Chapter 83: Norbert's Supplement +1
Looking at the monster in the cauldron, Julian chose not to kill it directly, but instead pulled out the incomplete scroll of the key of dimensions from his pocket.
"Since you want space to collapse, I'll give you a grand gift."
Julian closed his eyes and softly chanted the Runic Scriptspell recorded on the scroll.
"Spatium Vincula (Spatial Shackles)."
The Twin Rings erupted with unprecedented brilliance. The space inside Hagrid's Hut began to ripple like water.
The deformed monster let out a wail. Its tentacles, originally used to devour magic, were forcibly twisted by Julian, turning into a miniature black hole anchor.
Julian used this "Void Maw" as a cornerstone, and through the power of the incomplete scroll, forcibly opened a passage in Hagrid's Hut that connected to the "Dragon Subspace."
"Norbert, dinner time." Julian whispered in his heart.
The next second, a huge crack tore open in mid-air, and a dragon's might instantly swept through the entire room.
Norbert's head, covered in dark red scales, poked out of the crack. Its golden vertical pupils greedily stared at the black mist monster on the ground.
For Norbert, who was currently evolving, this deformed creature full of spatial energy was the best supplement.
"Roar—!!!"
With a low dragon's roar, Norbert directly swallowed the black mist along with the monster, then the crack quickly closed, and everything returned to peace.
Hagrid stared blankly at the empty cauldron, the rag in his hand falling to the ground.
"Oh, no! My... my little baby..."
"Hagrid, this thing is too dangerous to keep." Julianturned around, his gaze deep as he looked out the window at the bushes, "As for your friend who gave you the gift, I imagine he's very disappointed right now."
In the distant bushes, Professor Quirrell suddenly spewed a mouthful of blood.
He felt that the trace of soul imprint he had left on the monster was completely erased, and a terrifying spatial backlash had even burned his magic circuit along the connection.
"Master... it failed... that boy... he..."
"...It's him again..." A hoarse, sinister voice echoed in Quirrell's mind, "Kill him... no, capture him... I want his body..."
The Great Hall was as noisy as ever during dinner, but Julian had no appetite.
Although the small magic in Hagrid's Hut this morning was successful, forcibly twisting spatial rules and bearing dimensional tremors with his physical body placed a huge burden on his magic circuit.
He felt as if a Horned Camel beast was tap-dancing in his head, his temples throbbed, and his fingertips occasionally tingled with numbness.
Julian pushed away the pumpkin soup he had barely touched and rose from the Slytherin table.
Daphne was discussing Easter dress styles with Pansyand gave him a questioning look as he stood up.
Julian subtly shook his head. After all, he still had another fish to deal with.
Sure enough, as he walked out of the Great Hall, rounded two corners, and reached the staircase leading to the Eighth Floor, hurried footsteps caught up from behind.
"Julian!"
Hermione ran over, panting, clutching several heavy books tightly as if they were shields.
She looked terrible—her eyes were a little red, her hair was even messier than usual, and her school tie was crooked.
Clearly, that sudden kiss last night had made this Gryffindor know-it-all have an extremely difficult day.
"Miss Granger," Julian stopped, leaning against the cold stone wall, a slight smile on his lips, "If you're apologizing for last night, there's no need. I won't blame you."
"No, it's not... I mean, it is, but..." Hermione waved her hands incoherently, her face flushed, "I saw you looked very pale this morning, and... and I looked up information on the key of dimensions. Although I don't understand the Runic Script, I know that forcibly performing spatial jumps can have a backlash..."
She suddenly stopped, her brown eyes filled with worried moisture, staring intently at Julian's slightly trembling left hand.
"You're hurt, aren't you? Was it to protect me, or...?"
This girl was too perceptive, but her imagination was too rich.
Julian looked at her, his mind calculating rapidly.
Hermione Granger, the future Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, possessed one of the most brilliant minds of this era.
Now, she was like an uncarved jade, full of thirst for knowledge and dedication to justice.
If it was just ambiguity, she would always be the good student testing the edges of the rules.
To make her fully his aid, he had to shatter her worldview and make her the next accomplice.
"This isn't the place to talk."
Julian straightened up, the weakness making him sway, and Hermione instinctively rushed forward to steady his arm.
"Follow me."
...
Eighth Floor, opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.
Julian walked back and forth three times in front of the wall, silently thinking: "I need an absolutely safe place where I can show secrets."
A smooth wooden door slowly appeared on the wall.
Hermione's mouth dropped open in surprise: "This is...?"
"The Room of Requirement." Julian pushed open the door and led Hermione inside, "One of Hogwarts' biggest secrets."
Inside, the room was a spacious and comfortable circular lounge with thick Persian carpets, a warm fire burning in the fireplace, and the scent of cedar and old parchment filling the air.
Julian walked to an armchair in front of the fireplace and sat down, letting out a long sigh of relief.
"Sit down, Hermione."
Hermione sat primly on the sofa opposite him, her hands on her knees, her eyes darting around the room before returning to Julian.
"Did you bring me here to tell me the truth?" she asked softly.
"The truth is often more dangerous than lies." Julianpulled out the Twin Resonance Ring from his pocket, his thumb gently caressing the patterns on its surface, "You've always been curious about the extent of my Space Magic research, haven't you?"
Hermione nodded, her thirst for knowledge overriding her nervousness.
"Watch closely."
Julian took off the pet necklace ring he wore around his neck, and magic surged.
The space above the fireplace rippled like water. The stone wall gradually became transparent, finally forming a circular "window."
Through this window, Hermione witnessed a scene she would never forget.
It was a gray, strange space, as if in chaos.
In the center of that space, a slender creature covered in dark red scales was coiled on a huge floating rock.
It had a spiny back, black wings folded at its sides, and golden vertical pupils that glowed majestically in the dimness.
As if sensing the gaze, the creature suddenly raised its head and snorted a breath with sparks towards the window.
"Roar—"
A low dragon's roar passed through the spatial barrier, making the teacups in the room tremble slightly.
Chapter 84: Provoked
Merlin's beard...
Hermione shot to her feet, the book in her hand tumbling onto the carpet. "That's... that's Norbert?!"
She looked at Julian in shock, her voice trembling. "You brought Hagrid's dragon into the Castle?!"
"More precisely, into a subspace," Julian corrected, his tone as casual as if he were introducing a pet cat. "And Norbert is my companion now."
"This... this is illegal! It's a serious violation of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy and the Protection of Magical Creatures Act! If the Ministry of Magic finds out, you'll be expelled, or even..."
Hermione was so agitated she began pacing in place. Her reason told her she should run out immediately and report to Professor McGonagall, but her feet seemed rooted to the spot.
It was a dragon! A live dragon! And it was being kept in an artificially created subspace!
The magical skill involved was simply beyond her imagination.
"That's exactly why I brought you here."
Julian watched her internal struggle and spoke slowly.
"Hermione, the world isn't as black and white as the books make it seem. Hagrid is a good man, but he doesn't know how to protect himself. If I hadn't taken Norbert, he would have been sent to Romania, or worse... exploited by those with ulterior motives."
He deliberately omitted the part about Lord Voldemort, framing the story as a heroic narrative of having to skirt the law to protect a friend and a magical creature.
"And it's precisely to maintain the stability of this subspace, to prevent Norber from falling into a void rift, that I've had to frequently use high-level Space Magic, leading to my current magical exhaustion."
Julian coughed a couple of times on cue, his complexion appearing even paler.
This move was a masterstroke against Hermione.
The look in her eyes instantly shifted from horror to heartache and admiration.
"You did it to save him..." Hermione murmured. She walked to the window and looked at Norbert through the spatial barrier.
Norbert seemed to recognize Hermione. He came closer and blinked his golden eyes.
