Yulian smiled and didn't argue further. He knew that in an era when Voldemort's shadow had yet to fully fade, people's prejudice against Slytherin was as unyielding as a wall of steel.
"Anyway," he said, raising his Pumpkin Juice to Harry, "congratulations, Harry. Hogwarts' first first-year Seeker in a hundred years. That's so cool."
"Yeah, Harry, congratulations." Ron was genuinely happy for his friend.
"Exactly." Kayson raised his cup too. "It's all Malfoy's fault. I should've been the first-year Seeker!"
"Hahaha."
Harry finally smiled and raised his cup. "Thanks! You guys have to come watch my first match!"
"Definitely!" Kayson immediately chimed in. "I'm sitting in the front row. As long as you're not playing Ravenclaw, I'll cheer for you!"
Everyone burst into laughter again. The little disagreement from earlier was soon swept away by the fragrant food and the boys' lively chatter.
Just after parting ways with the Ravenclaws, Hermione had taken Harry and Ron to the Trophy Room to see the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup James had won as a Seeker. It was the first time Harry had learned that his father had been an excellent Seeker, too.
On their way back to the dormitory, the three of them were chatting and laughing as they climbed a staircase when it suddenly began to move. Startled, they quickly crouched down and clung tightly to the railing.
"Don't be scared!" Hermione was the first to calm down. "Percy once said that Hogwarts' staircases move on their own. We can just walk around and get back."
The staircase shifted nearly 180 degrees, carrying them to an unfamiliar corridor: the forbidden corridor on the east side of the fourth floor, which Dumbledore had mentioned after the start of term.
The three little adventurers' story began...
The library was much quieter than the Great Hall. There was only the sound of turning pages and, now and then, the soft scratch of a quill across parchment. Yulian had just said goodbye to Edgar and the others and gone to the library to do his homework. Edgar and his friends wanted to take a stroll by the Black Lake.
It was nearly nine in the evening. Yulian sat at an oak table in a corner, protected by a Silencing Charm, with a slim old book spread open before him—A Study of Europe's Magical Ley Lines. His fingertips traced the faded lines of text, his brows knitted tight.
It was less a book than a manuscript, perhaps a wizard's handwritten volume or notes from some bygone era. Many of the words differed greatly from their modern forms, and the faded handwriting was hard to decipher.
"...Three nodes, established in accordance with the stars, founded upon stone, drawn forth by blood... Do not disturb the sleeping dragon; these are no idle words."
The writing was obscure, but the solemnity and sense of danger between the lines sent a chill down his spine. Wasn't Do not disturb the sleeping dragon Hogwarts' motto? Could it mean something else as well?
It wasn't until Madam Pince had glared at him three times with an almost threatening look that Yulian closed the book and carefully tucked away the homework he'd written in the inner pocket of his robe. By the time he stood to leave, the sky beyond the windows was strewn with stars.
On his way back to Ravenclaw Tower, his thoughts weighed heavily on him. As he passed a spiral staircase connecting the third and fifth floors, the familiar clack sounded again. The stone steps trembled slightly beneath his feet, then began to turn.
Yulian wasn't alarmed. After getting lost in the castle so many times, he'd grown used to its capriciousness. This time, however, the staircase didn't take him to the familiar entrance to the eyrie. Instead, it stopped at a corridor on the north side of the fourth floor that he'd never noticed before.
It was quieter here than in the west wing he usually passed through. The wall sconces glowed dimly, and cobwebs gathered in the corners. The air was thick with the musty smell of old wax and magical dust. At the end of the corridor, a half-open door let out a faint glow.
Yulian hesitated, then walked over. He pushed open the door and found a medium-sized, empty classroom. In the middle of the room stood a tall mirror, all alone. Its frame was an ornate gold, and a line of cursive writing was engraved across the top:
Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi
"Oh, so this is the Mirror of Erised..." Yulian murmured.
He remembered Dumbledore telling Harry that the mirror showed a person their deepest desire.
The old headmaster had probably put it here so that, under the crushing pressure of facing Voldemort, Harry could still see his parents and find a little comfort. Of course, it was also preparation for retrieving the Philosopher's Stone later on.
Since this was part of Dumbledore's plan to play Harry, Yulian should have turned around and left. No matter how magical the mirror was, to him it was just an enchanted object with a story behind it.
But halfway through turning around, his feet seemed to freeze in place.
"What could my deepest desire be..." He gave a self-mocking smile. "Probably to go back to my previous life and lie on my balcony in the sun? Or... sit around the fireplace at Black Vine Winery with my parents and grandparents in this life?"
In the end, curiosity got the better of him. As people liked to say, he was already here, after all. So he slowly walked up to the mirror and looked into it.
There was no sunlight, no fireplace, and no warm smiles from his parents in the mirror.
There was only chaos, a darkness like that before the universe was born. In its depths, a long, black slab floated, its surface seemingly covered in patterns like stars.
It was silent and ancient, yet seemed to hold a power capable of tearing space and time apart. Its outline was indistinct, its shape somewhat like the long cloth-wrapped bundle Lyria had brought to school. Yet it gave off a call that resonated with his blood, a summons from the depths of his soul.
Then a deep, hoarse voice, as if rising from far beneath the earth, sounded directly in his mind:
"Is it you? My guardian, the last bloodline of Black... Have you come to break my shackles?"
Yulian shuddered as if struck by lightning. He stumbled back a step, his heart pounding so hard it seemed ready to burst through his ribs. He looked around, but there was no one there, and Dumbledore hadn't suddenly appeared either.
But that voice hadn't been his imagination! It carried a clear will, the weariness and longing of a thousand years of waiting, and pierced straight into the core of his consciousness.
"The slab..." he murmured, unconsciously lifting a hand to his chest, where the fabric was growing faintly warm.
"Are you not the Mirror of Erised?" Yulian asked in a trembling voice.
"No. The Mirror of Erised is the last safeguard left behind by the Four Founders, a beacon that opens only to a specific bloodline!" The hoarse, ancient voice sounded again. "The Mirror of Erised is here not to reflect 'desire,' but to identify the 'key'—the guardian's key!"
The image of the slab in the mirror began to rotate slowly. Its star-like patterns lit up one by one, outlining a star chart he had never seen before.
Of course, if he ever became good at Astronomy, he would eventually realize that it showed the moment on the winter solstice when the three stars in Orion's Belt hung directly above the top of Hogwarts' Astronomy Tower.
"Shackles?... Bloodline?... Key?" Yulian repeated the words quietly. Was he some kind of guardian? Was this connected to the Black bloodline?
He looked into the mirror again. The slab seemed to tremble faintly, and the whispering voice gradually faded until silence fell. The image also began to vanish, and the mirror once more became an ordinary one, reflecting Yulian's own pale face.
He stood there, motionless for a long time. The night wind swept through the empty corridor, moaning like a sob.
He had originally planned to use his knowledge of the story to get through his school years in peace. He would learn magic and acquire enough skill to protect himself; Harry and the others could take care of everything else.
But now, he, Shiloh Yulian Black, seemed to have a story of his own.
He took one last look at the mirror, then turned to leave. The door closed softly behind him.
Before you continue