Harry Potter: Fire Lord Black

The dormitory returned to silence. Edward looked at the obscure Potion recipes on the pages, a glimmer of fervent light flashing in his eyes.

He knew that Draco's duel invitation was just to trick Harry into the Trophy Room and then notify Filch to catch him - such childish tricks were not worth his time at all.

The night at Hogwarts was very quiet, with only the sound of the waves from the Black Lake outside the window and the rustling of turning pages.

Edward leaned back in his chair, looking at the moonlight outside the window, the flame at his fingertips rising slowly.

This world had too many secrets waiting for him to explore, and too much magic waiting for him to master.

No matter how chaotic the Trophy Room was at midnight, it had nothing to do with him.

His battlefield was never in those boring disputes.

Night at Hogwarts was so quiet that one could hear the soft lapping of the Black Lake against the shore. In the Slytherin dormitory, only a wall lamp in the corner remained lit, casting a dim, yellowish glow that stretched Edward's shadow long.

He sat at his desk, the orange-red flame at his fingertips dancing silently over the pages, illuminating the lines of text in "Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1." Yet, after reading it over and over for a long time, the Incendio described within was entirely different from the hot, agile power inside him - those spells required a wand to guide and incantations to trigger, while his flames could rise by mere thought alone, even carrying a peculiar quality that seemed to devour magic.

In the past few days, Edward had scoured almost every open area of the library. From "Fundamentals of Fire magic" to "Origins of Ancient Spells," and even the biographies recording the secrets of pure-blood families, he had gone through a dozen books, yet found not a single record related to his own power. He vaguely felt that his special flame might be related to some ancient art of Elemental Transmutation, and such niche magical principles rarely appeared in basic texts aimed at first-years.

The only possibility was the ancient books sealed away in the Restricted Section.

The Restricted Section held the oldest and most obscure secrets of Hogwarts, accessible only to students with joint permission from Professors, and then only under the supervision of the caretaker. The flame at Edward's fingertips flickered slightly. He did not want to sneak in late at night like those mischievous students - breaking rules not only lacked the dignity of the House of Black, but could also attract unnecessary trouble, not to mention that some books in the Restricted Section were protected by magical wards, and reading them rashly would only invite disaster.

After much thought, Edward set his sights on the Charms class Professor, Professor Flitwick. This small Professor was famously appreciative of talent and possessed an almost obsessive dedication to magical theory. As long as one could consistently demonstrate exceptional talent and rigorous curiosity in his class, and then use a reasonable excuse to probe, it might be possible to earn a chance to enter the Restricted Section.

Of course, he knew this was by no means an overnight task. One classroom performance was far from enough; what he needed was a gradual process to make Professor Flitwick truly recognize his desire to study, rather than just a moment of brilliance.

Just as this thought crossed his mind, a rustling sound came from the dormitory entrance. Draco, along with Goyle and Crabbe, snuck in, their faces still wearing a look of lingering panic, their robes covered in dust.

Edward lifted his gaze to sweep over them, saying nothing, merely turning a page of his book. The flame at his fingertips curled quietly in his palm, without the slightest tremor.

"Scared the life out of me!" Draco patted his chest, his voice lowered, yet unable to hide his lingering fear. "That old bat Filch almost circled behind the Trophy Room! Luckily, Professor Snape happened to pass by and led him to the fourth-floor corridor, otherwise all three of us would have been caught!"

Goyle and Crabbe nodded repeatedly, echoing him in muffled tones, clearly also shaken. They hadn't dared to approach the Trophy Room at all, having hidden at a corner for half an hour. Seeing Harry and the others appear, they had scurried away, not even having the guts to notify Filch.

Edward's fingertips paused.

He could roughly guess Draco's ploy - the so-called midnight duel in the Trophy Room was nothing but a pretense to lure Harry into a trap. Draco had never intended to show up himself from the start; at most, he wanted Goyle and Crabbe to keep watch and tip him off in advance, waiting to catch Harry red-handed. Such childish, underhanded tricks could only be thought up by the pampered young Master Malfoy.

"That Potter fellow actually dared to bring Weasley and that Granger!" Draco was still chattering away, his tone filled with unwillingness. "If it weren't for Professor Snape, he definitely would have been in detention for a month!"

Edward closed his book, his eyes devoid of any ripples. This farce had nothing to do with him; his mind was now entirely on tomorrow's Charms class - Professor Flitwick was going to teach the advanced usage of Wingardium Leviosa, which was the perfect opportunity to demonstrate his control over magic.

Seeing that Edward didn't respond, Draco felt bored and sullenly took Goyle and Crabbe back to their own beds. The dormitory soon returned to silence, leaving only the rustling sound of pages turning and the occasional hoot of an owl from outside the window.

Edward reopened the book, but he no longer looked at those basic spells. He closed his eyes, letting the flame within his body flow slowly, feeling the resonance between that power and his wand. What he needed was not flashy spells, but precision to the extreme - this was the key to moving Professor Flitwick, and the first step to approaching the secrets of the Restricted Section.

Meanwhile, in a corridor on the other side of the Castle, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were running back to Gryffindor Tower, panting. Near the Trophy Room just now, they had almost been caught red-handed by Filch, but fortunately, Professor Snape had suddenly appeared, sternly questioning why Filch was wandering the corridors at night, which gave them a chance to escape.

"Draco is too much! He was clearly trying to trick us!" Ron said angrily. "He must have notified Filch long ago!"

Hermione frowned, pushing up her glasses: "Why would Professor Snape help us? Doesn't he always target Harry?"

Harry touched the scar on his forehead; it was throbbing slightly. He also couldn't understand why Snape had suddenly appeared. But what he didn't know was that at this moment, Snape was standing at the entrance of the Trophy Room, his cold gaze fixed on the footprints on the ground, his slender fingers tightly gripping his wand, deep in thought.

Edward knew nothing of these undercurrents, nor did he care to know.

Early the next morning, Edward arrived at the Charms classroom earlier than usual. Professor Flitwick's class was on the third floor; the classroom windows faced the Black Lake, and the sunlight spilled in through the glass, landing on rows of floating feathers, refracting into fragmented spots of light.

Draco had also come with Edward; he wanted to invite Edward to practice the Levitation Charm together, but was coldly refused by Edward.

"I want to practice on my own."

Edward walked to a seat by the window and took out his walnut wand. The flame at his fingertips flashed and vanished, leaving no trace. He knew that what Professor Flitwick valued most was never the power of a spell, but the fine control over magic - whether one could make the spell precisely match one's intent, achieving perfect command, was the key to distinguishing an ordinary wizard from a genius.