"He... he seems to have grown a lot." Hermione reached out, pressing her hand against the void interface.
"He's clever. He can tell who his friends are," Julian gently coaxed. "Just like I can."
Hermione turned around to look at Julian, illuminated by the fireplace's glow.
This boy possessed talent beyond his years, did things that defied convention, yet all for a noble purpose.
"What do you need me to do?" Hermione took a deep breath, her gaze becoming resolute. "I mean... regarding the research on this space, perhaps... perhaps I can help."
Success.
Julian suppressed a smile at the corner of his mouth.
"Of course, Hermione." Julian extended his hand in an inviting gesture. "This subspace is still very imperfect. I need the brightest mind to help me. I can't think of anyone but you."
Hermione looked at that slender, pale hand, hesitated for a moment, then solemnly placed her own hand in his.
"I'll agree, but on one condition."
"What is it?"
"From now on... you mustn't recklessly conduct dangerous spatial experiments alone." Hermione bit her lip, her face flushing again. "If you got hurt... I'd... I'd be very upset."
Julian grasped her hand in return, applying a slight pressure as he drew her a little closer.
"As you command, Miss Granger."
He looked down at her, his voice low and magnetic.
"In that case, as a trade, could you help me with my Potion Class essay tonight? Professor Snape has been quite dissatisfied with my handwriting lately."
Hermione let out a soft laugh, the tense atmosphere instantly dissipating.
"So even you are afraid of Professor Snape? I thought Mr. Rosier, who fears nothing, didn't care about anything."
"Everyone has their weaknesses, Hermione."
Julian looked into her eyes, his words carrying a deeper meaning.
"Perhaps my weakness is right here in this room."
Hermione's face flushed crimson all the way to her ears. She flusteredly pulled her hand back and picked up the book from the floor, using the action to hide her heart which felt like it was about to leap out of her chest.
"Let's... let's get started! If we don't hurry, we won't finish before curfew!"
Watching her flustered yet vibrant figure, Julian leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting towards Norbert outside the window.
The brightest mind +1.
Friday, in the underground classroom.
After Julian's nearly miraculous performances, the reputation of the dueling exchange had already spread quietly like spores in the Forbidden Forest.
Tonight, in addition to those wearing silver and green House crests, there were many Ravenclaws and a few curious Hufflepuffs.
As for Gryffindor... because it was Slytherin-led, after the initial hype, very few responded.
And Harry and the others, busy with Quirrell's recent suspicious activities, also had little time to participate.
Julian sat on the large stone chair, conjured by Transfiguration, at the front of the classroom. He rested his right cheek on his hand, his posture lazy yet elegant.
"Julian."
Draco Malfoy walked through the crowd. His pace was slower than usual, even carrying a hint of reluctance.
He held a tightly wrapped ebony box. When he reached Julian, he gave a slight bow.
"My father is very interested in you. He says the House of Malfoy has always respected true genius."
With that, Draco opened the box. Inside lay a massive ruby carved into the shape of a Serpent's Eye.
"This is 'Serpent's Eye,' excavated from an ancient Greek ruin. Father says it can help the bearer see through mist and illusion. He hopes... it can mark the beginning of friendship between our families."
Julian lowered his eyelids, his gaze sweeping over the gem. Under his spiritual sense, he could perceive an extremely fine, monitoring-type magical thread coiled within the stone.
Lucius Malfoy, that old fox. This was no gift; it was clearly a 'surveillance probe' he wanted to plant by Julian's side.
"Convey my thanks to Mr. Lucius." Julian lightly tapped the gem with his fingertip, causing it to emit a crisp clink within the box. "His... sentiment is received."
Just as Draco stepped aside, a heavy footstep shattered the harmony.
"Since this is a dueling exchange, it's rather boring to just sit and chat, Rosier."
Graham Montague, a fifth-year Slytherin and Chaser on the Quidditch team, built like a fully grown Troll, pushed through the crowd. He held a thick ash wand, his eyes filled with ill-intentioned provocation.
As a beneficiary of Slytherin's old order, he was clearly deeply displeased with Julian, a first-year.
"A first-year Prefect might get full marks in class. But in a real fight, those flashy Transfiguration tricks won't save your life." Montague spat and pointed his wand directly at Julian.
"Well? Dare to come down and play? Or did you exhaust yourself last night in the arms of some mudblood?"
Chapter 85: A Grand Display Before the Crowd
The hand that had been toying with the ring suddenly clenched tightly, a flash of killing intent passing through Daphne's ice-blue eyes.
The surrounding Ravenclaw students held their breath. While the spectacle of upperclassmen bullying underclassmen was not uncommon at Hogwarts, challenging Julian was an entirely different matter.
Julian didn't even change his posture, merely letting out a soft chuckle.
"Montague, do you perhaps have some misunderstanding of the word 'equality'?" Julian's voice was not loud, yet it echoed clearly in everyone's ears.
"If I had to personally instruct every senior who thinks they've scrambled their brains on the Quidditch pitch, my time would be far too cheap."
He turned his head, looking towards the youth who had remained silent in the shadows.
"Theodore, since Senior Montague craves practical combat, you shall inform him of our entry threshold."
Theodore slowly raised his head. His gaunt, somber face held no expression, save for his eyes, which, upon hearing the command, ignited with a near-fanatical fervor.
"As you wish, Julian."
Theodore stepped into the center of the area. He didn't adopt an exaggerated dueling stance like Montague, merely letting his hands hang, his wand pointing diagonally towards the ground.
"Ha! Nott? That little lackey who follows you around all day?" Montague laughed arrogantly. "Fine, I'll break his ribs first, then settle with you! Ready for a trip to the hospital wing, kid?"
"Begin."
Julian uttered the two words indifferently.
"Expelliarmus!" Montague struck first. A thick beam of red light roared forth, carrying the robust magical power characteristic of a fifth-year student.
Theodore did not dodge.
Amidst the gasps of the crowd, the tip of his wand trembled slightly, and a circle of transparent ripples instantly spread out before him.
That was no ordinary shield; it was a new magic Julianhad taught him.
Whoosh—
The red light, upon touching the ripples, seemed to sink into a mire before refracting at a bizarre angle towards the ceiling, shattering a chandelier to pieces.
"What?!" Montague froze for an instant.
In that very instant, Theodore moved.
His movements were swift as lightning. The tip of his foot tapped the ground, his figure leaving a blurred afterimage in the air.
"Flipendo!"
Theodore's incantation was short and forceful, not even fully enunciated. A pale blue shockwave struck Montague's knee with pinpoint accuracy.
Crack!
A crisp sound of bone fracture accompanied Montague's agonized scream. The burly senior lost his balance, tumbling forward in a wretched heap.
"Damn little beast! I'll kill you! Cruc—"
Enraged to the extreme, Montague actually attempted to begin the incantation for the Cruciatus Curse right before everyone's eyes.
Julian's gaze instantly turned icy.
"Theodore, disarm him."
Receiving the instruction, a flicker of cruelty passed through Theodore's eyes as his wand traced a perfect arc in the air.
"Incarcerous!"
Several thick black ropes materialized out of thin air, coiling around Montague's neck and arms like venomous snakes.
Without stopping, Theodore stepped forward, pressing the tip of his wand against Montague's jaw.
"Diffindo."
Theodore lowered his voice, uttering the incantation at a volume only Montague could hear.
A faint red flash. A deep, bone-visible gash instantly appeared on the back of Montague's wand hand.
The wand flew from his grasp, spinning towards Julian, who finally caught it firmly between his fingertips.
"It's over."
Julian stood up, slowly descending the steps.
The classroom fell deathly silent. Montague lay curled on the ground like a pig awaiting slaughter, staring in terror at the approaching first-year.
