HP: Pure-Blood Glory

Luke's words didn't surprise Ravenclaw.

Or rather, when a smart person faces another smart person, their thoughts often align.

A single situation may have countless possibilities, but the best choice is usually only one.

"This legacy—I never intended to give it to you"

Ravenclaw said softly, with a faint smile and a calm tone.

Luke's expression remained unchanged.

On one hand, he had no desire for this legacy. On the other, he was self-aware. Ravenclaw, the embodiment of wisdom and rationality.

While it might sound self-flattering, Luke believed he didn't lack wisdom or rationality. But that insatiable thirst for knowledge? That was something he couldn't emulate.

Moreover, compared to the Chamber of Secrets, hidden in myth with no known access except through Peeves, or Gryffindor's legacy, for which he had found no trace at all, the Room of Requirement was far less of a mystery.

Though secluded, it wasn't unknown to the more inquisitive students of Hogwarts. Every few years, at least one or more students managed to find and enter the room.

Yet none had received Ravenclaw's legacy.

Luke didn't think himself the most exceptional student in a millennium. If anything had caught Ravenclaw's attention, it was likely the peculiar blend of traits he carried from both the snake and the lion.

Much like how Peeves had been drawn to him and, for better or worse, had set a trap, Luke's unique characteristics were fascinating to those who knew.

To outsiders, they might seem intriguing, but to those in the know, they were rich fodder for gossip.

And humanity's appetite for gossip is, if anything, insatiable.

Perhaps Ravenclaw's presence here wasn't because she saw him as a worthy heir, but simply because millennia of solitude had left her bored. Seeing someone with such a peculiar mix of traits might have compelled her to emerge and exchange a few words.

"I can sense that you are interested in my legacy—but I suspect it's not for yourself," Ravenclaw said with a wry amusement.

She didn't need to ponder deeply. Just looking at the boy's grin, a grin uncannily similar to Godric Gryffindor's, was enough.

There was no way this boy could resist meddling in anything remotely interesting or beneficial.

Of all people, why did he have to resemble that stupid lion? Couldn't he have learned a bit of Salazar's arrogance instead? No, he just had to inherit that shameless audacity.

"My legacy isn't something that can be obtained easily. However, given your unique identity, I'm willing to grant you a chance. You may choose someone to undertake my trial."

Ravenclaw, in truth, wasn't particularly passionate about passing down her knowledge.

The founders had created these legacy sites largely because Salazar had set the example. Whether their magic and wisdom would truly be passed on wasn't something they deeply cared about.

Following someone else's path while hoping to surpass their achievements was a near-impossible task.

And if one couldn't carve out their own path, what was the point of founding this school in the first place?

The world wasn't facing any apocalyptic threats. Leaving behind a legacy wasn't meaningless, but it wasn't exactly essential either.

Moreover, powerful magical abilities were often too unique and rare.

It wasn't a question of producing a suitable inheritor once every thousand years—it was entirely possible that the legacy would vanish entirely after a single generation.

Such things were nothing new for Ravenclaw.

"And... the terms?"

Luke didn't show a hint of excitement. There was no such thing as a free lunch. One chance to undergo Ravenclaw's legacy trial—truthfully, that alone could be enough to secure the support of a powerful family.

Of course, if he truly used such an opportunity to curry favor with a family, Luke figured he'd be the one losing out.

A gift of this magnitude wasn't going to be handed out just because he was a descendant of Slytherin.

If he were Salazar's direct son, there might be a chance, but he was merely a distant successor a thousand years removed.

Understanding one's position and demonstrating value were crucial in situations like these.

"First, the person you bring must meet the basic requirements for my legacy"

Ravenclaw said.

Luke's expression turned serious. "Please, go on," he said earnestly.

Ravenclaw didn't bother with theatrics and laid it out directly:

"They must have a thirst for knowledge—no need to elaborate on this point.

"They must possess sufficient intellect. A non-negotiable requirement is an aptitude for memory magic, and they must at least have mastered one true memory spell."

