46-50

Chapter 46: When Nothing Goes Wrong, Something Always Does 

Emerging from the other side of the room, Luke noticed a group of undead worshipping a petrified human-shaped tree on a distant rooftop.  

Unfortunately, they were right in his path. 

If his memory served him correctly, one of these creatures would soon turn into something far worse. 

Sure enough, as Luke approached, the most prominent undead in the group rose and staggered toward him. It only managed a couple of steps before emitting an inhuman screech. A massive black mass burst from its back, growing and swelling until it transformed into a coiled, snake-like monstrosity. Its crimson eyes locked onto Luke, and its gaping maw roared furiously. It exuded an aura of overwhelming strength. 

The creature's enormous body thrashed about, shattering nearby bricks and stones. Even the surrounding undead were caught in the chaos, crushed to pieces under its power.  

Reduced to dust. Literally. 

But Luke wasn’t worried. With his wand in hand and his usual calm demeanor, he aimed and cast, “*Incendio!*” 

Your Fire-Making Charm has gained 1,000 proficiency points. Skill level increased. 

The fiery spell struck the creature, which ignited like dry tinder. It howled and writhed, consumed by roaring flames until it finally collapsed into ashes.  

Turns out, this terrifying beast was ridiculously weak to fire. 

Beneath the rooftop where the creature had emerged, Luke noticed a large bonfire. Near the fire, a heavily armored knight wielding a long halberd patrolled the area. 

No, not a "fat guy." Rather, a Winged Knight clad in massive, cumbersome armor. 

Signs of a fierce battle littered the area, with countless knight corpses haphazardly piled up. Swords, shields, and severed heads were scattered everywhere—a gruesome scene. 

Luke, being a mage, exploited the terrain with ease. Standing on the rooftop, he taunted the Winged Knight with a single spell to get its attention. 

The knight looked up at him, then leapt onto a nearby balcony. 

Foolish. Luke could fly. 

Without wasting a moment, Luke cast a series of barrier spells to slow the knight's movements. Then, just as the knight prepared to leap again, he hit it square in the chest with a Blasting Curse. 

You gained 200 proficiency points in the Blasting Curse. Skill level increased. 

The knight was strong, but fortunately, the force of the curse knocked it to the ground. 

...Where it promptly died on impact. 

Well, that was unexpected. 

Maybe it had weak knees like a certain monster hunter? 

Shrugging, Luke descended the ladder. Near the knight’s body, he noticed a small glowing orb. Taking no chances, he cast two Stunning Spells. When they didn’t grant any proficiency points, he approached to loot the body. 

Rune of Thul: Embedding this rune into an item may yield surprising effects. 

A rune! It wasn’t much, but it was useful. Pocketing it, Luke left the bonfire area. 

Outside the small courtyard was a wide staircase leading to a grand, cathedral-like structure. At the far end of the staircase appeared to be an open plaza. 

If his memory was correct, this should lead to Vordt of the Boreal Valley. Assuming nothing went wrong. 

Luke recalled that five Lothric Knights patrolled the cathedral entrance. They were spaced out enough to be lured out and killed one by one. 

Targeting the nearest knight, a spear-wielding foe with a large shield, Luke cast a Blasting Curse. 

The knight stumbled but recovered quickly, pulling a horn from its pouch and blowing loudly. 

“BWOOOO—” The blaring sound sent chills down Luke’s spine. 

He had made a grave mistake. 

Scrambling, Luke fired off several Blasting Curses to kill the spear-wielding knight, but the damage was done. The other four knights charged, their iron boots clanging ominously. 

One of them stood out—a blue-cloaked knight with glowing red eyes. Clearly an elite enemy. 

Luke knew that red eyes signified corruption by the Abyss.  

Without hesitation, he turned and bolted up the stairs, running as fast as the wind. 

The knights, seemingly smart, didn’t give chase. Instead, they watched him from a distance. 

Standing on a rooftop, Luke couldn’t resist taunting them. Resting his chin on one hand, he beckoned with his other, “Come on, then!” 

The blue-eyed knight responded by making a thumbs-down gesture.  

"Pathetic," it seemed to say. 

