Ace of the Dragon Division - Chapter 110 - Another Pro Coming to Contest

To be is to have a soul. The soul begets a will. Wills accumulate into mysterious psychic forces, weaving secret domains within the fabric of reality.

A heroine dedicated to creating great wands and magic props;
A heroine dedicated to 100%(?) avoiding mischief and bad luck;
Meet George Weasley, a resourceful(?) daring, careful prankster for twenty years.
Is their collision a lose-lose or a win-win cooperation?

This is the story of Miss Ollivander, who doesn’t know the development of HP’s story, and the lovely Weasley family, George. In addition to the magical joke product and the Horcrux Deathly Hallows, how can other magical items help in the world of HP?
[I want to save all the characters I want to save]

Editing!
I reread the first few chapters over the weekend and found a lot of typos and bugs. In order not to affect your reading, I will revise a few chapters every few days. The plot will not change, but I will fix the problems raised by my friends in the comments before~ Sorry readers who have read it!
Content Tags: Anglo-American Derivatives

Search keywords: protagonists: George Weasley, Gwen Ollivander ┃ Supporting roles: Fred Weasley, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger ┃ Others: HP Doujin

One sentence introduction: If you can’t save the world, then save your brother?

Intention: fall in love with George Weasley, do scientific research, and invent. If you can participate in saving the world, accompany your boyfriend to help.

- Description from novelbuddy

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”