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September 1, 1992, London.
King's Cross Station crouched beneath the hazy grey English sky like a massive, ancient reptile forged of glass and steel, slowly breathing in the scent of the teeming crowds.
Just like last year, Julien shouldered the custom backpack his grandfather had made him and squeezed his way into the bustling sea of Muggles, feeling as though he were wading into a river of chaotic colors.
He was practically a veteran of this routine by now; his parents hadn't even bothered to see him off.
"Julien! Over here!"
Following the voice, he spotted a sea of red hair surging between Platforms 9 and 10.
The Weasley family stood out like a blazing bonfire in the dreary grey station. Julien smiled and walked over, only to have the twins, Fred and George, instantly hook his arms from either side.
"Look who it is!" George announced theatrically. "If it isn't Ravenclaw's very own 'Master of Shadows'!"
"How was your summer in Bordeaux?" Fred waggled his eyebrows. "We heard French witches are all about the kissing greeting, and—"
"—they're very particular about it?" The two of them chorused perfectly before bursting into raucous laughter.
Julien shook his head helplessly. Ever since the "Forbidden Forest Incident" at the end of last term, the twins had somehow learned the details of him using "some Shadow Deflection Charm." They had slapped him with the nickname and spent the entire summer relentless roasting him via owl post.
"Hey, ignore them." Percy shoved his way through the crowd, the Prefect badge gleaming proudly on his chest.
He extended a hand with utmost seriousness. "Did you have a pleasant summer, Black?"
"Exceedingly pleasant, Prefect Weasley," Julien replied, deliberately using the formal title and watching Percy fight to suppress a smug grin. "Apart from receiving seventeen letters from your two younger brothers, that is."
"It was eighteen!" George corrected.
"There was going to be a nineteenth, but the owl ate it," Fred added. "We suspect it was Percy's owl, Hermes. He's always had it in for us—"
"Enough!" Percy's face flushed bright red. "You two, go help Ginny with her luggage!"
"Yes, Lord Prefect!"
Only then did Julien notice a small, thin girl standing behind Mrs. Weasley. She had the exact same red hair as Ron and the others, but hers seemed even brighter, like a freshly lit flame.
She was tightly clutching a small handbag. Aside from a few snacks, a notebook was clearly visible inside.
A black notebook.
Julien's gaze lingered on the notebook for a split second. The solid black cover was entirely unadorned, yet in the morning light of the station, it seemed to radiate a bizarre, almost light-absorbing gloom.
Noticing his stare, Ginny immediately hugged the bag closer to her chest, her cheeks burning even redder than her hair.
"Hi Julien, long time no see." Ron and Harry ran over from a short distance away. Only then did Julien remember that Harry was supposed to be spending the latter part of the summer holidays at the Burrow with Ron's family.
"Hi guys, Harry, Ron. Great to see you. How was the summer?"
"It was brilliant, Julien. I spent it at Ron's house," Harry said happily.
"Julien, let me introduce you. This is Ginny, our little sister," Ron said, clapping a hand roughly onto his sister's shoulder. "Starting school this year. Mum says it's about time the Weasley family had a Gryffindor girl."
"Ron!" Ginny protested softly, her voice barely louder than a mosquito's. "I haven't even been Sorted yet."
She glanced up, stole a quick, fleeting look at Harry, then immediately dropped her head again, staring intently at the tips of her shoes.
"Hello, Ginny," Julien said gently, deliberately shifting his gaze away from the black notebook. "I'm Julien Black, a friend of Ron's. And Harry's cousin."
"I... I know," Ginny's voice was almost inaudible. "Ron and... Ron spent the whole summer talking about Hogwarts."
"I hardly said a thing," Ron protested. "That was all Fred and George."
"Alright, alright, children!" Mrs. Weasley's booming voice cut through the chatter. "Time to board! Ginny, dear, follow Percy. He'll help you find a suitable compartment."
"I want to sit with Ron..." Ginny mumbled.
More like you want to sit with Harry Potter, Julien thought to himself.
"Percy is a Prefect, he'll take good care of you," Mrs. Weasley said with undeniable authority. She then turned to Julien, a warm smile blossoming on her face. "Mr. Black, thank you for looking out for Ron at school. And those letters..."
"They were very entertaining, Mrs. Weasley," Julien said with utter sincerity.
Mrs. Weasley looked as though she wanted to say something else, but the station clock chimed half-past ten. The crowd began to surge forward; the final warnings of parents, the hooting of owls, and the clattering of trunk wheels blended into a deafening roar.
"It's getting late. We should get going too," Mr. Weasley urged the group along after waiting for a particularly bizarrely dressed group of wizards to barrel through the barrier.
Julien followed the group through the magical wall. The scarlet Hogwarts Express was already belching thick clouds of white steam.
The steam enveloped them completely, so much so that even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley failed to notice that Ron and Harry, who had been bringing up the rear, hadn't made it through the barrier.
The platform was packed with students in robes of every color. Julien subconsciously began scanning the crowd for two specific figures...
"Julien! Over here."
A cool, clear voice drifted over from his left. Elizabeth Rosier stood beside a stone pillar, her deep green silk dress making her skin look as pale as freshly fallen snow.
She wasn't wearing her usual snake-shaped brooch today. Instead, pinned to her collar and gleaming faintly in the light, was the starburst brooch Julien had given her.
"You're late," she said, a trace of barely perceptible complaint in her tone. "We've been waiting for ages."
"The Weasleys' enthusiasm is difficult to turn down."
Julien smiled as he walked over, noticing a cloaked figure standing just behind her. "Hello, Liriya."
The Northern girl stepped out of the shadows. Her silvery-blonde hair wasn't braided this time; instead, it tumbled loosely over her feather-trimmed cloak.
She looked a bit rosier than she had last term, and a warm light flashed in her ice-blue eyes when she saw him.
She then cut straight to the chase. "What happened over the holidays? You said in your letter that something major went down."
"Come on, it's time to go. Let's get on the train first, then we'll talk."
Just as they reached the train doors, they spotted another familiar figure—Cassian Thorne.
Standing just a few steps away, he was wearing the exact same inconspicuous grey trench coat, but the monocle over his left eye had been replaced with a far more complex model embedded with a miniature astrolabe.
"Mr. Black! Miss Rosier! And—Miss Viracati!"
"Please, just call me Liriya. It's the custom where I'm from."
"Why are you here again?" Julien blurted out, before instantly realizing how that sounded. "I mean..."
"Hmm. I know exactly what you mean," a humorless smile tugged at the corner of Cassian's mouth. "Because my appearance never bodes well, does it?"
"My apologies," Julien offered an awkward but polite smile.
"Wolfgang escaped. During his transfer, right near Azkaban," Cassian stated bluntly.
Liriya and Rosier both gasped simultaneously. "Azkaban?"
Cassian's voice dropped low. "We underestimated... the infiltration capabilities of certain individuals. Three prison transport carriages, twelve Aurors. All hit by the Confundus Charm. By the time they regained their senses, Wolfgang had already vanished into the fog of the North Sea."
Liriya had heard the story of their Christmas encounter from Rosier. "Where would he go?"
"That is exactly why I came to find you." Cassian's gaze swept over the three of them, finally locking onto Julien's face. "Did any of you encounter anything unusual over the holidays? Or any... signs connected to the Moon Shadow Council?"
"Why would we have seen him?" Rosier asked defensively.
Cassian's eyes remained fixed on Julien. He couldn't shake the feeling that the boy standing before him was far too calm.
"Actually, yes. I saw him. In Nice, on the French Riviera."