Chapter 2. The Secret of the Journal

伦敦的黎明带着潮湿的寒意到来.伦纳德跟着沉默寡言的西弗勒斯——那个穿着黑曜石长袍的巫师——走出了房子,他的心里充满了对未知的恐惧和对新生活的安静期待.他们穿过熟悉的街道,然后转入一条僻静的小巷.西弗勒斯在一堵不起眼的砖墙前停了下来.他转过身来,用他那双锐利的黑眼睛盯着伦纳德,然后抬起手,用古老的,神秘的舌头喃喃念着咒语.他的指尖在空气中划过神秘的图案,彷佛在大气中编织着无形的魔法丝线.伦纳德惊讶地看着砖墙像水面一样荡漾.一条黑暗的裂缝出现,慢慢扩大成一条拱形通道,它的远端被无法穿透的黑暗吞噬."跟你走,埃尔德里奇先生,"西弗勒斯吟诵道,他的声音低沉而坚定.他先走进了通道.伦纳德深吸了一口气,压抑着自己的不安和好奇,跟了上去.当他穿过冰冷的液体般的屏障时,他周围的世界突然发生了变化.熟悉的城市喧嚣消失了,取而代之的是一片宁静,广阔的森林.阳光透过茂密的树叶,投下斑驳的阴影.空气中弥漫着泥土,青草和野花的香味,清新而令人振奋.伦纳德停了下来,惊奇地环顾四周.古树高耸入云,树干粗壮,好几个人都勉强围住了它们.异国情调的植物在他的脚下展开,而充满活力的生物,好奇而警惕,在冲进灌木丛之前观察着它们."我们站在魔法王国的边缘,埃尔德里奇先生,"西弗勒斯的声音打破了宁静."Harmonia Academy 很快就等着我们了."伦纳德点点头,努力适应这突如其来的变化.他知道自己已经告别了平凡的过去,踏入了一个充满魔法和奇迹的世界.他们沿着一条蜿蜒的小路蜿蜒穿过森林,景色变得越来越超现实.发光的植物漂浮在空中,吸引了他的注意力,而远处的鸟叫声——悠扬而陌生——在树上回荡.经过一个小时的旅程,他们出现在一个广阔的山谷中.在它的中心,一座宏伟而古老的城堡傲然矗立.它的墙壁风化为灰色,披着翠绿色的藤蔓,高耸入云,高耸入云.沐浴在阳光下,城堡散发着庄严和神秘,仿佛守护着无数古老的秘密.伦纳德的心不由自主地加快了起来.这是 Harmonia Academy 吗?它比他想象的还要宏伟,也充满了魔法.他迫不及待地想了解这个地方的一切.当他心不在焉地凝视着城堡时,他的思绪转向了埃里克在离开前托付给他的日记.他从破旧的背包里溜下来,小心翼翼地取出那本皮革装订的日记本.它的封面已经褪色,皮革粗糙而凉爽,仿佛在低语着过去时代的故事.伦纳德轻轻地打开了第一页,卷首上熟悉而精致的笔迹映入了他的眼帘:"致我最亲爱的孩子,无论你身在何处,愿这本日记陪伴你的成长.他的指尖划过那些熟悉的字母,一股温暖夹杂着一丝悲伤,在他心中涌动.那是他妈妈的笔迹,他能感觉到每一行字里流淌的温柔与爱意.他想象着母亲写下这些话时的场景.她是什么样的人?她的声音温柔吗?她的笑容灿烂?He turned the page, and a slightly yellowed photograph lay there. It showed a young couple, tightly embracing, their faces beaming with happiness. The man had deep brown hair and gentle, firm eyes, while the woman possessed silvery hair as luminous as moonlight, her smile as warm as summer sunshine.Leonard's heart felt like it had been struck by something. He held his breath and scrutinized the couple in the photograph. They looked so young, so full of vitality, gradually overlapping with the vague image of his parents in his memory. Especially the woman with silvery hair—her features bore an indescribable resemblance to his own. This… this must be his parents! His mother was actually an elf with silvery hair!Carefully, he removed the photograph from the journal, his fingertips gently tracing their faces, wanting to memorize every detail. The back of the photo bore no writing, only some faint impressions, as though it had once been pasted somewhere.Leonard placed the photo back in the journal, feeling a strange yet profound connection with the young couple in the photograph. They were his parents, who had once lived so happily together, and this journal was their only memento to him.He closed the journal, hugging it tightly to his chest, his heart filled with longing for his parents and anticipation for the future. He vowed to uncover everything about them, to understand their lives and all they had experienced.Just then, Severus stopped. Pointing at the castle not far ahead, he said, "Mr. Eldridge, we have arrived."Leonard raised his head and looked once more at the magnificent Harmonia Academy, his heart brimming with expectation. His new life was about to begin here. And this journal would guide him to unravel all the secrets hidden in his past.Leonard followed Severus toward the gates of Harmonia Academy. They were enormous, forged from black metal and adorned with intricate, ancient magical runes. The door knocker was a lifelike lion's head, regarding visitors with majesty.Severus stepped forward, raised his hand, and tapped the lion's nose, which emitted a low, muffled sound. Before long, the heavy doors slowly swung inward, revealing a spacious, bright hall.The dome of the hall soared high, and sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the floor. The walls were lined with ancient portraits, their subjects seeming to possess life of their own. Their eyes followed Leonard's movements, their faces bearing various expressions—curiosity, scrutiny, even a hint of mockery.At the center of the hall stood a massive oak table. Behind it sat