[HP] Chapter 104-106

### [HP] 104: Could It Be Someone Reported Me?

The sudden question made Peter Pettigrew’s heart lurch.

“You mean Scabbers?” Ron, who was in the middle of a pie, hesitated. “I’m not really sure. He used to be Percy’s pet, but I don’t know his exact age.”

“Percy kept him for five years. He just showed up at the house back then,” George recalled. “This year Percy gave him to Ron. That makes him pretty old, doesn’t it?”

Harry tilted his head, curious, but he had no real concept of a rat’s lifespan.

“Very old indeed. Normal rats only live one to three years. One that survives five years is rare.” Louis’s tone carried a subtle weight.

“Living long is good—it proves my rat is special. Right, Scabbers?” Ron said cheerfully, lowering his head and feeding his pet a piece of pie.

Peter Pettigrew chewed stiffly, daring a sideways glance at the Slytherin beside him—only to meet Louis’s eyes.

Cold. Merciless. And glinting with icy disgust.

That look… it was more terrifying than the Dark Lord’s gaze back then!

Pettigrew shuddered violently and, panicked, dove into Ron’s clothes. His sharp claws tore at Ron’s robes, leaving scratches on his skin.

“Scabbers! What are you doing?!” Ron shrieked, leaping up as though hot coals had been shoved down his shirt. He shook himself desperately, but the rat clung tightly, refusing to come out.

The Great Hall erupted in laughter. Everyone enjoyed the spectacle of Ron flailing like he’d been electrocuted—including his two shameless older brothers, who laughed louder than anyone else.

In the end, it was Percy Weasley, the Gryffindor Prefect, who came forward to seize the rat and drag Ron to the infirmary for treatment.

Harry followed, face worried, wondering if Ron would even make it back in time for supper.

“That was hilarious,” George grinned.

“Yeah. Ron’s expression was priceless. Shame we couldn’t take a picture,” Fred said regretfully.

With brothers like these, Ron really must have been cursed in a past life.

Louis only shook his head.

“By the way,” he said casually, “since you two haven’t found this Peter Pettigrew, why not look into the name itself? It might give you inspiration.”

“That makes sense.” Fred and George’s eyes lit up. “Louis, that’s a brilliant idea.”

“No need to thank me. Just make sure you track Pettigrew down—and don’t forget to return the Marauder’s Map while you’re at it.” Louis waved them off and left.

He wanted to give the twins some busywork anyway. He had a feeling he’d be monopolizing the Room of Requirement for quite a while—not just for making props, but for delving into Dark Qi magic.

That Tara Mask had been sitting unused long enough. It was time to study it.

Instead of returning to the Slytherin table, Louis turned toward Ravenclaw’s. The Slytherins probably wouldn’t welcome him back anyway. And honestly, they were boring.

Hermione was more interesting.

So he slipped smoothly onto the Ravenclaw bench, right beside her.

Hermione, however, didn’t look eager to talk. Padma, seated nearby, had a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter.

It seemed Hermione was still upset that Louis had refused to go watch the Quidditch match with her.

But little girls were easy to coax. With someone like Hermione, curiosity alone was enough.

Louis casually shooed away the student sitting next to her, took the seat himself, then “plucked” a bright tulip right from above her head.

“Here, for you,” he said with a smile, offering the flower.

Sure enough, Hermione’s attention was instantly hooked. She looked at him curiously. “This is another trick, isn’t it?”

“Sort of. But definitely not magic,” Louis chuckled.

It was already late autumn—forget tulips, even most autumn blooms had withered. Where could such a flower possibly come from?

Her curiosity won. Hermione accepted the tulip, not noticing Padma’s exasperated look of honestly, how could you fall for this?

The flower was flawless, its texture and freshness perfect. It looked utterly real.

But magic—or sleight of hand—should still require something to work from, shouldn’t it?

Hermione pressed him for answers, but Louis had no intention of revealing the truth.

The tulip came from his Reality Marble—Avalon, a paradise where spring reigned eternal and seas of flowers bloomed without end. Plucking one bloom was nothing.

A single flower and a few words were enough to smooth over Hermione’s mood. Louis filled his stomach while he was at it, then prepared to leave—only to see Snape striding toward him.

