HP: Pure-Blood Glory

Deep in the night, all was quiet.

The clear moonlight filtered through the waters of the Black Lake, casting its glow into the dormitory.

A luxurious and comfortable bed lay empty, with only the shadow of flickering candlelight stretched across its surface. The shadow's edge ended at a mirror in the corner of the room.

Luke stood before the mirror, with a serious expression on his face.

He removed the black robe draped over his shoulders. His tall, imposing figure shrank back to the stature of an ordinary 11-year-old boy. However, it seemed he had grown slightly taller than he was before drinking the potion. All of this was expected.

What wasn't expected…

The candlelight illuminated his skin, revealing patches of scales covering his body.

Luke did not panic. After all, the last time he used the Snake Form ability, similar scales had appeared on his body. But those scales had been less sturdy and had faded quickly.

Reaching out, he pressed his fingers against the scales on his chest.

The surface was not smooth; the texture was rough, and the hardness was evident. The scales emanated a faint magical energy, suggesting they offered some resistance to spells.

Yet, compared to serpent scales, they felt more akin to wood in texture.

This time, the sensation was much clearer than before.

As the scales slowly receded, Luke's body returned to its normal state.

Taking a deep breath, he climbed back into bed and soon drifted into a deep sleep.

While Luke slept soundly, the night's events were far from over.

In the Forbidden Forest, a dim yellow lantern bobbed through the trees, accompanied by heavy footsteps and the low growl of a dog.

Hagrid was making swift strides, his lantern swinging with his hurried pace.

At last, he spotted a cluster of Acromantulas and quickened his pace even further.

"What happened here!?"

Hagrid stopped in front of the spiders, his voice booming with concern.

Fang, by his side, eyed the enormous creatures warily, growling low before retreating to hide behind Hagrid.

Hagrid paid no mind to his cowardly companion. His piercing gaze remained fixed on the spiders, as though urging them to explain.

The Acromantulas chittered their fangs menacingly at Hagrid, but he seemed unfazed. In fact, his eyes held a strange mix of concern and affection as he regarded the menacing creatures.

"One of our hunting parties lost contact. We came searching and discovered signs of a battle involving two humans. One of them carried the scent of a basilisk."

The largest spider, its body notably larger than the others, spoke directly to Hagrid, recounting what had transpired.

Though the Acromantulas didn't particularly like Hagrid, they dared not disrespect him—at least not while Aragog, the old patriarch, was still alive.

"Were any spiders killed? Did you see what those humans looked like? And… what's this about a basilisk?"

Hagrid's worst fears were confirmed: poachers had entered the Forbidden Forest. Worse still, they had the audacity to harm an Acromantula.

"We know nothing more," the spider replied curtly.

With that, it turned and began leading its group deeper into their territory.

"Wait! What about the bodies? Were they taken?"

Hagrid quickly called after them.

"They're on the other side. If you want to see them, go look for them yourself."

With that, the massive spider scuttled away, followed by its brood.

This wasn't a trivial matter. They needed to inform Aragog. Losing a small hunting party wasn't disastrous, but the presence of a hostile wizard posed a grave threat.

Especially if one was capable of inflicting real harm.

At the very least, they would need to adjust their hunting strategies. How to proceed would be up to Aragog.

After watching the spiders disappear into the shadows, Hagrid turned and headed in the direction the bigger spider had indicated.

Fang ran ahead once more, stopping before the mangled remains of a spider and barking loudly.

Hagrid, seeing Fang once again putting on a brave front, couldn't help but take a deep breath and shake his head.

He knelt beside the spider carcasses, carefully inspecting their wounds.

Two of the spiders were intact, their bodies lifeless in a way that left no doubt—they had been killed by the Killing Curse.

The third, however, was a different story.

Its body was mangled, its tough exoskeleton shattered. Judging by the damage, it wasn't a weapon but rather a powerful blast of magic that had torn it apart.

