61-65

Chapter 61: Listening to Life Experiences

When Luke truly began to interact with Dumbledore, he held a dismissive attitude toward the conspiracy theories surrounding the old headmaster.

After all, most of the time, the headmaster just seemed like an amusing old man.

But now, that familiar sense of conspiracy was creeping back.

"Hehehe..." Dumbledore chuckled, stroking his beard with a smile. "Patrick comes from a Death Eater family. Tom’s involvement this time is akin to a tidal wave washing into Poseidon's temple."

Well, it seems like even family members don't recognize each other anymore.

Luke hadn’t expected Dumbledore to have such tricks up his sleeve.

"Today, I’m merely sharing some life lessons with you as an elder," Dumbledore said, attempting to calm the visibly agitated Luke. His words carried a deep significance.

"I am not Dumbledore. The person you see is not Dumbledore. The Dumbledore everyone else sees—that is Dumbledore."

Luke nodded half-understandingly.

"You seem quite interested in foresight, don’t you? Emma has a natural talent for divination. Perhaps your prophetic abilities were inherited from her. You might want to study divination systematically with Professor Trelawney. If you need, I can arrange it for you," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard. With a Christmas hat on, he’d look exactly like Santa Claus.

Luke thought about his pitiful divination talent score of one and concluded it probably wasn’t something he inherited from his mom.

"I like what a certain philosopher once said," Luke replied, trying to make up for his lack of interest. "The unpredictability of the future is what drives us forward."

In other words, I have no interest in mystical mumbo jumbo.

"Ah, very philosophical. Who said that? A philosopher from Emma's hometown?" Dumbledore asked with interest.

"Something like that," Luke replied with a chuckle. "His name is Richard."

Yes, Richard Shocking Liu, a naturally gifted soul singer.

What Dumbledore said next, however, made Luke feel a sharp pang in his chest.

"To be honest, I’m only telling you this to keep you busy. Otherwise, you might end up stabbing at my heart like your mother used to. At my age, taking heart medication all the time is quite the burden."

Dumbledore’s face took on a pained expression as he reminisced. Back in the day, when Luke’s mother was a student at Hogwarts, fanfiction about Gellert Grindelwald and Dumbledore was wildly popular and impossible to suppress.

She even sent a variety of fanart and stories to Grindelwald in Nurmengard.

Rumor had it that the prisoner rather enjoyed her creations and even sent numerous letters guiding her in magical studies.

How did Dumbledore know about this? Of course, he checked everything Grindelwald sent out. What if it contained dark magic?

But as it turned out, Grindelwald genuinely liked Emma, as evidenced by his meticulous guidance and casual letters.

She was truly the darling of the group.

Dumbledore quickly snapped back to the present, and his next comment made Snape, far away in his office grading papers, sneeze.

"Of course, Severus is still young. I think, for Emma’s sake, he won’t make things too difficult for you."

Luke left the headmaster’s office with a face full of question marks. So, you just wanted to avoid me poking at your sore spots?

So love really does fade, doesn’t it, Headmaster Dumbledore?

As for demons and whatnot, Luke could only sneer inwardly.

Perfect timing. Frostmourne hungers…  

Oops, wrong script.

Even if they didn’t come for him, Luke planned to settle scores with them himself.

First, though, he needed to check the library for information on this blue-eyed demon. He didn’t want to face an unknown enemy blindly.

Returning to his dormitory with a heavy heart, he found Katherine sitting on the bed reading a book.

"You look worried. Did Headmaster Dumbledore scold you?" Katherine asked with concern.

"Nothing much. Just warned me against dating early," Luke replied, feigning heartbreak.

And promptly received a kick from Katherine.

"Serves you right for talking nonsense, you cheeky little deer," Katherine said, rolling her eyes flirtatiously.

"So, were you worried about me just now?" Luke teased, sitting down next to her with a grin.

"You’re quite full of yourself," Katherine said, looking down at him as if discovering a new species. "Or is it that you really want my concern?"

"Such a shy and dishonest little deer..." Katherine’s emerald-green eyes narrowed, her lips curling into an amused smile. "You’re adorable."

Luke broke down.

"I must correct you—men cannot be described as adorable!" His protest sounded weak and unconvincing.