a kind and wise-looking elderly woman. She wore gold-rimmed glasses, her silver hair neatly coiled into a bun at the nape of her neck, and she held a thick ancient book in her hands, reading intently."Welcome to Harmonia Academy, Mr. Eldridge," the elderly woman looked up, offering Leonard a warm smile. Her voice was gentle and magnetic.Leonard nodded awkwardly in response."This is Professor Themis, the deputy headmistress of the academy," Severus introduced.Professor Themis set down her book, stood up, and walked slowly to Leonard. Her wise eyes examined him carefully, as though trying to peer into his innermost thoughts."Welcome, child," Professor Themis's voice was tinged with warmth. "Eric informed us of your arrival. You and your mother… bear some resemblance." She paused here, a hint of nostalgia flickering in her eyes, but she didn't elaborate.A faint stir rippled through Leonard's chest—this was the second time he'd heard someone mention his mother. A desperate curiosity clawed at him, yet his throat tightened at the thought of voicing it."Severus will show you to your chambers first," Professor Themis turned to Snape. "I'll come for you later, Mr. Eldridge, to orient you about the academy."Snape inclined his head almost imperceptibly before gesturing Leonard upward. The boy trailed the silent figure across the scarlet-carpeted hall, their footsteps echoing up the ancient stone staircase. Whispers slithered from the shimmering portraits lining the walls, their painted eyes gleaming with curiosity as the pair passed.They arrived at a chamber nestled beneath the castle's eaves. Though modest, the room exuded cozy warmth—a writing desk hugged the window, its surface meticulously arranged with quills and tomes, while a narrow bed bore a silver bell beside its oil lamp, the latter casting amber pools of light. Beyond the leaded glass, rolling hills cradled the academy's labyrinthine spires, their silhouettes melting into twilight."Your quarters, Mr. Eldridge," Snape indicated the bell. "Ring should you require anything." The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Leonard alone in the amber glow.The air hummed with the weight of centuries as Leonard stood there, breath shallow. Crossing to the window, he drank in the view—the jagged mountains, the labyrinth of turrets—a thrill prickling his skin, half anticipation, half something akin to vertigo.His pack thumped onto the desk, drawing his gaze to the weathered leather journal peeking from within. Fingers tracing the embossed initials, he opened it to the familiar script on the flyleaf: To my dearest child, wherever life may take you, may these pages guide your way.His thumb brushed the looping cursive, conjuring visions of his mother's face—the softness in her eyes, the catch in her voice as she penned those words. A hollow ache bloomed in his chest, sharp with longing. So many questions pulsed beneath his ribs, questions only she could answer, about the blood in his veins, about this enchanted world he'd stumbled into.He turned the brittle page, and there it lay—the sepia-toned photograph, suspended in time. Lifting it once more, he studied the young couple's faces, their smiles unburdened by shadows, radiant with a joy that seemed to belong to another era. He memorized the curve of their smiles, the tilt of their chins, stitching together fragments of a life he'd never known.The photograph settled back into the journal's embrace. Further in, a trio posed beneath an arch of ancient trees. His fingers lingered on the elven woman's face—those eyes, almond-shaped and wise, tugged at some primal recognition. Grandmother? he wondered. The two men flanking her could've been uncles, or perhaps his father's dearest friends, their faces