Hagrid reached out with two fingers, pressing the remains to assess the texture. He then pried open one of its mandibles and bent down for a closer look.

"How's it going, Hagrid?"

A gentle, aged voice sounded behind him, startling Hagrid so much that he nearly toppled forward.

Fang, too, was startled, leaping backward with a growl. But upon recognizing Dumbledore, the dog quickly quieted down, wagging his tail briefly before trotting off in another direction.

Hagrid got to his feet, exhaling deeply before turning to face Dumbledore.

"The Acromantulas told me there were two wizards fighting," Hagrid explained. "But from what I can see, only one of them left any traces on this spider."

"Whoever it was, they're skilled with the Killing Curse. A powerful dark wizard, no doubt. Judging by the state of the bodies, the fight happened less than half an hour ago. It didn't last long."

"The wizard who killed the spider harvested its venom and some of its flesh."

"The venom, I can understand. But the flesh… that's odd. It's not a typical potion ingredient. Must be for something else."

At that moment, Fang came running back, carrying a cauldron in his jaws. He nudged Hagrid's hand with it.

"What've you got there?"

Hagrid took the cauldron from Fang and examined it closely.

"A cauldron?"

He turned it over, inspecting it thoroughly before handing it to Dumbledore.

"I can't make anything of it, Professor. Maybe Professor Snape could take a look."

"Still, it seems like the wizard attacking the spiders might have been the weaker one in the fight."

Dumbledore accepted the cauldron with a light touch, casting a brief glance over it.

"I'll have Severus examine it. But it seems to be an ordinary cauldron."

"Perhaps we can glean something from the potion residue inside."

Hagrid nodded but then frowned in frustration. "I should've been more vigilant. Luke warned me someone might be targeting the deeper parts of the Forbidden Forest. I thought stepping up patrols would be enough. Turns out, I was wrong. That's on me, Professor!"

Dumbledore, however, seemed less concerned with Hagrid's perceived failure and more interested in the name he had just mentioned.

"Luke? Mr. Gaunt?"

Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, Professor. Luke. He mentioned it the last time he came into the forest with the Weasley twins for some, er… extracurricular exploration."

Hagrid stumbled over his words, clearly trying to phrase their nighttime escapades in a way that didn't sound blatantly against school rules.

"What exactly did he tell you?"

Dumbledore's gaze was not sharp, but it carried a quiet authority that made Hagrid falter.

Swallowing his original excuse, Hagrid answered honestly, "Luke has a natural affinity for magical creatures. He told me that some of the more perceptive or intelligent creatures in the Forbidden Forest were sensing something amiss. They were growing anxious."

"He advised me to stay alert. But I didn't act quickly enough."

Hagrid clenched his fists in frustration as he finished speaking.

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.

"Strengthen the defenses, Hagrid. But remember, no creature in the Forbidden Forest is more valuable than your life."

"Understood, Professor!"

Hagrid straightened up, his spirits lifted by Dumbledore's encouragement.

"Oh, right, Professor," Hagrid added, suddenly remembering something, his tone a bit sheepish. "Over the past few weekends, I've been letting Luke come to my hut now and help me out. He really loves magical creatures, so…"

"That's entirely your freedom, Hagrid, you're more than welcome to have an assistant."

Dumbledore responded with a gentle smile.

"Thank you, Professor!"

Hagrid replied happily.

Dumbledore turned his gaze briefly toward the castle, his expression thoughtful.

"Remember, Hagrid, keep tonight's events confidential. Tell no one."

"You can count on me, Professor!" Hagrid patted his chest in assurance. "I won't say a word!"

At his feet, Fang barked twice in agreement, as if vouching for his master's promise.

Dumbledore smiled before turning and walking into the distance, his figure soon swallowed by the shadows of the Forbidden Forest.

---

Beneath the surface of the Black Lake, a massive shadow slowly rose, its curiosity piqued. It lingered, tentatively watching the direction of the forest.

After a moment, the creature's large, tentacled limb scratched its head in a perplexed, almost human-like gesture.