"Little boy..." Katherine pressed on mercilessly. "You should realize that your petite frame doesn’t qualify as manly. And... aren’t you shorter than me?"

"Just you wait… One day, I’ll make you cry," Luke said, gritting his teeth.

"I’m just worried you’re not up to the task, little cutie," Katherine replied, brushing his cheek with her slender fingers. Her teasing tone was infuriating.

"I…" Luke wanted to prove himself but was at a loss.

He could only change the subject. "I’ll be spending more time in the library soon, so I won’t be able to join you in the Room of Requirement for a while."

"Why?" Katherine’s tone suddenly turned icy.

Luke knew he needed a solid reason; otherwise, Katherine might unleash her magical wrath.

If it was because of another girl, she would make those shameless individuals pay! Katherine clenched her teeth silently, vowing to herself.

Far away in London, a certain Hermione sneezed four times in a row.

"Uh, well… I’m researching a blue-eyed demon," Luke confessed honestly.

"Blue-eyed demon?"

"Yes." Luke recounted everything he had heard from Dumbledore in detail.

Katherine straightened up, her eyes flashing coldly. "Let’s go to the library!"

"Wait, no rush," Luke said, pulling her back. "Even ordinary demons are as powerful as professors. Think about it—can you beat a professor?"

Katherine hesitated and shook her head.

"Exactly. And this is a high-ranking demon. Even if we uncover its identity, we can’t find it, let alone defeat it."

Luke spread his hands pragmatically.

"Let’s take it slow and focus on improving ourselves in the meantime."

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 62: The End of the Holiday

The day after Christmas in 1991, something monumental happened—a world-shaking event that altered the global landscape.

Luke spent the entire day feeling dejected, sitting in the hall and sighing.

But honestly, this matter had little to do with him. After all, in this life, it was always him making others work tirelessly.

Back in his previous life, during the Christmas season before he crossed over, there was a meme going around in group chats about turning on the TV to watch a particular figure deliver a speech. Now, he could actually turn on the TV and watch it live.

And it really was a live broadcast.

Feeling down, Luke uncharacteristically ordered a calorie bomb—Butterbeer—and sipped on it absentmindedly in the hall.

It’s worth noting that Butterbeer doesn’t contain alcohol; it’s merely a beer-flavored beverage, much like root beer.

In the original series, Harry was able to drink it at a pub during his third year, which is proof enough that the drink is non-alcoholic.

The taste was reminiscent of the sweet, buttery aroma of movie theater popcorn. Luke enjoyed the rich, creamy flavor and debated whether to order another.

“Oh, here you are,” Catherine said as she sat next to him. “It looks like there’s a sad little deer in this castle.”

Luke glanced at her. Hmph. Women. They claim to dislike something, but didn’t she put it on for me to see after all?

He had to admit, though—her legs were…

Not even a mountain of gold could compare.

“I’m feeling a little off,” Luke said, tearing his gaze away and returning his focus to the Butterbeer in his hands.

Jerry, sitting cross-legged on the table, was innocently munching on a piece of cheese.

He hadn’t bothered Scabbers for three days now.

Catherine, with a look of disdain, clicked her tongue and teased, “Ew, don’t tell me you’re actually a girl? Hmm… given your age, that could explain things.”

“...” Luke didn’t know how to respond to that.

He stared ahead with a deep, contemplative gaze. No one could tell what he was thinking.

Catherine shook her head, placed a stack of books on the table, and decided not to disturb Luke any further. She started flipping through the pages on her own.

The scent of Butterbeer triggered her appetite as well. She wrote “Butterbeer” on a small card, tapped it lightly on the table, and before long, a house-elf brought her a mug of Butterbeer.

She took a small sip, glanced at the still-silent Luke, and hesitated. Then, after some thought, she inched her legs toward him before quickly retracting them.

Seeing Luke’s melancholic expression tugged at her heartstrings. Gritting her teeth, she pressed her legs against his side.

Yet Luke didn’t notice her small gestures at all, which left her frustrated and biting her lip in silent exasperation.

She didn’t know how to cheer him up. All she could recall was what he’d said yesterday, full of longing: “Can I touch them?”  

If it would make him happy, letting him touch them wasn’t a big deal, right?

But Luke wasn’t paying attention to her at all. His mind was occupied with thoughts of the collapsing superpower.