blurred by the passage of years.A rustle of pages turned. Toward the journal's latter half, English script emerged—angular, purposeful. His father's hand."Spoke with Lilith today about the hybrid races' standing in magical society. We both agree more must be done to bridge these divides. The old guard clings to their prejudices, but for our child's sake—for all like us—we'll keep fighting."A surge of respect straightened Leonard's spine. Not just a cross-species union, but activists. He imagined their struggles—whispers in hallways, petitions dismissed, the weight of tradition crushing their ideals.The next passage caught his breath:"Erik's new vision for an inclusive magical collective... audacious yet brilliant. His passion is contagious. If his plans take root, they could reshape our children's future."Erik's name again. A mentor turned enigmatic figure. What storms had weathered that idealism? What alchemy had transformed fervor into... whatever lurked behind Erik's current facade?Further down, the entry about his naming ceremony brought warmth flooding back. Love etched into parchment before he'd even drawn breath.He flipped to the journal's cryptic opening pages. Those symbols—fluid as water, sharp as obsidian—danced before his eyes. He traced their contours, seeking patterns, but they remained stubbornly elusive, their secrets guarded by centuries.Professor Themis's words echoed: "Your mother was a brilliant student." Could these be Elvish runes? He knew their kind prized artistry, their history a tapestry of myth and magic. These weren't mere letters—they were incantations, frozen in ink.He returned to the journal's middle section, drawn again to the trio photograph. The elven woman's gaze held such tenderness, a warmth that resonated in his chest like a forgotten melody. Who was she? The question pulsed beneath his ribs. More than curiosity—a primal need to connect with this matriarchal anchor of his past.The journal snapped shut, its weight settling on the oak desk. He rose, drawn to the casement windows where the setting sun bled gold across the horizon. Harmonia Academy's spires glowed amber, their silhouette softened by twilight's embrace. A world of magic and mystery now his reality—a revelation still dizzying as the view.Fingering the starstone Erik had gifted, its coolness grounded him. Closing his eyes, he sought the energy within—a faint thrum, like distant heartbeat, but nothing more. Find the "special place," Erik had said. Did the stone point to Harmonia? Or something deeper, older?Back to the journal. Its cryptic pages whispered secrets—his parents' voices trapped in ink and image. The Elvish script taunted him, beautiful yet impenetrable. But he would decipher them. He would.Newfound resolve hardened within. Magic wasn't just sparkles and spells; it was power. He'd master it, shield himself, unravel their story. The oil lamp's glow painted his resolve in amber as he reopened the journal. His mother's handwriting on the flyleaf—a warrior's script, elegant yet unyielding—fueled his fire.The journal rested beside him as sleep claimed him. Dreams came: his silver-haired mother smiling, father's hand steady on her shoulder. Their outstretched fingers beckoned, a compass pointing north.Dawn's first light woke him, crisp and promising. He gripped the journal, its leather warm from his dreams. Today marked not an ending, but a beginning. He'd decode every symbol, trace every photo's shadow, until truth lay bare. Until he stood worthy of their sacrifice.Harmonia waited—a labyrinth of magic and mystery. And he, armed with starstone and journal, would navigate its depths. His parents' ghosts walked beside him, their love a lantern in the dark. The adventure had only just begun.