As time passed, the first-year students gradually forgot the terrifying troll incident. After all, life at Hogwarts was never short of excitement—and the much-anticipated Quidditch match was about to begin.
Students all over the castle were talking about Quidditch. The Gryffindors cheered on Harry, the first first-year Seeker in a hundred years, convinced he could lead the team to victory over Slytherin.
The Slytherins were confident they would retain the championship, boasting about the new brooms sponsored by the Malfoy family. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students were also shouting their support for their own teams.
Kayson Moretti was so excited he could barely sleep. Every day, he dragged Yulian and Edgar into mock Quidditch matches, pretending to be the Seeker one minute and the Keeper the next, all the while shouting out various tactical terms.
"Yulian," Kayson vowed, thumping his chest, "once I make the Ravenclaw team, I'll win the House Cup for us! You have to come watch me play!"
Hogwarts' early winter always arrived without warning. The first cold snap of November swept fine snowflakes through the air above the Quidditch Pitch, but did nothing to cool the students' excitement.
Today was the first official match of the school year—Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Even more remarkable was that Gryffindor's Seeker was a first-year student: Harry Potter.
The entire castle seemed to have been stirred into a frenzy. Hardly anyone touched breakfast in the Great Hall, and the corridors were full of students wearing their house scarves and loudly debating tactics.
Yulian Black stood on the stone steps leading to the stands, his bronze-colored scarf wrapped snugly around him as he calmly surveyed the bustling crowd below. He knew this was another "check-in point"—the key moment in the original story when Harry first showed off his flying skills. Hermione also set Snape on fire during the match.
But he had no intention of getting involved. He was content to watch quietly from the sidelines.
He picked a seat in a corner far from the crowd and pulled a small packet of sunflower seeds from his robe pocket. He'd swiped them from the House-elves in the kitchens; no one else ate them anyway.
He had barely begun cracking them enthusiastically when the wooden bench beside him sank slightly.
"Watching the match alone?"
The voice was cool, with a hint of probing curiosity. Yulian turned his head. Elizabeth Rosier stood beside him, her silver-gray-and-green Slytherin scarf fluttering gently in the wind.
She wasn't wearing her school uniform, just a plain robe and a dark green cloak, which made her complexion seem even paler.
"Sometimes I want a little peace and quiet." Yulian tossed another seed into his mouth and brushed the crumbs from his hands. "Besides, I'm not the main attraction."
Rosier chuckled softly and sat down beside him, turning her gaze toward Harry, who was adjusting his broom in the middle of the pitch. "The main attraction?" she repeated in a low voice. "Maybe. But sometimes, the real storm is never in the spotlight."
From what she'd observed over the past few days, the famous Savior didn't seem to have any particular talent beyond flying.
Yulian narrowed his eyes slightly. That didn't sound like casual conversation.
"My family hasn't brought up Durmstrang lately..." Rosier suddenly turned to him, her tone a little more relaxed. "Father finally relented. He said that since the Sorting Hat placed you here, you should stay and make the most of it." She paused, a genuine smile appearing on her lips. "Honestly, I'm incredibly relieved."
"That's good." Yulian nodded. "Hogwarts is definitely warmer than Northern Europe."
"That's not all." She lowered her voice and drew a thick, leather-bound book from inside her robe. Its gilt lettering had faded in places. "They sent these too—all old books about the history of Hogwarts. Some are even unique volumes from the family library."
Her eyes held a glimmer of pride mixed with confusion. "I think... perhaps they really do want me to put down roots here and focus on my studies."
Yulian took the book. His fingertips brushed the faded crest on its cover: a triangle with a circle inside and a vertical line running through the center. Without a doubt, it was the symbol of the first Dark Lord, Grindelwald, and his followers—the Deathly Hallows.
He opened the book. The yellowed first page bore the title Hogwarts: Foundation and Source of Magic, written in Old English. The text was neat, with notes packed into the margins.
"Interesting," he murmured. "Since when has House Rosier been so interested in Hogwarts' history?"
"I thought it was strange too." Rosier's voice dropped even lower, almost lost in the wind. "Especially since... they specifically told me to keep an eye out for any unusual relics in the school."
Yulian's fingers abruptly stilled.
"Relics?" he asked, trying to sound merely curious.
"Yes. I thought it was strange too." Rosier nodded, her gaze serious. "The letter was vague. It only said, 'If you come across anything engraved with a star chart or spiral runes, be sure to record its location, but do not touch it.'"
Rosier furrowed her brow. "Our family has studied geographical ley lines and similar relics for a very long time. At first, I thought it was just a family interest in archaeology, but I couldn't find anything relevant in the Hogwarts library. What about you? Have you heard of anything like that?"
Yulian's heart jolted. Could Rosier be talking about the stone tablet he'd seen in the Mirror of Erised? Or something Lyria had brought with her? Why was the Rosier family looking for it too?
"No." He shook his head and returned the book to her. "But... if there really are any ancient relics like that at the school, they probably wouldn't be somewhere conspicuous."
The two fell silent for a moment. From the pitch came Lee Jordan's excited shout: "The teams are entering the field! Potter for Gryffindor—yes, that's Harry Potter, the first-year!"
A deafening wave of cheers and jeers swept through the stands. But Yulian's gaze remained fixed on Rosier's face. She seemed to want to say something more, but hesitated.
"Actually..." she suddenly began, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "I came across something rather interesting in the notes in this book."
"What?"
"According to the book, when the Four Founders first established the school, there was someone called the 'Steward' in addition to a few professors. He was responsible for the day-to-day running of the castle—something like Filch, but with a higher standing." She paused, an odd glint in her eyes. "The Steward's surname... was Black."
Yulian felt as if he'd been struck by lightning.
"Black?" he blurted out.
"Yes." Rosier nodded. "His full name has been lost, but the notes called him 'Pyxis Black.' They say he was skilled in Ancient Runes and ley-line magic, and was one of Ravenclaw's most trusted assistants. But after that... there are no more records. It's not even known how long he stayed at Hogwarts."
Yulian's heart began to race. Pyxis Black? He'd never heard that name before. Had even his grandfather known nothing of an ancestor who'd worked alongside the Four Founders? Or was it just a coincidence of surnames?
But Pyxis was also one of the eighty-eight constellations: Pyxis, the Compass. It did fit the Black family's naming tradition.
A thought flashed through his mind like lightning: Could Pyxis Black have been the first "guardian," entrusted with watching over some mysterious stone tablet hidden in the Mirror of Erised?
"Could I borrow the book and take a look?" Yulian asked, struggling to keep his voice steady.
Rosier hesitated, but in the end she handed him the book. "Here. Just don't lose it—Grandmother said in her letter that these books are precious and can't be lent out."
"Thank you." Yulian accepted it solemnly.
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