The most brilliant era in human history had come to an end.

Although the “catfish effect” story was a myth, there was no doubt that Big Brother had been the strongest “catfish” in history. Otherwise, how do you think the Nordic welfare system came about? Out of goodwill?

Kid, you’re too naive.

From now on, the world entered an era of mediocrity… or worse.

So, it’s about time to send the eagle down to accompany the bear.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he noticed Catherine looking conflicted.

“What’s up with you? Why are you wriggling around like a sturgeon laying eggs?” Luke’s sharp tongue was as cutting as Catherine’s.

Catherine didn’t respond. She simply huffed, pulled her legs back, and continued reading.

“Why are you suddenly so into books?” Luke tapped the table to signal the house-elf for a refill and looked at her.

“Some lazy deer is slacking off, so poor me has to research blue-eyed demons all by myself,” Catherine replied while flipping through the pages.

“Any progress?” Luke leaned in, curious.

Catherine rolled her eyes dramatically. “Do you think I’m KGB? Of course not.”

“Oh, you know about the KGB?” Luke’s interest was piqued. He hadn’t expected this magical-world native to know about the infamous Lubyanka.

“I also know that the Kremlin usually gets intelligence about our country faster than 10 Downing Street does,” Catherine retorted mercilessly. “Honestly, the Muggle world is a bunch of losers...”

“Well…” Luke found himself unable to argue.

“The Wolray family isn’t completely isolated from the world. My father used to be the chief court wizard to your aunt,” Catherine added, still engrossed in her book.

“And now?” Luke asked naively.

“Dead,” Catherine said flatly, as if discussing a stranger. “When I was two years old.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Luke said awkwardly.

“It’s fine. It’s not your fault,” Catherine replied, still flipping through pages. “I’m starting to suspect whether Headmaster Dumbledore was just brushing you off. The Restricted Section’s records on demons are unanimous: demons only have three eye colors—black, red, and dark gold.”

She pulled out a small notebook with neatly written notes and showed it to Luke.

“According to legend, Beelzebub, Lord of Gluttony, has dark gold eyes,” Catherine said, pointing to a page in Infernal Chronicles. “He’s one of Satan’s six demon kings. This book’s author also mentions Abaddon, the hell knight created by Satan, whose eyes are pitch black.”

“As for red-eyed demons, they’re mentioned in the book as being responsible for deals in hell,” Catherine continued, tapping the table lightly. “These demons are uniquely designed by Satan with crimson eyes to distinguish them from ordinary demons.”

“So… no mention of blue-eyed demons?” Luke asked, puzzled.

“None. No demons are described as having blue eyes,” Catherine confirmed. “Not in this book or even in Merlin’s notes.”

“Could it be Satan himself?” Luke raised the crucial question.

“Don’t forget, Satan is sealed in hell’s prison by Archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael,” Catherine replied with a hint of pity in her gaze. “Many myths claim Satan is Lucifer, but what convinces me is…”

Catherine pulled out Merlin’s notebook. “Look here. Compared to countless speculations, I’m more inclined to trust Merlin’s records.”

(Don’t argue or show off your random internet knowledge. This setting follows my version of events.)

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 63: I'm Afraid Luke Might Misunderstand

Luke accepted Senior Catherine's explanation. After all, Catherine had read extensively on this topic, so her insights were likely far more accurate than his wild guesses.

The house-elves in the kitchen sent a representative, Aslo, to thank Young Master Luke for the Christmas gifts. They all pledged their loyalty to him, just as they had to his mother.

The mystery was solved—Luke finally understood why the house-elves had always been so kind to him. It wasn’t his personal charm; it was all because of his mom.

He had been flattering himself for no reason.

The Room of Requirement task still needed to proceed. Catherine decided to spend an hour in the library with him after dinner every day.

She claimed it was "out of pity for the poor little deer searching helplessly in the library," but the truth was, she didn’t want Luke to practice magic alone in the Room of Requirement without her.

What a classic example of saying one thing and meaning another.

When the holiday ended, the students returned to school one after another.

Over the past half-month, Luke and Catherine had combed through nearly all the books in the Restricted Section, but unfortunately, they found no clues.

“Luke, Luke!”

