76-80

*Chapter 76: Arrogant First, Polite Later; Thinking About It Makes Me Laugh*

Mr. Desley’s mind was completely occupied with the image of Old Luke driving a battleship, firing cannons at his mother.

“Sorry, Your Highness, I... uh...” Mr. Desley fumbled nervously, not knowing where to put his hands.

Even someone like Mr. Desley, a middle-class man, wasn’t much better than the mule-and-horse kneeling class when facing a real Roman noble.

If you don’t like it, write an essay called “My Marshal Grandpa.”

Looking at Mr. Desley nervously standing in the doorway, Luke couldn’t help but laugh.

Arrogant first, polite later—thinking about it makes me laugh.

He didn’t want to make things difficult for Mr. Desley. Instead, he said kindly, “Now, Mr. Desley, may I visit Harry?”

“Of course, of course!” Mr. Desley quickly replied, his round head nodding rapidly, the flesh on his chin wobbling back and forth.

He had long forgotten the vow he just made.

Mr. Desley didn’t care about Dumbledore because he knew Dumbledore wouldn’t do anything to him. On the other hand, he had no concept of Dumbledore’s status.

But Luke was different. If Luke lost face today, tomorrow Luke could make him lose face.

The physical kind.

Mr. Desley gave Aunt Petunia a knowing look, and Aunt Petunia quickly ran upstairs.

In no time, she returned with Harry in tow.

“Luke! Luke! Oh, my good friend!” Harry exclaimed, tears welling up in his eyes as soon as he saw Luke.

He rushed over and hugged Luke tightly, like a fledgling flying into the forest.

Luke awkwardly patted his shoulder. “Alright, alright, I’m here, aren’t I? If you keep this up, Draco might misunderstand…”

“Puh!” Harry quickly let go of Luke, knowing Luke wouldn’t say anything nice.

This little joke made Harry feel less sad than before.

“I…”

Harry tried to speak but was interrupted by Luke.

“I know, you don’t have to rush,” Luke reassured him, patting his shoulder. He then turned to Mr. Desley and said, “I’m very sorry for what happened with Harry, Mr. Desley.”

Mr. Desley waved his hand, signaling that it was no big deal.

“I regret it, but I can assure you that it wasn’t Harry’s doing,” Luke said, gently patting Harry’s head. “However, Harry is responsible for part of it. Don’t worry about the order from Mr. Mason. I will have someone contact him to try to meet your needs. Is that alright with you?”

There had been a lot of debates in the past life about the way the Dursleys treated Harry, but Luke didn’t care about that. What others thought and felt was their own business. The world didn’t have that much empathy, and Luke didn’t want to comment on it.

But Harry was indeed partially responsible for this situation, and Luke wanted to help clean up the mess.

After all, before Sirius came out, Harry would still need to live here.

The best approach was to use both kindness and firmness, especially with the Dursleys... Actually, the most important thing was that Luke had gotten used to using such methods. Solely relying on pressure was something only dark wizards like Voldemort would do. Others might obey under pressure, but that kind of passive compliance was much less effective than taking the initiative.

It was like forcing people to work 996 hours. Under high pressure, employees would find ways to slack off and waste time. In reality, efficiency wasn’t much better.

But most capitalists were more concerned with buying cars than recognizing that employees are people, not animals.

What was that saying again? “When I earn 28,000 a month, the company is my family. When I earn 1,800 a month, the boss can go to hell.”

“That’s... that’s really too much to thank you for! My Lord!” Mr. Desley’s red face turned purple again, but this time it was from excitement and joy.

This was a huge help to him.

In fact, now Harry, whom he had always disliked, seemed so adorable.

People were just this realistic.

Luke wasn’t interested in enjoying this little performance of Mr. Desley’s. He didn’t want to comment on the way the Dursleys had treated Harry before, but he certainly didn’t have any good feelings toward the Dursleys.

Helping him fulfill the order with Mr. Mason was a way to repay Harry for the years he had taken care of him.

Next, Luke would have to deal with the child abuse issue—how to handle the Dursleys would depend on Harry’s feelings. This was out of respect for his friend.

He smiled softly at Mr. Desley and said, “Well then... I hope Harry’s life from now on will be very happy.”

“No problem!” Mr. Desley grinned so wide that his eyes disappeared. He pulled Harry into a hug. “From now on, Harry is like our own son!”