Julian stopped before Montague, looking down at him from his superior position. He casually snapped the ash wand in two and tossed the pieces onto Montague's chest.
"In Slytherin, challenging me comes at a cost."
Julian turned his head, looking at the stunned students from other houses, that charming yet dangerous smile returning to his face.
"Everyone, tonight's lesson ends here. I hope Theodore's demonstration has made you understand—magic is never determined by brawn or seniority."
He looked at Theodore, a hint of satisfied approval in his gaze.
"Well done, Theodore. Go wash your hands. I dislike the smell of blood affecting tomorrow's breakfast."
Theodore bowed deeply and retreated back into the shadows. His originally gloomy aura now carried an additional sharpness belonging to the strong.
Julian picked up the box of'Serpent's Eye' gemstones and, under the awed gazes of the crowd, left the classroom with Daphne.
...
In the corridor near the common room, Daphne suddenly stopped, turned, wrapped her arms around Julian's neck, and pushed him against the wall.
"You looked just like a tyrant back there, Julian."
Her breath brushed against his neck, the emotions transmitted by the twin rings fervent and scorching.
"But... I like that feeling." Daphne leaned close to his ear, whispering softly. "The curse within that gemstone... do you need my father to help dispose of it? Or would you prefer to keep it, to give that old fox a taste of his own medicine?"
Julian naturally wrapped an arm around her slender waist, his fingertips tracing her smooth blonde hair.
"If Lucius wants to watch, then let him watch. However, he will only see what I permit him to see."
Returning to the dormitory, it was quiet inside. Theodorewas probably still in the washroom cleaning off the bloodstains, and the others were likely in the common room, which was precisely what Julian wanted.
As for Draco, he was probably hiding in a corner of the common room, trembling as he wrote a letter home to his father.
Locking the door behind him, Julian did not light a candle. He walked to his bed and placed the heavy ebony box upon the emerald-green velvet bedding.
"Meow—"
A lazy meow came from beside the pillow.
Miss Blanche, whom he had sent out to handle the goods, had returned.
Originally curled into a black-and-white ball, Blanchestretched out in a long, languid motion, her eyes gleaming with cunning in the darkness.
She jumped off the bed, walked over to the box with elegant feline steps, lowered her head to sniff it, then let out a disgusted purr, extending a paw to try and bat the box away.
"Don't touch it, Blanche. What's inside is no good." Julianwarned in a low voice, reaching out to rub the soft base of the cat's ear.
Blanche obediently nuzzled his palm, then crouched nearby, watching Julian's movements intently.
Julian took a deep breath, his fingertips lightly touching the box's clasp. With a soft click, the'Serpent's Eye' ruby was once again exposed to the air.
In the darkness, this gemstone was no longer a mere inanimate object.
It emitted a viscous, dark red glow. The vertical pupil within the gemstone seemed to pulse faintly to some rhythm.
When Julian's gaze made contact with it, he could feel a subtle chill rushing straight from his optic nerve to his brain.
Chapter 86: Quirrell's Invitation
"A variant application of Legilimency. Lucius Malfoywanted to use this gem to capture the emotional fluctuations of its holder, even to spy on the holder's surroundings."
"A clumsy probe, Lucius," Julian sneered.
He was in no hurry to destroy the array within the gem.
For a family like the Malfoys, directly destroying a gift was tantamount to a declaration of war. Although, as the legitimate eldest son of the House of Rosier, he was not afraid in the slightest.
However, the Malfoy family was a link in his future off-campus interest chain, and he didn't want to offend them this early.
He took out the fragment of 'the key of dimensions' from his robe. Although its energy had been mostly depleted during the spatial jump that morning, as a high-dimensional logical vessel, it could still provide the necessary algorithmic support.
He closed his eyes and gently pressed his forehead against the gem's cold surface.
"Spatium Refractio (Spatial Refraction)."
As the incantation was chanted, the magic circuits within Julian's body grew hot once more.
Guiding that faint but pure magical power, he sliced into the ruby's magical structure like a scalpel.
The magic within the serpent's eye was like an impenetrable spider's web, attempting to capture every signal.
Julian did not tear this web. Instead, at its very center, using spatial principles, he constructed an extremely tiny, self-sustaining 'illusion bubble'.
He summoned fragments of a fabricated personality from his mind—that of a diligent, studious, somewhat talented but deeply reserved youth, who even harbored a certain respect for the Malfoy family—and infused it into this bubble.
The pupil inside the ruby trembled violently. The dark red light instantly flared, staining Julian's fingertips a bloody crimson.
Blanche seemed to sense a threat. All her fur stood on end as she let out a low growl of warning.
"Quiet, Blanche... almost done." Fine beads of sweat broke out on Julian's forehead.
This kind of micro-manipulation was more mentally taxing than directly casting a high-powered spell.
He had to ensure this 'illusion bubble' could perfectly intercept Lucius's prying and feed those fabricated pieces of information back.
From Lucius's perspective, this gem would now record a youth diligently studying the Standard Book of Spellslate into the night, occasionally showing a look of frustration due to insufficient magical power.
With the final thread of magic injected, the pulsations within the gem gradually subsided.
The vertical pupil became dull and mechanical. The originally viscous red light also cleared considerably, as if it were truly just a valuable piece of jewelry.
Exhausted, Julian slumped against the bedpost, breathing heavily, his vision slightly blurred.
Just then, Blanche suddenly jumped onto his lap. She stared fixedly at Julian, then stretched out her pink tongue and gently licked the split skin at the base of his thumb, a result of magical backlash.
A cool, faintly herb-scented magical energy slowly seeped in through the licked area.
Julian froze. He looked at the cat in his arms, a flicker of suspicion crossing his mind.
An ordinary Animagus could not use magic in their animal form. Could it be a Blood Curse?
"Blanche... you?" Julian murmured softly.
The cat tilted her head, let out a clear 'meow', then nimbly jumped down and slipped into the shadows of the wardrobe.
Clearly, she had no intention of answering Julian's questions.
Julian gave a bitter smile. It seemed their pet shop owner had secrets of her own.
He placed the ruby back in its box and casually tossed it into the very back of a drawer.
Only after handling all this did he feel the waves of exhaustion washing over his body.
He removed his outer robe, wearing only a thin white shirt, and lay back on the bed. The sound of the Black Lake echoed in his ears, like some ancient lullaby.
Just as his consciousness was about to fade, the twin rings suddenly transmitted a warm, gentle sensation.
It was Daphne.
She didn't speak, but through the rings, she conveyed a sense of calm, like a pair of gentle hands soothing his taut nerves.
"Still awake, Daphne?" Julian silently responded in his mind.
A slight vibration came from the other end of the ring, followed by a playful, amused ripple.
Julian closed his eyes.
...
The next morning, in the Great Hall.
When Julian appeared at the Slytherin table, the surrounding air noticeably froze for a few seconds.
Older students lowered their heads, avoiding his gaze, while the first-years followed him with looks bordering on fanaticism.
Montague was absent today. Word was he had suffered an irreversible comminuted fracture in his knee and had taken leave to return to his family for treatment.
"Good morning, Julian."
Daphne sat beside him, elegantly cutting the bacon on her plate. She wore a new pair of pearl earrings today, making her complexion appear even fairer.
"Did you rest well last night?" she asked, seemingly casual, but her eyes lingered for a moment on Julian's somewhat pale face.
"Well enough. Took care of a bit of trash," Julian replied, accepting the glass of pumpkin juice she offered and taking a sip. "And Malfoy?"
"In the Owlery," Daphne lowered her voice. "He looks very excited, probably thinking his father will reward him handsomely for that gem."
"Let him be excited," Julian said, putting down his cup and looking towards the Gryffindor table.
Hermione was sitting there, holding a copy of 'Intermediate Transfiguration'. Although she was reading, her gaze kept flicking over in this direction.
