The Black Bloodline of Hogwarts

The Hogwarts Train had been gradually slowing down after the collision.

Julien was the first to jump off the train before it had even come to a complete stop.

His robes fluttered in the air currents, but he still held his wand, ready to face any danger at any moment.

Then he saw two figures struggling to crawl out of the deformed Ford car door—their faces covered in dust and their hair blackened, yet miraculously unharmed.

"Ron! Harry!" Ginny and Hermione rushed up from behind him, their eyes red-rimmed. "You—you—"

"We're alright," Harry's voice was hoarse, but tinged with barely suppressed excitement. "Ron drove brilliantly—"

"You, you guys are alright...you guys are just too outrageous, ugh!" Hermione had been comforting Ginny for a long time in the car, but now she couldn't help but sob too.

"Ouch, my wand!" Ron cried, holding up his wand, which was broken in two. "It—it's broken—"

(Julius: That was a good break.)

At this moment, students poured off the train and surrounded Harry and Ron.

Some people patted them on the shoulder, some loudly inquired about the details of the flying cars, and others—like Lee Jordan—had already begun drafting their radio scripts for tomorrow.

The Weasley twins squeezed over, looked Ron up and down to make sure he was alright, then patted him on the shoulder. "I have to say, bro, this is the first time we've really seen anything like it!"

"That was awesome!" a second-year student screamed. "You guys evaded the dark wizard's pursuit in a flying car!"

"Hey Harry, look here, click."

"I just saw an Auror! A real Auror!"

"Look, the professor is here!"

When everyone turned around, they saw Professor McGonagall and a black bat appear behind them.

"Gentlemen, can anyone explain to me what's going on here!" Professor McGonagall looked sternly at Harry and Ron.

"Mr. Crevy, put your camera away!"

Professor McGonagall was both shocked and anxious this time. After receiving the letter from the Ministry of Magic, she immediately rushed over with Snape.

Seeing that the two were alright, she felt relieved, but then became angry again. Although Gryffindor students were always mischievous, they had never caused such a big mess before.

"Professor McGonagall, we...we can't get onto the platform..." Harry and Ron mumbled as they explained.

"Why don't you contact the parents?!"

"Clearly, they don't have the brains."

"Why don't you write to the professor?!"

"Frankly, they never respected the professors."

"Why don't you go to Diagon Alley for help?!"

"So, intelligence is a good thing, it's a pity they don't have it."

Professor McGonagall glanced at Snape, indicating that this was a Gryffindor matter, and then continued her tirade against the two of them. Clearly, she wasn't ready to vent her anger anytime soon.

Julien had noticed earlier that a black stone seemed to have rolled out of the car when it landed.

He noticed it because the stone resembled black crystal, except for some gray veins, and was similar to, or even larger than, the one he had seen in Wolfgang on the French Riviera.

While everyone was gathered around watching Professor McGonagall angrily denounce the "savior," he quietly went over and tried to pick it up.

"Mr. Blake."

Snape's voice came from behind him, as slippery as a snake.

Julien turned around and saw the figure in the black robe billowing, his thin lips beneath his hooked nose pressed into a cold, straight line.

Snape, who had just been next to Professor McGonagall, appeared behind him at some point.

"I noticed you...are very interested in that stone."

Julien's heart skipped a beat, but he remained outwardly calm: "Just curious, Professor. It looks... very old."

Snape's gaze lingered on his face for a long time, his dark eyes seemingly able to see through any disguise.

Finally, he scoffed, "Curiosity killed the cat, Black. It also killed...some arrogant little wizards."

"Whoosh!" Snape somehow managed to grab the stone from the sleeve of his robe without making any contact with his skin.

Julien suddenly remembered that the Moon Shadow Council had mentioned that this kind of stone might be radioactive, and he slapped his head, feeling a little scared.

"Old people are shrewd, and old horses are slippery," Julien muttered softly.

"What did you say?!"

"In the end, I think it's you who's cunning, or rather, experienced."

"Just a heads up, in the wizarding world, cleverness alone isn't enough."

After saying this, Snape turned and left, his black robes casting a long shadow in the setting sun.

---

The Great Hall at Hogwarts remains breathtakingly magnificent.

Julien sat at the Ravenclaw table, toying with a silver goblet that would automatically fill itself with pumpkin juice, but his gaze was fixed on the brand-new, gleaming figure in the teachers' section.

Gilderoy Lockhart.

The "legendary" Defense Against the Dark Arts professor sat next to Snape, his light blue robes adorned with lace and bows, his smile so radiant it was as if the entire summer sun had been sewn onto his face. He waved to the students every now and then, as if this were his personal fan meeting.

"That's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?" Edgar pushed up his glasses, his tone full of skepticism. "He looks like he's here for a fashion show."

"Be confident, drop the 'like'." Julien took a sip of pumpkin juice. "He's just here to walk the runway."

Kayson leaned closer, still clutching a handful of sugar-coated cockroaches he'd pilfered from the kitchen: "I've heard he's written a lot of books, like 'Wandering with Ghouls,' 'Breaking Up with a Female Ghost,' and 'Death Eaters'..."

"It sounds like some kind of stamp collecting hobby," Julien commented. "All the dark creatures seem to have something to do with him."

Hehehehe.

"Hey, you lot, don't laugh so lewdly." Cho Chang looked at the group with disdain. "Professor Lockhart is not someone to be ridiculed."

"From his thunderous roar when battling giants to his exquisite creations when decorating the kitchen, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart's talent has never been bound by any limits." Cho Chang's eyes sparkled with admiration.

"He said all of that himself, didn't he?"

"Julien! I've lost even the last bit of goodwill I had for you!"

As they were talking, Professor McGonagall led the first-year students in one file. Julien immediately spotted several familiar figures in the group:

Ginny Weasley clutched the small handbag tightly, her red hair gleaming like a tiny flame in the candlelight;

Colin Crevey held an old-fashioned camera, his eyes wide open, as if he wanted to capture every inch of the auditorium on film.

Another girl caught Julien's attention—she wore a long robe that looked like it had been made from curtains, her long, tousled golden hair resembled dandelions, but her eyes were astonishingly clear, staring unblinkingly at the candle on the ceiling, as if a pesky fly might fly out at any moment—Luna Lovegood.

"There are quite a few people this year." Rozier said to Daphne beside her, glancing at Julien from the Slytherin table. She had pinned the star brooch to her collar, which stood out against her green and silver robes.

Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on the stool, and the tattered hat immediately split open, revealing a lisp that began to sing in a completely off-key voice:

Oh, you,

Don't be fooled by my old patches and worn-out appearance;

But my brain still has a thousand years before its expiration date!

Gryffindor? Brave enough to set their dorm room on fire, claiming it was for warmth;

Slytherin? Bloodline can't support ambition; in times of danger, they still need to stick together!

Ravenclaw high achievers, don't just worship that old crown before exams.

Pray to me more often—I am the real question bank creator!

As for Hufflepuff, well, honest and reliable, an outstanding employee year after year.

If the Ministry of Magic collapses, it will all depend on you guys serving tea and water to keep it in order!

But this year I need to emphasize something to you:

Don't just focus on appearance rankings, and don't believe those influencers' product recommendations.

The real seniors often dress like this—

That odd school uniform you used to complain about is now quietly getting food in the cafeteria!

"What is it implying?" Kayson asked, looking bewildered.

"It's an implication that someone is a good-for-nothing," Julien muttered to himself.

Hehehehe.

Two sharp "bangs." Julien's head was struck by Cho Chang's magic wand.