Hearing the voice, Luke turned his head. It was Miss Beaver, holding her ginger-colored, round-faced cat and waving enthusiastically at him.

Essentially, a fat orange tabby.

Luke worried the hefty cat might crush her…

Miss Beaver stumbled toward him under the weight of the cat, her petite frame teetering. “Thank you, Luke! I really love Crookshanks.”

“Big kitty, say thank you,” she said, giggling as she waved Crookshanks’ paw at him.

“As long as you like it,” Luke said warmly. “I was just heading to the Great Hall for dinner. Want to join me?”

“Sure!” Miss Beaver agreed excitedly.

Halfway through their meal, a beautiful Ravenclaw senior with long, curly brown hair hurried over. She glanced at Luke, blushed, and shyly pulled out a pink envelope.

“Mon… Montbatten, I…” The senior stammered for a long time without managing a full sentence.

“Take your time,” Luke said gently, like the sunshine of spring. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of learning your name.”

“I’m Penelope Clearwater,” she finally managed, overcoming her shyness to introduce herself gracefully.

“Just call me Luke, Miss Penelope.” Luke prepared to open the letter.

“Wait…” Penelope stopped him, and seeing his puzzled expression, whispered softly, “Could you read it later?”

“As you wish, my lady.” Luke smiled, tucking the letter away.

Penelope quickly left. Gryffindor prefect Percy stood up in a hurry, intercepting her at the door.

“What were you doing just now, Penelope?” Percy demanded, casting a suspicious glance at Luke, who was chatting with Hermione. His tone was full of accusation as he turned back to Penelope.

No longer shy, Penelope’s characteristic Ravenclaw elegance returned. She casually tucked her hair behind her ear, her serene lips delivering a statement that froze Percy in his tracks.

“From now on… don’t contact me anymore. Just call me Miss Clearwater, Mr. Weasley.”

As Percy stood stunned, she added one more line that shattered his hope.

“I’m afraid Luke might misunderstand…”

With that, she hurried away.

Percy stood there motionless for a moment, then collapsed to his knees in the snowstorm.

“Nooooooo!” he cried out in anguish, his voice drawing the attention of everyone in the hall.

Wow, is this Yuan Hua?

Even though they were in Hogwarts, Luke momentarily felt like he heard Zhang Mingmin’s A Slice of Plum Blossom in the distance.

Snowflakes falling, north wind blowing…

Luke rubbed his ears and sighed with a smile.

Perhaps he’d been too busy lately and was starting to hallucinate.

Back in his dormitory, he hadn’t yet opened the letter when he saw Catherine sitting there, her expression icy.

Tom and Jerry sat on the desk, looking at the two humans with eager curiosity.

Draco had just entered but froze under Catherine’s cold gaze. Without hesitation, he said, “Sorry, wrong room,” and swiftly turned to leave.

This is your own dorm room—how can you get the wrong one?! Luke roared internally. Don’t leave me here alone!

Catherine sat on his bed, arms crossed, legs elegantly crossed in black stockings, exuding a clear interrogative aura.

“Well, if it isn’t our charming little deer,” she said sarcastically, her tone practically dripping with frost. “You’ve caught the eye of a Ravenclaw beauty and even accepted her love letter. Aren’t you worried that eagle might carry you off to her nest to feed her hatchlings?”

Luke sealed his fate with one sentence.

“You’re jealous.” He stated it matter-of-factly.

And that was when he got himself strung up.

“Put me down, you wicked woman!” Luke protested. How was she already performing nonverbal and wandless spells like a pro? This was outright fraud—taking advantage of a poor twelve-year-old (thirteen after New Year’s) comrade like him!

This wasn’t right.

“The letter,” Catherine demanded, her thin lips pressed tightly together.

“Can’t you respect my privacy?” Luke spread his hands helplessly.

Seeing his nonchalance, Catherine felt as if a hammer was pounding her heart.

“Good, that’s the way,” Luke said quickly, afraid she’d misunderstand. He pulled out the letter and handed it over. “You see, it’s not something I’d hide. But you can’t just take it…”

Classic imperial tactics.

Catherine’s mood brightened instantly. Realizing her earlier behavior was inappropriate, she didn’t take the letter but released Luke. To his shock, she even apologized:

“Sorry, little deer. I… I don’t even know why I got so upset. I hope you can forgive me.”

