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Julien stood rooted to the spot, unable to move for a long time. The night wind blew straight through the corridor, sending a chill down his spine.
Peeves' words slotted perfectly into the secret he had just read about, forming a suffocatingly grand picture.
He, Caelum Julien Black—a transmigrator who thought he was just here to experience the wizarding world and grab some popcorn while watching Harry Potter's destiny unfold—had unwittingly been pushed into the center of a storm that could determine the survival of the entire magical world?
Before the Christmas bells even began to chime, Hogwarts Castle had already draped itself in its festive best.
Holly and mistletoe were wrapped around the ivy-covered columns, and enchanted snow that never melted drifted gently from the ceiling of the Great Hall.
In the corner, the massive Christmas tree Hagrid had painstakingly dragged in radiated the warm, comforting scent of pine needles and cinnamon.
Hogwarts had a two-week holiday for Christmas, but for Caelum Julien Black, it was going to be a somewhat lonely time.
His parents were currently in London, pulling their hair out over a critical campaign to break the Black Vine Estate into the Asian market. They simply couldn't get away.
And so, he had to embark on the journey home alone, returning to his vineyard-surrounded house in Bordeaux.
With a massive roar, the Airbus A320 lifted off from the end of the runway, blending into the boundless blue sky.
The flight from Gatwick Airport in London to Mérignac Airport in Bordeaux, France, wasn't long—only about an hour and a half to an hour and forty-five minutes.
Once the plane leveled out, Julien closed his eyes to rest, slipping into his mental Magical Resonance Library to read some academic books to help him fall asleep.
Suddenly, the black cat, Murphy, slipped up beside him and swiped his bushy tail across Julien's foot. "Attention. The girl in the window seat on the left has looked at you six times already."
"So what? That's completely normal." Despite his words, Julien lazily opened his eyes and glanced to his left.
Even many years later, Julien would still feel that as she sat there, she looked like a painting.
The airplane window served as the frame, enclosing a gradient of blue—from indigo to aquamarine. At thirty thousand feet, the light wasn't as harsh as it was on the ground; filtered through the thin atmosphere, it seemed to leave only a crisp, clear silver that flowed gently over her silhouette.
Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, like the finest eggshell porcelain. The light kissed her temple, slid down the gentle slope of her nose, and gathered in a tiny, undisturbed point of brightness at the tip, before diverging at her Cupid's bow and vanishing into the shadows at the corners of her mouth.
Her black hair was mixed with the warm tones of flax, like wheat straw after the autumn harvest. A few stray strands had broken free from their ties, fluttering softly by the window as the air currents shifted.
Her eyes met Julien's directly, not darting away, carrying a faint trace of a smile in their cool depths.
After swapping seats with a friendly passenger, Julien sat down next to Elizabeth Rosier.
"Black? What are you doing here?" Her tone still carried an air of aristocracy.
Julien smiled. "Going home. The Black Vine Estate in Bordeaux. But why are you going there? I thought you said you lived over in Belgium now."
"My parents and I are spending Christmas with my aunt this year. She lives in Fontsarris, Bordeaux. It's roughly the French equivalent of Hogsmeade in Britain."
She paused, then added, "I know of the Black Vine Estate. It's actually only twenty kilometers from Fontsarris."
"Really? That's brilliant. You can come visit me. I can treat you to the best Merlot."
"I'm not old enough to drink yet," Rosier chided, though her eyes betrayed a glimmer of eager anticipation.
"That's fine, we have non-alcoholic specialty blends. Let me tell you, it's absolutely beautiful where we live in the winter..."
Weird. I've never seen this kid talk this much before, Murphy muttered to himself from inside the library.
When they got off the plane, Julien saw Rosier's two massive trunks. "How are you getting there? That doesn't look easy to manage." Julien knew there were buses from the airport that passed near the Black Vine Estate, but he had no idea how to get to Fontsarris.
"I can take the public carriage that specifically transports wizards." Rosier gave him a look. "Didn't you know about that?"
"Public carriage?" Julien's interest was piqued. He had never heard of such a mode of transport in France.
"You really didn't know?" Rosier looked slightly surprised, before her expression shifted back into a teasing he really is a country boy look.
"It's a common short-distance transport for wizards on the European continent. They're pulled by Thestrals—creatures that can only be seen by those who have witnessed death."
"I thought there were only wizarding buses."
"That's only in Britain," Rosier scoffed slightly. "Most European wizards believe that carriages still maintain a sense of aristocratic elegance."
Julien's heart gave a slight jump. He had heard Hagrid mention Thestrals, but he had never seen one with his own eyes. This was a perfect opportunity.
He hesitated for a second before walking over. "I see you have a lot of luggage. Would you like a hand getting to your carriage, Miss Rosier?"
Elizabeth whipped her head around, initially stunned, but the corners of her mouth twitched upwards almost imperceptibly before she elegantly raised her chin. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble for you, I would be most grateful."
"It's my honor."
Following Elizabeth's directions, the two of them arrived at a desolate parking lot outside the airport.
Perhaps due to a Muggle-Repelling Charm, the area was completely deserted. Only a pitch-black, four-wheeled carriage that looked as though it were woven from shadows sat silently in the lot.
Pulling the carriage were four skeletal, black horses with massive, bat-like wings—Thestrals. They were currently lowering their heads, grazing on some invisible substance in the air.
Seeing these creatures for the first time, Julien couldn't help but hold his breath. They were beautiful yet sorrowful, carrying an otherworldly sense of isolation.
"You can see Thestrals too?" Rosier was slightly surprised, but she didn't ask any further questions. Truthfully, Julien hadn't witnessed death in this life, but he had in his previous one. He didn't know if that was the reason he could see them now.
Just as they were preparing to board, Julien caught sight of a familiar figure out of the corner of his eye. It was the man with the missing finger—the one who had checked their tickets at King's Cross Station and later appeared on the Hogwarts Express!
He was wearing an inconspicuous grey trench coat, but his eyes were sharp as an eagle's as he walked briskly in their direction.
Julien and Elizabeth exchanged a glance, both seeing the wariness in each other's eyes. They didn't say anything, simply slipping quickly into the carriage.
The interior of the carriage was massive, almost the size of a large bus, but incredibly comfortable. The velvet seats were so soft you sank right into them.
However, that comfort was quickly shattered. The carriage door was pulled open again, and the man with the missing finger climbed aboard in silence. He sat in the furthest corner and closed his eyes to rest, as if everything that had just happened was purely a coincidence.
"Don't be nervous," Elizabeth Rosier said to Julien in a low voice. "Since it's a public carriage, it's completely normal for other wizards to be here."
Julien nodded, but he still felt that something wasn't quite right. He covertly observed the man, noticing that his right hand was constantly resting on a hard object inside his coat.
The carriage lurched into motion, pulling smoothly onto an invisible, starlit road that perhaps only wizards could see. The scenery outside the window sped backward, leaving the buildings of the Muggle world far behind.
Suddenly, there was a violent jolt!