The Black Bloodline of Hogwarts

The children's voices startled the guests in the main hall.

The first to notice the problem was Julien's mother, Lady Clara Black.

Clara's maiden name was Evans before her marriage. She came from Surrey, England (near London), where many members of the Evans family lived.

Clara currently works as a winemaking consultant. While still a university student, Clara met Julien's father at a wine party in Bordeaux, France, during a trip there. The two quickly fell in love and married.

Soon after, their love child, Schillero Julien Black, was born.

This time, she was in charge of the party setup and helping her husband entertain the guests. But she also had some attention on the children in the backyard.

Well, her son Julien was intelligent and sensible from a young age, so much so that Clara couldn't fully utilize her abilities as a mother.

But these past two days have been a bit strange. He's been acting out of sorts, spending all his time either drawing or lost in thought.

Is he sick?

When Clara suddenly heard screams from the backyard, her heart skipped a beat, and she rushed towards her son.

At this time, Leia's parents and other guests also arrived.

By the time the adults arrived, everything had returned to normal. No one had seen anything, except for the winery owner.

"Julien? What's wrong?" Clara crouched down and put her arm around his still trembling shoulders.

The little boy was pale, seemingly exhausted, but his eyes were unusually clear.

"It's nothing, Mom... I just... feel a little strange, oh no, I'm a little... agitated."

Léa's parents also asked their daughter about it. Léa timidly replied, "I only told him I wanted to break up with Julien, and he..."

"Oh dear! Heartbreak must be a huge blow," a lady said sympathetically. "Poor little gentleman."

"Yes, the child is so young and has already tasted the bitterness of love," her best friend said with a hint of teasing.

"Give him some hot chocolate," Grandma Elodie said, coming over at that moment. She bent down and gently patted her grandson's head, smiling as she said, "It's alright, Julien. Love comes and goes quickly, but grapes will bear fruit every year."

Everyone looked at Mannequin and Léa with either pity or mockery.

Because everyone realized that nothing serious had happened; it was just the children's budding feelings and playful antics.

Only one person stood at the back of the crowd, his body stiff.

Alfred Black.

He saw it—the floating stone, the water flowing against the current.

He heard his grandson say, "I feel something is off, and I'm getting a little agitated."

He sensed that the magical energy within Julien's body fluctuated like the ebb and flow of the tide.

His heart almost stopped beating.

decades.

Since his family tree was burned (the name on the Black family tree tapestry appears automatically at the time of a member's birth; if it is burned, it means that the person is expelled from the family in every sense and can no longer return to the old house), he eventually came to France and married a Muggle woman.

From then on, his life became wonderful. He got along well with his parents-in-law, loved his wife dearly, and there was no more of the infighting that had plagued his family in the past.

He also used his magic to improve the quality of his wife's family's winery, achieving great success. After his parents-in-law passed away, he also became the owner of the winery.

His only regret was that he later had a son, but the son did not show any magical talent, and he thought that his branch of the Black magical bloodline had ended.

But today, his grandson, a 10-year-old child, suddenly went berserk in full view of everyone.

Alphad didn't step forward immediately. He quickly scanned his surroundings—no one had taken out a wand, no one had cast a spell, they were all Muggles.

This means that everything is completely under control.

He took a deep breath, suppressing the tears that were about to spill from his eyes, and walked over slowly. "Make way," he said in a steady voice, "let me see my little heir."

He crouched down, meeting Julien's gaze at him, his eyes blazing with a storm of emotion, yet he asked in the calmest of tones, "Tell me, child, what just happened?"

Julien looked into his grandfather's eyes, where there was no fear, only... expectation.

"The stones are flying," he whispered, only his grandfather could hear. "The water is flowing backwards... And I think it's magic, isn't it?"

Alfred's body trembled slightly. Suppressing his inner turmoil, he stood up and smiled at everyone: "I'm sorry, everyone. The child was a little traumatized, and he was too excited today, so he's hallucinating. Élodie, you take care of the guests; I'll take him to the lounge to lie down for a while."

Then, he leaned down and whispered a spell that only Julien could hear: "Finite Incantatem," the spell for everything to be as it is.

Then he led Julien to the private study at the deepest part of the winery. Here, the air was filled with a complex blend of old books, cedarwood, and a hint of aged wine stains—the unique fragrance of time.

The study is small but has high ceilings. The walls are exposed limestone, but the rough texture is softened by the floor-to-ceiling dark walnut bookshelves.

The bookshelf wasn't perfectly shaped; there was a recessed section holding geological samples, and a protruding shelf where an open hand-drawn map of a vineyard lay.

Most of the books are leather-bound, with faded gold lettering on the spines, and are mostly about soil science, winemaking history, and local poetry.

In the middle of the room, two faded burgundy sofas faced each other.

On the wooden coffee table in the middle, a crystal decanter and several ISO standard wine glasses are casually placed, with the lingering aftertaste of last night still on the bottom of the glasses.

The carpet was oriental, with a faint dark stain on the deep red brocade—a permanent signature left by Margaux in 1982 on some night of revelry.

At the far end of the room is an oak wine cabinet embedded in the wall.

Alphad turned the label on the seventh bottle in the third row, a 1953 vintage, and the wall slid open silently, revealing a downward stone staircase.

"Come with me, Schiller." This time he didn't use the name Julien, which he usually called him.

Julien followed him into the secret room. The room was small, with a walnut table in the center and the walls engraved with star maps, some serpentine runes, and the Black family coat of arms.

On the table sat a yew wand, its tip gleaming slightly.

"This is the wand I used to use," Alphad said, his voice trembling slightly. "I thought... I wouldn't need it anymore."

He pulled Lian close, cupped his face in his hands, and wept uncontrollably: "What you experienced was a magical surge, the kind of magical surge that can occur in children with magical talent before the age of 11. This means that the purest Black blood flows in your veins—even stronger than Sirius's."

"Sirius? The brightest star in Canis Major?" Julien blurted out.

Alphad paused, then said, "Oh, that's the name of one of your uncles. You know, the children in our Black family are all named after constellations. Your name is like that too."

"Hmm." Could it really be as I think? Julien thought to himself.

"Child, what I am about to tell you will not surprise you, nor will it frighten you."

Julien didn't answer, but nodded vigorously, his voice filled with excitement.

"You should know, this is a world of magic."

……