“Mr. Wilson.” Snape’s eyes flicked to the flower in Hermione’s hand, surprise flashing across his face. But he asked no questions. “The Headmaster wishes to see you.”

“Professor Dumbledore?” Louis blinked. I haven’t done anything lately… what could he want with me?

Startled, he blurted out, “Don’t tell me someone reported me?”

The words had barely left his lips before the Slytherin table fell silent. That silence spread like wildfire, and soon the entire Great Hall quieted.

Students from the other three Houses looked around in confusion, not knowing what had happened. Only the Slytherins reacted differently.

The boys exchanged anxious glances, searching each other’s faces for guilt. Finding none, they all bowed their heads in unison, pretending to be diligent little Hufflepuffs, eating in silence.

Snape’s face twitched violently.

“No one reported you, Mr. Wilson. The Headmaster simply wishes to discuss something with you.”

Ever since Louis had arrived, his House had lost its edge. Slytherin students were no longer aggressive—they were skittish, like quail.

“Oh, I see.” Louis adjusted his top hat. “You’re sure no one reported me?” His eyes swept the Slytherin table, cold glints flashing as though he were searching for a scapegoat.

“No, Mr. Wilson. Unless you’ve done something worth reporting?” Snape very nearly rolled his eyes.

“Of course not. I’m a perfectly harmonious, kind-hearted person. Why would anyone report me? I just worry someone might lose their way.” Louis said it with mock seriousness.

Beside him, Hermione burst into laughter.

Girl, you don’t have to expose me like that, Louis thought helplessly, glancing at her.

---

### [HP] 105: The More I Look at This Kid, the More I Like Him

“Cockroach Cluster.”

The correct password awakened the beastly gargoyle guarding the entrance. It stepped aside slowly, revealing the spiral staircase to the Headmaster’s office.

For the second time, Louis climbed the staircase—this time carrying a stalk of slightly yellowed bamboo, dotted with tiny grain-like seeds.

This was lian-shi—bamboo rice. Legend had it that phoenixes ate nothing else. Louis hadn’t seen much bamboo in Britain, and he doubted Dumbledore’s phoenix had either.

As he climbed, Louis couldn’t help but feel something was off.

Why was it that Harry Potter, the so-called Chosen One, had barely been here, yet he himself had already visited several times? Who was the real savior here?

Still, he had no real complaints. Even if for nothing else, just seeing the phoenix again was worth the trip.

Louis had been busy lately, with no time to sneak into the Forbidden Forest to encounter magical beasts. Running into one here was an opportunity not to be wasted.

After all, he hadn’t forgotten the special achievement still hanging over him:

Magical Creature Tamer — Increases affinity with, and control over, magical creatures.

Every three successful acts of “tricking” magical creatures would enhance the achievement further. Even in its base form, it was remarkably effective.

He’d already visited Hagrid’s hut several times. By now, Hagrid’s hound Fang was practically Louis’s dog, obeying him more readily than his actual owner.

Hagrid had even grown a little jealous, joking that Louis should stay away from Fang before he stole his best friend.

And that was just the un-evolved form of the achievement. Louis suspected that even a single evolution would allow him to easily approach magical beasts that weren’t naturally hostile to humans.

Of course, those born with a hatred for mankind—Quintapeds, Acromantulas, and the like—would still lash out or flee if he came too close.

But human-raised magical creatures, like the three-headed dog? Louis was certain that after just one upgrade, he could tame such beasts without difficulty.

At present, he had successfully fooled both Fafnir and Fluffy. Hastur, however, wasn’t counted—because of its different system, the Trickster System didn’t register it as a magical beast. So Louis was still one short of his next evolution.

As for Fang… well, the hound rarely left Hagrid’s side. And with such a timid nature, tricking him might leave lasting trauma. Louis decided to let Fang off the hook.

That left his sights set on Dumbledore’s phoenix, Fawkes. Hopefully, the Headmaster wouldn’t mind a little prank.

“By the way, a phoenix is a bird, isn’t it? I wonder what would happen if I injected it with one of those avian genetic enhancement serums…” The thought popped into Louis’s mind suddenly, sparking his curiosity.

