Marvel's Magic Master: I Have a Clone in the Harry Potter World!

"So, that eight-eyed spider named Aragog was later sent to the Forbidden Forest?"

Harry pressed on with his questioning.

Hagrid nodded.

"Yes, I even found him a mate named Mosag in the forest. Now they have hundreds of offspring."

"As far as I know, eight-eyed spiders don't have the ability to petrify people," George interjected.

Hermione pondered for a moment before speaking.

"If Aragog is in the Forbidden Forest, then the creature attacking students from the Chamber of Secrets can't be an eight-eyed spider. That means the attacks from back then couldn't have been Hagrid's doing. Unfortunately, no one besides us is likely to believe this."

To outsiders, the eight-eyed spiders in the Forbidden Forest might very well be seen as the creatures unleashed from the Chamber. There was no evidence to prove otherwise.

Leaving Hagrid's hut, the trio's spirits noticeably lifted after confirming Hagrid wasn't the heir to the Chamber of Secrets.

"If Hagrid was wrongfully accused, couldn't we find a way to help him clear his name?" Harry suggested on their way back to the castle.

Hermione seemed to have a similar thought.

"If we can draw the creature out and prove it's not an eight-eyed spider, we can undo the misunderstanding and prove Hagrid's innocence."

"But the creature hasn't shown up recently. What if it's all over?" Ron asked anxiously.

George couldn't help but marvel at their determination.

"Classic you three!"

While most students were terrified of encountering the Chamber's monster, these three were busy scheming to lure it out.

George, however, shared their objective, albeit with a more calculated approach.

He knew the creature in the Chamber was a basilisk and was well aware of its fatal weakness. Basilisks, born from a chicken egg hatched under a toad using dark magic, were among the most dangerous magical creatures. Not only did they possess deadly venom and an enormous body, but their gaze could instantly kill—or, at the very least, petrify through reflection.

However, the basilisk had a natural enemy: the rooster. A rooster's crow could incapacitate or even kill a basilisk. This was why Voldemort, controlling Ginny, had made sure to eliminate Hagrid's roosters in advance.

During the past Christmas break, George secretly purchased several roosters from Diagon Alley and kept them in a magically expanded, undetectable box for emergencies.

His plan was to unleash the roosters if his life were in danger during a basilisk encounter.

Still, proving Hagrid's innocence wouldn't require killing the basilisk outright. Simply revealing it to the public would suffice. But George considered using the roosters as a last resort. The magical box and the preemptive acquisition of roosters would raise too many questions.

For now, there was time. The diary remained in Harry's possession. Until Ginny stole it back, unleashing the basilisk again, George's focus was on mastering the Sectumsempra curse.

Valentine's Day

Time flew by, and soon it was February 14th—Valentine's Day.

Arriving at the Great Hall that morning, George immediately noticed the transformation. The walls were adorned with bright pink flowers, and colorful heart-shaped confetti drifted lazily down from the pale blue ceiling.

"Well, it does look nice. No wonder the witches love it," George muttered, observing the starry-eyed witches entering the hall. He couldn't help but admire Lockhart's knack for setting a romantic mood.

Indeed, women—whether Muggles or witches—seemed universally drawn to such grand, romantic gestures.

Meanwhile, the male students looked far less enthusiastic. Harry and Ron, upon seeing Lockhart in his flamboyant pink robes, wore expressions of utter revulsion, as though they were about to vomit.

At the staff table, the professors didn't look particularly happy either. Snape, in particular, looked as though someone had just forced him to chug a full goblet of Skele-Gro.

Once most of the students had gathered, Lockhart unveiled his Valentine's Day morale-boosting plan:

Twelve dwarfs dressed as cupids, complete with golden wings and harps, would deliver Valentine's cards across the school. Students could write their cards and hand them to the dwarfs, who would not only deliver the cards but also read them aloud if asked. Lockhart even encouraged students to consult Snape about brewing love potions or ask Flitwick for lessons on enchanting charms.

George, however, was merely an amused observer.

To him, his current body was still that of a child. Most students at Hogwarts hadn't even come of age, so he had no intention of pursuing romance anytime soon.

Romance could wait. Magic, however, couldn't. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and George was determined to make the most of it. In fact, he viewed love with a certain detachment.

His past life had taught him that love wasn't essential. If physical needs arose, there were ways to satisfy them without emotional entanglement.

Since discovering magic, George had found his true passion. Everything else was secondary. He aspired to live by the mantra: "Pass through a sea of flowers, untouched by a single petal."

...

..

.

"Sectumsempra!"

In the Forbidden Forest, George waved his wand. A transparent blade of magical energy shot from its tip, striking a fleeing mole and leaving it bloodied and mangled.

Overhead, his owl, Pigwidgeon, swooped down, grabbed the mole in its talons, and swallowed it in one gulp.

With no classes that morning, George had snuck into the Forbidden Forest after breakfast to practice the Sectumsempra curse, using various small creatures as targets.

Like the Fire-Making Spell, whose intensity ranged from a small flame to a raging inferno, Sectumsempra could vary in power depending on the caster's skill.

At the beginner level, George could only release a single transparent blade with moderate power. With mastery, he could unleash multiple blades simultaneously, each with far greater destructive force. A sufficiently advanced caster could even bisect a target with a single strike.

Although he'd managed to grasp the basics, George knew that consistent practice and refinement were essential to unlocking the curse's full potential.

At lunchtime, George skipped the Great Hall and instead dined at Hagrid's hut.

He braved Hagrid's infamous rock cakes, which lived up to their name—chewing them required extraordinary jaw strength. Fortunately, George's enhanced physique made it possible to enjoy the surprisingly good flavor hidden beneath their challenging texture.

'Not bad, Hagrid,' George thought, biting into another rock cake with a mix of amusement and resignation.