Luke leaned back on his bed, smirking playfully. After studying her for a moment, he asked, “Did you… take the wrong medication?”

Catherine’s anger flared instantly. She hesitated briefly before taking off her shoes and stepping onto his bed barefoot.

She pinned him down, leaning over him with an aggressive stance.

“How do you want to die?” Catherine’s eyes gleamed with danger.

“If it’s possible, I’d like to die serving you faithfully,” Luke replied cheekily.

Catherine’s face turned beet red as her mind spiraled. She straddled him in frustration, hitting his shoulders and chest.

“You shameless… idiot! Ugh, I can’t believe I misjudged you! Who wants you to… do that…”

Catherine, at her core, was still an innocent girl. Unlike the thick-skinned Luke, she couldn’t bring herself to voice such embarrassing words. Frustrated, her eyes began to brim with tears.

Meanwhile, Tom munched on chips with great interest, casually shielding Jerry from the scene.

(End of Chapter)  

Chapter 64: Crazy Thursday

Jerry discreetly used his small hand to part Tom’s fingers, peeking through the gap with his tiny, unblinking eyes, watching the man and woman intently.

The peanut gallery duo, Tom and Jerry, weren’t spared either. The senior student cast spell after spell, tossing them both out one after the other.

When Tom was thrown out, he landed on Jerry with a thud. Accompanied by a splat sound, Tom quickly got up to check on Jerry, only to find he had been flattened like a pancake.

Tom grabbed Jerry by the tail and gave him a shake, restoring him to his original form.

The two small heads poked through the doorway, peering through the gap to see what would happen next.

What followed was not suitable for children.

“This behavior is absolutely disgraceful!”

Professor McGonagall caught the two troublemakers once again.

The elderly professor’s left cheek seemed to embody traditionalism, and her right cheek radiated arranged-marriage energy. Like a lioness, her fiery gaze burned with discontent toward the couple who dared to privately pledge themselves to each other.

“Well, do you have anything to say for yourself, Miss Worley?”

“I believe... perhaps the two of them were overcome with emotion. You know how it is, Professor McGonagall—it’s spring, after all,” Professor Snape chimed in, emerging like a ghost from the shadows.

“For young couples like them, tasting forbidden fruit for the first time is somewhat understandable. At least they had the decency to drive Malfoy and his pet out, didn’t they?” Snape’s sinister tone was laced with mockery.

On the surface, Snape seemed to be defending them, but Luke couldn’t shake the feeling that he was throwing them under the bus.

I’m a Slytherin, you’re my Head of House!  

“Perhaps we should first hear Mr. Montbatten’s explanation and see how he intends to justify seducing a senior student,” Snape added in a single breath, as though sealing the verdict.

Oh, great. So it’s all my fault now? Luke thought bitterly.

Personal vendetta much?

“You have to believe us—we’re innocent,” Luke declared, though his defense sounded feeble at best.

After all, Catherine was still sitting on him.

Just as Professor McGonagall was about to speak, Snape cut in quickly: “I imagine this is just harmless flirting between a young couple. After all, Montbatten is so young that his… tools of the trade aren’t fully developed yet, are they?”

A vein popped on Luke’s forehead. He… endured.

What else can I do? Fight the professor?  

“You two really should be more mindful of the impression you leave,” McGonagall concluded. She couldn’t bring herself to reprimand the ever-so-adorable and well-behaved Mr. Montbatten too harshly.

“Yes, Professor,” Luke replied obediently, subtly patting Catherine’s thigh and whispering through gritted teeth, “Get up already…”

“Oh!” Catherine finally came to her senses, blushing as she climbed off Luke.

“So… what brings you two here?” Luke asked tentatively, still puzzled as to why the professors had barged into the Slytherin common room.

“Professor Quirrell was caught colluding with the Dark Lord and trespassing in the restricted area. Our young savior has dealt with him,” Snape replied sourly.

He knew Dumbledore would undoubtedly give Potter preferential treatment and bonus points.

How many points should I deduct from Gryffindor during the upcoming monthly exams? Snape pondered.

All of them. Yes, that’ll do nicely.  

