Harry Potter: Fire Lord Black

Their figures disappeared at the doorway, and the air in the ward finally quieted down, so quiet that one could hear the sound of sycamore leaves falling outside the window. Ron looked at the closed door, angrily throwing the pillow onto the bed, his voice full of resentment: "What an attitude! Truly a typical Slytherin! Arrogant and rude. So what if he saved us? He's still acting all high and mighty!"

Hermione didn't speak, just turned to look at Harry, who was still asleep. The boy's brows were slightly furrowed, his face as pale as paper, and the sunlight fell on his eyelashes, casting a small, fine shadow. She remembered the orange flames rising from Edward's fingertips beneath the trapdoor that night, remembered his back as he stumbled through the corridor carrying Harry and Ron's bodies, and then remembered his cold, distant profile just now. Her heart felt as if it were being tightly coiled by something, astringent, and she couldn't describe the feeling.

When Edward returned to the Slytherin dormitory, the afternoon sunlight was filtering through the stained-glass windows, casting colorful spots on the floor. The dormitory was empty, with only the wailing sound of wind passing through the window cracks. He walked straight to his bed and lay down fully clothed. The exhaustion of the past few days swept over him like a tide, submerging him. He closed his eyes, and his consciousness quickly sank into a deep, dark land.

He slept exceptionally deeply, and when he woke up again, the sky outside was already bright. The faint light of dawn was like a thin veil, shrouding the spires of the castle. Just as Edward got up, the dormitory door was gently knocked.

Opening the door, the person standing outside was none other than Snape.

He was wearing neatly pressed Black robes, the silver buttons at his collar gleaming with cold light. His expression was as gloomy as ever, and his deep Black eyes, sharp as a falcon's, carried a scrutinizing meaning when they landed on Edward: "Black, the Headmaster wants to see you."

Edward felt a slight stir in his heart, nodded, didn't ask any further questions, and followed Snape out of the dormitory.

The two walked through the corridors of the castle, their footsteps echoing in the empty hall, startling a few ravens perched on the pillars. Snape said nothing along the way, the low pressure around him as thick as ink that wouldn't dissolve. Even the students passing by hurriedly avoided him, fearing they might touch his reverse scale. Edward couldn't be bothered to speak either. He could guess that Dumbledore was looking for him for nothing more than the events beneath the trapdoor that night.

The oak door of the Headmaster's office was right in front of them. Snape raised his hand and knocked, and Dumbledore's gentle voice came from inside: "Come in."

The moment the door was pushed open, the rich aroma of Lemon Sherbet rushed toward them, dispelling the chill in the corridor. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, holding a lemon-flavored lollipop in his hand, his silver-white beard hanging over his chest like soft snow. Seeing Edward enter, he smiled gently and pointed to the chair in front of the desk: "Sit down, Edward."

Edward sat down in the chair, his back straight. Snape stood to one side of the desk, hands folded in front of him, looking at him with heavy eyes, as if staring at a prisoner attempting to cross the line.

Dumbledore put down the lollipop and crossed his fingers on the table. Those azure eyes contained a gentle light, yet carried a sharpness that could see through everything: "Snape has already told me something about last night's events. I would like to hear your version of what happened."

Edward did not hide anything, from his late-night research on elemental transmutation in the tower, hearing the whispers of the trio and the snoring of the three-headed dog, to leaping down the trapdoor, using flames to disperse the Devils Snare, and then the chase of the flying keys, the life-and-death game of wizard's Chess, the sleeping Troll, and the solving of the potion puzzle, and finally, carrying Harry and Ron as they struggled out of the darkness. His tone was as flat as if he were stating something that had nothing to do with him, without embellishment or deliberate concealment.

Dumbledore listened very carefully, nodding from time to time, his silver-white beard swaying gently with the movement. After he finished speaking, Dumbledore spoke slowly, with a hint of curiosity in his voice: "Why were you there at that time? As far as I know, you have always liked to be alone and are not keen on interacting with Potter and the others."

Edward had already prepared his story. He looked up at Dumbledore, his eyes clear, his tone calm and waveless: "Headmaster, I have been studying the theory of elemental transmutation recently. The tower of the castle is the quietest place, with no noise, no disturbance; I can settle my mind and converse with those ancient spells and formulas. That night, after I finished my research, I was returning to the dormitory by moonlight when I happened to hear the movements of Potter and the others. Out of curiosity, I followed them."

He paused and added: "The previous encounter with Professor Quirrell was also because I bumped into him on my way back from the tower."

This reason was reasonable and seamless. Snape's brows smoothed out almost imperceptibly, and the low pressure around him faded a bit. Dumbledore smiled, nodded, and his tone was filled with approval: "I see. Elemental transmutation is an extremely profound subject. It is rare for someone as young as you to have such a spirit of research."

His tone shifted, becoming more serious, like a spring breeze brushing over a lake, rippling with a solemn wave: "However, Edward, there are many unknown things hidden in the Hogwarts castle. Some doors, once pushed open, will drag you into an unpredictable vortex. This incident serves as a lesson for you. In the future, do not easily set foot in those unknown areas."

Snape also spoke coldly, his voice carrying a hint of reprimand, like an icicle scraping against a stone slab: "Black, remember the Headmaster's words. A Slytherin student should have the restraint and reason of a Slytherin, and should not get mixed up with Gryffindor fools, losing face for our House."

Edward nodded, his voice calm: "I understand, Headmaster, Professor."

He stood up, preparing to leave, but his steps paused when he was just one step away from the door. His fingers curled slightly, hanging at his sides, the skin at his fingertips turning white from the exertion. After hesitating for a moment, he finally couldn't help it. He turned to look at Dumbledore and Snape, his voice dropping a few degrees, carrying a touch of confusion and melancholy that he hadn't even realized: "Headmaster, Professor... before I lost consciousness that night, I heard your conversation. You said that Potter has an ancient magic left by his mother in the name of love."

His gaze landed on the void, as if looking through the walls at the distant past: "I... I have never seen my parents. I don't even know what they look like, don't know their names. I want to know, did my parents also leave me a similar mark? Is there also something hidden in my bloodline, waiting for me to discover?"

As soon as these words were spoken, the air in the office instantly froze. The aroma of the Lemon Sherbet seemed to have faded a little as well.

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