“Well, that puts my mind at ease.” Luke smiled noncommittally, then pulled the reluctant Harry out from under his arm. “I’d like to invite Harry to stay at my house for a while. You wouldn’t mind, would you, Mr. Desley?”

“No problem! No problem!” Both Mr. and Mrs. Desley replied in unison.

...

After all, the Dursleys were still Harry’s guardians, so Luke had to get their consent to take Harry with him.

Harry had a lot of luggage, and Luke helped carry Hedwig. The driver took Harry’s bags upstairs, and with the envious gazes of the Dursleys, they left.

To avoid being too extravagant, Tom and Jerry stayed in the car, waiting for them to return. Ever since they started following Luke, life had become a lot simpler—mainly because Luke had gotten used to being served, and once at school, it was strange for him to do things himself.

After all, Bill and the others wouldn’t be following him to Hogwarts.

The two men were dressed in sharp tailcoats, and they did give off a certain vibe.

After greeting them, Harry looked inside the car as if discovering a new world. He had never ridden in such a luxurious car before.

Luke sat across from Harry, and Diana sat beside him. At first, Harry felt a bit nervous, but Diana’s gentle words soon made him forget his worries.

“Orange juice, is that okay?” Luke asked.

“Sure.” Harry didn’t know what to drink, so he simply agreed.

Tom elegantly dusted off his sleeves and took out a can of freshly squeezed orange juice, pouring a glass for each of them.

Since Luke was still underage, drinking alcohol wasn’t ideal for his health, so the wine cabinet was actually filled with freshly squeezed fruit juices that the servants prepared for him before every trip.

Harry took his juice and began recounting his experiences.

“I thought you guys hadn’t written to me, Luke,” Harry said, now much more cheerful after learning the truth. He had regained his carefree, silly smile, handing his empty cup to Tom for a refill. “I was about to lose my mind... you know, I even thought you all were mad at me... Luckily, Dobby said he intercepted all the letters sent to me…”

“You wrote to me too, right?” Harry asked, looking at Luke.

Luke chuckled and, taking the juice Tom handed him, replied with a smile, “Silly kid... why would I write you that?”

“Not even Miss Worrell?” Harry asked, looking confused.

When Diana heard “Miss Worrell,” her eyes turned playful.

The cup of juice Luke was holding dropped onto the carpet with a soft thud.

*(End of Chapter)*

*Chapter 77: How to Counter the Fiendfyre Curse*

Since the holiday began, Luke had felt like he’d forgotten something important—but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t recall what it was.

Until now.

He finally remembered! He’d promised to write to Catherine—and had completely forgotten.

It had been nearly a month…

It was over. Total disaster. This wasn’t something that could be fixed with a simple apology or a charm.

Luke desperately wished for a Quora-like platform where he could ask, What do I do? How do I effectively counter the Fiendfyre Curse? Help needed, urgently.  

He could already imagine Catherine’s fiery wrath. This might not even be a situation a single Fiendfyre Curse could resolve.

“Scourgify!”

Luke pulled out his wand and cleaned the carpet—thank goodness for magic. Without it, this mess would have been impossible to deal with. He glanced over at Hedwig and said to Harry, “By the way, if Ron notices you haven’t written back in a while, he’ll probably head straight to the Dursleys to find you. You should write your letter on the train and let Hedwig deliver it.”

“Oh!” Harry suddenly realized the problem.

What they didn’t know was that the Weasley twins had already set out...

“So, why haven’t you mentioned Miss Worre before?” Diana asked, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

“Uh…” Luke hesitated awkwardly. “I, uh… forgot?”

Truth be told, he’d spent most of his holiday lazing around at home, not even practicing spells.

But forgetting Catherine? That was a bit over the line, even for him.

“My advice,” Diana said with a knowing smile, “is that you apologize as soon as possible. Preferably in person. Perhaps invite her over for a visit. What do you think?”

“That’s… not a bad idea,” Luke replied reluctantly. “It’s just that… uh… I’m afraid she might get so angry she’ll burn me to ashes with a spell.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Diana said soothingly, her voice soft. “Look on the bright side—maybe she’ll just finish you off quickly and let you join that French king you were named after two hundred years ago.”

At that moment, Diana spotted a flock of owls flying toward the estate through the window.

“Well, it looks like you won’t even need a coffin,” she added with a smirk.

Case closed. Luke realized Diana had a darkly playful streak after all.

“I think Miss Worre is absolutely capable of that,” Harry chimed in. “Or maybe… when you get home, she’ll already be waiting for you at the door?”