Satisfied or perhaps still puzzled, it sank back into the depths, leaving the waters undisturbed as though it had never surfaced.

---

A swirl of black smoke slipped through an open window, reforming into a human figure on a tattered sofa.

Quirrell gasped for breath, his hand fumbling on a nearby table until it found a water jug. Without hesitation, he tipped it to his lips, gulping greedily until it was empty.

His pale face glistened with sweat, and though his heavy breathing persisted, his complexion wasn't as ghastly as before.

"The effects are… better than expected"

In his mind, Voldemort said calmly.

Quirrell opened his mouth to respond but quickly closed it again, exhaling deeply instead.

"What's our next move, Master?"

He asked, his voice tinged with despair.

His hopes had dwindled so much that all he wanted was to know the next step, to determine whether it was worth gambling on survival—or die with some dignity left.

"Don't worry, we take our time. I have a little surprise in mind for them"

Voldemort replied coldly, his tone laced with dark amusement.

"We need chaos. If they're too prepared, our chances of obtaining the Philosopher's Stone diminish greatly."

Quirrell blinked, surprised by his master's sudden strategic clarity.

"Do you have something in mind, my Lord?"

He asked hesitantly, with a flicker of hope returning.

"Indeed, Tonight's encounter with the Acromantulas gave me an idea. We, too, can use magical creatures to our advantage. A well-placed attack on the school by a sufficiently dangerous creature should create the distraction we need."

Quirrell, for the first time in weeks, found himself nodding along, even feeling a small spark of admiration. His master's plan was both cunning and practical—a welcome change.

Finally, a plan that didn't involve reckless confrontation but clever misdirection.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door.

Quirrell instinctively moved to answer, but Voldemort's voice roared in his mind, "You fool! Take off those robes! Do you sleep in your cloak and dragon-hide gloves?"

Quirrell froze, realizing his blunder. With a flick of his wand, his outer garments peeled away and floated neatly into an open trunk.

A pair of simple pajamas from the bed flew over, draping themselves onto him as he hastily pulled them on.

The knocking continued, sharp and insistent.

"Coming! Who is it?"

Quirrell opened the door, only to be greeted by a swiftly approaching fist.

He reflexively tightened his grip on his wand, ready to defend himself.

The fist stopped just a little away from his nose before retreating. Quirrell exhaled sharply, recognizing the figure before him.

"Se-Severus," he stammered with a forced smile. "What brings you here at this hour?"

Snape's cold gaze swept over Quirrell and into the room beyond.

"Didn't you feel it? The magical surge from the Forbidden Forest."

"The power was considerable. We're gathering the professors to investigate."

"Of course! Let me get ready!"

Quirrell nodded quickly, retreating into his room.

Snape leaned against the doorframe, his piercing eyes scanning the interior. He looked as though he was inspecting every object for something stolen.

"You seem unusually… lively tonight, Quirinus, had a good rest?"

Snape asked, seemingly intentionally or not.

Quirrell forced a nervous chuckle. "Not quite. I was in the middle of a nightmare when you knocked. Woke me up drenched in sweat."

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Perhaps I should brew you a calming draught. It might help with your sleep."

"Oh, that would be wonderful, Severus. Thank you."

On the surface, it was a friendly exchange between colleagues, seemingly filled with warm camaraderie.

But beneath the facade, both men were on edge.

Snape's eyes narrowed as his hand casually drew his wand. His posture remained relaxed, yet there was a readiness in his movements.

Quirrell, meanwhile, fumbled through his wardrobe, his own wand tightly gripped, hidden but ready. A subtle tension in the room thickened as their magical auras rippled beneath the surface, prepared for confrontation.

Moonlight spilled into the room, casting its pale glow on the center of the floor. Yet the shadows on either side of the room concealed two figures.

Far from the brewing storm, Luke slept soundly in his dormitory, blissfully unaware—or perhaps entirely prepared for the unseen games unfolding in the dark corners of the castle.

*****

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