When she saw Julian looking at her, her face instantly flushed red, and she quickly buried her head in her book.
Julian smiled slightly. Everything was proceeding according to plan.
Until an uninvited guest approached the Slytherin table.
It was Professor Quirrell, wrapped in that thick scarf reeking of garlic. His face was even paler than yesterday, his eyes dark and terrifying.
"R-Rosier," Quirrell stammered, his voice trembling violently, "P-Professor Snape asked me to inform you... your Potion Class tutoring tonight... has been moved... moved to his private office in the Dungeons."
Julian narrowed his eyes. Snape's private office? That was usually a place for detentions or handling extremely dangerous experiments.
"I understand, Professor," Julian responded politely. "Thank you for the reminder."
Quirrell stared at Julian for a few seconds. A flicker of chilling murderous intent passed through those murky eyes. Then he quickly turned and scurried away like a startled bat.
"He's not right," Daphne tightened her grip on her fork. "Julian, that aura... it feels very similar to what we sensed at Hagrid's hut last night."
"He's getting desperate," Julian said coldly, watching Quirrell's retreating figure.
Chapter 87: Confrontation
Julian walked alone on the stone steps leading to the Dungeons. The sound of his leather shoes on the bluestone echoed through the empty corridor, sounding especially jarring.
He could feel it—the concentration of magic in the air was twisting in an eerie way. It felt like a cold snake was slithering up his spine.
"Quirrell... or should I say, Tom. Finally lost your patience, have you?"
Julian sneered inwardly. His right hand was casually tucked in his pocket, but his fingertips were already pressing hard against the Ebony Wand inside.
When he reached the corner on the second floor leading to the Dungeons, all surrounding sounds vanished.
Complete, utter silence.
Even the sound of mice scurrying within the walls and the snores from the portraits disappeared without a trace, replaced by a thick, oppressive sensation reeking of garlic and decay.
"M-Mr. R-Rosier... y-you're... you're late."
A sinister, trembling voice with a metallic, grating quality drifted from the shadows ahead.
Professor Quirrell slowly emerged from behind a massive stone pillar. His large purple scarf was askew. In the flickering firelight, his face took on a deathly gray pallor, eyes bloodshot, pupils gleaming with a mad, cruel light.
"Professor, the tutoring session hasn't started yet. I believe I have the right to stroll the corridors for five more minutes."
Julian stopped, his demeanor perfectly composed, even wearing a polite smile. Yet his body leaned forward slightly, entering a state ready to erupt into combat at any moment.
"N-no... there's n-no time... H-he can't wait."
Quirrell let out a strange, guttural hiss. His usual stammer vanished instantly, replaced by a chilling calm.
He abruptly raised his wand, moving with a speed that belied his cowardly persona.
"Confringo!"
A sickly green flame instantly tore through the darkness, shrieking as it ripped through the air, heading straight for Julian's face.
This was no ordinary Blasting Curse; it was tainted with the corrosive aura of the Dark Arts.
Julian did not retreat, nor did he cast a Shield Charm—in such a narrow corridor, directly blocking Lord Voldemort's curse was tantamount to suicide.
"Spatium Refractio!"
Julian narrowed his eyes slightly. The magic within him surged like a tide as his fingertip traced an incredibly complex geometric pattern in the air.
In the thousandth of a second before the green light was about to touch the tip of his nose, the air in front of Julianwarped like a folded mirror, abruptly caving in.
*Hummm—!*
The green light plunged into that distorted space and, like a beam of light entering a prism, refracted at a bizarre, near-ninety-degree angle upward.
*BOOM!!!*
The curse slammed violently into the massive chandelier on the ceiling. The heavy iron frame shattered instantly, raining down burning candles and sharp fragments onto the floor.
"You... a first-year... you've mastered such ancient power?!" Quirrell's (Lord Voldemort's) voice held a trace of surprise, which swiftly transformed into deeper greed and fury.
"It seems... I should... take you apart completely for study!"
Quirrell waved his wand wildly. Three dark-red Cutting Charms shot out in a triangular formation, sealing off all of Julian's avenues of escape.
"Diffindo! Diffindo! Diffindo!"
Julian's gaze was as calm as still water. Amid the shower of flying sparks, he gracefully sidestepped, his right wand giving a light tap.
"Refraction. Overlap."
His movements were like conducting a silent symphony.
As the first Cutting Charm neared his body, a spatial fold gently nudged it. It grazed past the hem of his school robes and precisely severed the neck of a nearby suit of pure silver armor.
*CRACK!* The helmet clattered to the floor with a deafening metallic crash.
The second and third curses collided in front of Julian. Guided by the spatial refraction, the two energies canceled each other out, erupting in a blinding flash of white light.
"Too noisy, Professor."
As he spoke, Julian slid back a step. His fingers twitched slightly, redirecting the refraction's endpoint toward the row of portraits of past Principals at the far end of the corridor.
"How do you think Peeves would publicize you if he saw these frames scorched by the Dark Arts?"
"Shut up! Die!"
Quirrell had clearly lost patience with this slippery, eel-like defense.
He let out a piercing shriek. A sphere of black-purple lightning coalesced at the tip of his wand.
"Expulso!"
This time, it was an area-of-effect attack covering the entire space.
This was the moment Julian had been waiting for.
He concentrated all his magic into a single point, constructing a spherical Refraction Field around his body.
*BOOM—!!!*
A tremendous explosive force erupted within the Dungeons corridor. Stones flew, and dust billowed.
Using the force of the blast, Julian directed most of the shockwave toward the heavy wooden door leading to the Staff Room behind him.
*BANG!!!*
The wooden door was blasted to splinters. The sound of tumbling furniture inside, combined with the massive explosion, finally triggered a chain reaction in the silent Castle.
"Who's there?!"
Professor McGonagall's stern shout echoed from a distance, followed swiftly by Snape's rapid, heavy footsteps.
"Damn it..." Quirrell shot Julian a hateful glare.
Julian had already taken the opportunity to fall to the ground. His previously neat school uniform was now tattered and covered in dust. He had even deliberately used magic to rupture a few capillaries, allowing a trickle of blood to seep from the corner of his mouth.
His eyes instantly took on a look of terror and helplessness, perfectly mimicking a weak first-year student attacked in the dead of night.
"H-help..." he called out weakly, his voice perfectly pitched to reach Snape, who had just rounded the corner.
Quirrell reacted with extreme speed. He suddenly clutched his own throat, broke into a fit of violent coughing, and then also slumped to the floor. His wand was tossed aside, and his face once again wore that look of utter terror.
"N-no... don't... don't hurt me..." Quirrell stammered pitifully, as if he were the one who had been attacked.
Snape was the first to arrive at the scene.
His wand emitted a cold light. His black robes billowed behind him like a pair of giant bat wings.
When he saw the devastated corridor, the beheaded armor, and Julian lying in a pool of (forged) blood, Snape's pupils contracted sharply.
"Rosier!"
Snape strode over the rubble in one swift step, dropping to one knee beside Julian. His pale fingers quickly pressed against Julian's neck, checking his vital signs.
"Professor... I... I was just on my way to tutoring..." Julianclutched Snape's sleeve, his voice trembling, his eyes holding just the right amount of confusion. "Suddenly... there was an explosion..."
Professor McGonagall, who arrived moments later, let out a gasp. "Merlin's beard! What happened here? Professor Quirrell? Are you alright?"
Quirrell sat on the floor, trembling all over, and pointed at the headless suit of armor. "S-someone... someone attacked us... a dark shadow... too... too fast..."
Chapter 88: Pure-Blood Lives Matter
Snape looked up coldly, his gaze lingering on Quirrell for a moment before sweeping over the severed suit of armor.
