HP: Pure-Blood Glory

Luke ultimately decided not to use the Disillusionment Charm to conceal himself and instead strode boldly back to the common room.

This was because Dumbledore had assured him that no one would be patrolling tonight.

Ever since the heart-to-heart conversation they had shared in front of the Mirror of Erised, Dumbledore had shown him noticeably more leniency.

And it wasn't just superficial; it was genuine. After all, while Dumbledore could mask his expressions, he couldn't hide the emotional "dust" surrounding him, not from Luke.

Although Luke wasn't yet capable of manipulating Dumbledore's emotions, he could read them clearly.

Standing outside the Room of Requirement earlier, Luke had keenly sensed Dumbledore's genuine concern.

Though he couldn't fathom the full extent of Dumbledore's thoughts, one thing was clear: as long as Luke didn't overstep certain boundaries, their relationship could hardly be described as adversarial.

This realization allowed Luke to breathe a little easier. The last thing he wanted during this period of quiet development was to come into conflict with the most powerful wizard in the magical world.

Once he returned to his dormitory, Luke shook his head vigorously.

Fatigue and drowsiness were almost overwhelming him.

It was absurd, really.

Yawning while shedding his clothes, Luke genuinely doubted he would be able to get out of bed the next morning.

Unfortunately, he had class first thing in the morning.

After a quick wash, Luke changed into his pajamas and resisted the temptation to flop onto the bed like a sack of potatoes. Instead, he forced himself to sit properly and follow his bedtime routine.

He reached for the potion bottle he had set down earlier on his bedside table.

Curiosity piqued, he uncorked the vial.

A refreshing and subtle fragrance wafted out, filling the room. It wasn't overpowering in the slightest but instead gently cleared his mind.

Luke couldn't help but think that even if this weren't a potion, it would make for an incredible perfume.

Still, Dumbledore's words echoed in his mind. This was a potion the headmaster himself used to help him sleep.

Given how much Dumbledore had on his plate, it was unlikely that any ordinary potion would suffice to grant him a restful night.

With that in mind, Luke tipped the potion—a vibrant blue reminiscent of a clear sky after rain—down in one gulp.

He let out an involuntary "Tsk."

Good things were good for a reason, and this potion tasted exceptional. Far better than something like butterbeer, he thought, almost wishing it were a regular drink.

But the moment the potion reached his stomach, the effects kicked in. Luke's previously exhausted mind felt instantly lighter, as if all his fatigue had been wiped away.

Just as he began to revel in this newfound clarity, however, a wave of drowsiness surged over him, claiming every shred of his consciousness.

Instinctively, he felt a twinge of alarm.

'Not good... I didn't leave a note for Malfoy to wake me...'

But his thought was left unfinished.

Luke was already fast asleep, his expression peaceful, even tinged with a hint of relief and contentment.

Nearby, Doris—the small, golden-eyed serpent—kept vigil at Luke's pillow, watching his reactions closely.

Seeing how quickly Luke fell asleep, her tiny mind was filled with big questions.

'Was he poisoned?'

She wondered, puzzled. Her golden slit-pupils glowed faintly for a moment as she observed him. Then, as if reassured, the light dimmed.

Luke was fine, just asleep.

And so, Doris decided, she too would sleep.

Thus, both the boy and the snake slipped into a deep sleep.

…

In a hazy, half-asleep state, Luke felt something pressing down on his face, making it difficult to breathe.

His eyelids squeezed tighter together, his entire face displaying an obvious reluctance to wake. Then, in an instant, his eyes snapped open, the sharp brilliance of his lake-green pupils cutting through the haze.

The first thing he saw was another pair of equally green eyes staring back at him.

Those eyes glimmered with rippling light, as if on the verge of tears.

Annoyed, Luke pushed a cat paw off his nose and sighed.

"So, you finally remembered to come home, huh?!"

His words carried a faint resentment. After all, this cat was his, yet it spent its days wandering about. Of the female students Luke knew, nearly all had encountered this shameless creature, who seemed to woo anyone with even a trace of beauty.

Just recently, senior student Gemma had asked him what Booker liked to eat—dried fish or something else—so she could prepare some for the next time he visited her.