Unfortunately, genetic serums were rare items, only obtainable through premium draws. Unless something extraordinary happened, there was no way Louis would waste a premium pull for that.

Joking aside, why settle for premium when perfect-grade draws existed? And beyond that, even legendary ones awaited him.

When he entered the Headmaster’s office, it was the same as the first time—towering bookshelves all around, Albus Dumbledore sitting with his nose in a book. Hearing Louis’s footsteps, he raised his head.

“Welcome, Mr. Wilson. Tea again?” Dumbledore asked with a kindly smile.

Louis removed his top hat with a polite nod. “Good evening, Professor. I’ll pass on the tea—I’ve already had dinner.”

As he approached, his eyes flicked to the book Dumbledore was reading. It appeared to be a record of famous British wizards—the page open was on Merlin himself.

“Good evening,” Dumbledore replied, then noticed the bamboo in Louis’s hand. “Oh? Is that bamboo? And those are…?”

“That’s right—bamboo rice,” Louis said. “I read in a book that phoenixes like it. So I went out of my way to get some for your phoenix to try.”

He swayed the stalk back and forth as he spoke, and sure enough, Fawkes’s head swayed along with it, clearly enticed by the bamboo rice.

Louis gave the stalk a final shakebang! The bamboo and the grains upon it burst apart, scattering into a cloud of fluttering butterflies that danced through the air before dissolving into shimmering light.

Fawkes was stunned.

Not because Louis’s trick was especially dazzling, but because the phoenix had never imagined a human would dare toy with it!

It was a phoenix—a majestic creature that could be reborn in fire, survive death curses and Fiendfyre alike without falling. And this human had the audacity to deceive it!

Even so… this human was rather pleasant to look at.

No—wait. The longer it looked, the more pleasing he became.

Fawkes tilted its head, let out two disgruntled cries, yet strangely, it wasn’t angry. Instead, it leaned forward tentatively and tapped Louis’s palm with its beak.

Mm. This scent is good. I like this human.

The phoenix spread its wings and gave them a slow flap, letting out a regretful cry.

Shame. I already have a master. Otherwise, this boy might be worth a try. Far too likable.

Dumbledore hadn’t realized how close he’d come to losing his loyal companion. He only noticed how unusually calm—almost ingratiating—Fawkes seemed, and his expression turned surprised.

Phoenixes were indeed friendly toward wizards, but they were also proud, noble creatures. They never allowed themselves to be tricked.

Even if they wouldn’t harm anyone, they would at least scorch an offender with a playful breath of fire.

But now Fawkes was showing affection to Louis? Incredible. The only explanation could lie in Louis’s own peculiarities.

…Perhaps it was the bloodline of Merlin. Along with the powers of the Nightmare, came affinity with nature and magical creatures—that would make sense.

But then again, when Louis had first visited, Fawkes had shown nothing of the sort. So what had changed since then?

“Mr. Wilson, it seems Fawkes is quite fond of you,” Dumbledore remarked.

Louis cocked his head, glancing at the system’s prompt.

> [You have deceived a Legendary Magical Creature: Phoenix.]

> [Harmless Deception.]

> [You gain 500 Trick Points. Current total: 93,500 points.]

> [Your Achievement: Magical Creature Tamer has strengthened. Effect slightly increased].

So Fawkes’s sudden change of heart was thanks to the achievement’s boost. Still, Dumbledore wasn’t wrong—the phoenix truly did (thanks to the system) seem to like him.

“I’m honored,” Louis said politely.

He stroked the phoenix’s head, feeling the softness and warmth, then placed his top hat on the table and sat down in the guest chair.

This time, the cup before him was filled with rich, fragrant black tea. Its aroma was delightful.

“Headmaster, may I ask what business you have with me?” Louis asked bluntly.

He still had to head to the Room of Requirement that evening to conduct a Dark Qi ritual. There wasn’t much time to waste.

“Nothing grave,” Dumbledore said, fixing him with a steady gaze. “Only a discussion—about your bloodline.”

---

### [HP] 106: Better to Make Them Fear Me Than Respect Me

“My bloodline…?”

The Headmaster’s office was quiet, the portraits on the walls all peering curiously at Louis—the supposed descendant of Merlin.