As a true expert in Defense Against the Dark Arts, he could clearly sense the lingering aura of a spell in the air—it was pure Dark Arts.
And the perfectly smooth cut on the armor was clearly caused by some extremely high-level severing charm.
Snape then turned to look at Julian. The boy was huddled in his embrace, trembling.
But Snape noticed that although Julian looked disheveled, his magical pathways, while weak, were unusually stable, lacking the chaotic disruption typical of a severe Dark Arts assault.
"Severus, take the child to the hospital wing immediately!" Professor McGonagall cried anxiously. "I must inform the Headmaster at once. An attack of this magnitude within Hogwarts!"
"I will take him, Minerva."
Snape's voice was terrifyingly low. He scooped Julian up roughly, yet carefully avoided the boy's "injured" areas.
As he passed Quirrell, Snape halted. His pitch-black eyes bore into the man as if trying to see through his very soul.
"Professor Quirrell, I hope your fright ends soon. After all... there are many 'Potions' in my office waiting for you to explain tonight's... incident."
After carrying Julian some distance away, in the shadowy corner of a staircase, Snape suddenly spoke in a low voice:
"Drop the act, Rosier. Your heartbeat is much steadier than before."
Julian didn't open his eyes, merely burrowing deeper into Snape's icy embrace. He whispered, so softly only the two of them could hear:
"But I really am in pain, Professor. And... behind Professor Quirrell's scarf, there seemed to be a second mouth, talking to me the whole time."
Snape's body went rigid.
The air in the hospital wing was thick with the pungent, herbal scent of dittany.
"The Defense Against the Dark Arts Professors these days are getting more and more unreliable,"
Madam Pomfrey grumbled as she waved her wand, making bandages coil around Julian's arms like living white snakes. His arms weren't seriously injured, but were covered in bruises.
"Severe magical exhaustion, and minor internal organ concussions."
Madam Pomfrey glared sternly at Snape, who stood in the shadows.
"He needs absolute rest! Severus, if you dare continue with that damned detention, I'll file a complaint with the Headmaster!"
"He will rest, Poppy." Snape's voice was rough as sandpaper. His hollow black eyes fixed on the boy in the bed. "But first, I have a few questions for my student."
Madam Pomfrey gave a dissatisfied huff and turned to prepare a Calming Draught, leaving the two a brief moment of privacy.
As the privacy curtain was drawn shut, Snape suddenly leaned down, planting his hands on either side of the bed. His grim face loomed over Julian, his large hooked nose almost touching the boy's forehead.
"A second face." Snape ground out the words between his teeth, his voice almost inaudible yet crackling with dangerous tension. "Do you have any idea what you're saying, Rosier?"
Julian leaned against the pillows, his face pale as parchment, but his gaze was terrifyingly clear.
He didn't avoid Snape's scrutiny. Instead, a weak, yet strangely knowing smile touched his lips.
"The Rosier Family is pure-blood, Professor. We still have some old friends in France and Albania."
Julian said softly, beginning to weave his half-truths. "Some things, no matter how thick the garlic-scented scarf they hide behind, cannot mask their stench of decay."
Snape's pupils contracted sharply.
"Do you know what you're doing? You're playing with fire?"
"No, Professor. This is self-preservation."
Julian laboriously raised his bandaged hand and pointed to his own chest.
"I know Headmaster Dumbledore is playing a long game. He's honing that sword named 'Harry Potter.' I have no intention of disrupting the chosen one's epic growth, nor do I wish to interfere with the Headmaster's plans."
He paused, observing Snape's micro-expressions, then delivered the fatal blow:
"I, and the Rosier Family, have no desire to become the whetstone casually sacrificed in the process of sharpening that sword."
"Pure-blood lives matter."
"You should understand this feeling... this desire to survive in the cracks, shouldn't you? After all, you are the one bearing the heaviest burden in this game."
Snape's body stiffened violently.
He straightened up, his black robes swirling as if to conceal the turmoil within.
This eleven-year-old child had seen through it all? Seen through Dumbledore's grand design, even seen through his own, Severus Snape's, double life?
A prophecy? Or something else.
"Shut your mouth, Rosier."
After a long silence, Snape pulled a small dark brown vial from within his robes and slammed it onto the bedside table.
"Dreamless Sleep Potion. Drink it. Then forget your foolish delusions from tonight. If I hear you gossiping about this outside—"
"I'm just a frightened first-year student, Professor." Julianblinked innocently. "I don't know anything."
Snape gave him one last deep look, then turned and strode out of the ward. His retreating figure seemed heavier, and more agitated, than usual.
As Snape left, the ward door opened again.
But this time, it wasn't Madam Pomfrey who entered.
"Julian!"
The call was choked with a sob, yet forcibly restrained by a noble's composure.
Daphne practically burst into the room.
She wasn't even wearing her school robes, only a silk nightgown with a heavy, emerald-green velvet cloak thrown over it. Her golden hair was disheveled over her shoulders—clearly, she had run straight from her dormitory upon hearing the news.
She rushed to the bedside. Her usually proud, icy blue eyes were now brimming with tears.
"Merlin..."
Her hand trembled as she reached out, wanting to touch Julian's cheek, but afraid of hurting him. Her fingers hovered in the air, shaking slightly.
"Who was it? I'll write to my father... No, I'll have the Greengrass Family pressure the Board of Governors..."
Daphne's voice was thick with murderous intent, the furious rage of a lioness protecting her cub.
"Shh—it's alright, Daphne."
Julian extended his uninjured left hand, gently took her cold fingers, and kissed them. "Just magical exhaustion. It looks worse than it is."
"How can it be alright! You look so weak!"
Daphne gripped his hand tightly in return, sitting directly on the edge of the bed without a care for noble etiquette. She buried her face in his palm, her warm tears dampening his skin.
"If anything happened to you... I swear, I would—" she muttered into his hand, her tone terrifyingly serious.
Before she could finish, the ward door opened for the third time.
With a loud *bang*, the door hit the wall.
Chapter 89: The Battlefield
Hermione stood panting at the doorway, clutching at least three books as thick as bricks—'A Guide to Magical Trauma Healing' and 'The Complete Compendium of Dark Arts Counter-Curses'.
Ink stains still marked her face, clearly showing she had dashed here mid-research in the Library.
Her footsteps came to an abrupt halt when she saw Daphne sitting by Julian's bedside, tightly holding his hand, and even wearing her pajamas.
The air seemed to freeze in that instant.
Daphne slowly lifted her head, her tear-filled blue eyes instantly icing over as she cast a cold glance at the Gryffindor at the door.
"Visiting hours are over, Miss Granger."
Daphne's voice regained its characteristic lazy arrogance. She didn't release Julian's hand; instead, as if on purpose, she leaned in closer to him, asserting her claim.
"What's needed here is family care, not a know-it-all bringing a pile of useless paper to cause trouble."
Hermione took a deep breath and did not back down.
Stubborn fire burned in her brown eyes as she strode to the other side of the bed, arms full of books.
"According to Hogwarts School Rule 724, any student has the right to visit an injured classmate during their recovery,"
Hermione declared, thumping the stack of books onto the nightstand so hard she nearly knocked over Professor Snape's Potion. She then met Daphne's gaze directly, her words rapid and sharp:
"And besides, Greengrass, is your so-called 'care' just sitting here weeping? Do you even know what curse he was hit with? Do you know..."
As she spoke, Hermione quickly flipped open one of the books, pointing at a line of text. Her voice was firm, but the anxiety in her eyes was impossible to hide.
"I've seen the traces at the scene... Julian was injured trying to dodge a curse... He needs professional monitoring, not... not some Romeo and Juliet performance here!"
By the end, Hermione's voice carried a hint of a sob.
