The Weight of History
The morning sun cast long, cold shadows across the ancient stone courtyard of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
E.g. ：The King's Forbidden Kneel: Royal Scandal Reveals Ancient Prophecy and Lost Kingdom's Secret
- 1、The Weight of History
- 2、Defying Every Command
- 3、A Trail of Devastation
- 4、The Sealed Vault Beneath the Floor
A chilly autumn wind whipped through the cloistered arches, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and old parchment.
First-year students stood in neat, anxious rows while wooden training brooms lay aligned on the cobblestones before them.
For most, it was a moment of pure, unadulterated excitement.
For young Julian Vance, however, it felt more like an impending execution.
Julian had spent his entire childhood hiding his family's peculiar inability to control standard magical artifacts.
While other children accidentally made teacups dance, Julian usually managed to make them explode.
His inclusion at Hogwarts had been a bureaucratic miracle smoothed over by a distant uncle with deep ministry connections.
Now, he stood shivering in his oversized robes, staring down at the designated pile of equipment.
The instructors had already distributed the standard-issue Nimbus and Cleansweep models to the more confident students.
Only one broom remained at the very end of the row, unclaimed and entirely ignored.
It was an ancient, jagged-looking thing made of warped dark mahogany and frayed, stiff twigs.
A heavy brass collar was bolted tightly around the base of the handle, stamped with faded, illegible runes.
"Take it, Vance, and let's get this over with," barked Madam Hooch, her hawk-like yellow eyes fixed impatiently on his trembling hands.
Julian swallowed hard, stepped forward, and reached out to touch the weathered wood.
The moment his fingertips grazed the surface, a sharp, icy jolt raced up his arm.
It wasn't the pleasant hum of active magic, but rather the heavy, oppressive thrum of something ancient waking up from a very long sleep.
Defying Every Command
Julian awkwardly swung his leg over the heavy wooden shaft and gripped the worn leather handles.
The moment his weight settled onto the seat, the courtyard seemed to drop ten degrees in temperature.
Around him, other first-year students had already coaxed their brooms into a gentle, waist-high hover.
"Up!" Julian shouted weakly, mimicking the crisp commands echoing across the stones.
The broom did not rise a gentle few inches.
It exploded upward with the velocity of a fired cannonball, tearing the turf beneath it into shreds of mud and grass.
Julian let out a ragged shriek as the ground vanished entirely from beneath his boots.
The wind roared in his ears, stripping away his breath and blinding him with tears of absolute terror.
He hauled back desperately on the handle, trying to force the nose down toward the safety of the flagstones.
The mahogany shaft remained as rigid as iron, ignoring his desperate tugs and banking hard toward the dark, looming silhouette of the Astronomical Tower.
"Stop it! Please, make it stop!" Julian sobbed, his knuckles turning chalk-white as he clung to the splintered wood for dear life.
Down in the courtyard, Madam Hooch dropped her silver whistle in sheer disbelief.
Professor Flitwick snatched up his wand, muttering rapid diagnostic charms that dissolved into thin air the moment they touched the rushing wake of the broom.
"That's not a standard trajectory," Flitwick muttered, his usually cheerful face draining completely of color.
"That thing is tracking a specific magical signature."
A Trail of Devastation
The out-of-control artifact whizzed erratically through the narrow stone corridors of the upper school.
It clipped a heavy iron chandelier, sending a cascade of burning candles and hot wax raining down onto the flagstones below.
It smashed sideways through a centuries-old stained-glass depiction of Gregory the Smarmy, leaving a jagged void of whistling wind and flying glass shards.
Julian kept his eyes squeezed shut, praying to any deity that would listen as the castle blurred into a dizzying streak of gray stone and flying dust.