So it’s come to this, Louis thought. This is probably a check-up, isn’t it? After all, being a descendant of Merlin sounds far more dangerous than Voldemort ever was. Dumbledore must be worried I’ll turn into another Dark Lord.

Still, since he’d convinced Dumbledore of his identity, he knew he’d also have to accept the pressure that came with it. Louis had been prepared for this from the start.

“Yes, Mr. Wilson. Your bloodline’s power seems… unusually well-hidden,” Dumbledore said.

If even a descendant of Merlin couldn’t be recorded in the Book of Admittance, then who else possibly could? Yet Louis’s name was absent, so Dumbledore could only speculate that Merlin’s bloodline was so unique that the book itself had overlooked him.

But then how do we defend the credibility of the Book of Admittance? Otherwise, who would ever trust it again?

“Is that so? Perhaps. But I never noticed,” Louis answered casually.

“Have you noticed any sudden changes in yourself? A burst of uncontrolled magic?” Dumbledore asked.

A magical outburst—something every young wizard experienced. At a certain age, emotional surges caused their magic to erupt, disrupting the world around them. That was why students began Hogwarts at eleven: to be taught to control it.

For children of unusual bloodlines, such outbursts often came with peculiar traits. And Louis’s was perhaps the most unusual of all.

Had he experienced an additional, hidden surge? Perhaps even here, inside Hogwarts, unnoticed by anyone? That was Dumbledore’s suspicion—after all, from Fawkes’s reaction, Louis’s aura now was noticeably different from when he had first arrived.

What he couldn’t know was that Louis’s “change” had only just occurred—at the exact moment he tricked the phoenix. His achievement had strengthened, and only that explained Fawkes’s affection. Without it, Louis would’ve been roasted alive.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice anything like that,” Louis shrugged, then countered smoothly, “Do you perhaps have a theory, Professor?”

The question was nothing but idle chatter—meant to keep Dumbledore from spinning baseless guesses.

After all, in the entire Harry Potter saga, there had never been such a thing as “Merlin’s bloodline.” Louis was perfectly calm. He was a one-of-a-kind scam, and there was no risk of exposure.

Sure enough, Dumbledore shook his head. “I have no definite thoughts. Your bloodline is… unique. One could even say singular. We have no points of comparison.”

“I see. But what does that have to do with you calling me here? Don’t tell me you want to study me?” Louis asked.

Dumbledore, famed for his alchemy and as the discoverer of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood—did he intend to publish the twenty uses of Merlin’s bloodline?

“Of course not,” Dumbledore denied at once. “You are free. No one has the right to ‘study’ you. However…”

“However what?”

“However, your existence will inevitably draw attention. Some will be curious, some will admire you—but others will fear your power, or even seek to claim you for themselves.”

Louis smirked. He knew Dumbledore was right, but who was he supposed to fear?

“Claim me for themselves? Sounds like a marriage proposal,” he joked.

“That would be the gentlest method,” Dumbledore said gravely. “More likely, they’ll try to bribe you—or coerce you.”

“Bribes… threats?” Louis chuckled.

“You don’t seem the least bit concerned?” Dumbledore frowned, puzzled at his calm.

“Why should I be, when you’re here? You’re the most powerful wizard alive,” Louis replied smoothly.

Dumbledore shook his head, about to say more, but then changed the subject. “Mr. Wilson, perhaps you should start with yourself. Make more friends.”

“Friends? Of course—I take friendship very seriously,” Louis spread his hands innocently.

“Then perhaps stop bullying your classmates?” Dumbledore suggested.

“So someone did complain!” Louis grinned, baring sharp white teeth. “Headmaster, just tell me who it was. I guarantee—they’ll become my friend.”

Guarantee? Become your friend? Dumbledore nearly groaned aloud. Are you planning to bribe them, or threaten them? For Merlin’s sake, put away that grin already!

Dumbledore could barely keep his expression steady—he almost felt like grabbing Louis on the spot and locking him away so he wouldn’t wreak havoc any further.

“No one reported you, Mr. Wilson. Your actions are plain for all to see,” Dumbledore said calmly. “I only hope you’ll be a bit kinder to your classmates.”

