The Black Bloodline of Hogwarts

The corridors of Hogwarts always seemed particularly long in the afternoon. Several young wizards followed Professor McGonagall with heavy steps up the moving staircase to the eighth floor.

As they turned the corner, the two professors suddenly stopped.

Ahead, a group of people were gathered near the stone beast guarding the principal's office.

Lucius Malfoy's silver-green robes stood out starkly in the crowd as he spoke in a slick, honey-coated yet laced-with-needle tone.

Several school board members stood behind him, their faces bearing deliberately serious expressions.

"...Given the current dangerous situation and the unanimous decision of the Board, Professor Dumbledore, you must temporarily leave this position."

Julien instinctively took a half step back and followed the others, disappearing into the shadow of an armored statue.

He saw the stone beast guard leap aside, revealing a spiral staircase. Dumbledore stepped out slowly, his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles still calm, even carrying a hint of an enigmatic smile.

He clutched the familiar star-patterned bathrobe in his hand, as if he were simply going on a long vacation. "I understand, Lucius," Dumbledore's voice was eerily gentle, "When the school faces difficulties, someone always has to take responsibility."

"I need to speak with a few junior wizards first. It won't take much time."

Then Professor McGonagall led Harry and the others inside, but Julien didn't follow. Perhaps what had just happened was too shocking for anyone to notice that he hadn't gone in.

Professor Snape didn't go into the office either, but chatted with Lucius for a few words at the entrance to the principal's office, and also inquired about the situation.

Not long after, the office door opened again. Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked out dejectedly.

Hermione's eyes were red and she was biting her lip tightly; Harry clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white; even the usually optimistic Ron hung his head, his red hair obscuring his eyes.

Professor McGonagall followed behind them, her lips pressed into a stern line. Julien keenly noticed that her hands were trembling slightly.

Only Dumbledore, with a gentle smile on his face, turned and patted Harry Potter. "Don't worry, those who need help at Hogwarts always get it." He then glanced, seemingly casually, at Julien's hiding place, and even winked.

"Dumbledore has been suspended."

The news spread like wildfire, reaching the entire castle before dinner time.

A suppressed cheer erupted in the Slytherin common room—Malfoy was proudly showing his friends his father's parchment letter of appointment as head of the school board.

Meanwhile, in Gryffindor, the atmosphere was so heavy it could drip water. In the Gryffindor common room, the fireplace crackled, but it couldn't dispel the chill in the air.

"What should we do?" Ron slumped in his armchair, his voice hoarse. "Now even Dumbledore is gone, and the attacks are still going on..."

Hermione didn't answer; she was staring at an open book, "The Difference Between the Phoenix and Other Magical Creatures," but her eyes were clearly not focused on the pages.

Harry stood by the window, gazing at the darkening sky outside, his figure appearing unusually small from behind.

In the corner, Ginny Weasley sat on a soft chair, hugging her knees, staring at something.

When Ron said "Dumbledore is not here," Julien—if he were there at that moment—would have noticed the girl's fingers suddenly tighten, her nails digging deeply into her palms.

A complex, indescribable emotion flashed in her eyes: relief? anxiety? or some kind of suppressed ecstasy?

But it was fleeting; she reverted to her quiet, slightly shy first-year student self, only whispering, "Maybe...maybe things aren't so bad?"

"It's not that bad?" Ron turned around, his voice rising an octave. "Ginny, three students have already been petrified! You don't even know how dangerous the monsters in the secret chamber are, then..."

"Ron, don't scare her." Hermione looked up, forcing a tired smile. "Ginny, be very careful lately, don't go out alone, okay?"

Ginny nodded without asking any further questions, and hugged the black diary in her arms tightly—the diary emitted a faint, warm pulse that only she could feel, as if it were comforting her, or urging her on.

Meanwhile, the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts was shrouded in a golden mist at dusk. Training had long since ended, and only three figures remained on the empty lawn.

Julien sat on the edge of the cold stands, unconsciously twirling the silver linden wand in his hand.

Rozier stood to his right, his back as straight as ever, Slytherin's green and silver scarf fluttering in the evening breeze.

Liria squatted on the grass, her fingers gently stroking the stubborn wild grass that sprouted from the cracks in the rocks, her icy blue eyes half-closed, as if listening to the whispers of the earth.

"The Board has stripped Dumbledore of his power," Rosier's voice was as cold as ever, but Julien could detect a suppressed worry in it. "My father wrote to say that Lucius Malfoy insists it was a 'necessary measure.' Foolish. They have no idea what they're doing; all they know is fighting for that little bit of power."

“They unleashed chaos,” Liria suddenly spoke, her fingers pausing, a faint blue light emanating from her fingertips. “And chaos will obscure the truth. Julien, are you sure you want to do this? The secret chamber contains not only what you want… but also the basilisk.”

Julien looked up at the towering spires on the west side of the castle, his gaze seemingly piercing through the stone walls to a dark corner. "I know," he whispered.

"That meteorite... or rather, the 'star fragment' left behind by Pixis, it needs to reinforce the seal on the Azure Coast. We can't let it fall into the wrong hands—like a puppet controlled by the diary, or worse, be swallowed by the impending darkness."

He paused, his right hand unconsciously stroking the inside of his right wrist. "Elizabeth," Julien turned to Rozier, "how are things going here?"

Rozier took out a folded piece of parchment from the inner pocket of her robe. It was a letter with her family’s distinctive pattern of withered roses wrapped around it.

"No problem, confirmed," she nodded slightly. "My mother has already sent out the protective goggles through family channels. They're made from the lens of a Hungarian horned bee dragon, with a special alchemical coating that can protect against the instant death effect of looking directly into a basilisk's gaze. While they don't provide complete immunity, they should at least allow us to survive the petrification curse."

"When will you arrive?"

"Tomorrow at noon," Rozier said, putting away the letter, a sharp glint in his gray eyes.

Liria stood up and brushed the grass clippings off her cloak.

She took out another crystal from her bosom, similar to the "Tears of Eternal Night," which also contained the aurora, but its color was different from Julien's; this one contained the white aurora.

At this moment, it is emitting a faint, resonant vibration in the twilight light, as if echoing some power deep underground.

“I can feel it,” Liria whispered. “That meteorite… it’s calling. Not an evil call, but a… ancient loneliness. It’s waiting, waiting for someone, someone who can understand it.”

Julien took a deep breath and stood up. He looked at Rozier and Liria, his gaze shifting between them. "My preparations are almost complete," he said, his voice low and firm, holding several parchment sheets with phonological symbols drawn on them.

He raised his wand and uttered a spell in a strange, hissing sound, as if squeezed from the depths of his throat.

That wasn't human language, but snake language. With that sound, a small grass snake that had been hibernating on the ground suddenly raised its head, stared at Julien with its tiny, amber eyes, then obediently lowered its head, slid to his feet, and coiled up.