“Professor McGonagall mentioned your outstanding performance in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She suggested you assist me as a teaching assistant for the subject—seeing as I still teach Potions and don’t have much time to dedicate to it,” Snape announced smugly. “Oh, and by the way, I’m now the acting Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

His tone carried a hint of pride and self-satisfaction.

Alright, alright, we get it—you’ve achieved your dream. Luke inwardly rolled his eyes.

“So, Mr. Montbatten, will you assist your Head of House as a teaching assistant?” McGonagall asked.

“Of course, no problem!” Luke replied enthusiastically.

Time to spice things up at Hogwarts!  

“Good. I’m glad to hear that,” Snape said with a hollow smile. “Now… the monthly exam for Defense Against the Dark Arts will be your responsibility. Remember, it’s for all seven years.”

“No problem at all, Professor,” Luke answered confidently.

An exam? Why bother? I’ll make it a practical test—perhaps a field trip to Lothric Wall.

As the professors left, Luke received a system notification.

*New Task: Find a reasonable justification for introducing a parallel-world trial as an official training ground for Hogwarts students.*

*Reward: 25% Hogwarts Control Progress, Room of Requirement ownership, Rune: Thul.*

Not bad. But what’s this Hogwarts Control Progress? Am I supposed to snatch candy from Dumbledore?  

Not impossible, I suppose…  

Still, the abrupt exit of Quirrell—and Voldemort—felt too sudden.

Luke hadn’t had the chance to milk Voldemort for all he was worth before Potter took him out.

What a missed opportunity.  

Oh well. For the monthly exam, I’ll make sure Voldemort doesn’t forget me—perhaps with a Qinglong Crescent Blade to his rear in the Battle of Hogwarts.

Dumbledore later explained that Voldemort had no reason to stay at Hogwarts once he realized Lily’s spell still worked on him. It was better for him to return to his Albanian hideout.

“By the way, you and Miss Worley should still be more mindful of appearances,” Dumbledore added.

“Who says we’re not? Catherine and I are innocent!” Luke blurted out before steadying himself. “Professor, you know me. If I wanted to do anything, Catherine’s belly would already be…”

“At your age…” Dumbledore hesitated, unsure of Luke’s limits.

“Relax, Professor. With enough good food from the house-elves, her belly will definitely grow,” Luke declared confidently. “It’s Thursday, after all.”

“And what does Thursday have to do with it?” Dumbledore asked, confused.

“My point, Professor, is that we could start a weekly Thursday event. Unlimited fried chicken meals for students—to reward their hard work and honor Potter’s bravery in facing evil.”

“After all, you can’t keep the strings taut all the time, right, Professor?”

“An excellent idea. Let’s call it… Crazy Thursday,” Dumbledore said approvingly.

“Yes, Headmaster!” Luke replied with a grin.

(Chapter End)

Chapter 65: Just a Defense Against the Dark Arts Assistant

Luke sternly refused the headmaster's suggestion to add a pile of cockroaches to the "Crazy Thursday" fried chicken combo. That’s not a reward—it’s a fright!

Seriously, who in their right mind would enjoy eating something so bizarre? Headmaster, you really need to reflect on your actions—have some self-respect.

The main purpose of proposing "Crazy Thursday," however, was to make it inconvenient for Dumbledore to award extra points to Harry.

Classic strategy.

Luke also suggested to Dumbledore that every wizarding family could purchase a serving of fried chicken from the Hogwarts kitchen for just fifty Knuts.

On one hand, this would generate a little extra revenue for Hogwarts. On the other, it would show some care for the less fortunate families.

Dumbledore gladly adopted the idea, publicly stating that it was Luke’ suggestion, helping him earn some goodwill in the process.

As expected, within three days, Rita Skeeter took notice. She boldly wrote on the front page of the Daily Prophet that Luke Montbatten might be Dumbledore's secret illegitimate grandson.

Luckily, Luke’ father didn’t find out about this, or he’d have fired up his beloved pink flagship cannon to blow her to pieces.

Luke, of course, knew about it but decided to let it slide for now. After all, he didn’t expect anything remotely truthful from Rita’s quill. He planned to bide his time until an opportunity arose to make her write a glowing piece about him.

Soon, Thursday arrived, and with it, Luke’ first-ever Defense Against the Dark Arts class, which he was teaching independently.

Luke had specifically communicated with his system, requesting permission to summon creatures from other dimensions.

