"NORBERT!!!"
With a thunderous roar and an earth-shaking explosion, the sea of flowers beneath Louis's feet caved in like a crater. In the very next instant, his body blurred into an afterimage and shot straight toward the fire dragon who had just finished… relieving itself.
The freshly relieved Norbert first looked delighted to see his master—but that expression lasted less than half a second before confusion took its place.
Because Louis's boot slammed squarely into his chest. A surge of overwhelming force sent the poor dragon flying skyward in a blazing arc.
"ROAAARRR—!"
Panicked, Norbert didn't even have time to explain himself. His massive body tore free of gravity's hold, streaking toward the heavens like a comet, the rush of wind forcing strange, bubbling noises from his wide-open mouth.
The wind was howling… the tears were flying…
Louis landed gently back on the ground, face dark with fury as he stared at the World Tree sapling now growing right in the middle of a pile of dragon dung.
Could this tree even be salvaged anymore? Maybe he should just dig it up and start over.
Wait—was it… growing again? It looked a little taller than before. And the golden fertilizer? Already absorbed?
Beside him, Hastur tilted its head back, watching the fiery "meteor" that Norbert had become climb higher and higher—until its neck could no longer bend any further and it toppled backward with a thud.
Apparently, that big idiot was still airborne. Hastur gave the glowing speck in the sky a look of pure pity, then scampered to Louis's side, meowing urgently.
Quick! Hurry up and use the syringe! I want to get stronger too!
"Huh? Hastur, how did you even get in here?" Louis looked down at his feet, puzzled. The cat pawed its head, pretending innocence.
"Meow?" Hastur blinked, then reached out a paw to tap the faintly glowing green injector in Louis's hand.
"Oh, that? That's not for you. You can't use it—it's for Norbert," Louis explained.
For that big idiot?!
At that, Hastur's fur puffed up in outrage, and with a furious hiss, it dashed toward the direction of the meteor in the sky.
No one could stop it today. It was going to eat that stupid dragon!
Yes—jealousy truly was a terrifying thing.
In the end, Louis still managed to calm Hastur down.
Not because he was particularly good at coaxing cats, but because he took out a certain book—"Primordial Divine Art."
A perfect-grade technique issued by the system itself, just like Hastur, and to Louis's astonishment, the cat could actually read it effortlessly!
That made things easier. Louis told Hastur that this cultivation method was incredibly powerful—that mastering it would make it stronger than any of Fafnir's enhancements.
Hastur didn't believe him at first… but after glancing through the manual, something seemed to click. It got completely hooked—and then, unbelievably, it really started studying!
Louis didn't understand. Louis was utterly dumbfounded.
Still, at least it worked—he had successfully bluffed his way through.
---
The next day was Halloween. But truth be told, the real excitement had already passed—the big celebration was always the night before. When the actual day came, there wasn't anything particularly special left to see.
That morning, they had a History of Magic class. Professor Binns had assigned an essay on "The Medieval Wizarding Council."
There was no word-count requirement—only one oddly specific rule: it had to be written on a standard roll of parchment eight feet long.
Louis stared at the assignment, nearly laughing aloud.
This… this is what passes for homework?
For a humanities essay on magical history? Please. He could write something that long with his eyes closed and still make it sound profound.
Louis brought back the same determination he'd once had while writing his graduation thesis.
Eight feet of parchment? He could do eighty if they wanted.
After all, this kind of essay only needed to be copied straight from books—no original thought required. At worst, he'd tack on a few reflections at the end for style.
Louis had already finished his paper the very day it was assigned. Most students, however, didn't share that mindset. They preferred to spend their free time playing around, only to cram their essays together right before class—
—relying on the "one quill, one miracle" method of homework completion.
Harry and Ron were perfect examples. As Louis stepped into the library, he saw them racing through the doors, clutching their rolls of parchment, scrambling for seats.
Why do they do this to themselves? he thought, shaking his head. Wouldn't it be easier to just finish early?
He went to Madam Pince's desk, registered the book he was carrying to prove it was his own, and then walked inside.
It didn't take long to spot the two people who stood out among the crowd—Hermione and Cassandra.
Right now, those two girls were the most talked-about figures in Hogwarts, their popularity almost eclipsing Louis himself, the so-called descendant of Merlin.
Rumors flew wildly around them:
"The Valkyrie Who Raged for Her Beloved,"
"The Forbidden Tale of the Slytherin Girl and the Ravenclaw Girl."
Some of the stories were so ridiculous that even Louis, who'd lived an entire previous life, found them unbelievable.
Apparently, gossip was a universal pastime—whether one was a wizard or a Muggle.
"Good afternoon, ladies," Louis greeted with an easy smile as he walked up. "I've come to bring you some warmth."
"Warmth?" Hermione looked up from her parchment, raising an eyebrow. "Do you know what I want most right now?"
"Do you think I could guess?" Louis asked with a teasing grin.
"Hmph, I doubt it." Hermione turned to Cassandra. "What do you think?"
"Unless he's a worm living in your stomach—or you told him yourself—there's no way he could guess," Cassandra replied bluntly, her tone laced with her usual venom.
Louis's mouth twitched slightly, but he calmly placed a book down in front of Hermione. "I think this is what you want."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Hogwarts: A History? How did you know I wanted to read this?"
Across the table, Cassandra looked up, a flicker of surprise crossing her face.
"Maybe because I am the worm in her stomach," Louis joked lightly as he took a seat opposite them. "I figured you'd be interested in the Chamber of Secrets."
"Who isn't? Everyone's curious about it," Hermione said, pursing her lips. "The library's copies have all been checked out already." She eagerly flipped open the book.
"If it's the Chamber you're curious about, that one won't help much," Louis commented casually—then suddenly frowned. He felt eyes on him.
Turning his head, he caught a few Slytherin students hastily lowering theirs, avoiding his gaze.
"See that?" Cassandra said quietly.
"I did," Louis replied, glancing back at her. "But that's… a bit ridiculous, isn't it?"
"What are you two talking about?" Hermione looked up warily, glancing between them.
Cassandra explained calmly, "A lot of people in Slytherin think Louis is the one who opened the Chamber. That he's the Heir of Slytherin."
"What? That's impossible!" Hermione protested immediately. "Louis would never do something like that."
"Strong talent, immense power, and a reputation for putting Slytherins in their place…" Cassandra said dryly. "If I were on the other side, I might believe it too. Fortunately, the rumor hasn't spread beyond Slytherin for now—and because of a rather peculiar idea, they don't plan to."
"A peculiar idea?" Hermione frowned, quickly catching on. "You mean… they want Louis to be the Heir—so he'll wipe out the Muggle-borns before anyone suspects him?"
"Exactly." Cassandra's lips curved into a disdainful smile. "Pure-blood families do have a tendency to worship that kind of leader."
Even with that sneer on her face, she was still breathtakingly beautiful.
---
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