Harry Potter: Fire Lord Black

"How are you planning to spend Christmas?" Draco was still chattering, his hand holding the pumpkin juice resting heavily on the coffee table, "My father said he could take us to visit the Dragonologists' Association, where there are real Dragons! Much more interesting than Quidditch! You'll definitely be interested!"

Edward opened a copy of "A Study of Ancient Bloodline magic," his fingertips gently brushing over the yellowed pages, and said lightly: "I'm staying at Hogwarts to continue organizing the academic gains of this stage and determine the research direction for the next round."

Draco curled his lips, muttered "nerd," and turned to complain about Harry's luck with Goyle and Crabbe. But he didn't know that Edward's academic research hid a secret that only he knew.

Professor Flitwick's words were like a beacon, illuminating his new research direction. The secrets of bloodlines, the origins of ancient magic... these ostensible academic topics might be the real keys to unlocking the secret in his heart.

The wind outside the window, carrying the lingering heat of the Quidditch Pitch, blew across the surface of the Black Lake, causing ripples. Edward looked at the records about elemental resonance in pure-blood families on the page, a flash of determination in his eyes.

He and Harry Potter were like two parallel lines, walking completely different paths in the same castle. One line was obsessed with academic research on elemental transmutation and bloodline magic, groping alone in the ocean of ancient books and theories; the other line was stepping into the vortex of destiny amidst the gusts of Quidditch and the mysteries of the Philosopher's Stone.

The moonlight on Halloween Eve spilled through the window onto the pages of the book, and also onto Edward's profile. No one knew that the outcome of this Quidditch match was just a prelude to a bigger storm.

And the intersection of the two parallel lines had already quietly entered the countdown.

December at Hogwarts; the chill had seeped into every inch of the castle's stonework. The Black Lake was covered in a thick layer of ice, beneath which the silhouette of the Merperson palace was vaguely visible; the trees in the Forbidden Forest were wrapped in frost, their branches interlaced like a silver spiderweb; Christmas wreaths hung in the corridors in increasing numbers, and the scent of holly and mistletoe mingled with the warmth of the fireplaces, brewing a sweet, soft aroma in the air.

Edward's figure appeared frequently in the Restricted Section of the library.

Ever since Professor Flitwick had given his advice, he had completely shifted his research direction toward blood magic and ancient elemental magic. He no longer obsessed over the aberration cases of an Obscurial, but instead settled his mind to peruse the ancient texts that recorded the secrets of pure-blood families and the legacies of ancient wizards.

As the days went by, his composure and rigor gradually dispelled Madam Pince's wariness.

In the first few days, Madam Pince would always stand at the entrance of the Restricted Section with her arms crossed, like a vigilant stone statue, her gaze following him without leaving his side for a moment. Even if his movements while turning pages were slightly too fast, it would draw a stern reprimand. But as time passed, Madam Pince discovered that this Slytherin student was completely different from the brats who snuck into the Restricted Section to cause trouble - he never touched the dangerous books under restriction, never moved the ancient books around at will, and would even carefully brush the dust off the pages, keeping every book neatly arranged.

Consequently, her attitude gradually softened.

In the days that followed, Madam Pince no longer stood guard at the entrance, but simply sat behind the library counter, occasionally lifting her eyes to sweep a glance toward the Restricted Section. She felt that this student named Black was perhaps the most steady first-year student since Hogwarts was founded.

This tacit permission allowed Edward to immerse himself more freely in the world of ancient books. In the Genealogy of Pure-Blood Families, he saw sporadic records about "elemental resonance" - wizards of certain ancient families could form a deep connection with a single element; this talent was hidden in their bloodline, passed down from generation to generation. In the Notes of Ancient wizards, he read about the origin of "wandless magic" - ancient wizards did not rely on wands, but used themselves as a medium to invoke the power of elements between the natural world.

These words were like fragments of starlight, illuminating the fog in the depths of his heart bit by bit. Yet, he still had not found a record that perfectly matched his own power.

The light in the Restricted Section was always dim; the daylight filtering in from the high windows could barely illuminate the handwriting on the pages. Edward crouched in a corner of the bookshelf, his fingertips brushing over rows of book spines, his gaze landing on an ancient book covered in spiderwebs. The book had no title, its cover was deep Black, and it felt like rough animal hide, exuding an indescribable, chilling aura.

He hesitated for a moment, then reached out and pulled the book out.

The moment his fingertips touched the pages, a sudden change occurred - the book began to tremble violently, its cover opening suddenly like a living mouth, revealing paper pages as sharp as blades inside, slashing fiercely toward his wrist!

This was no ordinary book. It was a magic-Eating Tome, similar to a biting cabbage; it was a dangerous book under a dark curse, which would actively attack wizards who approached it and consume their magic.

Edward had no time to react; the pages had already grazed his wrist.

The expected pain did not come.

Instead, it was replaced by a warm, burning sensation.

He looked down, his pupils shrinking suddenly - at the wrist where the paper had slashed him, a cluster of orange-red flames had ignited with a flare! The flames were like a thin layer of armor, wrapping around his skin, and as the sharp pages touched the flames, they instantly turned to ash and drifted into the air.

A few seconds later, the flames slowly receded, and his wrist was as smooth and clean as before, without even a shallow scratch left behind.

The Restricted Section was quiet, with only dust dancing in the pillars of light.

Edward froze in place, staring blankly at his own wrist, his heart pounding incessantly.

Confusion, shock, ecstasy... countless emotions surged in his chest, nearly shattering his reason.

He had never imagined that his power could manifest in this form.

He had always thought he could only control fire outside his body - such as making flames dance at his fingertips, or using flames to fuel spells. But just now, his body had actually spontaneously transformed into a flame state the moment it was attacked.

What was this? Was it the ultimate expression of elemental resonance in his bloodline?

Or was this what the Notes of Ancient wizards meant by "using oneself as a medium"?

A forgotten memory suddenly surfaced clearly in his mind - that year he was still at the old house at Grimmauld Place, secretly practicing the Lumos charm. Other wizards needed to wave their wands and chant "Lumos," but he only had to focus his mind, and a cluster of warm flames would light up at his fingertips; that light was brighter and softer than a normal Lumos charm.