Unfortunately, Luke’s spells couldn’t reach them at this range. Frustrated, he climbed down and cautiously approached.  

After dispatching one knight with a quick series of Blasting Curses, Luke fled again, climbing up a ladder. From above, he cast barrier spells to trap the remaining knights and picked them off with ease. 

But just as Luke finished, a chill ran down his spine. Reacting instinctively, he cast Protego. 

A sword thrown by the red-eyed knight clanged against his shield charm. 

You gained 200 proficiency points in the Shield Charm. 

The cunning blue knight began scavenging discarded weapons, hurling them with alarming precision. It even picked up the halberd dropped by the Winged Knight and flung it at Luke. 

Frustratingly, the knight was too agile for ordinary spells to land. 

“*Sectumsempra!*” 

You gained 20 proficiency points in Sectumsempra. 

The red-eyed knight collapsed, its eyes dimming as the Abyss's influence faded. Due to the high level of the spell, gaining even 20 points was a significant feat. 

Luke kicked the body twice, spitting in disdain. 

For such a tough knight, it didn’t drop anything worthwhile. 

Disappointed, he stood in the middle of the grand staircase, debating his next move. 

"May as well check out the cathedral first," he decided. He’d have to return here after defeating Vordt anyway, so it made sense to get it out of the way now. 

Approaching the cathedral doors, Luke felt like he was forgetting something important. 

As the doors creaked open, light flooded the previously dim room. Rows of pews were neatly arranged for worshippers. At the center of the room stood a statue, and before it knelt an elderly, emaciated woman. 

Luke decided to approach, thinking a polite greeting wouldn’t hurt. 

But as he stepped closer, the woman suddenly raised her head, staring at him with lifeless eyes. 

“Outsider… You do not belong here...”  

Her voice was as hollow as her frail figure. Goosebumps prickled Luke's skin. 

“Wretched foreigner… Relish your final death…” 

With those words, her head slumped lifelessly. 

Alarm bells rang in Luke's mind. Without hesitation, he turned and sprinted toward the doors. But just as he reached them, they slammed shut. 

“Let me out! Damn it!” he cursed, suddenly recalling what this place was. 

This cursed cathedral was the lair of the Dancer of the Boreal Valley, a mid-to-late game boss in Dark Souls III. Normally, you’d only encounter her after clearing nine maps and defeating over a dozen bosses. 

Defeated, Luke leaned against the door as his mind raced. Above him, black fog coalesced on the ceiling. From the swirling darkness emerged a silver-armored hand, slender and elegant. 

"Well, crap..." 

*Chapter 47: The Dancer of the Boreal Valley*

In his previous life, as the leader of the Dark Souls guild, Luke had often messed with newcomers. For example, he’d recommend that they enter the High Wall and attack the old lady first.

When the rookies would face the Dancer and wail in frustration, posting screenshots in the group chat to diss him for setting them up, Luke would always respond with a mischievous and satisfied smile.

After all, watching others suffer was part of the fun.

“You’ll get your karma for this!” the newcomers would always say. But Luke never believed in fate. Who believes in karma these days anyway?

Now, staring at the Dancer struggling to break free in front of him, Luke’s eyes brimmed with tears.

Maybe… this is karma.

He swallowed hard. There was no way today was going to end peacefully.

In his sight, the Dancer struggled to break out of a strange black mist, freeing herself from its restraints before landing gracefully and lightly on the ground.

Like the Pontiff Sulyvahn's knights sent into battle, the Dancer’s body was almost beast-like. Her proportions were grotesquely distorted—her slender body hunched over, her arms and legs unnaturally elongated. The helmet covering her face completely obscured her features, which was probably for the best. In her beast-like state, her visage was surely ravaged beyond recognition, and the mask preserved her last shred of dignity.

In her left hand, she held a curved sword ablaze with fire, roughly the length of her arm. The sunlight streaming down from the cathedral's dome gleamed off the blade with a cold brilliance, sending a chill straight to the heart.

A phrase unique to the Ashen Ones echoed in his mind out of nowhere:

"Front: rear. So, it’s time for tongues."