“I am quite kind,” Louis smiled at him. “Unless someone provokes me first, I generally don’t go looking for trouble.”

“…And your pumpkin clown?”

“Oh, that was an accident. I didn’t expect the other Slytherin boys to be so frightened of it. But you see, I didn’t repeat it, did I? It was only a holiday surprise.”

Louis’s explanation… was not unreasonable.

Dumbledore mused for a while before asking, “Mr. Wilson, what do you want to do in the future?”

“My future?”

“Yes. For instance, what career do you wish to pursue? Have you ever thought of staying at Hogwarts, or—”

“Most likely, I’ll live in the Muggle world. Magic is wonderful, but I don’t think I could adapt to such a backward lifestyle.”

Louis glanced at the dim oil lamps and the fireplace in the Headmaster’s office, then shook his head with open disdain.

“But isn’t the wizarding world better suited to you? Your uniqueness would be difficult for Muggles to accept,” Dumbledore countered.

“That just depends on wisdom, Professor. To make others accept your strangeness, all you need is a bit of kindly deception. For example: I’m a magician—it’s only natural that I look a little extraordinary.” Louis shrugged.

“But when you say the magical world is backward, I must disagree. After all—”

“Headmaster Dumbledore,” Louis interrupted, wagging his finger, “before you defend the magical world, I should point something out. We don’t have equal information. You don’t understand the Muggle world, but I understand the wizarding world well enough. After all, it’s all written in books.”

“Besides, I come from a normal Muggle family. I have parents who love me, who give me everything I ask for. And I love them, and would do much for them.”

“I’m not like Harry Potter. He lives poorly at his uncle’s house. I know this better than anyone—I see him every day, doing chores, treated with cold neglect.”

Louis spoke casually, as though it were idle talk. “Of course he’d love the wizarding world. It’s where his happiest memories are. Isn’t that right, Headmaster? Isn’t that exactly what you intended?”

Dumbledore’s gaze flickered. He hesitated, even considered whether he ought to use Legilimency to probe Louis’s thoughts.

It went against his morals—but Louis’s identity made him waver.

In the end, he held back, clinging to principle.

That was the measure of Dumbledore’s greatness—always restraining himself with morality. Anyone else with such a gift would abuse it for personal gain.

Both Dumbledore and Snape refrained from such violations, though for different reasons. Dumbledore out of principle; Snape simply because he had no desires left in life. Aside from bullying students from other Houses, he wanted little else.

But Dumbledore didn’t know—Legilimency would have failed anyway. He wasn’t even looking into Louis’s real eyes. Illusion had shifted his gaze.

What Dumbledore saw were Louis’s eyebrows.

Legilimency was nearly impossible to defend against. Only Occlumency worked. Unless—your opponent couldn’t see your eyes at all.

And Louis couldn’t always avoid eye contact, but he could misdirect with illusion, making the other see “eyes” where none were.

If Legilimency pulled anything from that, it would be a miracle.

“Well, everyone has their own ideas. Still, I have one suggestion, Mr. Wilson,” Dumbledore said at last, smiling faintly. “Why not treat your classmates a little better? They may become valuable allies in the future.”

“That, I can’t agree with, Headmaster.” Louis curled his lip. “Do you really believe their personal feelings toward me will determine their actions later?”

“Perhaps you could elaborate,” Dumbledore prompted, intrigued.

“Pure-blood families are like Muggle nobility. Because they’re few in number, their ties are deeply tangled.” Louis’s voice dropped low. “Friendship to them is never as reliable as blood. When their kin plot against me, do you think any classmate—no matter how friendly—would truly stand at my side?”

“This…” Dumbledore faltered. “There are always exceptions…”

But even he couldn’t finish the sentence. The answer was obvious—of course most would not.

“So you see, Headmaster, you understand too,” Louis said with a thin smile. “Rather than chase the illusion of friendship and impossible loyalty, it’s better to carve a deep shadow into their hearts—make them fear me.”

His eyes gleamed with cold light.

“Fear me so much they wouldn’t dare plot against me. So much they wouldn’t dare act—or even dare think of it.

Better to make them fear me… than respect me.”

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