The Black Bloodline of Hogwarts

The paw prints on the snow resembled a string of scattered silver coins, gradually disappearing at the edge of Hogsmeade Village. Crookshanks had long since vanished into the withered thicket of thorns, but the footprints stubbornly pointed to a gap in the Screaming Shack half-hidden by the wind and snow.

On a hillside not far from the other side of the Shrieking Shack, Hermione and Ron were confronting Malfoy and the other two.

"What, Potter isn't with you?" Malfoy tilted his head dramatically, his gaze sweeping around like a searchlight. "Oh, I remember now, poor Potter didn't have his parents' signatures, so he couldn't come."

"Hahahaha." Crabbe and Goyle laughed in unison behind Malfoy.

"What are you trying to say, Malfoy?" Ron interrupted him, his left hand instinctively reaching for his school uniform pocket—which was empty, with his wand tucked into his jeans back pocket.

He had just built a crooked snowman Harry in the snow and casually stuck his wand there.

Malfoy noticed the gesture, and the corners of his mouth curved into a wider smile. "I heard the Weasleys can't even afford secondhand wands; it seems it's true."

"At least the Weasleys' money is earned through their own hard work," Hermione stepped forward. "Unlike some pure-blood families who do all sorts of shady things all the time."

Malfoy's face flushed red. "How dare you...you mudblood." Outside of school, Malfoy was even more unrestrained in his cursing.

Before Ron could even react, a snowball suddenly flew through the air from the direction of the Screaming Shack and hit Malfoy right in the mouth.

Not only were Malfoy and the others caught off guard, but Hermione and Ron were also taken aback.

Just then, another snowball flew by and hit Malfoy on the head again. The group looked around, but couldn't see a soul in sight.

"Could it be a ghost? This is still within the Shrieking Shack area," Crabbe said, his voice trembling with fear.

Suddenly, Malfoy seemed to be pulled down, his legs dragged towards the Screaming Shack.

"Ah, ah, help, Crabbe, Goyle!" Malfoy screamed, struggling desperately. But Goyle and Crabbe paid him no heed and turned to run away.

Fortunately, Malfoy eventually broke free from those invisible hands, got up, and chased after Crabbe and Goyle.

Ron was enjoying the show when he noticed his hat being patted a few times. He was so frightened that he turned pale and froze.

At this point, Hermione had realized what was happening and said with a laugh, "Harry, stop fooling around."

Harry then removed his invisibility cloak and appeared with a smile.

"You're really something, scaring people in a haunted place. Let's get out of here!"

……

Not far from them is the Screaming Shack.

Despite being called the Scream Shack, it's actually quite spacious inside, like a villa. However, the smell inside is indescribable; it smells like aged potion mixed with rotting wood.

Liria walked at the front, her "Tears of Eternal Night" emitting a soft silver light on her chest, barely illuminating the rugged path beneath her feet.

"This place is even more gloomy than Professor Snape's potions pantry," Elizabeth whispered, "and colder. My toes are already—"

"Shh." Liria suddenly stopped.

A sound came from ahead. It wasn't the sound of wind, nor the rustling of mice, but a low, almost sobbing breath.

Then came the sound of chewing—the wet, sticky sound of some kind of meat being torn apart.

Crookshank's silhouette appeared at the edge of the halo. It sat perched on a collapsed stone pillar, its tail gracefully wrapped around its front paws, its amber eyes like two small lanterns in the darkness. Something seemed to be moving in the shadows before it.

"Step back," Julien pulled the two girls to the front, "Let me go first..."

"Who's there? Once you're here, don't leave."

The voice coming from the shadows froze everyone. It wasn't a human voice—or rather, it wasn't a normal human voice.

It had a canine hoarseness, yet it spoke clearly in human language, as if every syllable squeezed out from the depths of its throat was stained with blood.

The voice continued, with a strange, almost mocking chuckle, "A little boy bringing two girls to their deaths? Hogwarts students? Didn't your Headmaster Dumbledore warn you to be careful lately?"

Julien took a deep breath and stepped out of the shadows.

His wand was not raised, but hung at his side—a gesture of innocence, though at this distance, it might be meaningless.

“Shillem Julien Black,” he said, “a third-year Ravenclaw student. They are…”

"Shillem Julien Black! It's you! No wonder the mark on my wrist reacted." The voice interrupted him. "Then I suppose you know who I am."

A rustling sound came from the shadows, like some enormous creature adjusting its posture. Then, a deep laugh, like thunder rolling from the depths of a chest, followed.

The shadow began to shift, gradually revealing its outline—a huge, disheveled black dog, its size comparable to a calf, its ribs clearly visible beneath its filthy fur. But its eyes…

Those eyes were human. Deep-set, bloodshot, yet burning with a kind of almost insane intelligence.

He looked up and his gaze met Julien's. In that instant, Julien felt the totem on his right wrist burning intensely, as if some ancient bloodline was responding to another ancient bloodline.

"I've never met your father, but you look a lot like your grandfather," Sirius Black suddenly said, his voice softening and filled with deep weariness.

"Shillem. You look a lot like... your grandfather when he was young. Except for your eyes, your eyes are more like Harry's mother's, from the Lily family."

"Are you very familiar with my grandfather?"

"I know all of Black," Sirius's tail swayed slowly behind him, "but I know your father best. You could even say I'm the one who got him expelled from the family."

His words were interrupted by a sudden blizzard.

A broken window in the screaming shed was blown open, and snowflakes swirled in like blades. Crookshan let out a disgruntled screech, grabbed the remaining food, and leaped onto a higher, sheltered rock platform.

"Julien told us about your case, but since you were wronged, why didn't you appeal all these years?" Liria suddenly asked, and Elizabeth's eyes also showed the same confusion.

Sirius Black tilted his head, a gesture that carried a canine innocence, yet was paired with a pair of human eyes that had seen much of life: "Appeal?"

"Complain to the Ministry of Magic?" Sirius's voice held a bitter sarcasm. "Or to Minister Fudge, who can't even tell good from bad Dementors? Or perhaps complain to the Daily Prophet?"

"But they all say you're a murderer," Liria said, "that you were going to kill Harry Potter..."

The big black dog's emotions became visibly agitated. He took a step forward, and his figure began to change in the wind and snow.

The sounds of bones reforming were drowned out by the wind and snow, and the dirty fur was removed, revealing the pale, scarred human skin underneath.

When the transformation was complete, standing before them was a gaunt man. His disheveled black hair fell to his shoulders, and his eyes, still burning in their deep-set sockets, now held a certain urgency.

"How could I kill Harry? I owe him," he said, his voice hoarse but clear. "The one I'd kill is the real traitor. The one who let Voldemort find the Potters. The one who made me lose everything."

"Peter Peddiro," Julien said softly, "your rat friend."

Sirius's body stiffened. His eyes—the same eyes as in his Azmagus form—were fixed on Julien.

How did you know?

"I saw his name on the event map," Julien casually told a small lie, not wanting to explain further.

"You even know the Marauder's Map, no wonder." Sirius Black showed an understanding expression, but then became resentful. "I knew it, that rat is at Hogwarts! But I couldn't find him, he was hiding from me."