HP: Pure-Blood Glory

Faced with Taylor's sudden attack, Luke was momentarily at a loss for how to respond. His first reaction, however, was quite practical. He anxiously glanced at Taylor's hands and only relaxed when he noticed the small soundproofing orb in her hand.

He admitted that in the magical world, prophecies couldn't simply be dismissed as "believe it if you want, ignore it if you don't." Prophecy had developed into a whole field of study, which meant it had some theoretical foundation... 

Well, even if that foundation was somewhat far-fetched, the proof base evidence was sufficient. Both Seers and Prophets were real entities in this world.

Just look at this castle—they had a prophet who severely underestimated her own abilities.

So, Taylor's unwavering belief in the prophecy wasn't entirely unreasonable within the mainstream of the wizarding world. Even Dumbledore had placed considerable trust in prophecies at times.

But Luke was different...

His personality was shaped by a combination of incomplete memories from his previous life as a young man who was a foodie, his current youthful body, and the noble and magical education he had received, along with common wizarding knowledge. 

This meant that his approach to prophecy was cautious: he believed, but only a little.

Taylor's blind faith, on the other hand, was something he found difficult to adapt to.

"You're being... reckless," Luke finally managed to say after a long pause.

Taylor, noticing his conflicted expression, gave him a faint smile.

"My grandmother taught me to be decisive," she said softly. "Don't regret what you've done, whether it works out or not."

Luke couldn't help but twitch the corner of his mouth slightly.

"I think there's a difference between being decisive and being reckless," he replied, shaking his head. "You should probably avoid sharing this with anyone else."

Taylor nodded with a smile and tucked the small orb back into her pocket. It was only then that Luke realized he could sense the soundproofing barrier when he was aware of the orb's presence.

Before that, he hadn't noticed when it was activated. Clearly, this orb was a high-quality magical item.

However, despite its rarity, Luke felt no greed for it. He had seen enough similar, high-quality magical objects in his vault.

"If you're interested in learning more, I can tell you later"

Taylor said, flashing a mischievous grin before letting out a big yawn and resting her head on the desk to sleep.

Her disheveled golden hair fell over her face like a thin veil, obscuring her features from view.

Luke let out a long sigh. Although the Innate magic intrigued him, he wasn't overly interested in something that undoubtedly had specific genetic requirements.

The most notable thing about Taylor was her identity as a Legilimens, and it was clear that this "Innate magic" was likely related to that ability.

Luke wasn't particularly fascinated by such magic, which seemed to use singing as a medium.

"But Slytherin's own Innate magic... maybe that's something to look forward to"

Luke mused to himself.

---

Luke's life continued as usual. After enduring the dull yet information-packed History of Magic class, he finally arrived at the second lesson of the day—the one he was really looking forward to;

Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"It's boring, Luke," Marcus had told him over breakfast, shaking his head in disdain. "Professor Quirrell is probably the worst Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've had in years."

"But..." Gemma shook her head and said to Luke, "Professor Quirrell's familiarity with dark magic shouldn't be underestimated... If you listen closely, you can catch some key points, and even a few unique tricks."

"It's just that his teaching style isn't great, so overall, the class feels pretty average," she added.

Luke nodded seriously in response to Gemma's words. "I understand, I'll pay close attention in class."

However, deep down, he was a bit confused.

In his memory, Quirrell's classes weren't just bad; he was notorious for not teaching at all, preferring to tell stories instead. The only difference between him and Lockhart was that...

People actually believed Lockhart's lies, whereas no one believed Quirrell's.

And now Quirrell was actually teaching properly? That in itself seemed ridiculous.

Luke figured it had something to do with Voldemort's influence, but what could have changed Voldemort's attitude?

The more he thought about it, the more he suspected it was related to himself.

But... if he remembered correctly, Voldemort didn't have a favorable view of the Gaunt family. After all, he had modified his uncle's memories, and then used him as a scapegoat.

Would Voldemort have any kindness towards Luke, a member of the Gaunt family?

Luke wasn't sure, but before class, he carefully checked his wand and made sure to bring along some small magical items with protective enchantments.

After all, with Voldemort in such a weakened state, even minor defensive measures could offer some protection.

He couldn't help but hope that the system might provide him with an item to boost his combat abilities. Otherwise, he feared that if Voldemort regained even a little more power, he'd be helpless to do anything as it stood now.

But sooner or later, the inevitable had to come.

Following a group of Slytherin students, Luke entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

There, he saw Quirrell sitting in his seat, head down, doing something.

At first glance, Luke could tell that Quirrell's emotions were in complete turmoil.

He was feeling both hopeful and despairing; both angry and fearful; both greedy and guilty.

It wasn't unusual for a person to have mixed emotions. In fact, it wasn't even strange for some of these feelings to coexist because people are complicated.

But for such conflicting emotions to be present in almost equal measure was extremely rare.

Oddly enough, this made Luke feel a bit relieved.

It meant that Voldemort was in an even worse condition than Luke had anticipated. He couldn't even fully suppress the emotions of Quirrell, whose willpower was already beginning to crumble.

Soon, the Slytherin and Ravenclaw students found their seats. Luke chose a spot in the corner near the wall, while Draco Malfoy, leaving behind Crabbe and Goyle, tried to sit next to Luke—only for Taylor to beat him to it.

Not wanting to appear overly eager to sit with Luke, Malfoy's pride wouldn't allow him to make a fuss. So, sulking, he returned to his spot beside Crabbe and Goyle.

Looking at his two companions—plump and clueless as they were—Malfoy couldn't help but sigh.

But before he could dwell on it, a voice, brimming with confidence and arrogance, echoed through the classroom.

"Now, let's begin the lesson!"

*****

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