Luke suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.

“What’s wrong?” Diana asked as she watched him suddenly stand.

“I, uh… stomachache,” Luke mumbled, glancing nervously around for any sign of Catherine. Not seeing her, he heaved a sigh of relief and sat back down. “Never mind—it’s gone now.”

Diana chuckled softly. The last time she’d seen Luke this nervous, he’d been seven years old and in trouble with their grandfather.

That day, their eighty-seven-year-old grandfather had chased Luke around the estate with a golf club for over ten minutes, demonstrating remarkable vitality.

In the end, the elder Luke caught his fleet-footed grandson and delivered a memorable punishment.

As soon as they stepped out of the car, a majestic flock of owls soared away from the estate, resembling a squadron of planes during a large-scale air raid.

“Looks like your little girlfriend is truly furious,” Diana teased, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked skyward.

Luke felt tears welling up.

He asked the butler, Mr. Askin, to arrange a room for Harry on the second floor, then headed to his study with Tom and Jerry to assess just how many letters Catherine had sent him.

Judging by the size of the owl swarm, he wouldn’t be surprised if they’d emptied out the entire British wizarding postal service.

Opening the letter on top of the pile, Luke found just one word written inside:

“Luke.”

The second letter also contained a single word, this time with an exclamation mark:

“Runt!”

Luke slapped his forehead. His worst fear had come true…

Hundreds of letters, each containing just one word. He’d have to figure out the sequence and piece them together himself.

Even from this distance, Luke could feel Catherine’s anger—no, her Fiendfyre-level rage.

Still, he had no choice but to accept his fate. Forgetting to write to Catherine for so long? That was on him.

“Big sis…” He turned to Diana with puppy-dog eyes.

Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, Diana gave him a look of pure amusement. She didn’t say a word.

She knew her brother well enough to realize he wouldn’t learn his lesson without a proper punishment.

“Tom! Jerry!” Diana called after a while. “Don’t help this little scoundrel, understand? Come have a feast with me instead.”

Jerry’s eyes lit up at the word “feast,” and he darted away faster than a speeding broomstick.

Tom glanced between Luke and Diana, pointing first to the letters and then to Luke, before vigorously shaking his head.

Diana only needed four words to win Tom over.

“There’s chicken legs.”

…

From noon until well past seven in the evening, Luke painstakingly pieced together Catherine’s messages.

Harry had tried to help but was stopped by Diana, who insisted Luke needed to be taught a lesson for neglecting Catherine’s feelings.

By the end, Luke had pieced together Catherine’s sentiments:

“Luke Mountbatten, you little scoundrel! It’s been nearly a month, and you haven’t written to me. Worse, you thought of Harry Potter before remembering me? I can’t believe I ever trusted you. I’m beginning to question your preferences!”

Her letters were filled with scathing remarks and slang so obscure that Luke had to consult a dictionary multiple times.

Sighing deeply, Luke composed a heartfelt apology, pledging to visit Catherine’s home the very next day.

No sooner had his owl, Amory, flown off with the letter than there was a knock at the door.

It was Bill, informing him that the birthday banquet was ready.

Oh, that’s right—today was Harry’s birthday! Thankfully, he’d told Diana about it earlier; otherwise, Harry’s special day might have slipped his mind, too.

As Luke stepped out of the elevator and approached the dining room, he was greeted by the sound of laughter.

To his surprise, Ron and the twins were already there.

The three Weasley brothers, notorious for their social charm, had quickly warmed up to Diana. Despite initial shyness, they were now laughing and chatting away like old friends.

Luke couldn’t fathom how Diana managed to bond so effortlessly with a group of teenagers.

(Chapter ends)  

Chapter 78: Even the Japanese

"Yo, isn’t this our dear Luke?" George was the first to spot Luke.

"We’ve all heard about your illustrious exploits, don’t worry," Fred quickly chimed in, picking up where George left off.

"The Queen of Slytherin shouldn’t be too hard on you, considering you’re her beloved little deer," George added, and the two exchanged glances before saying in unison, "She’ll only beat you half to death."

"Enough already..." Luke scowled as he walked over to sit beside Harry.

"Today’s Harry’s birthday, so let’s avoid talking about such gruesome topics," Ron teased, adding salt to the wound. "Let’s just let Luke fool himself for one last night."

Luke: "..."