Shaking his head to banish the inappropriate and untimely thought, Luke focused intently on the Dancer, ready to respond to any sudden attack.

The Dancer moved with light, graceful steps, lacking the aggressive ferocity typical of others. Since emerging from the dark mist of the cathedral dome, she simply paced around, seemingly relishing the newfound freedom from her restraints.

The entire cathedral was eerily silent, the only sound being the crisp "tap, tap, tap" of the Dancer's steps.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew in from outside the cathedral. At the same moment, the Dancer sprang into action, raising her curved sword high and bringing it down on Luke with her long legs striding forward in an elegant yet lethal motion!

Luke didn’t dare be careless. He quickly chanted a spell for protection.

“Protego!”

The force from his wand reverberated through his arm, leaving it faintly aching. For the first time, Luke felt like he was barely holding on.

He knew all too well—he could only block an attack like this twice at most. Any more, and his shield spell would shatter.

You’ve gained 2,000 points in Protego mastery.  

Quickly rolling to the side, Luke dodged the deadly gust of wind from the blade, which sent a chill straight through his back.

With a loud crash, the Dancer’s sword struck the ground, the impact reverberating through the cathedral.

The Dancer of the Boreal Valley certainly lived up to her name. She twisted her body at an impossible angle, extending her empty right hand to grab at Luke.

Another roll saved him from her grasp.

Sometimes, fleeing may be shameful, but it’s effective.

If she grabbed him, her next move would surely be driving her sword straight through his heart. Don’t ask how he knew—he’d been grabbed dozens of times in the game.

“Sectumsempra!”

The sharp magical slash, glowing faintly, shot toward the Dancer's helmet.

You’ve gained 1,000 points in Sectumsempra mastery.  

This was real life; there were no health bars like in the game. Luke had no way of knowing what kind of damage his spell had inflicted on her.

The Dancer recoiled slightly, a faint crack appearing in her helmet. She seemed to feel the pain, as her sword swept horizontally in retaliation. But Luke dodged quickly, and her blade smashed into a stone pillar, shattering it into pieces.

Watching the debris fall, Luke broke into a cold sweat. If that sword hit him, he’d be respawning.

Without hesitation, he turned and ran. Sure enough, after her sweeping strike, the Dancer followed up with a spinning slash.

Luke decided not to hold back anymore. He put some distance between them and unleashed seven or eight spells at her head without a shred of mercy.

The Dancer, unfazed, slashed at the spot Luke had just vacated, demolishing a chair.

Luke ran, the Dancer pursued. Her strikes, alternating between fast and slow, came at him seven consecutive times. Each blade was like a phantom, grazing him dangerously close and leaving him no space to cast spells. The pressure was suffocating.

Never had he wanted to learn Apparition more than now.

What kind of wizard doesn’t have a teleport spell?

His robes, torn and tattered, only got in the way, so he stripped them off and tossed them aside. As Luke ran while shedding layers, the Dancer knelt, delicately plucking a ball of orange flames from the ground and crushing it in her hand.

The resulting explosion sent Luke sprawling. The Dancer closed in, stabbing downward with her curved sword. Luke scrambled back just in time, the blade embedding itself in the ground between his legs.

Cold sweat drenched him as he flipped to his feet, firing Sectumsempra blindly behind him while running.

“Just ten centimeters closer, and she’d have made my fiancée a widow…”

The dancer no longer chased after Luke. Instead, she knelt halfway to the ground again, with black mist swirling around her body, devouring the curses hurled in her direction. Her right hand pressed against the ground, and she slowly pulled out a straight sword from the black mist, almost identical to the one she had before!

The veil behind her head fluttered like a ghost, and she raised both arms. Her movements twisted into an eerie and distorted arc.

The woman, who had once been as soft and graceful as water, now danced what had once been the lightest steps in the world. Her body spun continuously, and the two straight swords in her hands whirled like windmills, delivering an elegant yet sinister invitation to a ballroom of hell—directed at Luke.

Luke was running with every ounce of strength he could muster, convinced that not even Usain Bolt could outrun him at this moment.

After all, Usain Bolt didn’t have a vengeful woman with twin swords chasing after him.

