The Black Bloodline of Hogwarts

Autumn in the Scottish Highlands, though not as rainy as in London, always carries a damp, hazy quality. Fine droplets of water seep from the stone walls of the castles, as if the entire building is breathing slowly.

Julien sat by the window in the Ravenclaw common room, a copy of "Advanced Transfiguration Theory" open on his lap—a book Professor McGonagall had given him as extracurricular reading at the Transfiguration Club—but his mind was already drifting to the gray sky outside.

His right hand unconsciously rubbed against his collar—where a strand of ice crystal, tied with a thin animal skin rope, hung—the "Tears of Eternal Night" that Liria had given him before summer vacation.

At this moment, the crystal, which should have been cold, was emitting a strange warmth, like a sleeping heart suddenly starting to beat.

Julien remembered that when he stepped into the ghostly city that had sunk to the bottom of the sea in Falling Star Bay, the Tears of Eternal Night had had a similar reaction.

But at that time, he was surrounded by that eerie blue light, and the light refracted by the seawater made everything seem hazy and unreal. In addition, he was so shocked by exploring that mysterious city that he overlooked the faint pulsation of the crystal.

Looking back now, that was clearly a kind of perception, a perception of an ancient power.

At this moment, the crystal's reaction was several times stronger than before, and the warmth almost burned the skin.

"What are you daydreaming about again? Thinking about some girl?"

Kayson Moretti's voice came from above, accompanied by the soft whirring of the golden thief model cutting through the air. Julien looked up and saw his roommate giving him a "something's not right" look.

"It's just a bit stuffy," Julien said, tucking the crystal back into his collar and putting away his books. "I'm going outside for some fresh air."

As Julien exited the Ravenclaw Tower and turned the corner, he saw Harry Potter hurrying towards him from the direction of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office, his face as pale as if he had seen a ghost.

"Harry?" Julien stopped him. "What happened? You look like you've just been kissed by a Dementor."

Harry stopped, his green eyes still etched with lingering terror. He glanced around and whispered, "Julien, you'll never believe it... I was replying to Professor Lockhart's letter when suddenly... suddenly I heard a voice."

What was that sound?

“A… hissing sound,” Harry’s voice began to tremble, “like it was coming from inside the walls, saying things like ‘kill… tear… blood.’ But Professor Lockhart didn’t hear anything. He said I must be hallucinating from the stress of studying.”

Julien's pupils contracted slightly. Parsleyan. The word instantly flashed into his mind, accompanied by those unsettling memories from the original story. But before he could think about it further, hurried footsteps came from the other end of the corridor.

"Harry! We've been looking for you for ages!" Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley came running up, panting. Hermione was carrying a stack of books in her arms, as usual.

"Julien, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I'm going for a walk outside. You guys chat first."

"Alright, Julien, it's getting late. Come back soon, don't miss your appointment."

"Okay, see you later."

Julien didn't want to get involved with the trio yet; he had his own mission. After the start of the semester, he explored every corner of Hogwarts but found no trace of the meteorite. Of course, he didn't go to the headmaster's office.

He walked back and forth several times on the eighth floor opposite the tapestry of the giant stick beating up Barnabas, thinking that he needed a room where he could find the meteorite, but nothing happened.

Clearly, if Dumbledore didn't take the meteorite, it's most likely in the Chamber of Secrets. Going there now would be too dangerous, especially since he doesn't speak Parseltongue. It's better to wait until Harry has sorted everything out before going to claim some of the spoils.

After Julien left, Harry told Ron and Hermione about what had happened.

"This is not a good sign," Ron said, his face turning pale and his hands nervously twisting the hem of his robe.

Hermione glared at him, but her fingers trembled slightly. "Yes, Harry, whether in the Muggle world or the wizarding world, hearing things others can't hear is never a good sign. Should we tell the professors?"

"How should I put it? Did Harry really tell the professor, 'I can hear a voice you can't hear, and it says he's going to kill someone'? That doesn't sound like something a normal or good person would say. Oh, Harry, I'm not talking about you," Ron retorted.

"Yeah, I know. Julien didn't seem to believe it either," Harry said, sounding frustrated. "Let's see."

Julien was strolling along the castle when a light figure appeared from around the corner, almost bumping into him.

"Oh, watch out, Blake."

The voice was ethereal, as if it came from another dimension.

Julien looked up and saw a pair of silvery-white eyes scrutinizing him from very close range. Luna Lovegood, the Ravenclaw freshman whom the students privately called "the crazy girl," was tilting her head and looking at him.

"Sorry, Luna, I wasn't watching where I was going." Julien politely stepped aside.

Luna didn't leave immediately. "That's not what I meant, that's what I meant." The "crazy girl's" words certainly didn't conform to normal logic.

Her eyes, which seemed to see through the mist, stared intently at Julien—or more precisely, at the spot beneath his collar where a faint blue light emanated.

"Your amulet is singing," Luna said softly, her voice dreamlike and ethereal. "It's singing a very old song, a ballad about the stars."

Julien was startled: "You can hear me?"

“Not with your ears,” Luna tapped her temple with her finger, “but with this. You know, harassing flies love to gather in secret places, and you’re surrounded by them right now—a dense swarm, like a gray cloud. That’s why you can’t hear them.”

She took a step forward, her long, pale blonde hair falling over her shoulders, and said in a voice so low it was almost inaudible: "Anyway, be careful, Julien."

"Thank you, Luna," Julien said sincerely. "I will be careful."

Luna gave a dazed smile, hummed an obscure song, and turned away lightly, her bare feet making no sound on the cold floor tiles.

"Like a tear, sliding across the long, star-studded night, it is a shooting star, dripping for the passing summer."

"Beneath the low-hanging clouds, the bagpiper played a wandering song, and only a shooting star heard the promise made by the traveler."

……

A light drizzle began to fall as Julien walked back along the grass. As he entered the castle, turned the last corner, and approached the prize display room, the light and warmth of the Eternal Tears grew even stronger.

A commotion arose ahead, seemingly indicating a gathering of young wizards. Julien hurried forward, and then he witnessed the scene:

Filch was kneeling in the middle of the corridor, his back hunched, emitting a terrifying sound that was somewhere between a sob and a roar.

Before him, the torches hanging on the wall illuminated a chilling scene: Mrs. Lorris, the emaciated gray cat that always stared at the students with its yellow eyes, hung stiffly on the torch stand, her body straight and her limbs outstretched, like a bizarre cat sculpture.

Between the two windows, there was a line of large characters smeared in blood: "The secret chamber has been opened. Those who oppose the heir, beware."

"No...no..." Filch reached out, trembling, but dared not touch his cat. "Who did this...who..."

Suddenly Filch turned around, his face contorted with rage, and pointed at Harry, who was standing closest to him. "It was you! Potter! You killed my cat!"

It's no wonder Filch suspected Harry Potter first; not only were Harry, his two companions the first to be spotted here, but Harry had also been caught by Filch and Mrs. Loris more times this semester than the Weasley twins. They were "not compatible" at school.

"The secret room," Julien murmured to himself, his voice so soft that only he could hear it, "It really... is open."

Just as Filch grabbed Harry by the collar, about to do something, hurried footsteps and exclamations came from the other end of the corridor.