Before he could think of a response, the dining room doors were pushed open again. Luke glanced up to see his grandfather stride in confidently.

The red-haired brothers and Harry immediately tensed up. Though they didn’t fully grasp the elder Luke’s identity, the commanding aura he exuded, born from years of wielding power and leading troops, was unmistakable.

In an instant, however, the imposing figure transformed into a kind and amiable old man, much like a neighborly grandfather.

"No need to be so nervous. You must be the Weasley brothers," the old man greeted them warmly. "I was friends with your grandfather. When I last saw your father, he wasn’t even as tall as this little freckled one here."

The "little freckled one" referred to Ron.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, the old man took the main seat and glanced at Luke, then at Diana.

"I heard from Mr. Bill that tonight is a birthday banquet. Surely we won’t just be eating these two dishes?" As he spoke, the elder Luke picked up a plate and knife. "That wouldn’t befit the hospitality of the Mountbatten family."

Fred couldn’t hold back a snicker, but George discreetly stomped on his foot under the table.

"You’ll flatten his shoe at this rate," the old man remarked, having noticed George’s little move. "What’s with young people these days? Back in my day, when I was your age, I could flirt with noblewomen in front of the king..."

Of course, his words carried the weight of his unique status—being distantly related to nearly every royal family in Europe meant there was little to fear.

That didn’t stop him from enjoying the playful banter, though.

"And did she agree to your advances?" Harry asked, far less reserved than the others.

The old man burst into hearty laughter. "She didn’t get the chance to respond—her escort kicked me under the table."

"Still, it wasn’t a total loss. In a private room on the second floor..."

Diana coughed sharply, cutting him off.

Realizing Harry and Ron were still too young for such stories, the old man quickly changed the subject.

"What happened next? Tell us!" Ron asked naively.

"You’re too young, Ronald," George and Fred said in unison. They had already pieced together the implications, their sharp minds catching on to the hidden details.

Their admiration for the old man grew.

Previously, their respect stemmed from his authoritative presence. Now, it was genuine reverence for a seasoned master of romance.

The old man seemed to enjoy their admiration, lavishing praise on the twins and even promising to teach them some of his "techniques" for charming women.

"Aren’t you going to teach Luke?" Ron asked, clueless as ever.

The old man cast a disdainful glance at his grandson, his tone dripping with contempt. "I wouldn’t waste my skills on a grandson who gets played by women."

The implication was clear: You’re too weak—you don’t deserve to be my grandson.  

Luke’s heart sank.

It made sense, though. For someone like his grandfather, who had dominated the social scene for years, it must have been deeply disappointing to discover his grandson was being strung along by a woman.

It was like Emperor Yongle lamenting over an unworthy successor—a sense of a tiger giving birth to a dog.

Disgraceful!

Luke knocked on his glass, signaling the servants to bring in the dishes.

Aware that Ron, Harry, and the others were unfamiliar with formal dining etiquette, Diana had instructed Mr. Askin in advance to keep things simple for tonight’s casual family dinner. Just a modest spread of several dozen dishes—nothing too extravagant.

There were no servants left in the dining room to attend to them during the meal, as it would only make the less experienced guests feel more awkward.

This suited the Weasley family and Harry perfectly. Even the old man didn’t mind, having grown accustomed to fending for himself.

After all, he was once a man who had seen crocodiles baring their teeth in the jungles of Southeast Asia—not a pampered aristocrat like Cousin Charles, who was used to living in luxury.

The old man ate a few bites, then set down his utensils and suggested, "Let’s sing a birthday song for Harry, the bespectacled birthday boy. It’s too quiet in here."

Everyone agreed, especially the jokesters Tom and Jerry.

The pair scurried over to the piano, with Jerry even pulling out a tiny violin from who-knows-where.

Mr. Bill and the servants brought out a custom-made birthday cake adorned with twelve candles to mark Harry’s twelfth birthday.

As the melody began to play, everyone clapped along, singing the birthday song in unison.

"Thank you, thank you," Harry said, tears streaming down his face. This was the first time anyone had celebrated his birthday since he was born.

"Make a wish," the old man said, patting him on the shoulder.

Harry nodded earnestly, took a deep breath, and blew out all the candles.

The old man picked up a knife, sliced a large piece, and handed it to Harry. He then cut another piece, glanced at Luke, and extended it toward him.

Thinking it was for him, Luke eagerly reached out, only for the old man to pull it back and call out, "Tom, Jerry, my dear little treasures... come have some cake."