The wind created by the dancer’s blades shredded everything in her path—tables, chairs, and columns—all reduced to splinters. Luke was entirely focused on one thing: escaping with his life.

But now, his legs felt as if they were filled with lead, no longer obeying his commands. A coarse, metallic taste rose in his throat, scratching its way upward.

After all, humans weren’t like the Ashen Ones in video games—they didn’t have stamina bars.

Without proper rest, there was no way to replenish his strength.

The dancer seemed to be getting dizzy from all the spinning. She lowered her head, and her movements came to a halt. Seizing the opportunity, Luke unleashed a few more swings of his Shadowless Blades, slashing them against her veiled helmet and cutting off several layers of her veil.

In a flash, the dancer, struck by the attack, abruptly raised her head and leaped into the air at a twisted angle. Her curved sword aimed straight for Luke’s throat!

At this moment, Luke had nowhere to run. The dancer’s attack was so swift that, pressed against the last standing column, he had no room to dodge.

He could only watch as the dancer’s twin blades, gleaming with a cold, merciless light, shot toward his throat.

In the dancer’s eyes, the diminutive Ashen One before her seemed to have exhausted every trick up his sleeve. Her twin curved swords had sealed off all his escape routes.

For a fleeting moment, a strange sense of regret flashed through her heart, one that had long been frozen by the pontiff’s seal.

What a pity...

---

(Chapter End)

*Chapter 48: Abundant Rewards*

In her final moments of life, the dancer's eyes were filled with an intensely brilliant green light.

“Avada Kedavra!”

Luke had never felt so resolute. At that moment, his mind was completely focused, casting aside all thoughts of life and death. His eyes were locked on the dancer lunging toward him.

In this life-threatening moment, an overwhelming killing intent surged within him.

The dancer's strength drained rapidly from her body, and her twin scimitars clattered to the ground. She fell to her knees, swaying before collapsing heavily.

In her final moments, her heart was filled with a sense of relieved liberation.

You have gained 20,000 experience points in the Killing Curse.  

Due to your talent in dark magic, the spell has advanced to level 8.  

As this was your first successful use of the spell to challenge an opponent beyond your level, the spell has been further upgraded by two levels. Current level: 10.  

*Killing Curse (Avada Kedavra): Current Level 10 (MAX)*

- *Sanity Cost:* 25

- *Casting Range:* 100 yards

- *Casting Time:* 0.01 seconds

- *Skill Description:* Releases an intense killing intent, using the curse to extinguish all life force from the target.

- *Note:* Due to your young age, repeated use of this skill may cause irreversible mental harm.

*Current Sanity Level:* 49/50

However, Luke was entirely oblivious to the system's notification. The killing intent within him had become so overwhelming it almost took physical form, tearing at his sanity. Deep within his heart, it felt as though a beast was roaring madly, urging him to slaughter without restraint.

“Ah—ahhh!” Luke screamed with all his might, attempting to dispel the searing, bone-deep killing intent.

His vision was entirely red. If anyone else were present, they would notice his eyes emitting a vivid crimson light!

“Accept us…” A whisper rose from the depths of his mind.

“Accept us, and you will gain unimaginable power…”

The whispers were seductive, as if spoken by a thousand voices—or just one—murmuring incessantly in his ears.

When you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back at you…  

Countless violet-black eyes opened within the darkness at the edge of his consciousness. Luke could feel their venomous stares piercing through him.

“Hey, friend, are you okay?”

A cheerful, hearty voice broke through, pulling Luke back from the brink of collapse.

By now, Luke was drenched in sweat. His black hair clung wetly to his forehead, and drops of perspiration fell steadily to the ground.

He took deep breaths of fresh air and, after a while, managed to regain his senses. He looked toward the source of the voice.

It was a knight dressed in peculiar armor. His helmet resembled an onion, and his plump armor gave him an almost comical appearance. He was crouching beside Luke. Although his face was hidden, Luke could feel his genuine concern.

“Friend, you don’t look so good.” The onion knight pulled a small wooden barrel from his pouch. “Here, drink this—you’ll feel better.”

Luke nodded, too exhausted to speak.

