The Black Bloodline of Hogwarts

A remote valley in Cornwall.

The valley embraces a nearly dried-up streambed, winding towards the gray horizon. A few small houses are scattered on the gentle slope at the bottom of the valley.

Inside one of the rooms, two men dressed in black robes leaned against a table, drinking Black Vine Frost whiskey and telling vulgar jokes.

Suddenly, with a loud bang, the door was kicked open, and a slender woman dressed in a thin, narrow-sleeved wizard's robe slipped in. Perhaps Julien would find the outfit familiar.

"Ross, Gilbutt. Come with me! Emergency!"

"Caroline, what's the rush?" the two men asked, but they quickly got up without hesitation.

"We've received an urgent message: a Muggle-modified car has flown out from near Autri-San Catchpol, driven by only two junior wizards," the woman said urgently.

"Is it the one we saw by chance at the beginning of August?"

"Exactly."

"What does that have to do with us?"

"Idiot! A car that big needs Starshine Stones to become invisible. It can make you invisible and also reveal yourself. If we could get our hands on it, we might be able to find Falling Star Bay. You don't want that wolf cub to always get the first move, do you?"

As soon as the three stepped out of the house, they summoned brooms and soared into the sky.

-----------------

Harry was now secretly relieved that the station passageway was blocked, otherwise they wouldn't have been able to see such an exciting sight.

Sunlight pierced through the clouds, shattering into millions of golden specks on the windshield of the Ford Anglia 150.

Ron gripped the steering wheel with both hands—if it could still be called a steering wheel, since Mr. Weasley had added at least three extra levers and two rotary knobs to it—and the tension on his face gradually gave way to an indescribable excitement.

"So cool!" he yelled, his voice ripped apart by the wind. "How about that? This is way better than a flying broomstick!"

Harry leaned out of the passenger seat, his black hair whipping wildly backward in the wind.

Below, the English countryside unfolds like a flowing tapestry: verdant pastures, golden wheat fields, and winding silver rivers are all laid out before your eyes.

He remembered that the Weasley twins had rescued him from the Dursleys' house in the dead of night last month in this very car.

But at that time he couldn't see anything, he could only hold on tightly to the seat and pray that the plane wouldn't crash amidst the turbulence.

But now, "Wow! Haha!" Harry stretched one arm out the window, letting the wind slap his palm, "I am the king of the world!"

The two laughed and joked for a while. "Ron, look over there!" Harry pointed to an ancient castle in the distance. "That's Warwick Castle! I've seen it in the Dursleys' travel brochure!"

"Should we lower the altitude to get a better look?" Ron's eyes lit up. "Maybe we can scare a few Muggles!"

"No, wait—" Harry suddenly snapped back to reality, "Muggles! They'll see us!"

Ron's smile froze. He frantically tapped on the dial, "Oh. I forgot, the invisibility button... the invisibility button... Dad said we absolutely had to use the invisibility button..."

"Is this it?" Harry pointed to a blue button with an eye pattern on it, and above the button was a line of Mr. Weasley's scrawled handwriting: "Press me (probably)".

Ron slammed the button down.

Ripples spread around the car, as if the air itself had turned into water. Sunlight refracted and distorted on the car's surface, and then—the Ford Anglia vanished.

It doesn't mean it becomes transparent, but rather it completely blends into the background: the blue sky above, the green land below, and the clouds in the distance are all perfectly pieced together, and from a Muggle's perspective, no flaw can be found from any direction.

"It's done!" Ron cheered. "Dad's brilliant invention!"

Harry didn't respond; his gaze fell on an inconspicuous stone in the corner of the dial, below the blue button.

It was a fist-sized black ore, its surface covered with fine silver patterns. It had been inconspicuous before, but now it was glowing slightly as the cloaking device was activated.

"What is that?" he asked.

"Oh, that," Ron glanced at it, "it looks like Dad got it from an old wizard in Knockturn Alley. A regular Disenchantment wouldn't cover the whole car, but with this ore, it's a different story. It's supposedly some kind of 'starstone,' which enhances invisibility."

He patted the steering wheel triumphantly, "The twins used this to dodge Muggle radar when they went out to pick you up last time—"

"Oh, magic is truly amazing, I love it..." Harry suddenly stopped talking, staring at the rearview mirror, his expression suddenly becoming tense.

"Ron," his voice was soft, yet strangely calm, "we have men behind us."

Ron turned around abruptly.

Three black dots were rising rapidly from below the clouds. They were not birds, nor airplanes, but three flying brooms—but much longer and thicker than ordinary brooms, their tails spewing pale gray smoke.

The figure riding on it was wearing a dark gray cloak, with the hood pulled low, obscuring its face.

But the invisibility spell clearly had no effect on them; their target was the car, and they were getting closer and closer.

"Wizards?" Ron's voice changed. "The Ministry of Magic isn't here to arrest us, is it?"

"No," Harry squinted as the men approached in the sunlight. The first one had already flown to the side of their car.

"I don't think that's the Ministry of Magic's mark," Harry said, having already noticed the mark on the side of the newcomer's broom—a black crescent moon entwined with thorns.

He felt like he had seen this mark somewhere before, perhaps in the book Julien had shown him?

Just as Harry and Ron were about to ask each other what they wanted, the other party showed no intention of speaking. The lead rider suddenly raised a hand.

A beam of green light shot out from his palm, not the glaring, ghastly green of the Killing Curse, but a murky, putrid color.

The green light struck the rear of the Ford Anglia, the stealth device emitted a piercing hum, and the car body flickered violently in the air, like a poorly tuned television screen.

"They're attacking us!" Ron frantically jerked the steering wheel, the flying car slicing through the air in an awkward arc. "Damn it, this thing turns way slower than a flying broomstick!"

A second green light struck. This time it hit the roof of the car, causing the suitcase on the luggage rack to jump up and the lid to crack open.

"Then let's try this!" Ron gritted his teeth and pressed another button—a red button with a flame pattern on it.

Suddenly, a thick plume of smoke billowed from the rear of the car, and the Ford Anglia lurched forward like a mule that had been kicked.

The speedometer needle spun wildly, quickly surpassing the "dangerous" mark and pointing to a handwritten "very dangerous (really)" by Mr. Weasley.

The wind howled in his ears, and Harry felt his face being distorted by the force of the wind. He struggled to turn around and peered out the back window at his pursuers.

The opponent's broom was clearly specially modified, and despite the Ford Anglia being accelerated to its limit, they were still steadily closing in.

"They're too fast!" Ron yelled, gripping the steering wheel. "We have to figure something out!"

The third green beam struck the rear window. The glass didn't shatter; instead, it rippled outwards in concentric circles.

It seemed Mr. Weasley had applied a defensive charm, but Harry could see the ripples were rapidly fading. Perhaps one more blow would shatter the glass.