Luke: So love really does fade away, doesn’t it?  

The old man clearly held a grudge against him, giving him the last piece only after everyone else had theirs.

"Grandpa, so love really does fade away, huh?" Luke asked with a bitter smile.

The old man smirked, scooping a bit of cream into his mouth. "I just can’t find a reason to like you right now."

"..."

Luke retorted, "This is a time for healing, not division. We should seek common ground instead of nitpicking. We ought to appreciate the strengths in others rather than dwelling on their flaws. Everyone has their merits, Grandpa, if only you’re willing to look for them."

The Weasley brothers and Harry were awestruck. No wonder Luke could win over the Queen of Slytherin while they remained single.

That silver tongue could probably bring the dead back to life...

The old man burst into laughter, pointing at Luke. "Alright, alright... except for the Japanese."

Classic. Even now, he couldn’t help throwing in a jab.

"Even the Japanese," Diana added dryly, unaware that her choice of words was even more cutting than "except."

---

(Chapter End)  

Chapter 79: Open the Door, Sing the Opposite Tune

The next day, the three red-haired brothers left the manor with Harry in tow.

Initially, they had planned to stay a few more days, but George and Fred, considering Luke’s pressing situation, decided it was better to leave early for his well-being. They figured they could return to visit later.

After much deliberation, Luke decided to tag along with the trio.

Now, standing at Catherine's door, his mind was filled with the twins’ earlier words of warning.

"If Catherine strings you up—really high up—just remember not to cradle your head when she lets you down," George advised.

Fred chimed in, "Yeah, that way, you'll suffer a little less."

Indeed, dying outright would certainly save him from more suffering.

Taking a deep breath, Luke also recalled some advice his grandfather had shared with Ron.

"To be honest, sometimes I just can’t deal with Hermione," Ron grumbled as he gnawed on a drumstick. "Grandpa, since you’re so good at handling women, can you give me some advice? Oh, man, Hermione gets mad at me for no reason at all."

"I can already tell you’re not great at pleasing women, kid," his grandfather said bluntly. Then he added, "No reason at all, you say?"

"Yeah, she gets mad for no reason—"

Before Ron could explain further, his grandfather interrupted him.

"I know exactly what that means, you little idiot. No woman gets mad for no reason, understand?" He raised a finger, his face serious. "But that’s beside the point. What you need to do is apologize."

"But I don’t even know what I did wrong! And I don’t think I should apologize—it’s clearly her fault for picking on me," Ron retorted, frowning as he took another huge bite of chicken.

"Oh, kid… You don’t need to know what you did wrong, and you don’t need to feel like you should apologize. Just say the words," his grandfather instructed. "Look into her eyes—those big, watery eyes of yours—and put on your most sincere face when you look at her. That’ll do the trick with… uh, Hermione."

Grandpa didn’t feel the least bit guilty for giving questionable advice to a child; on the contrary, he seemed proud to be passing down his wisdom.

"But that’s lying," Ron protested, confused.

"That’s the best time to lie, you silly donkey! After all, you’re the one who upset her," Grandpa scolded him with feigned exasperation.

Ron still didn’t quite get it and muttered under his breath, "I was just telling the truth, though."

"You clearly don’t understand your situation… Think about it. Do you want Hermione nagging you all afternoon?" Grandpa shot back, not even looking up.

"Oh… Ohhh!" Ron suddenly saw the light.

Recalling his grandfather’s earnest teachings, Luke felt his eyes moisten.

If only I could be as heartless as a true scoundrel…

With that thought, he knocked on Catherine’s door.

"Coming… Who is it?" Catherine called from behind the door.

"Opposition Weekly, delivering magazines," Luke replied, lowering his voice.

He had no idea if the Wray family subscribed to Opposition Weekly, but it was definitely safer than claiming to be from the Daily Prophet—that would likely earn him a few curses right away.

The door opened to reveal Catherine's face, initially expressionless but quickly contorted with rage upon seeing him.

She slammed the door shut, but Luke, quick and slippery, slid past her before she could stop him.

Catherine’s eyes burned with anger, her gaze like fire searing Luke's slightly guilty conscience. Her chest heaved with fury, a clear sign she was on the verge of exploding.

Noticing her hand reaching for her wand, Luke rushed to hug her, staring at her with big, pitiful eyes and offering a heartfelt apology: "I’m sorry, Cathy. I’m so sorry."