The moment the liquid touched his lips, he realized something was off… Wasn’t this alcohol?

Yet, the warm sensation spread from his mouth to his stomach, gradually dissipating throughout his entire body. The chilling, bone-deep sensation that clung to him finally vanished completely.

It seemed the abyss had receded.

Luke gulped down the barrel’s contents in one go. He wiped his mouth and patted the onion knight’s round, armored belly. “Thank you, my friend—I don’t even know your name yet.”

---

"Me? Haha, I’m Jack Baldo from Catalina." The Onion Knight mimicked Luke’s gesture, patting his own armor-clad belly. "And you, my friend?"

"Luke Mountbatten." Luke didn’t intend to hide his name.

"Alright, friend, nice to meet you. Hmm..."

Jack Baldo pondered for a moment before asking, "Do you know how to get to the Undead Settlement? Sigh, I’ve been wandering around for ages and still can’t find the way out of here."

"What are you going to the Undead Settlement for?" Luke, more of a speedrunner than a lore enthusiast, only had a cursory understanding of the Onion Knight’s storyline.

"There’s a demon there. I’m going to defeat it." Jack Baldo’s voice was so earnest and friendly that it was hard not to like him.

Luke suddenly remembered the loot from the Dancer. He rummaged through his inventory and found two runes, a small flag, a glowing miniature figurine, and a bizarrely shaped mask.

Instead of examining them, he held up the small flag and said, "Go to the cliff on the other side and raise this flag. Someone will come to take you to the Undead Settlement."

"Uh, what about you?" Jack Baldo asked in return.

Luke thought about it. The system didn’t require him to use the small banner, so there must be another way. Besides, Jack Baldo had saved him from a dire situation; it wouldn’t make sense to be stingy with a simple flag.

With a cheerful tone, he replied, "Don’t worry about me. We’ll meet again someday."

"Haha, alright." Jack Baldo accepted the flag without hesitation.

"One more thing," Luke added, "There’s a beastly ice knight in the plaza over there. You’ll need to take care of him before heading to the Undead Settlement."

...

With the Onion Knight acting as a tank, the frost-covered Vordt of the Boreal Valley fell easily at their feet.

Vordt dropped a translucent blue object and a runic symbol.

"Well then... Take care, my friend." Jack Baldo showed no condescension toward Luke despite his youth. He bade farewell with great respect.

"Take care, my friend." Luke watched as Jack Baldo was carried off to the Undead Settlement by the transporters.

Soon after, a notification sound chimed, indicating the completion of a quest and an achievement:

*Lothric High Wall (25)*

*Dancer of the Boreal Valley (20)*

The dimensional world: Lothric High Wall has been unlocked and can now be challenged repeatedly.

*Quest Completed!*

Rewards are being distributed...

You have obtained *Runic Rune: Amn*.

You have obtained *Weapon: Dark Sword*.

You have obtained *Item: Endurance Orb*.

You have obtained *Spell: Carian Quickblade*.

*[Runic Rune: Amn]:* Embedding this into an item will produce unexpected effects.

*[Dark Sword]:*

- Type: One-handed weapon

- Attack Speed: Fast

- Damage: 12-45

- Durability: 50/50

*[Endurance Orb]:*

Increases stamina regeneration and mana recovery speed.

*[Carian Quickblade]:*

A royal Carian spell that conjures a magic blade for swift slashes. Can seamlessly chain into other actions, making it highly practical in combat.

Luke examined the drops again.

First, from Vordt:

*[Vordt’s Soul]:* Purpose unknown.

*[Runic Rune: Ko]:* Embedding this into an item will produce unexpected effects.

When he checked the loot from the Dancer, Luke was nearly blinded by its splendor. Overwhelmed with excitement, he jumped three feet into the air.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 49: I Didn’t Review Either ()*

*[Runestone: Pul]*: Inlaid onto an item, it will have unexpected effects.

*[Runestone: Mal]*: Inlaid onto an item, it will have unexpected effects.

*[Dancer’s Soul]*: Effect unknown.

The last item, a golden mask, truly shocked him.

*Tal Rasha’s Horadric Crest*

*Death Mask*

+2 to Shapeshifting Skills

Steals stamina on hit.

