A Chance Encounter

Yulian stood frozen, unable to move for a long time. The night wind blew through the hall, chilling him to the bone.

Peeves' words, combined with the secret he had just read, fit together perfectly, forming a suffocating and grand picture.

He, Shilem Yulian Black, a transmigrator who thought he was just here to experience the Magical World and spectate Harry Potter's fate, had unknowingly been thrust into the center of a storm that concerned the survival of the entire Magical World?

Before the Christmas bells had even rung, Hogwarts Castle was already adorned in festive splendor.

Ivy-covered columns were hung with holly and mistletoe, and the Great Hall's ceiling was filled with magical snowflakes that would never melt.

And the giant Christmas tree that Hagrid struggled to drag exuded the warm scent of pine needles and cinnamon from a corner.

Hogwarts had a two-week holiday for Christmas, but for Shilem Yulian Black, it was a somewhat lonely time.

His parents were currently in London, preoccupied with the crucial battle to break into the Asian market for Black Vine Winery, and simply couldn't get away.

So, he could only embark on the journey home alone, returning to his home in Bordeaux, surrounded by vineyards.

With a tremendous roar, the Airbus A320 lifted off from the end of the runway and merged into the boundless blue sky.

The flight from London Gatwick Airport to Bordeaux–Mérignac Airport in France wasn't long, about 1 hour and 30 minutes to 1 hour and 45 minutes.

Once the plane leveled off, Yulian closed his eyes to rest, simultaneously entering the Magic Resonance Library in his mind to read professional books as a form of hypnosis.

Suddenly, the black cat Murphy, who had somehow snuck up beside him again, swept his large tail across his feet. "Watch out, the girl by the left window has looked at you six times already."

"Really? Isn't that normal?" He said this, but Yulian lazily opened his eyes and glanced to the left.

Even many years later, Yulian still felt that she sat there then, like a painting.

The window was the frame, enclosing a gradient of blue—from indigo to aquamarine. The light at thirty thousand feet wasn't as direct as on the ground; filtered by the thin atmosphere, it seemed to be only a crisp silver, slowly flowing over her silhouette.

Her skin was so fair it was almost translucent, like fine porcelain. Light kissed the corner of her forehead, slid down the gentle slope of her nose, pooled into a small, unobtrusive brightness at the tip, and then divided at the cupid's bow, disappearing into the shadows of her lips.

Her black hair mingled with the warm tones of flax, like stubble after a harvest. A few stray strands escaped their confines, fluttering by the window where the airflow was slightly turbulent.

Her gaze met Yulian's directly, without flinching, a hint of a smile in her clear, cool eyes.

After swapping seats with a friendly traveler, Yulian found himself sitting next to Elizabeth Rosier.

"Black? What are you doing here too?" Her tone still carried a hint of nobility.

Yulian smiled. "I'm going home, to Black Vine Winery in Bordeaux. But how are you going there? I thought you said you lived in Belgium now."

"This Christmas, my parents and I are going to my aunt's place. She's in the Town of Fonsali in Bordeaux, which is roughly equivalent to Hogsmeade in Britain."

After a pause, Rosier added, "I know Black Vine Winery. It's only about twenty kilometers from Fonsali."

"Really? That's great, you can come visit me. I can treat you to the best Merlot."

"I'm not old enough to drink yet." Rosier's playfully chiding gaze held a hint of eagerness.

"It's fine, I have special non-alcoholic concoctions. Let me tell you, my place is beautiful in the winter..."

"That's strange, I've never seen this guy talk so much before," Murphy muttered from the Library.

After getting off the plane, Yulian saw Rosier's two large suitcases. "How are you getting around? It's inconvenient," Yulian knew there was a bus to Black Vine Winery from the airport, but he didn't know how to get to Fonsali.

"I can take the public carriage that specifically picks up Wizards," Rosier glanced at Yulian. "Don't you know?"

"Public carriage?" Yulian's interest was piqued. He had never heard of such a mode of transport in France.

"You really don't know?" Rosier showed a hint of surprise, then replaced it with a teasing expression of "As expected of a country bumpkin."

"It's a common short-distance transport for continental European Wizards, pulled by Thestrals, creatures only visible to those who have witnessed death."

"I thought it was just the Wizarding public bus."

"That's only in Britain," Rosier pouted. "Most European Wizards still feel that carriages have a more aristocratic flair."

Yulian's heart stirred. He had heard Hagrid mention Thestrals, but he had never seen one with his own eyes. This was a good opportunity.

Yulian hesitated for a moment before walking over. "I see you have a lot of luggage. Do you need a hand getting you there, Miss Rosier?"

Elizabeth turned around abruptly, startled at first. The corners of her lips curved imperceptibly upwards, and then she elegantly lifted her chin. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble for you, I would be most grateful."

"It's my pleasure."

Following Elizabeth's instructions, they arrived at a desolate parking lot outside the airport.

Perhaps under a Muggle-Repelling Charm, there was no one around, only a pitch-black four-wheeled carriage, seemingly constructed from shadows, parked quietly there.

The four emaciated black horses pulling the carriage—Thestrals—with their enormous bat-like wings, were lowering their heads, nibbling at some invisible substance in the air.

Yulian held his breath, seeing these creatures for the first time. They were beautiful and sorrowful, possessing a sense of loneliness that didn't belong to this world.

"You can see Thestrals too?" Rosier seemed a little surprised but didn't ask further. In truth, Yulian in this world hadn't seen death, but he had in his previous life. He didn't know if that was the reason.

Just as they were about to get into the carriage, Yulian's peripheral vision caught sight of a familiar figure. It was the man with the severed finger who had been checking tickets at King's Cross Station and later appeared on the Hogwarts Express!

He wore an unremarkable gray trench coat, but his eyes were as sharp as an eagle's, and he was walking briskly towards them.

Yulian and Elizabeth exchanged glances, seeing vigilance in each other's eyes. But they said nothing, quickly slipping into the carriage.

The interior of the carriage was spacious, like a large bus, but decorated with exceptional comfort. The velvet seats were so soft they felt like sinking into them.

However, this comfort was quickly shattered. The carriage door was pulled open again, and the man with the severed finger silently boarded, taking a seat in the farthest corner. He closed his eyes to rest, as if everything that had just happened was a coincidence.

"Don't be nervous," Elizabeth Rosier whispered to Yulian. "Since it's a public carriage, it's normal for other Wizards to be here."

Yulian nodded, but he felt something was off. He quietly observed the man, noticing that his right hand was constantly resting on something hard inside his coat.

The carriage started, smoothly entering an invisible road paved with starlight, perhaps only visible to Wizards. The scenery outside the window rapidly receded, and the buildings of the Muggle world were gradually left behind.

Suddenly, a violent jolt!