The Whispering Timber of the Obsidian Rider
Leo Thorne, a first-year at Hogwarts, had always felt the weight of unspoken expectations.
E.g. ：My fiancé's secret child crashed our wedding ceremony, shattering everything.
- 1、The Whispering Timber of the Obsidian Rider
- 2、The First Ascent: A Scream, Not a Soar
- 3、The Rogue Relic and the Crumbling Wards
- 4、Professor Thorne’s Unraveling Scheme
- 5、A Dance of Destruction and Revelation
- 6、McGonagall’s Dawning Understanding
- 7、The Ancestral Call: A Truth Unveiled
- 8、The Stunned Assembly and the Terrified Professor
- 9、Aftermath and Unforeseen Consequences
His lineage, shrouded in hushed whispers and avoided glances, made his first flying lesson feel less like an adventure and more like an interrogation under the scrutiny of hundreds.
He nervously eyed the rows of gleaming, modern brooms, then the single, ancient, almost forgotten piece of timber Professor Thorne — no relation, Leo had always insisted, though their shared surname often invited knowing smiles — presented to him.
"An heirloom, young Leo," Thorne had purred, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
"A magnificent piece, if a touch… spirited."
Leo had clutched the rough wood, an unsettling chill tracing his fingertips.
The First Ascent: A Scream, Not a Soar
The courtyard was abuzz with youthful enthusiasm, but Leo felt a tremor that had nothing to do with excitement.
He mounted the Obsidian Rider, as Thorne had called it, its smooth, dark surface surprisingly warm beneath his clammy hands.
He pushed off, expecting a gentle lift, a clumsy wobble, perhaps a short, ignominious fall.
Instead, with a sound like ancient stone grinding against forgotten gears, the broom exploded upwards.
It wasn't a lift; it was an uncontrolled surge, a primal scream of timber and bound magic, tearing through the air with a force that ripped the very breath from his lungs.
His terrified yelp was swallowed by the wind.
The Rogue Relic and the Crumbling Wards
The Obsidian Rider didn't just fly erratically; it carved a path of intelligent, devastating chaos.
It slammed through the delicate crystal chandeliers of the Great Hall, not randomly, but as if purposefully shattering the protective enchantments woven into them, revealing ancient runes that pulsed ominously beneath the broken glass.
It tore through stained-glass windows depicting forgotten battles, leaving behind not shards, but precise, almost surgical holes that exposed long-hidden glyphs on the castle's inner walls.
Professor McGonagall, her face a mask of grim determination, was the first to react, leaping onto her own broom, wand blazing with powerful "Arresto Momentum" spells.
But each spell, instead of slowing the Obsidian Rider, merely sparked off its dark surface, dissipating harmlessly, as if the broom itself was absorbing the magic.
Professor Thorne’s Unraveling Scheme
Below, Professor Thorne, initially a picture of smug satisfaction, watched his controlled experiment descend into utter pandemonium.
He had known the Obsidian Rider was no ordinary broom.
Legend claimed it was crafted by Leo's distant ancestor, Lyra Thorne, a prodigious but exiled sorceress whose magic was deemed too wild, too unpredictable.
Thorne had hoped to subtly expose Leo's latent, uncontrolled power, perhaps even provoke a public display that would lead to his expulsion, effectively removing a rival bloodline from Hogwarts's historical records and perhaps gaining access to the broom's secrets himself.
But this… this was far beyond his calculations.
The broom wasn’t just acting out; it was revealing secrets he hadn't even known existed, and worse, his own spells of containment were useless.
His smug smirk dissolved into genuine, white-knuckled terror.
A Dance of Destruction and Revelation
The Obsidian Rider, with Leo clinging desperately, ascended higher, then plunged into the restricted sections of the castle, areas even professors rarely visited.
It obliterated an ancient gargoyle guarding a forgotten library, its stony remnants revealing a hidden passage carved with symbols eerily similar to the ones now pulsating on the castle walls.
Leo, initially paralyzed by fear, began to feel a strange, exhilarating current flow through his hands, a connection forming with the wild energy of the broom.
He wasn't just a passenger; he felt like an extension of its will, or perhaps, it an extension of his.
He saw glimpses, fleeting images in his mind's eye: an ancient woman, hair flying, wielding a similar broom, defiant against a raging storm.
Lyra Thorne.
His ancestor.
McGonagall’s Dawning Understanding
Professor McGonagall, now joined by a handful of other frantic professors, watched with growing dread and a chilling realization.
The broom wasn't out of control.
It was controlled.
And the way it shrugged off their most potent magic, the way it systematically dismantled ancient wards… it spoke of a magic far older, far more potent than any they understood.
She remembered hushed tales from her own youth about a forgotten "Thorne curse," not of evil, but of uncontrollable, wild magic, and a broom rumored to be its vessel.
