Hogwarts: Bloodline Legend

The water of the Nether River is as black as ink.

Yet it shimmers with a ghostly blue phosphorescence.

As though countless souls are burning within it.

The surface of the river appears calm, but underneath it roars with hidden currents. Countless pale arms reach out from the water, fingertips rotting, joints angular, struggling to grasp any living souls that pass by. Both banks are gray deserts, lifeless, where only withered thorns twist and grow like serpents drained of life force.

The sky contains no sun, moon, or stars, only a thick layer of gray fog. An eternal twilight cloaks the land like a dense black veil, severing the boundary between life and death completely.

The air is filled with a damp and cold aura, as if even souls would tremble in this land of the dead. Occasionally, lightning-like soul lights streak across, illuminating the floating souls on the river — faces twisted, mouths silently agape, as if still suffering the pains of their past lives. This is the Netherworld of Ancient Egypt.

The realm of the dead.

The domain of Anubis.

Ian stands at the edge of the Nether River, his gaze shifting from the black waters to the oar in Anubis’s hand.

The ebony shaft is engraved with ancient pictographic spells, each groove seemingly alive, like flowing veins. Just staring at it sends a chill up Ian’s spine — not fear of death, but an instinctive wariness of something deeper, more chaotic.

"May I borrow an oar?"

Ian grins, his tone as casual as borrowing a shovel from a neighbor. Ahead, the Nether River winds through the depths of the Netherworld, the water black as ink, surface shimmering with a faint blue light, like countless eyes gazing into the abyss. Anubis’s golden pupils slightly contract, his jackal head lowering slightly.

Scrutinizing the boy before him.

Behind Anubis, the flow of the Nether River is silent yet carries a suffocating pressure. The river is merciless; it devours everything and embraces everything, just like Anubis himself. As for the request of the mortal wizard before him, Anubis shows neither anger nor does he rebuke Ian’s audacity.

"Well, child, everything in this world has weight, including this oar in my hand." The eyes under Anubis’s mask are cold and profound, staring directly at the youth before him. He felt no anger, no surprise, merely calm and composed, as if he had long anticipated this moment.

Anubis speaks slowly, his voice deep and authoritative, "Tell me, rare legend among humans, does your weight suffice to win it?"

The God of Death’s voice is deep and solemn, like a gavel striking upon the soul. As for Ian being a legendary wizard, it is impossible to conceal such a fact from a divine spirit.

In truth.

Whether soul or body, the difference between a legendary wizard and an ordinary wizard is significant, even greater than the difference between a wizard and a Muggle, discernible even to some high-level wizards.

This much less to mention a deity who has lived countless years and stands as a higher order of life. Regardless of whether the beings of Ancient Egypt come from the stars beyond, they are undoubtedly a truly higher form of life.

Surpassing all other life on Earth in every aspect.

"What must I do?" Ian is not someone overly domineering; if he can obtain what he wants through normal means, he doesn’t resort to theft or other means.

Ian is not just playing when it comes to abiding by laws and rules.

"Pass through three trials, proving your worth to grasp it." Anubis replies calmly, the oar in his hand continually emitting tendrils of black mist.

"Three trials again? It seems you really favor the number three." Ian remarks with slight surprise. He had just undergone three trials to reach the Netherworld.

"Three is special, everything is in threes."

Anubis responds, his tone carrying an undeniable firmness. In his cold, star-like eyes, there seems to dwell some ancient faith and order.

Indeed, the Egyptian Gods seem to have their own mystical numbers to believe in. Ian takes a deep breath, his gaze resolute as he looks at this God of Death and gives his answer.

"I accept the trials."

A student of Ravenclaw never fears trials, even relishing them, akin to Gryffindor’s love for adventure, though Ravenclaw students are usually well-prepared.

Ian is no exception.

He doesn’t believe anything in this world can truly challenge him.

Except childbirth.

"Very well, I can already feel your courage and confidence." Anubis nods slightly, then raises his arm and points toward the boundless Nether River behind him. "Then cross the river. After crossing, you will face three challenges."

"First, challenge the heroic spirits of history."

"Second, challenge the immortal among wizards like you."

"Third — challenge my will."

"Only by proving you are strong enough can you be immune to the influence of this oar." Anubis raises the oar, pointing to the opposite bank of the Nether River, his tone even carrying a concern for the living.

Many people say Anubis, the God of Death, is cold and heartless. In reality, unlike the God of Death, who merely accepts the deceased, he possesses a love for the living.

Only such a deity can wield such authority properly.

"Does possessing an oar even require qualification?"

Ian, surprised, looks at the Ancient Egyptian deity before him. Perhaps this era belongs to the pinnacle age of the Egyptian Gods, unlike the mad deities of Ancient Greece.

"Yes."

Anubis nods slowly, his tone still calm, yet carrying an undeniable strength.