Steals mana on hit.

Iron Skin Curse: Grants immunity to 20% elemental damage.

Iron Skin Curse: Increases defense by 30%.

+15% to maximum mana.

Greatly enhances stamina.

As he stared at the golden mask, his mind buzzed with disbelief.

The stats were excellent, but wearing it? That’d be way too over-the-top, wouldn’t it?

Sure, being handsome enough to catch the attention of royal families worldwide might be his fault, but he wasn’t about to act like Obito and wear a mask, was he?

Almost as if responding to Luke’s inner thoughts, the mask melted in his hands and transformed into a slender golden headband.

“This is way too cool…” he muttered to himself, staring at the headband in his hands.

The headband hummed faintly, seemingly pleased by his compliment.

Looking at this final piece of the mage’s ultimate set, Luke couldn’t help but feel like it was all a bit unreal.

Unlike the trashy Tal Rasha headpiece in Diablo II, the stats on this one were absolutely worthy of its reputation.

Especially the +2 to Shapeshifting Skills—it was exactly what he needed.

Maybe now Professor McGonagall wouldn’t sigh like a disappointed cat anymore?

In comparison, the other two runes felt a bit lackluster.

Luke pulled out his crystal sword, placed the runes in the order of Tal, Thul, Ort, and Amn, and inlaid them one by one. A flash of light swept across the blade, and its surface began to ripple as if something were flowing inside it.

He checked the sword’s new stats:

*Spirit*

*TalThulOrtAmn*

+2 to All Skills

+35% Faster Cast Rate

Adds lightning, cold, and poison damage.

Grants 10% magic absorption for armor shielding.

Improves armor shielding by 55% faster cast recovery rate.

Increases defense strength by 40%.

Greatly enhances stamina.

+112 to mana.

Can substitute a wand as a casting medium.

The rune word Spirit, a timeless beginner’s artifact, was shining brilliantly even in the real world.

However, because he had cast Avada Kedavra, Luke’s unicorn hair-core wand had withered completely.

Unicorn tail hair wands are highly resistant to dark magic, especially Unforgivable Curses. That’s why the last attribute of Spirit was exactly what Luke needed most right now.

Recalling the aftermath of casting the Killing Curse made Luke shiver in fear. That feeling of tearing his soul apart and being stared down by the abyss—he never wanted to experience it again in his lifetime.

It was time to consider crafting a new wand. He mulled it over carefully in his mind. But for now, the Spirit sword could act as a substitute casting medium.

…

When he returned to his dorm, the sky looked just as it had when he’d left. Luke guessed that time probably flowed differently between the two worlds.

Exhausted from all his efforts, he collapsed into bed and fell asleep immediately.

He didn’t wake up until almost 11 a.m., but thankfully, it was Saturday.

Feeling ravenous after such a long sleep, he decided to head to the Great Hall to grab some food.

As soon as he reached the entrance of the common room, the two students standing at the door immediately straightened their bodies and loudly shouted, “Loyalty! Honor!”

Luke was almost startled. He looked at the two spirited upperclassmen, wanted to pat their shoulders but felt a bit awkward because he would have to stand on tiptoe. Instead, he patted their arms and smiled, praising them, “Very good, very energetic!”

“Loyalty! Honor!” The two upperclassmen kept their eyes straight ahead, full of energy.

Luke nodded in satisfaction and walked out of the Slytherin common room.

In the Great Hall, Harry was anxiously looking at the Potions textbook with Hermione. Ron was sitting next to them, fiddling with Chocolate Frog cards. Luke scanned the room and saw the three familiar faces.

“Good morning,” Luke greeted the three of them.

“Good morning... Oh, my goodness, you don’t look too well,” the trio looked up, surprised by Luke’s pale face.

“It’s nothing, I didn’t sleep well last night,” Luke waved his hand dismissively and sat down beside Ron.

“Ronald!” Hermione whispered, “If you don’t study, your exam scores will be terrible.”

“Who cares?” Ron said nonchalantly.

“But Professor Snape said he would send the grades to our parents!” Hermione kindly reminded him. “You don’t want to receive a letter full of yelling, do you?”

