As time passed, the first-year wizards gradually forgot the terror of the troll incident. After all, life at Hogwarts never lacked new excitement—and the highly anticipated Quidditch season was about to begin.
Students discussing Quidditch could be seen everywhere in the castle. The Gryffindors were all cheering for Harry, their once-in-a-century first-year Seeker, firmly believing he could lead the team to victory against Slytherin.
The Slytherins, meanwhile, were full of confidence about defending their championship title, boasting about the new model broomsticks sponsored by the Malfoy family. The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students were also busy cheering for their respective House teams.
Casen Moretti was so excited he could barely sleep. Every day, he dragged Julien and Edgar into simulating Quidditch matches. One moment he'd pretend to be a Seeker, the next a Keeper, constantly shouting out various tactical terms.
"Julien," Casen promised, thumping his chest, "once I make the Ravenclaw team, I'll definitely help our House win the Quidditch Cup! You absolutely have to come watch me play!"
Early winter always arrived abruptly at Hogwarts. The first cold front of November brought fine flurries of snow that swirled over the Quidditch pitch, yet they entirely failed to cool the students' boiling enthusiasm.
Today was the first official match of the school year: Slytherin versus Gryffindor. What drew even more attention was the fact that Gryffindor's Seeker was a first-year: Harry Potter.
The entire castle was restless, as if injected with raw magic. Barely anyone touched their breakfast in the Great Hall, and the corridors were packed with students wearing their House scarves, loudly arguing about tactics.
Julien Black stood on the stone steps leading up to the stands, pulling his bronze scarf tighter around his neck. His gaze swept calmly over the noisy crowd below. He knew this was another "checkpoint"—the crucial moment in the original story where Harry made his debut and showcased his flying talent. It was also the match where Hermione would set Snape on fire.
But he had no intention of getting involved. He just wanted to be a quiet observer.
He picked a corner far away from the main crowd and sat down, pulling a small bag of sunflower seeds from the inner pocket of his robes—he had snagged them from the house-elves in the kitchens, figuring no one else was going to eat them anyway.
He had barely cracked two seeds with enthusiasm when he felt the wooden bench sink slightly beside him.
"Watching the match alone?"
The voice was cool, carrying a faint, almost imperceptible undertone of probing. Julien turned his head. Elizabeth Rosier was standing beside him, her silver and green Slytherin scarf fluttering gently in the wind.
She wasn't wearing her House robes, just a plain robe with a dark green cloak draped over it, which only made her skin look even paler.
"I like the quiet sometimes," Julien replied, tossing another sunflower seed into his mouth and brushing the crumbs from his hands. "Besides, I'm not the main character."
Rosier gave a soft laugh and sat down next to him, her eyes turning toward Harry, who was currently checking his broom in the center of the pitch. "The main character?" she repeated quietly. "Perhaps. But sometimes, the true storm never happens under the spotlight."
From what she had observed over the past few weeks, the famous Savior didn't seem to possess any extraordinary qualities other than his flying talent.
Julien narrowed his eyes slightly. That didn't sound like casual chatter.
"My family... hasn't mentioned Durmstrang lately." Rosier suddenly turned her head, her tone lightening a bit. "My father finally relented. He said that since the Sorting Hat put me here, I should stay and make the best of it." She paused, a genuine smile touching the corners of her mouth. "To be honest, I'm incredibly relieved."
"That's good," Julien nodded. "Hogwarts is definitely warmer than Northern Europe."
"It's more than just that." She lowered her voice and pulled a heavy, leather-bound book from inside her robes. The gold lettering on the cover was somewhat mottled. "They also sent these—all ancient texts about the history of Hogwarts. Some are even sole surviving copies dug out of the family library."
A look that was equal parts pride and confusion flashed in her eyes. "I think... they might actually want me to put down roots here and study properly."
Julien took the book. His fingertips brushed against a faded crest on the cover—a triangle with a circle inside it, bisected by a vertical line. There was no mistaking it: this was the symbol of the first Dark Lord, Grindelwald, and his Acolytes—the Deathly Hallows.
He opened the cover. The yellowed pages read Hogwarts: The Foundations and the Source of Magic in Old English. The handwriting inside was neat, but the margins were densely packed with annotations.
"Interesting," he murmured. "Since when did the Rosier family become so interested in school history?"
"I thought it was strange too." Rosier's voice dropped even lower, almost snatched away by the wind. "Especially... they specifically instructed me to keep an eye out for any unusual ruins within the school."
Julien's fingers jerked to a stop.
"Ruins?" he asked, trying his best to make his voice sound merely curious.
"Yes. I thought it was very strange too," Rosier nodded, her expression serious. "The letter was very vague. It only said, 'If you see anything engraved with star charts or spiral runes, be sure to record its location, but do not touch it.'"
Rosier frowned. "Because our family has long researched things like geography and leyline ruins, I initially thought it was just an archaeological interest. But after looking through the Hogwarts library, I haven't found any similar records. What about you? Have you heard of anything like that?"
Julien's heart gave a violent jolt. Could what Rosier was talking about be connected to the stone tablet he had seen in the Mirror of Erised? Or maybe to the item Liriya had brought? And now the Rosier family was looking for it too?
"No," he shook his head, handing the book back to her. "But... if there really were ancient ruins like that in the school, they probably wouldn't be left out in the open."
The two fell silent for a moment. From the pitch below, the commentator, Lee Jordan, shouted excitedly: "And the players are taking the pitch! Potter for Gryffindor—yes, that's first-year Harry Potter!"
A deafening wave of cheers mixed with boos erupted from the stands. Julien's gaze, however, remained fixed on Rosier's face. She looked as though she wanted to say something else but was hesitating.
"Actually..." she suddenly began, her voice as light as a whisper. "I saw something rather interesting in the annotations of this book."
"What is it?"
"It says that when the Four Founders first built the school, aside from a few professors, they also appointed a 'Steward' responsible for maintaining the daily operations of the castle—similar to Filch now, but with much higher status." She paused, a strange light glinting in her eyes. "That Steward's surname... happened to be Black."
Julien felt as if he had been struck by lightning.
"Black?" he nearly blurted out.
"Yes," Rosier nodded. "The full name has been lost to time, but the notes refer to him as 'Pyxis Black.' It's said he was a master of Ancient Runes and Leyline Magic, and was one of Ravenclaw's most trusted assistants. But later... the records just stop. No one knows how many years he stayed at Hogwarts."
Julien's heart began to race. Pyxis Black? He had never heard that name. Did even his grandfather know of an ancestor who had worked alongside the Four Founders? Or was it just a coincidence of surnames?
But Pyxis was also the name of one of the 88 constellations—the Mariner's Compass. It perfectly fit the Black family's naming traditions.
A thought struck his mind like a bolt of lightning: Could this Pyxis Black be the very first "guardian," the one responsible for watching over whatever mysterious stone tablet was hidden inside the Mirror of Erised?
"Could I... borrow this notebook to read?" Julien asked, trying hard to keep his voice steady.
Rosier hesitated for a moment before finally handing the book back to him. "Here. Just don't lose it. My grandmother's letter said these books are incredibly precious and aren't to be lent out."
"Thank you, then," Julien said, accepting it solemnly.