Whispers on the Stands

As time went on, the first-year wizards gradually forgot the thrill of the troll incident. After all, life at Hogwarts was never short of new events—the much-anticipated Quidditch match was about to begin.

Students were seen everywhere in the castle discussing Quidditch. Gryffindor students were cheering for Harry, the once-in-a-century first-year Seeker, convinced he could lead the team to victory against Slytherin.

Slytherin students, on the other hand, were confident about retaining their championship title, boasting about the new brooms sponsored by the Malfoy family. Students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were also cheering for their respective house teams.

Kayson Moretti was so excited he couldn't sleep. Every day, he dragged Yulian and Edgar into mock Quidditch matches, pretending to be a Seeker one moment and a Keeper the next, constantly shouting tactical terms.

"Yulian," Kayson vowed, patting his chest, "once I join the Ravenclaw team, I'll definitely help the house win the House Cup! You have to come watch me play then!"

Hogwarts' early winter always arrived unexpectedly. The first cold snap of November, carrying fine snowflakes, swirled above the Quidditch pitch but did little to cool the students' boiling enthusiasm.

Today was the first official match of the academic year—Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Even more noteworthy was that Gryffindor's Seeker was a first-year student: Harry Potter.

The entire castle seemed restless, as if infused with magic. Hardly anyone touched their breakfast in the Great Hall, and the corridors were filled with students in house scarves, loudly debating tactics.

Yulian Black stood on the stone steps leading to the stands, pulling his bronze scarf tighter, his gaze calmly sweeping over the noisy crowd below. He knew this was another "checkpoint"—a crucial moment in the original story where Harry would make his debut and showcase his flying talent. Hermione's act of setting Snape's robes on fire also happened around this time.

But he had no intention of getting involved, content to be a quiet observer.

He chose a corner away from the crowd and sat down, pulling a small bag of sunflower seeds from his robe pocket—he'd "borrowed" them from the house-elves in the kitchens, as no one else seemed to be eating them.

After enthusiastically cracking just two seeds, he felt the wooden stool beside him sink slightly.

"Watching the match alone?"

The voice was clear and cool, with a hint of subtle probing. Yulian turned his head to see Elizabeth Rosier standing beside him, her silver-grey 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, making her skin appear even paler.

"I just wanted some peace and quiet for a change," Yulian said, popping another seed into his mouth and brushing the crumbs off his hands. "Besides, I'm not the protagonist."

Rosier chuckled softly and sat down next to him, her gaze fixed on Harry, who was adjusting his broom in the center of the pitch. "Protagonist?" she repeated in a low voice. "Perhaps. But sometimes, the real storms never happen in the spotlight."

From her observations these past few days, the famous Savior, apart from his flying talent, didn't seem to have anything particularly outstanding about him.

Yulian narrowed his eyes slightly. Her words didn't sound like casual conversation.

"My family... they haven't mentioned Durmstrang lately," Rosier suddenly turned her head, her tone becoming more relaxed. "Father finally relented, saying since the Sorting Hat placed you here, I should stay and make the best of it." She paused, a genuine smile appearing at the corner of her lips. "Honestly, I'm greatly relieved."

"That's good," Yulian nodded. "Hogwarts is indeed warmer than Northern Europe."

"More than that," she lowered her voice, taking a thick, leather-bound book from inside her robe. The gilded cover was slightly faded. "They also sent me these—ancient books all about the history of Hogwarts. Some were even unique copies found in the family library."

A mixture of pride and confusion flickered in her eyes. "I think... they might genuinely want me to put down roots here and study hard."

Yulian took the book. His fingertips brushed against the blurred crest on the cover—a triangle with a circle in the middle, and a vertical line through it. Undoubtedly, this should be the symbol of the first Dark Lord, Grindelwald, and his followers—the Deathly Hallows.

He opened the title page. The yellowed paper was inscribed with the title "Hogwarts: Foundation and Source of Magic" in Old English. The text inside was neatly written, with dense annotations.

"Interesting," he murmured. "When did House Rosier become so interested in school history?"

"I find it strange too," Rosier's voice was even lower, almost lost in the wind. "Especially... they specifically instructed me to look out for any unusual ruins in the school."

Yulian's fingers froze.

"Ruins?" he tried to keep his voice sounding merely curious.

"Yes. I also find it very strange," Rosier nodded, her expression serious. "The letter was very vague, only saying, 'If you see anything inscribed with a star map or spiral runes, be sure to record its location, but do not touch it.'"

Rosier frowned. "Because our family has been researching ancient sites and ley lines for a long time, I initially thought it was just an archaeological interest. But after looking through the Hogwarts library, there doesn't seem to be any related record. What about you? Have you heard of anything similar?"

Yulian's heart skipped a beat. Could what Rosier was talking about be related to the stone tablet he saw in the Mirror of Erised? Or perhaps related to what Lyria brought? Why was the Rosier family also looking for this now?

"No," he shook his head, returning the book to her. "But... if there are indeed ancient ruins like that in the school, they probably wouldn't be placed in conspicuous areas."

A moment of silence passed between them. Then, the excited voice of commentator Lee Jordan erupted from the pitch: "Players entering the field! Gryffindor's Potter—yes, it's that first-year Harry Potter!"

A deafening wave of cheers and boos washed over the stands. Yulian's gaze, however, remained fixed on Rosier's face. She seemed about to say something more but hesitated.

"Actually..." she suddenly spoke, her voice as light as a whisper, "I saw something quite interesting in the annotations of this book."

"What?"

"It's said that at the time of the school's founding by the four founders, besides a few professors, there was also a 'Steward' responsible for the daily operations of the castle—similar to Filch now, but with higher status." She paused, a strange light flashing in her eyes. "That Steward's surname... happened to be Black."

Yulian felt as if struck by lightning.

"Black?" he blurted out almost involuntarily.

"Yes," Rosier nodded. "His full name is no longer known, but the notes refer to him as 'Pyxis Black'. It's said he was proficient in ancient magical scripts and ley line magic, and was one of Ravenclaw's most trusted assistants. But later... there are no further records, and no one knows how many years he stayed at Hogwarts."

Yulian's heart suddenly raced. Pyxis Black? He had never heard this name before. Perhaps even his grandfather didn't know of an ancestor who worked alongside the four founders? Or was it just a coincidence of the surname?

But Pyxis, also one of the eighty-eight constellations, is Pyxis, the Compass. It did fit the Black family's naming conventions.

A thought struck him like lightning: could this Pyxis Black be the earliest "Guardian," responsible for watching over some mysterious stone tablet hidden within the Mirror of Erised?

"Could I... borrow this book to take a look?" Yulian tried to control the steadiness of his voice.

Rosier hesitated for a moment, then finally handed him the book. "Here, but don't lose it—my grandmother wrote saying these books are very precious and cannot be lent out."

"Thank you, then," Yulian accepted it solemnly.