"Something like Obliviate?"

Luke asked.

"The real Obliviate," Ravenclaw replied.

Luke frowned and took a deep breath. "What do you mean by the real Obliviate?"

After he asked, Ravenclaw fell silent for a long time before letting out a sigh.

"Perhaps I shouldn't expect this legacy to last," she said, her voice heavy.

"What true magic is, and what it means—that's a concept far beyond your understanding right now. It's not something you should be concerned with at this stage."

"Tch, sounds like an over-complicated treasure hunt"

Luke muttered, falling into thought.

Ravenclaw didn't continue, seeming to deliberate on how to handle the matter.

After a while, she spoke again, her tone weary:

"Let's do this. You help me with two tasks, and you bring someone you believe is suitable. In return, I will pass on a collection of my accumulated knowledge to them. While it doesn't compare to the magical legacy, this knowledge alone is incredibly valuable."

Luke knew that anything Ravenclaw—a founder of Hogwarts—deemed "valuable" had to involve advanced, highly significant insights.

"Please tell me what these two tasks are," Luke said, his tone calm and detached, as though the legacy and knowledge were no longer his priority. "I will do my best to complete them."

By "do my best," of course, he meant that if things went south, he'd make a run for it.

Ravenclaw seemed to understand his implication but chose not to address it.

"First," she began, her voice tinged with a trace of bitterness, "my diadem has been corrupted by a foolish and ignorant creature…"

Luke caught the faint resentment in her tone.

"I need you to purify it and return it to me. The diadem itself is a crucial part of the legacy."

Luke nodded seriously. If he recalled correctly, Ravenclaw's diadem was in the original form of the Room of Requirement, the storage room. Finding it wouldn't be difficult.

As for purification... well, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it. Would basilisk venom count as purification? Probably not.

And yet, Ravenclaw's mention of the diadem being "a part of the legacy" piqued Luke's curiosity even further.

As expected, the items left behind by the Founders were intrinsically linked to their legacies. If Tom Riddle had truly understood their significance, things might have been different. At worst, he could have taken the selfish stance of, "If I can't have it, no one else will."

But even if he had no idea about their true purpose…

Couldn't he have used his brain a little? These artifacts practically screamed to be studied!

"And the second task?"

Luke prompted, breaking the silence.

Ravenclaw didn't respond immediately. Instead, she fell into another quiet contemplation. Luke thought he caught a fleeting sense of sorrow and confusion from her.

Sensing her mood, he refrained from interrupting and stood silently, waiting.

After a long pause, Ravenclaw finally spoke, her voice faint and laden with emotion.

"The second task… is to resolve my daughter's unresolved burdens and… allow me to see her one more time."

Luke wasn't surprised by this request; he had anticipated it.

Pressing his lips together, he shook his head gently and said, "I'll do my best to help Lady Helena. But truthfully, I can't guarantee success."

He didn't possess that level of confidence. If Helena Ravenclaw's unresolved issues were easily resolved, she wouldn't have become a ghost lingering at Hogwarts.

Every ghost was a manifestation of an unrelenting attachment, not just a remnant of their soul. Their obsessions were the foundation that kept them anchored to the world.

Even Nearly Headless Nick, who seemed cheerful and carefree on the surface, undoubtedly carried some unspoken sorrow or obsession.

Helena and the Bloody Baron, on the other hand, were in a league of their own when it came to ghostly attachments. Luke knew this wasn't going to be a simple task.

"Do your best. That will suffice," Ravenclaw replied, her voice soft before falling silent again.

Luke could sense there was more she wanted to say but chose to keep to herself.

Some matters were simply too personal to share.

"If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave now, Ma'am"

Luke said with a hint of weariness in his tone. "To be honest, I'm truly exhausted. It's been a while since I've had a proper rest."

"Go, rest" Ravenclaw said.

Behind him, Luke felt the door open, signaling his departure.

