The Black Bloodline of Hogwarts

History becomes stories, stories become legends, legends become myths...

As Dumbledore said: The story of Harry Potter and Professor Quirrell in the Great Hall of the Underground was a secret, but it spread so quickly that the whole school knew about it.

Some say Harry Potter single-handedly defeated the dark wizard Quirinus Quirrell; others say Harry Potter prevented Voldemort's resurrection.

The story became more and more fantastical as it was told, but even the most fantastical things that happened to the savior were not surprising.

(Julien: Cousin, don't be so polite.)

---

On a summer morning at Hogwarts, sunlight streams through the tower windows, casting dappled shadows in the corridors.

The final exams are over, and the castle is filled with an atmosphere that is both exciting and slightly sad. A year has passed in the blink of an eye, and summer vacation is just around the corner.

Julien leaned on the second-floor railing of Hogwarts, looking down at the bustling courtyard below. Young wizards, dragging their suitcases, walked in twos and threes toward the gate, the air filled with the clamor and laughter of farewells.

"Julien!"

He turned around and saw Hermione carrying a stack of books, hurrying down the spiral staircase, with Harry and Ron following behind. All three looked tired, yet there was an indescribable sense of satisfaction on their faces.

"You've arrived," Julien greeted them with a smile. "I heard Dumbledore spoke with you last night?"

Harry nodded, the scar on his forehead faintly visible in the morning light. "You should know about the Philosopher's Stone, right? It's Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone."

"Yes, you're the one who told me the name Nicolas Flamel," Hermione added.

"Yes, I know."

"This time it was Quirrell who tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone, but we stopped him." Harry's face lit up.

"What about the Philosopher's Stone?" Julien asked cautiously.

"Dumbledore said the Philosopher's Stone had been destroyed. But Nicolas Flamel never intended to use it anyway... and he would have plenty of time to make his own arrangements."

"What a pity." Julien subconsciously touched the hidden pocket inside his robe, where a piece of gravel was concealed, the only trophy he had brought out from behind the mirror in the chaos.

"Anything else?" Julien noticed Harry's hesitation.

"He said..." Harry's voice lowered, "Voldemort will come back. Let's be ready at any time." Harry's expression had a "Red Boy" vibe to it.

"Oh, right, Julien," Ron suddenly leaned closer, "It's such a shame you didn't come to last night's Academy Cup awards ceremony!"

Julien smiled wryly. He certainly knew what had happened—Dumbledore had added points for Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville at the last minute, propelling Gryffindor from last place to first, shattering Slytherin's dream of seven consecutive years at the top.

He was lying in a hospital bed at the school hospital when a sudden cold caused him to have a high fever and finish the exam, but he then had to stay in the school hospital for a day.

Madame Pomfrey said that what could have been resolved immediately with a "stimulant" was delayed because Julien didn't seek medical attention in time. Julien, however, felt it wasn't his incompetence but rather the cunning nature of the virus.

"Julien," Liria said as she slowly ascended the stairs, her long, silvery-white hair braided into intricate plaits that cascaded over her feather-adorned cloak. Her face was paler than usual, but a resolute light burned in her icy blue eyes.

"Why aren't you done yet?" Her voice was soft, yet it clearly cut off the surrounding noise.

Are you returning to the North this time?

"Yes, I'm going back to Winterspring. Where else can I go?"

"Oh, you can come to France for a visit."

"Maybe next time. I have something important to discuss with the tribe this time."

"Oh, by the way," she said, taking a small object wrapped in animal hide from her bosom, "this is for you."

Julien untied the leather cord, revealing an irregularly shaped ice crystal containing a wisp of eerie blue light, like a frozen aurora. "This is…"

"Tears of Eternal Night," Liria explained, "our tribe's talisman. It reminds you when...when you come near certain ancient powers."

"Ancient power?"

"I don't know the specifics, but the Tear of Eternity reacted to the stone tablet I brought," Liria said in a low voice.

"Alright, I'm going to get on the train now, someone else is looking for you." With that, she pulled the little witch named Susan away. As the little witch passed by Yulian, she winked mischievously at him and pouted.

Julien turned and saw Elizabeth Rozier standing in the shadows of the corridor. Today she was not wearing Slytherin's green and silver color scheme, but a simple dark gray travel cloak, the star brooch shimmering faintly at the collar.

"Rozier...Eliza," Julien corrected himself, "you're all packed? Heading back to Belgium?"

"Yes, let's go back to Belgium first."

"Go back first?" Julien asked, somewhat puzzled.

"Hmm, maybe..." Rozier said somewhat uncertainly, "Maybe I'll go back to my hometown in Germany. Ever since Headmaster Dumbledore mediated for us, they've welcomed us back. Besides, I only have one younger cousin in my generation. They hope..." Rozier shrugged.

"Alright, if Dumbledore knows, there shouldn't be any problem."

Rozier took a few steps closer, his gaze lingering on his face for a moment. "I've come... to say goodbye. Also, here's back for you. The train will be too crowded later."

She took an old map from her sleeve. The map, with the words "The Source of Magic in Europe" handwritten in cursive script at the top, read, "I thought this might be useful to you. It's a rubbing anyway, so you can take it."

As I passed through the diagram, my fingertips touched the edge of the parchment, and I could feel the residual magical fluctuations on it.

At a glance, he saw several points marked on it. Besides the three magical nodes controlled by the three stone tablets that he was familiar with or could roughly guess—the Arctic Circle in Scandinavia, the Dinara Mountains in Albania, and the location of Hogwarts in the Scottish Highlands—there were also several red circles marked.

For example, one is on the French Riviera in the south, another is at the border of Germany, Austria and Switzerland, one is in central Romania, and yet another is even on the other side of the UK, in the vast ocean.

"Thank you." Regardless of whether it was useful or not, he carefully put the map away. "By the way, during summer vacation... will you write to me?"

Rozier's lips curved slightly upward, a smile carrying her usual reserve, yet also a barely perceptible tenderness. "If you write first."

She turned and left, her dark gray cloak flashing past the corner like a drop of ink dissolving into water.

---

After a whistle, the Hogwarts Express, puffing out white steam, slowly started moving from the platform at Hogsmeade.

Julien sat by the window, lost in thought, while Edgar and Kayson argued about Wizards Chess tactics in a separate room.

Outside the window, the outline of the castle gradually shrank until it disappeared behind the verdant mountains of the Scottish Highlands.