Hogwarts' Golden Glory

And then I couldn't find the rest anywhere...

The English countryside in August is bathed in sunshine and feels languid, with the silvery-green lawns of Malfoy Manor trembling slightly in the afternoon heat.

Kane and Draco have been at home for a month.

At this moment, Kane was sitting by the window in the east wing of the family library, with the ancient parchment he had brought back from Hogwarts spread out in front of him.

Outside the window, white peacocks strolled leisurely in the garden, their feathers almost blinding in the sunlight.

"Still studying those founders' letters?" Draco's voice came from the doorway.

Kane looked up and saw his brother carrying a silver tray with two glasses of chilled pumpkin juice and some snacks on it.

Draco was wearing a light summer robe, his light blond hair slightly damp with sweat—clearly he had just returned from the Quidditch pitch.

"Is training over?" Kane took a glass of pumpkin juice, feeling the coolness of the glass seep through his fingertips.

"It's too hot, Father told me to rest." Draco sat down opposite him, his gaze sweeping over the yellowed documents on the table. "Any new discoveries?"

Kane pushed a glass of pumpkin juice toward Draco, his fingers unconsciously tapping the edge of the parchment. "Slytherin mentioned in their last letter that 'bloodline limitations' might not have formed naturally. They believed that at some point in history, someone or some force imposed a...limiter on wizarding bloodlines."

Draco frowned, a gesture that made him look remarkably like Lucius. "A limiter? Like a magical contract?"

"It's more like an ancient curse, or a rule." Kane turned to a page in his notebook. "Based on hints in the communications, this might be related to a large-scale magical conflict in the late Merlin era. The victor... redefined the rules of magic."

The library fell silent for a moment, save for the distant call of a peacock outside the window. Draco slowly sipped his pumpkin juice, his gaze lingering on his brother's weary face.

"You've been studying this for three days straight," Draco said, his voice carrying a Malfoy-like restrained concern. "Your mother was very worried at dinner yesterday."

"I just need to figure some things out." Kane rubbed his temples, which were throbbing—this always happened after long periods of studying these ancient texts.

Draco put down his cup and leaned forward. "Can I help? Not with researching these ancient runes—I know my Ancient Runes grades aren't as good as yours—but something else. Organizing notes? Checking references? Father said the Malfoy family has special access to the Ministry of Magic's archives; maybe we can find some unpublished historical records."

Kane looked at his brother's serious expression and felt a complex warmth well up in his heart.

Draco is growing up in his own way—no longer just the arrogant and conceited Slytherin prince, but beginning to think about how to truly support his family.

"Actually," Kane said, "there is something I need your help with."

Draco's eyes immediately lit up.

"I need some modern Ministry of Magic statistics on 'blood magic anomalies'," Kane said in a low voice, "but I can't let Father know I'm investigating this. Can you obtain it through... less formal channels?"

Draco pondered for a moment, then nodded. "Pansy's uncle works in the Department of Magical Creatures Control, but he's quite familiar with the people in the Department of Magical Accidents and Disasters. I can ask Pansy to help me inquire, saying it's for a summer project for the History of Magic course."

"Be careful," Kane cautioned. "Don't mention my name, and don't ask too many specific questions. Just compile statistics on cases of 'abnormally strong magical disturbances' or 'magical development inconsistent with bloodlines' recorded over the past fifty years, preferably anonymously."

"Understood." Draco carefully noted down the request, then hesitated for a moment, "Kane... this is a dangerous question for you, isn't it? I mean, if you're really breaking some kind of 'bloodline restriction'..."

Kane didn't answer immediately. He looked out the window, where a white peacock was spreading its tail feathers, appearing like a moving ball of light in the sunlight.

“Knowledge itself is not dangerous,” Kane finally said. “The danger lies in how it is used. And… I feel this isn’t just my problem. If there really is some kind of restriction imposed on the wizarding bloodline, then unlocking it might make sense for everyone.”

Draco silently processed those words. As a Malfoy, he had been taught from a young age the superiority of pure-bloods, but Kane's words hinted at a deeper possibility—what if all wizards, regardless of bloodline, wore the same shackles?

"I'll get those documents as soon as possible." Draco stood up. "Also, Mother said we have guests tonight and we should dress formally for dinner."

Kane raised an eyebrow. "A guest? Who?"

"It seems to be Professor Slughorn." Draco made a face. "Father wants him to 'guide' my future Potions studies—actually, he wants him to take care of me, just like he used to take care of Father."

Kane chuckled. "Horace Slughorn certainly likes to collect 'promising students.' If you behave well, he'll be a useful connection."

After Draco left, the library fell silent again. Kane's gaze returned to the parchment, lingering on a particular passage in Slytherin's last letter:

"...If you can enter the Chamber of Echoes, you will see the truth. The source of magic is like a river, and we are all drops of water within it. But someone has built a dam to block the flow, causing the downstream to dry up. The way to break the dam lies in understanding its structure..."

Who built the dam? Why build the dam? These questions entwined Kane's thoughts like vines. He vaguely sensed that these were not merely academic questions, but rather questions concerning the fundamental secrets of the magical world.

The afternoon was just as hot in Little Huigkin, Surrey, but the atmosphere at 4 Privet Road was quite different from previous years.

Harry Potter sat at Dudley's old, unused desk—a spot Aunt Petunia had specially cleared out, right next to the bedroom window, where the light was excellent.

On the table lay "History of Magic," "Potions," and "Standard Spells, Level Two," with quills scratching on the parchment.

He was writing the paper Snape had assigned about the use of moonstone in potions; this was already his fourth assignment for the summer.

The sound of a lawnmower came from outside the window; Uncle Vernon was mowing the lawn—a regular Saturday afternoon routine, but the volume seemed a little lower than usual today.

"Harry?" Aunt Petunia's voice came from outside the door, with that cautious tone that Harry still found unsettling. "I cut some fruit, would you like me to bring it in?"

"Okay, thank you," Harry said without looking up.

The door opened, and Penny came in carrying a plate of sliced ​​watermelon and cantaloupe, gently placing it on the corner of the table. "Daddy and his friends went swimming and won't be back until tonight. So... if you want to read in the living room, there's more space."