For heaven's sake, Luke himself didn't even know what this rascal preferred to eat!

Since arriving at Hogwarts, the amount of time Booker had actually spent by Luke's side couldn't even total a full week.

Anyone who knew the situation might say this adorable black cat belonged to Luke. Anyone who didn't might mistake it for one of Hogwarts' strays.

But Booker had no interest in Luke's grievances about his long absences. Instead, he wore a sorrowful expression as he extended a paw, pointing toward the edge of Luke's pillow.

A pitiful "meow" followed, tinged with what could only be described as tears in its tone.

Luke had a pretty good guess at what this little guy was complaining about.

'I was gone for just a few—okay, ten—days, and you already replaced me with a new pet, meow!'

Luke paid him no mind, rolling his eyes. He scooped up the protesting furball despite its flailing paws and set him on the other side of the pillow. Stretching with a satisfying yawn, he got out of bed.

For the first time in days, he didn't feel that drained, sluggish sensation he had grown accustomed to. It was akin to the rare luxury of pulling an all-nighter, then crashing and sleeping until your body naturally woke.

Utterly refreshing.

Turning to glance at the window, he noticed rays of sunlight filtering through the depths of the Black Lake, casting faint streaks of light into the room. The dimness suggested it was only just morning.

He looked up at the serpent-shaped clock on the opposite wall and raised an eyebrow.

"Seriously? It's this early? I've only slept for six hours?"

Luke muttered to himself, surprised.

Waking after six hours wasn't unusual for him, but considering the state he'd been in last night, it was incredible. He vividly remembered how close he had been to collapsing in exhaustion, so much so that he barely managed to undress.

If he had fallen asleep fully clothed, Doris—who had still been in his pocket—might have been crushed or suffocated in her fragile state.

That would have been, as some might jokingly call it, one of the "second most blissful ways to die."

(T/N: No.1 is what? Between thighs?)

Yet here he was, feeling full of energy after just six hours of sleep. It was genuinely surprising.

Luke wasn't clueless—he knew the revitalizing effects were undoubtedly due to Dumbledore's potion.

After recalling the sensation after drinking the potion, Luke pieced together a thought: Dumbledore must have noticed the strain on his mental reserves. Not only that, but the Headmaster seemed familiar enough with such a condition—could it be that he occasionally found himself in this state as well?

Luke frowned briefly at the notion but quickly let it go.

'Not a bad thing anyway,' he reasoned.

Meanwhile, Booker continued his pitiful meowing, waking Doris from her slumber.

The little snake stretched herself awake, slithering up Luke's sleeve to coil lazily around his neck. With a wide yawn, she shifted her position and turned her golden eyes toward the black cat, who was baring its fangs at her.

The moment Booker locked eyes with Doris, an overwhelming sense of danger flooded his instincts.

Without hesitation, he leapt off the bed and onto the nearby bookshelf, arching his back and glaring at the small snake with utmost vigilance.

Then, as if realizing something critical, he meowed urgently at Luke.

'If you're being threatened, blink twice, meow!'

Luke couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity. Doris, on the other hand, flicked her tongue dismissively and shot Booker a disdainful look that was almost human-like. She nuzzled Luke's cheek affectionately, then curled back into place around his neck, closing her eyes to drift off once more.

Shrugging off the antics, Luke got out of bed, ready to tackle the day. While washing up, he glanced at the still-wary Booker perched on his desk and said with a smile, "Relax, that's Doris. She's part of the team."

Booker's stance eased slightly, but his expression shifted to one of bemused disbelief. The way he looked at Luke was uncannily similar to the way Fred and George Weasley might look at someone doing something particularly foolish.

'A creature that dangerous, and you keep it close? Call it a partner? You're braver than I thought, kid.'

Luke ignored the cat's incredulous stare, focusing instead on his morning routine. As he carefully got dressed, he casually asked, "So, what brings you back all of a sudden?"

Truthfully, Luke didn't hold Booker's wanderings against him. The cat had shown his loyalty in subtle ways. Ever since the incident where Luke sent him to find Peeves, it was clear the little feline had been doing his best to help.

For all his roaming, Booker likely overheard plenty of secrets around Hogwarts. Students spoke freely in front of a seemingly ordinary cat, and while professors were more cautious, even they rarely spared him a second glance.