She turned to look at Julian, her eyes instantly reddening. "You... you idiot! Why did you use such dangerous Space Magic? You could have been torn to pieces!"
The current situation was extremely delicate.
On the left was the Slytherin Ice Queen in her pajamas, asserting her claim; on the right was the Gryffindor top student, armed with her books and theories.
Two completely different auras clashed fiercely above Julian's sickbed, as if electric sparks were crackling.
On the windowsill, the black cat Blanche, who had been crouching there all along, lazily yawned. Her mismatched eyes were full of amused mockery as her tail swished idly against the window frame.
Young people these days really know how to play...
Julian felt a headache coming on, and this time it wasn't feigned.
But he knew if he didn't handle this battlefield properly, he wouldn't get any sleep tonight.
"Alright, ladies."
Julian's voice, though weak, carried an undeniable gentleness.
He first looked at Daphne, gently stroking the back of her hand with his fingers.
"Daphne, my magical core does need calming. Does your family's heritage include any knowledge related to soul soothing?"
Daphne's expression softened slightly. She lifted her chin triumphantly, giving Hermione a'see?' look.
Then, Julian turned to Hermione, his gaze carrying a hint of apology and appreciation.
"Hermione, you're right. The Dark Arts residue is indeed troublesome. Professor Snape gave me a Potion, but I trust your judgment."
He gestured to the stack of books on the nightstand. "Could you help me filter through which spells can be combined with the Potion to accelerate nerve repair? You know, when it comes to theoretical research like this, you're the only one I trust."
Hermione's previously tense shoulders relaxed. She sniffed, somewhat embarrassed, avoiding Julian's gaze, but her hand was already honestly reaching for a book.
"Of... of course. This is just academic discussion. It's not like I came specifically for you..."
"Well then," Julian leaned back, closed his eyes, and a pale smile touched his lips. "I'll be in your care tonight."
The ward finally fell quiet.
Though Daphne was still glaring at Hermione, she obediently kept holding Julian's hand.
Hermione pulled a chair to the other side and, by the faint light of her wand, quickly flipped through the books, occasionally jotting notes on a piece of parchment.
Caught in this pincer movement from left and right, though physically exhausted, Julian felt a sense of having narrowly escaped disaster.
What an intense battlefield it had been.
...
Time ticked by.
Madam Pomfrey finally lost her patience and shooed the chattering Hermione away, citing a Gryffindor point deduction as the threat.
As for Daphne, though extremely reluctant, after confirming Julian had taken his Potion, she was 'politely escorted' back to the dungeons by a prefect sent by Professor Snape.
After all, this was the school hospital, not the Greengrass Family's private estate.
Only Julian remained in the ward, along with the black cat curled into a perfect circle on the windowsill.
Julian picked up the vial of Dreamless Sleep PotionProfessor Snape had left.
The deep brown liquid sloshed thickly inside, emitting a bitter scent mixed with valerian root and burnt treacle.
"For this damned peace and quiet,"
he muttered self-deprecatingly, tilting his head back to drain the Potion in one go.
The effects came quickly.
A heavy, leaden weariness rapidly spread from his stomach to every limb.
His eyelids grew as heavy as castle gates. The sound of the rain outside gradually faded, becoming a blurred background noise.
Consciousness began to sink.
Like a stone falling into the bottomless Black Lake.
...
...
"Drip."
"Drip."
After an unknowable amount of time, Julian heard the sound of dripping water.
It wasn't the magically rhythmic dripping of Hogwarts, but the sound of old, rusty pipes leaking within decaying walls.
He opened his eyes.
No warm candlelight of the hospital wing. No soft down pillow.
Greeting him was a patch of gray, peeling wall. The air was thick with the smell of overcooked cabbage, moldy wood, and the distinctive coal smoke of London.
Outside the window was no longer the Black Lake's raging storm, but a blanket of gray smog. Faintly, he could hear the clanging of distant trams and the sharp blare of car horns.
This was...
"Wool's Orphanage."
Julian sat up from the iron bed, hard as a slab of stone, and looked down at himself.
He was still wearing his hospital pajamas, but the silk garment seemed utterly out of place in this barren, oppressive room.
"It seems Professor Snape's Potion has expired, or your obsession runs too deep, Tom."
Julian showed no panic. Barefoot, he stepped onto the cold, rough wooden floor and walked towards the figure standing by the window.
It was a boy who looked about sixteen or seventeen.
He wore a faded but not shabby second-hand suit, his black hair meticulously combed, his figure tall and slender.
Chapter 90: Beating Up Lord Voldemort
When the figure before him turned around, the face was breathtakingly handsome—a high-bridged nose, pale skin, and eyes as deep and dark as black holes.
Tom Riddle in his youth.
Or rather, this was a psychic projection of Lord Voldemort, cast through Quirrell.
"Rosier."
Riddle spoke, his voice low and magnetic, carrying an innate elegance and arrogance.
"We meet again, though under such... undignified circumstances."
He cast a disdainful glance around the cramped room, as if every speck of dust here was an insult to his nobility.
"I didn't expect you to use this place as a reception room." Julian walked over and sat down in the room's only chair, his posture as languid as if he were in his own living room.
"Is this your deepest fear? Or nostalgia?"
Riddle's eyes chilled for an instant, but soon regained that feigned gentleness.
"Fear is the excuse of the weak, Rosier. This is merely the starting point, a witness to greatness being born."
He walked up to Julian, looking down at him from above, those dark eyes gleaming with a mesmerizing light.
"I smell a familiar scent on you. Talent, ambition, a thirst for power... and that contempt for the mediocre masses. You and I are alike, Julian."
"We are both rejected by this world for being different, and because of that difference, we are destined to stand above them all."
Riddle extended a slender hand, palm upward, as if issuing an invitation, or bestowing a favor.
"That old fool Dumbledore cannot see you for what you are, just as he failed to see me in the past. He would only use his hypocritical morals to bind genius. Join me, Rosier."
"I can teach you true magic—to transcend the boundaries of life and death, to shatter the shackles of space."
The surrounding walls began to warp.
Countless tendrils of black smoke seeped from the cracks in the floor, transforming into hissing serpents that coiled around Riddle's feet, making him appear like a monarch of darkness.
This was psychic pressure.
If this were an ordinary young Wizard, they would likely have been terrified into kneeling and begging for mercy by this horrifying aura, or utterly bewitched by the promise of such power.
But Julian merely stared calmly at that hand, and then...
"Pfft."
He burst out laughing.
The laughter sounded jarringly sharp in the oppressive room.
"What are you laughing at?" Riddle's hand froze mid-air, a crack finally appearing in his expression, as the surrounding black mist instantly grew frenzied.
"I'm laughing at your arrogance, Tom."
Julian stood up. Though he was shorter than this sixteen-year-old Riddle, his aura underwent a dramatic transformation in that moment.
"What do you think you are? The great Dark Lord? No. Right now, you are nothing but a fragment of a soul parasitizing the back of someone's head, a parasite barely clinging to life by drinking Unicorn blood."
"Crucio!"
Enraged, Riddle swung his hand violently, lashing out at Julian with an invisible psychic whip.
But just before that force could touch Julian's soul—
*Hummmm—!!!*
A deep azure radiance erupted violently from between Julian's eyebrows.
That was no ordinary shield; it was the light of wisdom from a higher dimension.
The phantom of a diadem inlaid with a sapphire slowly materialized above Julian's head.
Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem.
"This... this is impossible!" Riddle took a frightened step back, his handsome face instantly contorting.
"That's mine... that's my Horcrux! How can you possibly wield it?!"
"Yours?" Julian sneered, taking a step forward.
With his movement, the drab walls of the orphanage began to crumble, revealing the deep, vast starscape behind—this was Julian's subspace domain.
