Professor McGonagall's Home Visit

Julien looked at the acceptance letter in his hand, a letter he had expected, and turned back to his grandfather with surprise. Alphard wore a smile of relief, though he had always told Julien that a Black would surely enter Hogwarts, the stone in his heart finally settled.

Meanwhile, in the library of Julien's mental space, the administrator Murphy was lazily sprawled on a pile of new books, his tail lazily flicking a quill.

The title of the new book beneath him: Hogwarts Survival Guide

Several days had passed since Julien's birthday banquet. The acceptance letter from Hogwarts was kept in a hidden compartment at the bottom of his bedside drawer, alongside the willow wand his grandfather had given him.

One evening after dinner, the family gathered in the living room. Alphard cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Altair, Clara, there's something we need to discuss."

His father, Altair, put down the financial newspaper he was reading, and his mother, Clara, looked up from her ledger. "What is it, Father?"

"About Shilam's school," Alphard's gaze was gentle yet firm. "I've already contacted a school for him—Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"Hogwarts?" Clara frowned, repeating the awkward name. "Sounds like some private boarding school in Scotland? Was it recommended by an old friend from your time in England?"

"No, my dear," Alphard explained patiently. "It's not an ordinary boarding school. It's a... magic school."

Silence fell over the living room as his words hung in the air.

Altair blinked in surprise, then burst into hearty laughter, filled with confusion. "Father, how many glasses of your 'special brew' did you have today? A magic school? Do you mean a place that teaches children to do card tricks? Or perhaps, like a circus, they teach them to train lions?"

Clara didn't laugh, but her eyes were filled with worry and confusion.

She looked at her son, her voice soft but with a hint of reproach. "Shilam, did you tell Grandpa some strange stories? Magic, wizards... those are just fairy tales, you shouldn't take them seriously. Your future should be at Eton College, or Oxford Cambridge."

Julien opened his mouth, wanting to say something in his defense, but his grandfather gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

Only his grandmother, Elodie, offered no immediate opinion. She picked up her teacup, blew gently on the steam, and her gaze thoughtfully drifted between her husband and grandson.

As a daughter of the Morreau Family, she had heard some ancient rumors about "special people" in her youth, though she had never seen them with her own eyes.

At this moment, seeing her husband's unprecedentedly serious expression, and thinking of the peculiarity of their own wine, a ripple went through her heart.

"This is not a fairy tale, nor is it a trick," Alphard's voice grew steady, carrying an undeniable authority.

"Shilam carries the blood of the Black Family, and he possesses true magical talent. Hogwarts is the only place that can teach him to control this power and ensure his safe growth."

"The Black Family?" Altair's smile vanished, replaced by a shrewd, business-like scrutiny. "Father, I always thought it was just an old surname. Does our family have secrets I don't know about?"

"The Black Family was once a Wizarding Family. Shilam is a Wizard and needs to attend a Wizarding School."

"Heavens, how is that possible!" Clara exclaimed.

"Yes," Julien couldn't help but chime in from the side. "I've already received my acceptance letter from Hogwarts." With that, Julien took out the parchment letter and placed it on the table.

"Isn't this some kind of prank?" Altair asked disbelievingly as he examined the letter. "Look, it even requires a cauldron. This must be something from hundreds of years ago."

"Whether you believe it or not, I hope you can keep this a secret for Julien," Alphard said gravely.

"What, is this dangerous?" Clara's first thought was her son's safety.

"You don't need to tell me, I won't tell anyone my son is a wizard, that's absurd!" Altair declared.

Just as the family was lost in their own thoughts and the argument was about to escalate, the doorbell rang.

"Ding-dong--"

The crisp chime sounded jarringly out of place in the tense atmosphere. Clara got up to answer the door, still thinking it might be a mistaken delivery.

Standing outside was an elderly woman in a dark green robe. Her hair was pulled back into an extremely neat bun, and she wore a pair of square-rimmed glasses on her nose. Her eyes behind the lenses were as sharp as an eagle's.

Her appearance seemed to freeze the very air in the hallway.

"Good evening," her voice was clear, crisp, and carried a hint of unquestionable authority. "Is this the home of Mr. Shilam Julien Black?"

Clara froze and nodded instinctively. "Yes, may I ask who you are?"

"I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Professor McGonagall gave a slight nod, her gaze passing over Clara to land precisely on Julien in the living room, a flicker of inquiry in her eyes.

"Hogwarts?" Clara exclaimed, looking back at her husband and father-in-law.

Altair immediately stood up, his face etched with suspicion. A stranger in a peculiar robe, claiming to be from a "magic school," visiting late at night – it looked like a scam no matter how you sliced it.

He strode quickly to the door, blocking his wife, and said stiffly, "Ms. McGonagall, I'm sorry, but we're not interested in your so-called 'magic school.' My son will receive a proper, scientific education. Please leave."

Professor McGonagall's lips turned down slightly, clearly unfazed by this Muggle arrogance. Her gaze shifted to Alphard, who sat in the main seat in the living room. He nodded at her, signaling her to come in.

"Mr. Black," Professor McGonagall's voice remained calm, but with an added layer of irrefutable power. "I know this is hard to believe. But please allow me to prove to you that the 'proper, scientific education' you speak of cannot explain what is about to happen."

Saying this, she raised her hand, not using a wand, but simply a gentle wave.

In the living room, the financial newspaper Altair had casually placed on the coffee table suddenly moved without any wind, the pages rustling.

Then, to everyone's horrified gaze, the newspaper slowly rose into the air, folded and turned in mid-air, finally transforming into a lifelike crane!

The crane flapped its wings, circled the stunned Altair once, and then gently landed beside him.

"This... this is impossible!" Altair stood frozen, reaching out to touch the crane beside him. The delicate feathers, the sharp beak – the texture was so real it made his scalp tingle.

Clara covered her mouth, her eyes wide open as if she had witnessed the most incredible miracle in the world. She murmured, "My God..."

Grandmother Elodie, however, sat up straighter. Her gaze was no longer thoughtful, but filled with undeniable shock and understanding. She looked at her husband and said softly, "Alphard, so... it's true."