Though Luke couldn't be sure what specific information Booker had gathered, the cat's consistent efforts were clear.

After Luke's question, Booker dropped his amused expression and adopted a more serious demeanor. Jumping down from the shelf, he padded over to Luke's feet.

By this time, Luke had gently uncoiled Doris from his neck, placing her into the inner pocket of his robes.

He trusted her to behave, especially after their brief connection had revealed her capacity for self-control.

Her ability to petrify was unlikely to cause any incidents unless Luke explicitly commanded it.

With Doris settled, Luke scooped up Booker and headed downstairs, the cat meowing softly as they descended. Bit by bit, Luke pieced together what Booker was trying to convey.

"Quirrell has been frequently entering and exiting the castle through the secret passage?"

Luke murmured, furrowing his brows.

He wasn't particularly surprised by the information. Judging by the timeline, Halloween wasn't far off. It seemed his involvement hadn't caused Quirrell—or rather, Voldemort—to change their plans. They were still intent on pulling off a grand spectacle on Halloween night.

The Forbidden Forest was still being patrolled by professors, and according to Professor McGonagall, the patrols were set to end after Halloween. Not exactly convenient timing for Quirrell.

Sneaking in and out of the Forbidden Forest was risky enough, and sourcing a sufficiently dangerous magical creature from outside the castle was no small feat either.

Both options presented significant challenges.

Yet Voldemort was unlikely to let such an opportunity pass him by. Exploiting the chaos of Halloween? It was a simple and effective strategy.

'Though honestly, the troll from the original story…' Luke mused, shaking his head. 'It's just hard to make sense of.'

Who knew if it would be a troll again this time—or perhaps something else entirely.

Still, it was best to stay prepared. There was no harm in being cautious. Besides…

Luke's eyes narrowed slightly. 'This might just be an opportunity for me as well.'

The thought sparked a flood of ideas in his mind, but he didn't rush to sort through them. Instead, he took a deep breath. There was still time—several days, in fact. Plus, with his existing plans for this period, he had enough leeway to make proper adjustments.

Before long, Luke arrived at the Great Hall. Despite the early hour, quite a few students were already seated and eating. The tables weren't yet laden with grand feasts, but as Luke sat down, a simple breakfast appeared in front of him with a soft pop.

The students awake at this hour were typically those who rose early to practice spellwork or review magical theory. While not all of them would go on to be renowned wizards, they were undoubtedly a diligent bunch.

Oh, and there were also the Quidditch hopefuls—those who got up early to practice. Whether or not their efforts paid off was another matter.

Luke couldn't quite understand the obsession with Quidditch. It reminded him of how some people in his past life were fanatically devoted to climbing leaderboard rankings.

In the end, it all boiled down to a desire for victory. No one wanted to be the loser.

Luke hummed a little tune to himself as he casually enjoyed his breakfast, setting down some dried fish for Booker as a small treat. And out of the corner of his eye, he noticed two familiar figures entering through the Great Hall doors.

The moment they saw him, they hurried over.

Luke blinked in mild surprise. 'These two, up this early?'

Harry and Ron skidded to a stop in front of him, panting as they sat down.

"Thank goodness, Luke! We didn't think you'd be up this early"

Harry said, still catching his breath.

"I slept well last night. But what's got you two so worked up?"

Luke asked curiously, noting their barely-contained excitement, as though they'd stumbled upon some earth-shattering secret.

A thought crossed his mind, and the piece of bread in his mouth momentarily caught in his throat.

'No way…' he thought. If he remembered correctly, the midnight duel had been avoided, and their nocturnal wanderings had been delayed by his interventions.

"We know why Dumbledore doesn't want anyone near that room on the third-floor corridor!"

Ron exclaimed, his face filled with triumph.

"And we also know who he's trying to keep out!"

Harry added, equally thrilled.

Seeing the excitement and pride on the faces of the two, Luke chewed his bread slowly and swallowed, glancing at Booker beside him.

The two of them exchanged a look—one man and one cat, both wearing identical expressions of mixed amusement and skepticism.

"Alright," Luke said finally, "Let's hear it."

*****

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