions to take over the shop, but they were all scared off by the two tall, burly, scar-faced guards wielding guns.
The mastermind behind it all, Lucius, smiled smugly as she watched the business rake in money daily. Her two bodyguards—convicted criminals who had successfully escaped prison—were now under her complete control via the Imperius Curse, obeying her every command. Her conscience didn’t ache in the slightest.
Scum of society, put to good use—better than letting them harm the innocent.
Lounging with her legs crossed, playing boss and counting pounds, Lucius was living the good life.
…
Meanwhile, at Privet Drive, Harry Potter was having a miserable time. More than half of summer vacation had passed, and he hadn’t received a single letter—he thought things couldn’t get any worse.
But unfortunately, they could.
A house-elf calling itself “Dobby” appeared out of thin air and, in the name of “doing what’s best for him” and “protecting him,” intercepted all his incoming mail and found every excuse to stop him from returning to Hogwarts.
For this, Dobby even used magic to mess up Uncle Vernon’s business orders, causing him to be warned by people from the Ministry of Magic.
Harry was also given detention and felt utterly dejected.
He lay lifelessly on his bed, staring blankly into space, wondering who was behind all this. He didn’t believe a word of Dobby’s sensational nonsense.
“Harry, come out! Your professor wants to see you!”
A moment later, the sound of a Portkey being inserted into the lock hole was accompanied by Uncle Vernon’s furious yet forcibly suppressed low roar.
Harry adjusted his glasses, which had slipped down his nose, and was momentarily confused. Professor? A professor from Hogwarts?
Could it be that the warning from the Ministry of Magic had alarmed Hogwarts?
Harry’s heart pounded anxiously, fearing that the next moment he would see the most hated Potions professor, Snape. Perhaps the other would sneer and tell him, “Harry Potter, you have been expelled from Hogwarts. Congratulations!”
No, the more Harry thought about such a terrifying outcome, the more his legs refused to move.
“Harry! Stop dawdling and get down here now! Or I’ll make you regret it!” Vernon had no patience for his nephew. He roughly grabbed Harry and almost forcibly dragged him out of the room, his tone full of malice and threat. “Behave yourself and don’t say anything nonsense!”
Helpless, Harry had no choice but to resign himself to his fate and go downstairs, awaiting the most dreadful verdict.
In the spacious, bright living room, Aunt Petunia sat on the sofa, tugging at her restless son Dudley, occasionally stealing glances at the witch who was leisurely sipping coffee—a magic professor who called herself Minerva McGonagall.
She cursed inwardly, wondering why that damned Harry hadn’t come down yet. They were a perfectly normal and respectable family, yet not only were they raising a freak of a nephew, but they had also let in a witch wearing strange robes. It was utterly absurd.
“Harry, you’re too slow! Come and meet your professor. She says she wants to conduct a home visit!”
Aunt Petunia, sharp-eyed, spotted Harry at the top of the stairs and couldn’t contain her irritation, shrieking loudly.
“Sorry, Aunt Petnia… and… Professor?”
Halfway through his sentence, Harry saw the female professor rising from the sofa and smiling at him with an enigmatic expression. He was stunned.
She wore a familiar emerald-green robe, her hair neatly styled in a high bun. She was tall and slender, with a mature, charming, and beautiful appearance, almost like a movie star.
Harry widened his eyes, trying hard to recall his life at Hogwarts. He was certain he had never seen this unfamiliar female professor before.
Besides, she was so beautiful—if he had seen her before, he definitely wouldn’t have forgotten.
“Dear Harry, long time no see. What, have you already forgotten Professor McGonagall?”
“……” Harry was pulled into a tight embrace, the faint scent of jasmine perfume lingering around him. His face flushed, and his mind grew dizzy. He wondered if he was hallucinating or hearing things.
Professor McGonagall didn’t look like this!
Even if she were twenty years younger, could she be this captivating?
Could the professor have used Polyjuice Potion? The thought crossed Harry’s mind but was quickly dismissed.
Absolutely impossible. The mere thought of Professor McGonagall’s stern and rigid face made Harry shudder.
Harry stood there dumbly as she hugged him, surprised to see “Professor McGonagall” give him a playful wink, her expression somehow vaguely familiar.
“Dear sir and madam, I hope you don’t mind if I take Harry away for a while. I’ll bring him back later. I trust you’ll understand.”
“Professor McGonagall” straightened her face, her voice turning serious.
The Dursleys looked somewhat unwilling, Mr. Dursley glancing sideways at his equally displeased wife, but they were constrained by the power of wizards.
Both husband and wife had noticed, almost simultaneously, that this strange yet beautiful female professor had unintentionally revealed a corner of her black wand. They could only nod in sullen agreement.
“…Of course, we’d be delighted.”
Even after leaving the Dursleys’ house and Privet Drive, Harry still felt a bit dazed.
“Harry, where would you like to go? Are you hungry? Would you like to get something to eat? How about Western food, Chinese food, or Thai cuisine?”
Harry pressed a hand against his loudly growling stomach, trying hard not to think about food. He raised his head and stared intently at the overly enthusiastic “Professor McGonagall.”
There was no doubt—she must be an imposter professor.
“Who are you really? I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Really? Hearing you say that breaks my heart! Have I changed so much just by aging twenty years? Don’t you even recognize my voice anymore?”
“Professor McGonagall” gave Harry a sly glance, her smile widening as she watched his expression shift from shock to disbelief.
Black hair, amber eyes, nearly snow-white skin, flawlessly delicate features, and a bright, radiant smile.
Harry’s pupils contracted, and he couldn’t help but exclaim excitedly, “Lucius!”
Bingo! (≧≦)/
That’s right—it was indeed an aged-up Lucius, the thirty-two-year-old Lusa Riddle. The leap in age was so great that the girl and the mature woman had completely different auras, no wonder Harry hadn’t recognized her at first.