"The soul fragment you left on it has already been torn apart, devoured, and digested by me."
"Now, the master of this diadem is me. And you, Tom, in this dream, under the rules of the diadem, you're just a junior."
Julian suddenly reached out and grabbed Riddle by the collar.
The once lofty phantom of the Dark Lord was now lifted helplessly by Julian, like a powerless orphan.
"Damn, showing off like that..."
"Stop! I am the great—"
"Great my ass!"
"Ah, you little brat, how dare you... ah!" "I'll kill you!"
With the diadem's aid, Julian thoroughly vented his pent-up fury.
"Aaaah—!!!" Riddle let out a scream of agony.
"Listen, Tom."
Julian leaned close to his ear, his voice as cold as a blade.
"Don't try to invade my mind again. Otherwise, next time, I'll follow this link and drain every last bit of your main soul. Now... get out!"
*Boom—!!!*
Julian violently shoved Riddle toward the collapsing void.
In Riddle's final moments of dissipation, countless memory fragments scattered like exploding fireworks.
With swift reflexes, Julian used the diadem's absorptive force to forcibly seize several of the memory fragments shimmering with golden light.
That was...
A massive Cerberus falling asleep to the sound of music...
A Devils Snare that feared fire...
And the location of a mirror of erised...
This was the intelligence Quirrell had gathered to pass the obstacles!
"Hah—!!"
Julian abruptly sat up in bed, gasping for breath in ragged gulps.
Cold sweat soaked through his pajamas. His heart hammered violently in his chest, as if trying to break his ribs.
"Meow!"
A sharp cry of a cat rang out.
Julian looked down to find his right hand gripping the glass vial containing the potion so tightly it had shattered. Sharp shards were deeply embedded in his palm, and blood dripped from between his fingers onto the pristine white sheets—a shocking sight.
Blanche stood arched at the foot of the bed, all her fur bristling, clearly terrified by the terrifying magical pressure Julian had just unleashed.
"Damn it..."
Julian stared at the blood in his palm, but couldn't help curling his lips into a manic grin.
Though he'd suffered some flesh wounds, this gamble had paid off handsomely.
Not only had he humbled the arrogant Lord Voldemort, but he'd also obtained the complete walkthrough for the Philosopher's Stone dungeon.
"It seems our esteemed Dark Lord will have a splitting headache for the next few days."
Julian casually pulled the glass shards from his palm. He couldn't even be bothered to use a healing charm, letting the blood flow freely.
Chapter 91: Acting
The Hospital Wing was dead silent, with only the sound of bubbling Potions coming from Madam Pomfrey's office in the distance.
Julian leaned against the headboard, slowly and methodically pulling glass shards from his palm with his uninjured left hand.
Blood stained the white sheets like blooming red roses, but the expression on his face was calm, almost indifferent.
"Episkey."
He whispered the incantation. A soft white light flashed from the tip of his wand, and the gruesome wound on his palm closed and scabbed over at a visible rate, eventually leaving only a faint pink mark.
Blanche remained in her black cat form, crouching at the foot of the bed. Her heterochromatic pupils constricted slightly, clearly confused by Julian's near-masochistic composure.
"Don't look at me like that, Blanche."
Julian casually swept the bloody shards into the nightstand drawer and used a Scouring Charm to wipe away the bloodstains on the sheets.
"Sometimes, pain is the best way to confirm you're still alive, especially after an intellectual revelry inside that madman's head."
Closing his eyes slightly, the memory fragments he had plundered from Lord Voldemort began to reassemble like a puzzle in his mind.
A massive Cerberus drooling and slumbering to the sound of a harp...
Light-fearing Devils Snare shivering under a Fire-Making Spell...
A swarm of winged keys...
A giant wizards chess board...
And... that Potion riddle filled with twisted logical reasoning.
"What a brilliant design," Julian sneered inwardly. "To train his chosen one, Dumbledore has practically turned Hogwarts into a giant playground."
Just then, the ward door was pushed open a crack.
A messy black head poked in; it was Harry Potter.
He wore those round glasses held together with tape, looking somewhat sleep-deprived with faint dark circles under his eyes.
"Julian?" Harry called in a low, tentative voice. "Are you awake? Madam Pomfrey isn't here, is she?"
Julian immediately adjusted his state.
His sharp eyes instantly became vacant and dazed, and his body shrank back slightly as if still immersed in some lingering terror.
"Harry?" Julian intentionally made his voice raspy, as if his throat were filled with grit. "Come in... the Madam went to prepare medicine."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief and slipped inside, closing the door behind him. He walked to the bedside and looked at the pale Julian with a flash of sympathy in his eyes.
"Hermione hasn't slept since she got back last night; she's worried sick." Harry scratched his hair awkwardly. "She said you faced a... a Dark Wizard alone."
"I was just unlucky."
Julian gave a bitter laugh, his fingers unconsciously clutching the sheets until his knuckles turned white. "I didn't even see his face... only a green light... and that voice..."
As he spoke, Julian's pupils dilated suddenly, and his breathing became rapid, as if falling into a terrifying memory.
"That voice... it kept muttering..."
Harry tensed up immediately. He leaned in closer and asked urgently, "What was it muttering? Julian, this is important! Was it about... about Snape?"
In Harry's mind, the one who attacked Julian last night must have been Snape.
After all, Snape was the only person in the school who looked most like a Dark Wizard, and he was always targeting Julian. Though it was out of favoritism, in Harry's eyes, it was targeted harassment.
Julian stared blankly at the ceiling, his lips trembling as he spoke in a dreamlike tone:
"No... not a name... he was saying... 'Damned dog... just needs a bit of music... a bit of music will shut it up...'"
Harry's eyes widened abruptly.
"Music? Dog?" Harry gasped. "Fluffy! Hagrid's Cerberus!"
Julian seemed not to hear Harry's exclamation, continuing to immerse himself in his "trauma," speaking faster and faster with a neurotic tremor:
"And... light... damned plants fear light... burn them with fire... keys... a rusty Gringotts key..."
Every word was like a heavy hammer striking Harry's heart.
Harry felt his hands and feet go cold.
This wasn't nonsense!
These were the methods to pass the trials!
The attacker (Snape) already knew how to get past Fluffy and even knew the weakness of the Devils Snare!
"He knows..." Harry muttered to himself, his face turning pale. "He knows everything..."
Julian suddenly grabbed Harry's wrist, staring intently at him:
"Harry! That voice... he was laughing... he said he's about to get it... tonight... or tomorrow night... he said it belongs to his master..."
"Julian, calm down!" Harry's wrist hurt from the grip, but he didn't care, holding Julian's hand in return. "Are you sure? He said he's 'about to get it'?"
"I don't know... I don't know..."
Julian clutched his head in pain, his performance reaching its climax. "He's laughing in my head... it's too terrifying... that feeling of evil..."
Looking at the collapsing Slytherin Prefect before him, Harry's sense of justice and urgency instantly exploded.
He had always thought Snape was still looking for a way past Fluffy, but now it seemed Snape had mastered everything!
Even attacking Julian last night might have been to create chaos or to use Julian for some Dark Arts experiment to prepare for the final step!
"Thank you, Julian. You've provided the most important clue."
Harry stood up, his face showing an unprecedented determination, that reckless Gryffindor courage burning in his eyes.
"Get some rest; don't be afraid. As long as Dumbledore is here, he won't dare to do anything reckless."
Harry offered a word of comfort, but it sounded like something even he didn't believe.
With that, he turned and ran out, not even bothering to rub his foot after bumping into the bed frame.
He had to find Ron and Hermione immediately and tell them: Snape is about to make his move! They had to act before Snape did!
Watching the ward door close again, Harry's hurried footsteps faded into the distance in the corridor.
Julian slowly straightened his back from under the covers.
