In the basement, Azazel sat cross-legged on the ground, with a pair of children's sunglasses perched on his nose.
He held a little pink in his hand, gnawing on it idly, his expression full of resentment.
He occasionally looked up at the center of the Transfiguration array.
A glowing orb, emitting a dazzling white light, floated there.
Inside the orb, a curled-up human outline was faintly visible.
"Tsk... it would be great if it could be dimmed..."
Azazel muttered softly, rubbing his still throbbing eyes.
As if hearing his complaint, the light of the orb indeed diminished and receded at a speed visible to the naked eye!
At the same time, it slowly floated down from the air like a feather.
It finally hovered steadily half a meter above the ground, its light becoming extremely dim, only illuminating a small area around it.
When Azazel saw this scene, he stopped chewing the little pink, and his dog face behind the sunglasses was filled with the shock of "This is possible?!"
The darkness of the basement spread out from the corners once again.
Azazel pouted, casually throwing away the remaining little pink.
He pulled out a Q-version, small trident decorated with pink hearts from who knows where.
Like striking a match, he casually scraped it against the rough ground beside him with a "shhh!"
Sizzle!
The tip of the trident instantly ignited a stable flame emitting an ambiguous pink glow.
Azazel held this demon-brand torch, carefully, step by step, walking towards the quietly floating orb in the center of the Transfiguration array.
Just as he was a few steps away from the light sphere.
Crackle! Sizzle!
Several scarlet, vein-like twisted lightning bolts erupted from inside the light sphere without warning!
The lightning instantly tore through the soft white light, casting grotesque, flickering shadows in the dim basement!
A powerful and chaotic life wave spread out like a shockwave!
Azazel was startled, almost dropping the trident, and quickly retreated two steps, his sunglasses sliding down to the tip of his nose.
In the flickering scarlet lightning, he vaguely saw that the curled-up human outline inside the light sphere... was slowly stretching out!
A child's slightly pale hand seemed to be pressing against the inner wall of the light sphere, trying to push itself up!
The orb flickered violently a few times amidst the red and white intertwining, then silently disintegrated and dissipated like a shattered eggshell!
Darkness once again enveloped the basement, leaving only the faint pink flame at the tip of the trident in Azazel's hand, and... the Transfiguration array.
On the Transfiguration array, a boy about eleven or twelve years old stood quietly.
The boy had his eyes closed, was naked, with soft black hair clinging to his forehead, skin so fair it was almost transparent, and facial features as delicate as a doll's, yet with a non-human sense of indifference.
Azazel couldn't help but hold his breath, the pink flame flickering uneasily on the trident in his hand.
At the same time, in the Scottish Highlands, at the top of a tower in Hogwarts Castle.
Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Principal of Hogwarts and Transfiguration Professor, known for her strictness and meticulousness, had just finished organizing the last few admission letters, stamped with the Hogwarts crest.
She adjusted her square-rimmed glasses, preparing to send them to the Owlry using the Levitation Charm.
Just then...
Buzz...
In the corner of the tower, the huge, ancient Book of Admittance, with its cover made of dragon hide, opened automatically without any warning!
The heavy pages made a dull sound.
Immediately after, the Quill of Acceptance, hovering nearby, as if held by an invisible hand, began to write smoothly on the newly opened, blank page!
Professor McGonagall's footsteps instantly halted, and her sharp gaze immediately turned to the magical book.
She frowned slightly and walked quickly forward.
The list of new students had already been confirmed, and it was extremely rare for a new name to appear at this time.
She leaned down, looking at the name that the quill had just written, its ink still wet:
Nios Chaos, Date of Birth: September 11, 1979.
"1979... and his magic is only now exploding?"
Professor McGonagall murmured, her eyes behind her glasses filled with doubt and a hint of imperceptible worry.
Only showing magic for the first time at eleven years old usually meant weak magic or serious problems.
But to alarm the Book of Admittance indicated that his magic reserves were sufficient to attend Hogwarts.