Letting out a long sigh of relief, he finally felt the tension begin to ease. This long, eventful night could finally end with the promise of a good sleep.

Without hesitation, he gathered his belongings, pushed open the door, and stepped through.

"Farewell, Ma'am"

Luke said politely, bowing slightly as he left.

He left with a spring in his step, his demeanor noticeably lighter.

"Hmm…"

Ravenclaw's response was quiet and half-hearted. She seemed lost in her own sorrow.

Once Luke had gone, her voice echoed softly within the Room of Requirement, as if speaking to herself.

"Tired? It feels more like he's drained his mental strength… Maybe it's just my imagination…"

And with that, the Room of Requirement returned to its usual, peculiar yet tranquil state.

Meanwhile, Luke was busy dealing with a disgruntled Doris. The small creature, clearly displeased, had been smacking his face with her tail in protest. Ignoring her resistance and frustration, he promptly stuffed her back into his pocket and carried on, unbothered.

Just as Luke stepped out of the Room of Requirement and was about to cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, he caught sight of a soft, gentle glow of white.

Beside that glowing figure stood another—tall, aged, kind, and yet mysterious figure.

Running into a ghost in the corridors of Hogwarts wasn't unusual. Running into the headmaster, however, was a different matter. For some, it was a cue to reflect on whether they had done anything questionable.

Unfortunately, Luke happened to fall into that category of some.

Dumbledore looked at Luke kindly, his piercing gaze noticing the flash of surprise on the boy's face before it quickly returned to calm neutrality.

While Luke wasn't yet at the level of remaining unshaken by a mountain collapsing before him or unmoved by a deer appearing by his side, his composure was already superior to that of many adults.

More importantly, he was improving rapidly.

"Good evening, Professor. I had a feeling I wouldn't be able to keep this from you"

Luke said awkwardly.

"Luke, would you mind telling me what happened inside?" Dumbledore asked gently, his tone almost soothing.

"I was inside hatching my companion," Luke began, "and somehow triggered Lady Ravenclaw's will. Perhaps it's because I'm a descendant of Slytherin. We exchanged a few words."

"Did you discuss anything about her legacy?"

Dumbledore asked frankly.

Luke blinked, momentarily startled by the headmaster's directness. But as he looked at the kind old man illuminated by candlelight, he nodded.

"We did. I asked her about the legacy."

Dumbledore noted that Lady Grey, standing silently beside him, was visibly trembling. Her ethereal glow flickered as though her emotions were causing her form to destabilize.

"But I'm not suited to Lady Ravenclaw's legacy, she turned me down."

Luke continued with a tinge of helplessness in his voice.

Lady Grey seemed to relax slightly, though a hint of disappointment remained in her posture.

"Was there anything else?"

"I agreed to two tasks for Lady Ravenclaw. The first is to recover her diadem, which has been corrupted."

"The second is to help her daughter resolve her inner turmoil."

"But Lady Ravenclaw seemed very weak. She only managed to tell me these things before falling silent. She didn't even tell me where the diadem is or who her daughter is."

At this point, Luke sighed heavily, his expression pensive. "She must only be a spiritual remnant by now. After over a thousand years, she's likely nearing the point of complete dissipation."

Looking up, he deliberately ignored the flickering, almost short-circuiting appearance of Lady Grey.

"Professor, do you have any clues you can share with me?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, glancing at Lady Grey before shifting his gaze to Luke, who subtly signaled him with a wink. Shaking his head with apparent regret, Dumbledore said, "I believe Lady Ravenclaw would prefer for you to complete this task on your own."

"As your professor, Luke, I'm responsible for your growth. I can't assist you."

Luke sighed and shrugged. "Fair enough. I'll just have to think it over more carefully"

"Well then, it's late. You should get some rest. You look exhausted," Dumbledore said, pulling a small vial from his pocket and pressing it into Luke's hand.

"Drink this before bed. It'll calm your mind."

He winked at Luke with a smile and added, "I use this potion myself sometimes when I'm particularly weary."

*****

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