The Black Bloodline of Hogwarts

Lupin turned to Gryffindor again. "Mr. Weasley?"

A huge, hairy spider crawled out—Harry recognized it as a carbon copy of Aragog. Its eight eyes gleamed with hunger, and its chelicerae made a sickeningly loud clicking sound as they rubbed together.

Ron let out a sound that was somewhere between a scream and a hiccup, and staggered back a step.

"Hilarious! (Riddikulus)!"

Ron recited the incantation in a trembling voice.

"Excellent, Mr. Weasley, excellent!" Lupin said with a laugh. "The imagination of a spider dancing ballet is truly impressive."

"Luckily, Julien told me about 'Swan Lake,' otherwise I really wouldn't know what to do." Ron leaned against Harry, his legs feeling weak.

"Fear itself is not the enemy. Being controlled by fear is." Lupin emphasized again to all the young wizards, "Once you defeat the Boggart, you will be able to face anything."

"Next," Lupin smiled as he looked at the eager, jostling young wizards, "Slytherin, Miss Greengrass, it's your turn."

……

The young wizards excitedly displayed their inner fears and overcame them one by one.

Among them, the one that impressed Julien the most was Hermione, whose Boggart was a huge, automatically turning book—every page was an exam paper, and every page had "Fail" written on it, clearly in Professor McGonagall's handwriting.

……

"Ravenclaw, Mr. Black?" Lupin's gaze finally fell on Julien. "Stop laughing, it's your turn."

As Julien stepped forward, he felt Elizabeth and Liria casting their gazes simultaneously—worried, wary, and somewhat curious.

He walked to the center, twirling his silver linden wand between his fingers.

"This guy, still thinking about showing off at a time like this," Hermione thought resentfully.

"Mr. Black," Lupin said, his smile fading, his voice carrying a seriousness that only the two of them could sense, "Are you ready?"

Julien smiled and nodded.

He was actually quite curious himself.

Voldemort? Probably not.

Werewolves? Impossible.

A ghost from a past life? I see it every day at Hogwarts in this life.

Many fan fictions mention nuclear bombs, but frankly, he didn't feel a sense of immersion in them.

Could it be Deng Xiaoping? Some people have mentioned it, and that would be terrible. I hope not.

The wardrobe door slowly opened.

Darkness. Deeper than the darkness brought by Dementors…

Then, a person emerged from the darkness.

The laughter in the classroom stopped abruptly.

That was Julien. But not the Julien of today—it was him in the future, or rather, a possible version of him.

The "Julien" was dressed in a black robe studded with star fragments, his long silver hair cascading over his shoulders like Grindelwald's now. In his hand he held a stone tablet covered with star patterns.

Although his face was aged, it was still clear that he was an elderly Julien.

Those eyes... those eyes were the black of an abyss.

His indifferent expression carried an arrogant air of "I know all the answers."

"You've finally come," the "Julien" spoke, his voice seeming to come from a great distance. "You finally understand. So-called stability is foolish and cowardly. Only by opening up—"

At the same time, illusions appeared around him. Beneath his feet, the ruins of Hogwarts were burning. Behind him, a massive rift tore through the sky.

The classroom was so quiet you could hear the dust settling on the floor.

Elizabeth gripped her wand tightly, her knuckles turning white. Liria's long, silvery-white hair moved without wind, like a battle flag about to go into battle.

Julien looked at that "self".

He recalled Grindelwald's words in Newmont: "Possibility is the most lacking thing in our generation."

Then he smiled.

It wasn't a laugh born of fear, nor a forced laugh; it was a genuine, heartfelt joy, tinged with a touch of mischievous delight.

—Shaboyi, I don't need your guidance, even if you are me.

"Riddikulus," he said, his voice as steady as if he were ordering a butterbeer.

The black-robed "Julien"—his robe suddenly turned into a comical, sequined peacock blue, exactly like Gilderoy Lockhart's most extravagant outfit.

The star map tablet in "his" hand transformed into a giant, melting chocolate frog, with the galaxy pattern on it turning into a cartoon smiley face—complete with Lockhart-style curled eyelashes.

The burning Hogwarts beneath his feet had transformed into an inflatable castle, which was being inflated by a giant, pink Dementor using a straw. The Dementor even wore a badge that read "I love Azkaban."

Most importantly, Julien's hair—that silver-white, Grindelwald-like long hair—suddenly became curly, honey-colored, Astoria Greengrass-like curls, tied with two playful bows.

"I am the greatest wizard!" the comical version of "Dark Julien" shrieked in a shrill voice, "I will activate—"

He suddenly tripped over his own peacock blue robe that was dragging on the floor and fell headfirst into the large wardrobe behind him.

silence.

Then, a burst of laughter erupted, loud enough to shatter a crystal ball.

Professor Lupin—Remus Lupin, the man who had experienced true darkness—stood to one side, a complex light flickering in his grey-brown eyes.

He looked at Julien, at the third-year student who had put away his wand amidst laughter, a mischievous smile still lingering on his lips.

He seemed to understand somewhat what Boggart was revealing.

“Excellent, Mr. Black,” Lupin’s voice cut through the laughter, carrying a peculiar gentleness. “Excellent.”

"Did you see that hair? Greengrass-style curls!"

"And that peacock blue robe! Lockhart will be green with envy!"

"I think the best thing is that 'I love Azkaban' badge."

"Isn't that curly hair nice? This must be the inspiration I gave Julien!" Daphne said, laughing as well.

Julien was sandwiched between Elizabeth and Liria, like some kind of precious exhibit that needed protection.

"You've already thought it through?" Elizabeth asked, a hint of amusement still lingering in her icy gray eyes. "That...image?"

"Partly," Julien admitted. "The Grindelwald-like long hair was improvised. But the chocolate frog—" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a real little chocolate frog.

Liria gently patted his shoulder—the way a girl from the North expresses concern: "Actually, you scared me a little. Is that Boggart really you...?"

“That Boggart is me,” Julien said, his voice so soft that only they could hear him. “I mean, it could be me, but only possibly.”

Julien looked out the window into the distance. The observatory tower appeared serene and ancient in the autumn sunlight, and at the edge of the Forbidden Forest in the distance, a winged eagle with the head of a hippogriff was soaring across the lake.

"Professor Lupin is right," Julien finally said. "Fear itself is not the enemy. Being controlled by fear is."

He turned to the two girls, his emerald eyes gleaming with a light that both reassured and worried them: "So I choose... to laugh at it."

Elizabeth gave a soft hum, but a slight smile played on her lips: "A typical Ravenclaw solution. Humor armed with knowledge."

“No,” Liria said suddenly, her icy blue eyes fixed on Julien, “this is a typical Julien solution. Armed with humor… courage.”

"Very good, very good." Lupin laughed loudly from the podium.

At this moment, Boggart's form is that of a roly-poly clown, swaying back and forth incessantly.

"Next up, Harry Potter."