Catherine froze momentarily. That pitiful gaze softened her resolve to hex him, and she reluctantly withdrew her hand from her wand and shoved him away.

Sensing a glimmer of hope, Luke knew this wasn’t the time to back down. He lunged forward to hug her again, only to be pushed away once more.

This dance repeated several times until Catherine finally stopped pushing him, instead turning her body away in frustration.

No matter what, I won’t forgive this little scoundrel! she thought fiercely.

It was summer, and the heat meant Catherine wore only a thin white shirt. Luke’s warm breath seeped through the fabric and onto her skin, leaving her feeling both flustered and annoyed.

Several times, her hand reached for her wand, but her heart couldn’t bear to use it—not even on this infuriating deer who hadn’t written her in nearly a month.

Before seeing Luke again, Catherine had vowed to make him pay. Even if she didn’t use Fiendfyre, she’d at least hang him upside down for a whole day. But now, she found herself unable to punish him as he clung to her, apologizing in that soft, remorseful voice, even if she knew his words weren’t entirely sincere.

"I’m sorry, Cathy. I really am," Luke murmured earnestly, trying his best to sound genuine.

"You think I’d believe you? If there was even a shred of truth in your words, you wouldn’t have waited until a flock of owls arrived to come see me…"

"I’ll do anything if you’ll forgive me," Luke said sincerely.

He truly regretted it now. How could he have forgotten to write to Catherine during the break?

The magical world really needs something like phones, he thought bitterly. Harry could chat on the phone all day in the Muggle world, but for someone like Catherine, who came from a purely magical family, the only option was owls.

"Hmph," Catherine huffed, still unmoved.

"Honestly, I don’t even know how to face you right now. Every time I think of you, my mind is a mess," Luke said, speaking as if to himself. "The truth is, I’ve been avoiding it—avoiding my true feelings."

At this, Luke felt deeply moved by his own words.

After all, how could he expect to move others if he couldn’t even move himself first?

He sensed Catherine’s body tremble slightly in his arms.

"But on the way here, I decided—I can’t keep being a coward. I have to face my feelings like a man."

At this moment, Luke ignored the system’s frantic warnings in his head. He didn’t care about lightning skills or sharp instincts anymore. All he wanted was for Catherine not to drift away from him—to not become a stranger in his world.

Consider it penance, he thought, steeling himself to say the words.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 80: Turning the Tables

"I..." Luke began to speak but was abruptly shoved aside by Catherine.

"Stop entertaining such idiotic thoughts. Saying those words in this situation—are you trying to insult me or humiliate yourself?" Catherine’s voice was icy, her gaze indifferent as it pierced through Luke.

"Draw your wand," she commanded coldly.

"Cathy, I..." Luke tried to make one last plea.

"I said, draw your wand!" she growled, her tone low but fierce, like a wounded lioness.

With a sigh, Luke reluctantly drew his wand.

He knew that no matter what he said, it wouldn’t extinguish Catherine’s fury.

"Let’s end this," a thought flitted through his mind, but it quickly struck him as strange.

Why would I think that? He was so stunned by his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice Catherine’s sudden attack.

In their usual duels, Catherine’s opening spell was always the Stunning Spell.

A blazing red light streaked through the air, striking Luke and sending him hurtling backward. He smashed into the corner of a table, breaking it into pieces, and his momentum carried him into the wall.

A searing pain shot through his ribs, and when he moved even slightly, the agony intensified.

His ribs were broken.

That was his only thought.

Compared to that, the long gash on his arm seemed trivial.

More importantly, a subconscious inner monologue began surfacing in his mind.

Catherine stormed forward, her fists clenched. Concern flickered in her eyes, and just as she was about to say something caring, she forced herself into a frosty demeanor. "Do you think this will earn my forgiveness? Are you trying to gain my sympathy this way?"

The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She hadn’t meant to say that. Something felt off between them, but she couldn’t pinpoint what.

Luke suppressed the pain, squinting slightly as he spoke with a faint smile, "If you know me so well, then you should understand—someone like me only seeks to stay true to myself."

Yes... that’s right...

The inner voice kept whispering, and inexplicably, a strange sense of satisfaction welled up within him.

He wobbled to his feet, avoiding Catherine’s gaze as he said softly, "At least for now, I feel I’ve atoned for my sins. We owe each other nothing now. So... can I leave?"

As he spoke, he felt a metallic taste in his throat. He tried to suppress it, but it was futile.