After much deliberation, he decided that the Mirror of Erised would be the most appropriate medium for summoning.

When borrowing it from Dumbledore, the headmaster curiously asked for a demonstration. Never one to hold back, Luke dragged Dumbledore to the Quidditch pitch and summoned the Dancer of the Frigid Valley.

Dumbledore got a front-row seat to the show.

In response, Dumbledore demonstrated what it truly meant to be a master of Transfiguration. What took Luke great effort to handle was swiftly subdued by Dumbledore using vines from transfigured weeds, a metal hammer, and a mannequin, which smashed the dancer into the ground.

Luke watched as the dancer turned to ashes and disappeared back into the Mirror of Erised. His respect for Dumbledore’s power grew even more profound.

He had thought his cheat-like abilities would allow him to surpass Snape and Dumbledore within a few years, but now he realized how naive that was.

Out of curiosity, he secretly used his system to inspect Dumbledore’s stats:

*Albus Dumbledore*

Level: ??? Wizard

Talents: Charms (15), Potions (8), Transfiguration (20), Dark Arts (10), Defense Against the Dark Arts (17), Flying (10), Herbology (5), Divination (4).

Seeing this, Luke felt a wave of emo hit him.

However, recalling the amulet gifted to him by Katherine, his fighting spirit reignited.

Since he only had to teach first- and third-year classes, which conflicted with Snape’s schedule, Snape promptly shooed him off to teach.

Feeling indignant, Luke requested the house-elves make him a Snape-style cloak. He also had Amorys buy him a black wig.

Yes, he was cosplaying Snape.

Standing at the classroom door, Luke took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. With a loud "bang," he swung the door open, startling the students. Amidst their surprise and stifled laughter, Luke dramatically used his wand to "swoosh, swoosh, swoosh" shut all the windows.

Striding to the podium like a little bat, he turned sharply, flicked his greasy hair into a side part, and mimicked Snape’s oily tone:

“You are here to learn the subtle art of defending against the Dark Arts and countering them. Unlike brewing silly potions with slug slime, you may not believe this is a precise science. I don’t expect you to truly grasp the beauty of the spell’s resonance as it unleashes powerful magic. You will not fully appreciate the thrill of punishing Dark wizards or the mesmerizing allure of casting a spell with precision. I can teach you how to gain prestige, earn glory, and even conquer death—”

“—but only if you’re not the usual dunderheads I often encounter.”

At this, the students burst into laughter.

“Quiet—” Luke drawled, his tone dragging, nailing Snape’s mannerisms. This only made the students laugh harder, particularly Harry, Ron, and Neville, who were laughing the loudest.

Hermione, on the other hand, looked worried, wondering what trouble Snape might cause for Luke if he found out.

“Ahem, quiet—” Luke repeated. This time, the students obliged, suppressing their laughter to see what he’d do next.

In a flash, Luke swept over to Harry’s desk like a bat.

“Potter!” he suddenly barked. “If I wanted to disarm a wizard, what spell would I use?”

“Disarming Charm, Professor,” Harry replied, holding back laughter. “The incantation is Expelliarmus.”

“Well, well, Potter,” Luke continued. “If I wanted to stun a Dark wizard, which spell would I use?”

“Stunning Charm, Professor,” Harry said smoothly, “The incantation is Stupefy.”

“Let’s try again, Potter. If I wanted to break through an obstacle, what spell would I use?”

“Blasting Charm. The incantation is Reducto,” Harry answered confidently, smiling at his young professor.

“Sometimes fame is not entirely undeserved,” Luke said with a smirk. “Well done, Gryffindor—no points awarded.”

The class erupted in laughter. The Gryffindors groaned, while the Slytherins beamed, delighted at the turn of events.

“Why not, Professor?” asked Seamus Finnigan, the "explosive expert."

“Because, my dear explosive prodigy, I’m not a professor and don’t have the authority to award points,” Luke replied slowly, dripping with Snape-like sarcasm.

After some more laughter, Luke removed his wig and cloak, handing them off to his assistants, Tom and Jerry, who whisked them away like the wind.

Of course, as the true British gentleman he was, Luke ensured he had assistants even as an assistant himself—though Tom and Jerry were more like ball boys, fetching tea and water.

(End of Chapter)