The expression of terror, helplessness, and collapse receded from his face like a tide, replaced by a faint, elegant mockery.
He reached out to pick up a cup of cold water from the nightstand and took a small sip.
"Quite the energetic chosen one, isn't he?"
He spoke to the black cat at the foot of the bed.
Blanche stretched lazily and let out an ambiguous "meow": "Hypocrite."
"Don't say that; it's called rational resource allocation."
Julian set down the water cup, his finger lightly tapping against its side, producing a crisp sound.
"Since Dumbledore meticulously designed this trial, wouldn't it be a waste of the old Principal's hard work if his Golden boy didn't get to experience it?"
"As for me..."
Julian turned to look at the rising sun outside the window. The golden sunlight pierced through the mist, spilling onto his pale face and giving him a sacred yet false golden edge.
"I only need to take what I truly want when they are exhausted and cheering for their victory."
"For example... the ultimate mystery regarding the soul hidden within that mirror."
"Or, taking advantage of the chaos, to make good use of the last bit of residual value from Quirrell—the fragment of Lord Voldemort's main soul."
"But before that..."
Julian glanced at his healed palm, feeling the power within his body that had become more refined after devouring the memories of Lord Voldemort's soul fragment.
Chapter 92: Continuing the Deception
In a corner of the Hogwarts Library, tucked away in one of Madam Pince's blind spots.
The heads of Harry, Ron, and Hermione were huddled together, with a massive copy of 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' and a messy piece of parchment spread out between them.
"We have to act tonight."
Harry lowered his voice, his tone urgent and determined, a desperate fire burning in his green eyes.
"Julian said that voice mentioned 'tonight.' Snape is definitely going to make his move while Dumbledore is away—I just heard Dumbledore received an urgent letter from the Ministry of Magic and has already flown off!"
"But Harry, if we get caught..." Hermione bit her lip, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her robes, "we'll be expelled! And... and if it's really as dangerous down there as Julian said..."
"No buts!" Ron interrupted her brashly, though his face was also somewhat pale.
"Are we just going to watch Snape steal the Stone and give it to You-Know-Who? By then, being expelled will be the least of our worries, Hermione—we'll be dead!"
"Ahem."
A soft cough abruptly intruded upon their secret meeting.
The trio sprang apart like startled rabbits; Ron nearly knocked the heavy guidebook onto the floor.
Julian Rosier stood in the shadows of the bookshelves.
His complexion was still poor, marked by a sickly pallor, but his grey-blue eyes were exceptionally calm, as if they could see through everything.
"Julian!" Hermione was the first to react. She practically jumped up and hurried to his side, reaching out to support him before hesitating in mid-air, her eyes full of concern. "Why have you left the hospital wing? Madam Pomfreysaid you needed bed rest..."
"I'm fine."
Julian gave a slight smile, but it lacked his usual composure, carrying a hint of solemnity instead. He walked to the table and pulled out a chair to sit down, his movements weary.
"Harry is right." Julian looked at Harry and nodded slightly. "My dream... or rather, that connection, did indeed tell me something."
Harry looked excitedly at Ron and Hermione. "See! I told you!"
"However," Julian changed the subject, lightly tapping the tabletop, "courage alone won't get you through. Dumbledore's trials aren't meant to stop reckless fools, but to filter for heroes. And heroes usually need a bit of equipment."
As he spoke, he reached into his cardigan pocket and pulled out several items, placing them gently on the table.
First were three small transparent crystal vials containing a golden powder that emitted a strong glow.
"This is high-purity Lightdust Crystal," Julian explained, pointing at the vials.
"I remember mentioning in my dream that that plant is afraid of light and fire.
Ordinary fire spells can be hard to maintain when you're nervous, but as long as you smash this vial, the burst of intense light is enough to make Devils Snare recoil. Even a Squib who knows no magic at all could use it."
Hermione's eyes lit up, and she immediately picked one up to examine it closely. "Is this an alchemical product? Heavens, this purity of light element extraction..."
"Just a small hobby," Julian brushed it off casually, then pointed to a small silver tin next to it.
"This is for you, Harry."
Harry blinked. "For me?"
Julian opened the tin, revealing a transparent gel-like substance.
"This is 'Seeker's Grip,' used by professional Quidditchteams. Apply it to your gloves, and it increases friction by 300%. This should be useful for you."
Harry looked at the tin, his throat feeling a bit dry. He hadn't expected Julian to be so thorough, considering even these small details.
"What about you?" Ron couldn't help but ask. His tone was still a bit awkward, but clearly much less hostile. "Aren't you coming with us? Since you know so much..."
"Me?"
Julian raised his right hand, which was no longer bandaged, and smiled.
"As I am now, I can't even maintain a standard Shield Charm for three seconds. Going would only make me a burden to you."
He looked at Harry, his gaze so sincere it was heartbreaking. "Harry, you are the chosen one."
Harry felt a surge of warmth in his chest.
"Thank you, Julian," Harry said earnestly. "You're our friend. Without you, we'd still be running around like headless chickens."
"Alright, time is short."
Julian stood up, his body seeming to sway for a moment; Hermione instinctively steadied his arm.
"You two need to prepare other things. Go on, Harry, Ron. Don't let him get his way."
Harry and Ron exchanged a look, nodded heavily, grabbed the items on the table, and hurried off to gather supplies.
Hermione, however, did not follow immediately.
She held onto Julian's arm and didn't let go, her brown eyes filled with complex emotions—worry, gratitude, and something deeper.
"Are you really okay?" Hermione asked softly, her voice tinged with concern.
"It's just the aftereffects of magic exhaustion. I'll be fine after a few days of rest."
Julian turned to face Hermione.
In this corner shielded only by the shadows of the bookshelves, the two of them were very close.
"Hermione."
Julian's voice dropped, carrying a special magnetic quality. "Harry has courage, Ron has loyalty, but you are the brains of this team. If you encounter a logical puzzle you can't solve, trust your intuition, and trust your knowledge."
With that, he pulled one last item from his pocket.
It was an exquisite silver hairpin, shaped like a quill wrapped in vines, inlaid with a tiny blue gemstone that seemed to breathe.
"What is this?" Hermione asked, surprised.
"An... amulet."
Julian picked up the hairpin and, with a natural movement, raised his hand to gently brush aside Hermione's somewhat bushy brown curls, pinning the clip near her ear.
"It has a protection spell solidified on it."
Julian's fingers didn't pull away immediately; instead, they slid down her hair, finally resting on her shoulder. His gaze was focused and affectionate.
"If you encounter danger or find yourself in a desperate situation... it will protect you."
This was a lie.
The hairpin was actually a high-precision alchemical eavesdropping and visual transmission device.
Through it, Julian could sit comfortably in his dormitory and watch the chosen one's team overcome obstacles like a live broadcast, even collecting magical data from within the trials through the hairpin.
Of course, there really was a protection spell on it; while it couldn't stop the Three Unforgivable Curses, it could handle some ordinary spells.
"Julian..." Hermione looked up, her eyes slightly moist.
She felt her heart beating so fast it was about to jump out of her throat.
"I... I'll be careful," she stammered, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz. She raised a hand to touch the hairpin as if it were the most precious treasure in the world.
"Go on, stay safe."
Julian withdrew his hand, his gaze as gentle as a deep pool. "Don't keep them waiting too long."
Watching Hermione's retreating figure as she jogged away clutching her books—her steps slightly stumbling from excitement—the tenderness on Julian's face gradually cooled, finally turning into a smirk.
"A perfect pawn."
He whispered softly, his fingers stroking his chin.
Julian turned and walked toward the Library exit, his pace becoming much lighter.
Tonight at Hogwarts, a spectacular play was about to be performed. And as a spectator, he had to go back and prepare some popcorn.