Hogwarts' Golden Glory

"You should go and get some rest, Kane."

The old principal's voice suddenly softened, as if it came from a great distance, "You've been quite busy lately, haven't you? And thank you for keeping this old man company with your chat."

Kane narrowed his grey-blue eyes slightly, but he said nothing.

He simply and gracefully put away the mysterious silver box, hiding it back into the inner dragon-skin pouch.

As he turned around, the hem of his robe traced a silver-green arc.

"Good night, Professor." His farewell was polite and restrained, yet carried an undeniable weight. "I hope you...enjoy your thinking."

After Kane left.

Dumbledore finally let himself sink into the high-backed chair.

Fox immediately flew to his knees and pressed his warm beak against the old man's fingers.

A short while later, another sound came from the direction of the door.

Dumbledore didn't even look up: "Come in, Gellert."

The door slid open silently, and Professor Alder—or rather, Gellert Grindelwald, who was carefully disguised as a professor of the history of magic—strolled in.

His long, silver-grey hair was tied back, and he wore crescent-shaped glasses that were almost identical to Dumbledore's.

"You missed dinner, Professor Alder," Dumbledore said without looking up, his fingers lightly stroking Fawkes' tail feathers.

"I've discovered something interesting," Olde said, his voice tinged with rare excitement.

He strode to the table and took out a small crystal bottle from his pocket.

Dumbledore finally raised his head, his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles narrowing slightly: "This is not any known magical substance."

"In an ancient forest on the Albanian border."

Professor Old placed the vial on the table, and the liquid inside suddenly began to spin on its own.

"The entire lake is made of this substance. When I touched it, I saw...an impossible scene."

Fox suddenly let out a warning sirens.

Dumbledore gestured for it to be quiet and reached out to take the vial.

When his fingertips touched the glass surface, the liquid in the bottle suddenly turned deep blue, revealing a miniature star map.

"Interesting..." the old headmaster said softly, "These star formations... are not the starry sky of our time."

Professor Old took off his glasses, revealing his heterochromatic eyes.

"There is a ruin at the bottom of the lake. The architectural style is like that of ancient Greece a thousand years ago, but the stone pillars are engraved with... the prototype of modern magic runes."

He took a piece of pebbles from his sleeve, on which was engraved half of a symbol.

It resembled both Nehemiah and runes, yet with subtle differences. Dumbledore's breath visibly caught for a moment.

"A time discrepancy?" the old principal asked softly.

"Or spatial superposition," Professor Olde's voice was equally soft.

Yet, with a hint of suppressed excitement, he said, "What's even stranger is... the rules of magic seem different there. My magic flows more... smoothly there."

Dumbledore suddenly stood up, his emotions running high.

Fox quickly took off and returned to its little nest.

"How many did you bring back?" The old headmaster's voice suddenly turned stern.

"That's all," Professor Olde said, spreading his hands.

"That place has some kind of...self-protection mechanism. When I tried to take more water samples, the entire lake suddenly disappeared."

He paused, but I guarantee he'll reappear.

Silence fell over the office.

The portraits of past principals on the wall all pretended to be asleep, but Phineas Nigelles' eyelids were suspiciously twitching.

"Gellert..." Dumbledore's eyes turned serious. "You know what this means."

"This means there are blind spots in our understanding," Professor Old—or rather, the professor Grindelwald was in disguise—responded softly.

"This means magic is more...unfathomable than we imagined. Perhaps we'll even have the potential to advance further!"

The two stared at each other, lost in their own thoughts.

"Don't tell anyone else yet," Dumbledore finally said, locking the vial in the drawer. "Especially..."

"Kane? Can I tell you later?" Professor Old shook his head and said.

Seeing this, Dumbledore could only sigh, and then said, "I just talked to Kane about something, about the Horcruxes in 'The Secrets of Dark Magic' that he got from the library..."

The morning sunlight streamed through the small window of the Leaky Cauldron bar's attic.

A golden spot of light was cast on the wooden floor.

When Harry woke up rubbing his eyes, he found Sirius already dressed and tying his tie in front of a cracked mirror in the corner.

"Good morning, kid." Sirius turned around.

A relaxed smile, unlike anything Harry had ever seen before, graced his lips. "Guess what I got my hands on last night?"

Harry then noticed that the godfather's robe was not the same one he had worn yesterday.

The new dark gray fabric is embroidered with subtle silver patterns.

A simple silver lapel pin adorned her collar. Though still understated compared to Kane's elaborate attire.

But it was far better than the tattered clothes of the Azkaban prisoners.

"You...bought new clothes?" Harry asked tentatively.

Sirius Black burst into laughter, his voice brightening the entire attic: "Better than that! Come with me!"

He dragged Harry down the narrow stairs, through the still-drowsy pub hall, and shoved open the door to the backyard—

A gleaming dark blue motorcycle sat in the morning light, its metal parts gleaming discreetly.

This is newer and cooler than Higer's Flying Motorbike! - It features a small silver wolf head decoration on each side of its streamlined body.

"The latest Norton model!" Sirius proudly patted the seat. "It has some... special modifications."

Harry leaned closer and discovered that the eyes of the wolf head decoration were two small rubies, sparkling like living things in the sunlight.

The handlebars are engraved with a line of small characters: Moon Face & Big Foot II.

"Where did you get the money?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

Sirius winked mysteriously: "Black's coffers are very full."

His smile brightened for a moment, but quickly faded.

"If it weren't for that damned Malfoy..."

He swore as he hopped on the motorcycle, patting the back seat: "Get on! I guarantee it'll be much faster than Hogwarts."

As soon as Harry settled in, Sirius turned the handle.

The motorcycle emitted a pleasant roar, and then—to Harry's surprised gasp—it slowly lifted three feet off the ground.

"Hurry up!"

They took to the air, soaring over the rooftops of London in the early morning.

A cold wind swept over me, carrying the moisture from the Thames and the aroma of freshly baked bread from the bakery.

Harry gripped his godfather's coat tightly, watching the city beneath his feet gradually transform into a miniature model.

"Look over there!" Sirius suddenly pointed to the left front.

"That's the phone booth at the Ministry of Magic entrance—oh, and the rooftop of Diagon Alley too!"

Sunlight pierced through the clouds, gilding their flight path.

Sirius deliberately took a long detour so that Harry could clearly see every landmark: the Quidditch shop, the size of a matchbox; Gringotts' golden dome, resembling a toy; and the distant Scottish mountains...