“Uh…” Ron suddenly felt a chill in his spine. He quickly tried to justify himself, “It’s fine… George and Fred probably won’t do well either, and they’ll be with me.”

“I think you should look over there,” Luke patted Ron’s shoulder and pointed to the twins, who were deeply focused on their studies. “It looks like George and Fred don’t want to join you in your suffering.”

“And what about you?” Ron turned to Luke, looking for a lifeline. At this moment, he really wanted some emotional support.

“I didn’t study either, don’t worry,” Luke said with a grin, not mentioning the fact that, a few days earlier, he had been in the Room of Requirement with a senior, reviewing Potions together and quizzing each other.

This method of studying really worked.

“You didn’t study either? Oh my goodness.” Hermione slapped her forehead. “How could you be so reckless, Luke…”

Hermione felt a bit hopeless. How could even someone she respected so much, like Luke, not care about studying?

“A good brother is one who helps you escape the torment of studying,” Luke said with a laugh, giving Ron a high five.

Hearing this, Harry also stopped studying, casually tossing his book to Hermione, and grinned foolishly, watching Ron and Luke.

The moment Harry spread this carefree attitude, the first-year Gryffindor students who had been buried in their books, their faces full of worry, now stopped studying one by one, calling over their friends and playing various games. They all wore long-lost smiles.

“Tsk, tsk…” Luke shook his head and clicked his tongue sympathetically. “Look at what Professor McGonagall has done to the kids…”

Gryffindor’s laziness didn’t matter much, but it seemed contagious. In an instant, the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students became a mess as well. The Slytherin students, on the other hand, were still squirming restlessly but remained seated straight, their eyes lowered, diligently memorizing the key points from their textbooks.

Yes, you heard that right—Snape had highlighted the key points for them!

Only Slytherin received this special treatment. Snape really was...

“The Head of House... so kind,” Luke couldn’t help but marvel as he observed the marked books of his Slytherin peers.

Well, indeed, kind. If Snape weren’t kind, he would have assigned real exam questions to the little snakes.

This kind of generosity—Professor McGonagall couldn’t pull that off.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 50: "Did Poorly on the Exam"

That evening in the Room of Requirement, Luke was dragged by his senior to study until dawn.

Catherine worried that if he didn’t do well on the exam, he’d lose face in front of his classmates. Luke, unaware of her thoughts, couldn’t bring himself to refuse her. So, despite already knowing the material by heart, he endured and diligently reviewed it with her.

The next day, during the Potions exam, Luke was the first to hand in his paper. Seeing him turn it in, Ron, who had been agonizing for a while, also decided to hand in his paper.

Professor Snape looked at Luke’ paper and nodded in satisfaction. When Ron turned his in, however, Snape gave him a death stare for a long moment before impatiently shooing him out, leaving Ron feeling chilled to the bone.

Ron staggered out of the exam room like a puppet on strings and saw Luke leaning against the window, gazing into the distance.

"Ugh, I messed up," Ron said dejectedly.

"Sigh, I didn’t do too well either," Luke sighed along with him.

Hearing this, Ron's eyes lit up as if he’d found salvation. "Really, Luke? You’re the best! If my mom finds out I did poorly, she’s definitely going to scold me... But it’s different now with you in the same boat. She always tells me to learn from you because you’re so outstanding!"

Luke struggled to keep a straight face. Laughing felt disloyal, but holding it in was difficult. His expression twisted awkwardly as he listened to Ron ramble on, until Harry and Hermione walked out of the exam room.

Harry was grinning foolishly, his unfocused gaze fixed ahead, chuckling like he’d aced the test. Hermione, on the other hand, was frowning and tugging at her hair. Her once-fluffy hair now looked even messier from her relentless pulling.

"Damn it! I actually forgot the precise steps for brewing the Forgetfulness Potion during the exam! I should’ve chosen B..." Hermione fretted, yanking at her hair. "But now that I remember, what’s the use?"

"It’s okay; I didn’t know it either. At least I’m here with you," Ron tried to console her with his own misfortune.