He coughed up a mouthful of blood, staining the floor beneath him.

Catherine, seeing his disheveled state, wanted to soften her tone. But her pride wouldn’t let her. Though her initial anger had long since faded, she stubbornly held her ground, refusing to lose face.

As Luke staggered forward, she caught up to him and grabbed his arm. Her concern came out awkwardly, "In this state, where do you think you’re going? Stay and have some Skele-Gro."

"I don’t enjoy putting myself out there only to be rejected." He shook her hand off without looking back, his tone cold.

Luke wasn’t lying—he had his pride. If someone had already said as much, what point was there in humiliating himself further?

Catherine didn’t respond. Instead, she cast a Full Body-Bind Curse on him, intending to use a Levitation Charm to place him on the bed. But after some thought, she decided against it.

Straining slightly, she carried Luke in her arms and placed him on her bed.

Fetching a bottle of Skele-Gro from the cabinet, Catherine poured it into Luke’s mouth in one go.

"Finite!" (The Full Body-Bind Curse ended.)

The moment the curse was lifted, Luke, choking on the potion, couldn’t suppress a fit of violent coughing. This only worsened the pain in his ribs, and for a fleeting moment, he genuinely considered casting the Killing Curse on himself to end the agony.

Grinding his teeth, Luke endured the pain that shot through his injured ribs. He cast a cold glance at Catherine.

"You might as well try a Fiendfyre Curse. At least that way, I’d be spared some suffering. Or is humiliating me your idea of fun?"

His tone was entirely different now—indifferent, even bitter. Guided by that insidious inner voice, a growing resentment took root within him.

If we owe each other nothing, why not be strangers?

Catherine’s heart felt as though it were being crushed. Luke’s cold gaze sent a chill through her.

She realized that if she kept clinging to her pride, she would lose her dear Luke forever.

She wanted to say something, to do something, but she didn’t know what.

No, it wasn’t that she didn’t know—it was that...

In her heart, a soft, murmuring voice was holding her back, preventing her from getting closer to Luke.

"I have three suggestions for you," Luke said in an eerily calm tone, as if he were speaking about someone else’s life. "The first is the Fiendfyre Curse."

"The second is Obliviate. With a simple wave of your wand, all the unpleasantness between us could just... vanish." He snapped his fingers lightly. "Gone."

"But personally," Luke continued, "I recommend the third option: the Soul-Splitting Curse. What do you think? Cast it, and from then on, you can vent your anger however you like."

"Oh, by the way, if you’re unfamiliar, the incantation is Imperio."

"Enough, Luke!" Catherine’s voice cracked, her eyes welling up with tears. "Do you really want to ruin our relationship?"

Luke chuckled at her words, then asked, "Is it really me who’s doing this?"

Catherine froze.

"All along, we’ve only been friends," Luke said. Just as the Skele-Gro’s effects began working, he endured the prickling, aching, and swelling sensations in his body and continued calmly, "In my mother’s homeland, there’s a saying: 'The friendship of gentlemen is as light as water, while the friendship of petty men is as sweet as honey.' That’s my philosophy."

"Even when I agreed to meet Harry, it was only because Professor Dumbledore asked me to. Frankly, I’d rather be sunbathing at the manor than traveling dusty roads to solve problems that aren’t mine."

Catherine suddenly interjected, "But you promised to write to me—that’s something you failed to keep."

"Why would I write to you before Dumbledore’s request to handle Harry’s situation?" Luke countered. "The holiday still has thirty days left. Can you prove that I wouldn’t write to you within that time?"

"When I saw your owl, my first thought was to come see you in person. Doesn’t that show how much I value you? And yet, I still don’t understand what I did to make you treat me this way. You don’t even call me Luke anymore."

Catherine opened her mouth to speak but was silenced when Luke pressed a finger to her lips.

"One more thing," he said. "There’s another saying: 'If the mountain won’t come to you, you must go to the mountain.' Over these days, I haven’t written to you—but have you thought about writing to me?"

"If you didn’t even consider that, what right do you have to criticize me?"

Luke felt like he was standing on moral high ground as he gazed at Catherine. He continued, "I believe I’ve fulfilled my duty as a friend and as a gentleman."

"I’ve never treated anyone else this way. I was willing to lower myself to beg for forgiveness from my best friend. But now it seems..."

"Perhaps my best friend never thought of me as hers."

---

(End of Chapter)