Despite her many doubts, Professor McGonagall's professionalism still prompted her to react quickly.
She skillfully manipulated the automatic quill, rapidly writing a new admission notice on the parchment.
Waving her wand: "Wingardium Leviosa!"
All the letters, including the newly written one, floated steadily, following her towards the bustling Owlry.
The Owlry was filled with the cooing, flapping, and smell of feathers from various owls.
Professor McGonagall skillfully distributed the letters to the owls, who were already eager to go.
These creatures, blessed by magic, possessed magical bloodline magic; they could precisely locate the recipient's position, no matter where they were.
The owls flew out of the open windows one after another.
Professor McGonagall watched them disappear into the morning mist of the Scottish Highlands.
She habitually scanned the inside of the Owlry, checking for any omissions.
Just then, her gaze fixed on a perch near the corner.
A sturdy barn owl had not flown away with its companions.
Its sharp claws gripped a letter tightly, its feathers bristled, its body trembled like a sieve, and its amber eyes were filled with pure terror!
It didn't even dare to look down at the letter in its claws, just stood rigidly and terrified in place.
Professor McGonagall's heart sank.
She had never seen an owl react so violently.
She walked quickly over, softening her voice as much as possible: "Poor little fellow, what's wrong with you? Are you sick?"
She reached out a hand, trying to soothe the frightened bird.
However, the moment her fingers touched the letter, the owl, as if burned, suddenly released its claws, let out a sharp, mournful cry, and flapped its wings, flying in terror to the highest beam in the Owlry, where it huddled, trembling.
Professor McGonagall picked up the fallen letter.
Under the power of owl magic, the envelope already clearly displayed the recipient's address.
The moment that place name came into Professor McGonagall's sight, she felt a chill instantly shoot up her spine to the top of her head!
Chelmsford, Branded Manor, Basement No. 3.
That name, that cursed place, regarded as ominous by all Wizards!
Professor McGonagall's expression became extremely solemn.
She repeatedly checked the address and the magical imprint on the envelope; there were no errors.
She looked up at the owl still trembling on the beam, then looked down at the letter in her hand, which seemed to carry an ominous aura.
Without hesitation, Professor McGonagall clutched the letter and turned, striding out of the noisy Owlry.
She headed towards the Principal's office; Albus Dumbledore had to know about this immediately.
Half an hour later, Hogwarts Principal's Office.
The office was filled with the sweet scent of Fizzing Whizbees and old books.
Albus Dumbledore was sitting behind his large desk, his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles gazing through the swirling steam at the rotating silver memories in the Pensieve, while Fawkes the Phoenix stood on a perch nearby, guarding Dumbledore.
Harry Potter was about to enroll, and there were still many arrangements that needed careful consideration...
"Albus!" The office door was suddenly pushed open, and Professor McGonagall's slightly hurried voice broke the quietness of the room. Her usually calm and composed face showed a rare anxiety.
"Calm down, Minerva."
Dumbledore looked up, his voice gentle, and with a gentle tap of his wand, a floating teapot automatically poured Professor McGonagall a steaming cup of hot tea.
"Would you like a cup? It's freshly brewed, with a little lemon and honey."
"Albus, you have to see this!"
Professor McGonagall did not take the teacup; instead, she walked quickly to the desk and placed the letter, which seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, in front of Dumbledore.
The portraits of past Principals hanging on the office walls were also startled, waking from their feigned sleep or contemplation, curiously craning their necks, wanting to see what had made Professor McGonagall so flustered.
Dumbledore picked up the letter.
When his gaze fell on the address on the envelope...
This old man, who had weathered countless storms and was hailed as the greatest Wizard of his time, his fingers gripping the letter tightened imperceptibly.
His sapphire blue eyes behind his spectacles instantly became as sharp as an eagle's, as if piercing through the parchment to see the dark history and ominous aura represented by that address.
The air in the entire Principal's office seemed to freeze.