"Who asked for your company?!" Hermione retorted, smacking Ron’s chest with her hefty copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. A loud "thump" echoed.

"You’re so rough," Ron exaggeratedly rubbed his chest, though it hadn’t really hurt. "I wonder who would marry you in the future... Oh, I’ll preemptively mourn for him."

If looks could kill, Hermione’s glare would be deadlier than a fully upgraded Sectumsempra spell.

Luke almost burst out laughing. Seriously? Mourning for himself in advance?

"Anyway, Luke and I didn’t do that well either," Ron pouted. "Unlike you two traitors who’ve abandoned us."

"Potter! Potter!" Draco Malfoy’s voice called from behind them. "What did you take, a dose of Happiness Potion? You look like a grinning idiot!"

For some reason, only when Draco said "Potter" did it carry that explosive tone.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry snapped, his good mood instantly soured. "I bet you didn’t even brush your teeth this morning, damn it."

"Ha! You’re mad," Draco laughed uncontrollably. He greeted Luke, then stuffed his hands in his pockets like a little thug and circled Harry twice. "Let me see... Oh, you’re blushing, Potter!"

"You really should see a psychologist, Malfoy," Hermione quipped, shaking her head.

First-year Harry wasn’t as sharp-tongued as his battle-hardened future self. Lacking much argument experience, he simply glared at Draco with puffed-up cheeks.

"Draco," Luke couldn’t stand it anymore and decided to step in. "Generally speaking, when a boy likes someone, he can’t help teasing them... Could it be...?"

Luke imitated Catherine’s exaggerated expressions, covering his mouth with one hand and pointing at Draco with the other. "You like Potter?"

Draco’s previously smug face instantly turned as red as a cooked shrimp—whether from embarrassment, anger, or frustration wasn’t clear. After stammering for a while, he finally blurted, "Who... Who would like Potter?!"

With that, he stormed off, face flushed.

Luke turned back. Not only him, but Ron and Hermione were also staring at Harry like they’d discovered a new world. Draco’s reaction had certainly left room for misinterpretation. Ron said nothing, merely patting Harry’s shoulder. Hermione hesitated, then awkwardly said, "Oh... well, at least it’s not fifty years ago. You won’t face Turing’s fate... But, um, I mean, don’t mind what others think. I’ll always support you."

She then gave Harry a heartfelt hug.

"Guys..." Harry groaned in exasperation. "Luke! How could you... Oh, God..."

"It’s a good thing," Luke shrugged. "At least look on the bright side—Draco probably won’t bother you as much anymore."

Harry thought about it. With his usual carefree attitude, he quickly let it go.

"Thanks, Luke. I didn’t realize how considerate you were."

Hermione and Ron slapped their foreheads simultaneously. Harry was hopeless.

The next day, rumors about Draco Malfoy secretly liking Gryffindor’s savior, Harry Potter, spread like wildfire throughout the school.

It all started when Ron told Percy at dinner. Annoyed by the twins, Percy shared it with them to redirect their mischief. Once the twins knew, the entire school knew.

In Gryffindor, several fangirls stared at Harry in the common room like they’d uncovered some amazing secret. They kept staring during meals too.

Harry felt extremely uncomfortable, shifting in his seat so much he almost wore out the bench.

In Slytherin, countless senior girls assured Draco with supportive smiles, "Fly high, Dragon Baby, we’ll always be with you." But their eyes sparkled with gossip.

Draco was losing it. He wanted to confront Luke but didn’t dare, nearly giving himself an ulcer from the stress.

Finally, unable to bear it anymore, he stood up in the Great Hall, stormed over to Gryffindor’s table, and loudly declared, "Potter! Come with me!"

The entire hall fell silent, then erupted in cheers and applause.

"Potter! Potter! Potter!" Gryffindor students chanted, led by the twins, clapping and cheering. Not to be outdone, Slytherins chanted Malfoy’s name.

The two froze, their faces flushing bright red, then ran out together, each silently cursing the other.

"What’s going on?" Professor McGonagall asked in shock, wondering when the school had become so united.

"Ah, youth," Professor Dumbledore mused, his half-moon glasses glinting with nostalgia.

(End of Chapter)