HP: Pure-Blood Glory

In a simple yet elegant room, a middle-aged man sat on a sofa in front of a fireplace. He wore meticulously tailored loungewear, his hair was impeccably styled, and a reserved smile graced his face. His features were striking, and his thin lips, in particular, lent him an additional air of cold detachment.

The fireplace before him was burning with flickering orange flames, but these flames had been forcefully shaped into the form of a human head.

The fiery head lacked finer details, but its coarse features exuded a ruggedness that, while devoid of refinement, carried an air of unrestrained boldness.

"You sent your son to test Luke Gaunt?"

The fiery head spoke with a muffled voice.

"With all the commotion going on outside, I'm hardly the only one interested in probing him," replied the man on the sofa, his expression unchanged. "Unlike you, I am not a natural ally of the Gaunt family. After all, with no one left from the Blacks or the Lestranges, the families closest to the Gaunts are now the Malfoys and your Flint family."

Old Flint stared at the man for a long while, his gaze sharp and bordering on impoliteness.

"That may be so, but since when has Nott become the one sticking his neck out?"

At these words, the reserved smile on Nott's face nearly faltered.

He remained silent for a moment, composing himself, before speaking in a calm tone: "Every family needs to eat. The Ministry only offers us token positions. We stayed out of everything back then, and now, naturally, we have nothing to show for it."

"Trying to sit on the fence while demanding rewards from both sides? Nott, you're ugly enough as it is without imagining yourself so clever!"

Old Flint erupted into laughter, shaking loose black soot from the chimney above.

It seemed this sort of exchange was a familiar one, for apart from a flicker of helplessness and disappointment in his eyes, Nott's expression remained unchanged.

When his laughter subsided, Flint shook his head again and said, "You're taking things too simply."

Nott furrowed his brow but said nothing.

The fiery head's eyes moved subtly, and it spoke again.

"Those Gaunts who amounted to nothing? They're usually scoundrels—everyone knows that, no need to elaborate.

"But the capable ones—you've read about them in the family archives, haven't you?"

"They are magnanimous yet vengeful. To those with value, even mortal enemies, they'll extend a hand. But once that value is gone? I won't call them heartless, but they're not far off."

"You think he can't see through your little trick today? If there's no issue, fine. But if there is, it'll be the leverage he needs to hold over you in the future…"

At this, Old Flint abruptly stopped speaking, his expression shifting to one of surprise as he stared at Nott.

Nott's face, calm and composed as ever, seemed almost mask-like in its stillness.

"You've just delivered yourself on a silver platter? Are you insane?"

Seeing that Flint had caught on, Nott shook his head once more and replied, "Still just a fence-sitter."

Flint finally understood completely. "As expected, your family's nature never changes…"

With that, he shook his head in resignation. He opened his mouth as if to say more, but ultimately, no further words came.

The fiery visage dispersed in an instant, the flames breaking apart and resuming their natural, lively dance within the fireplace.

"If given a choice, who would want to do this?"

A low sigh, accompanied by the crackling of flames consuming firewood, echoed through the room, resembling the whispers of a ghost—a mournful, lingering wail.

In stark contrast to the somber chill here, the Quidditch pitch was a chaotic spectacle of excitement.

Luke initially thought that anger merely clouded judgment. However, he had grossly underestimated the effects of rage on a wizard's magic. Not only could extreme anger amplify the power of spells, but it also seemed to significantly impair reasoning.

Rage had driven Leach into a rabid frenzy. Attacking Nott was one thing But-

Flint, Malfoy, and even Luke himself were not spared from Leach's wild attacks.

The conflict had spiraled far beyond its initial scope. What began as a one-on-one altercation escalated into a two-on-one and had now devolved into a full-blown four-on-one.

But while Leach had lost his senses, his opponents had not. Though Leach brazenly wielded dangerous spells, they dared not retaliate with similar recklessness.

If both sides resorted to such perilous magic, the situation would take on a dangerous turn, and punishments would be unavoidable for all involved.

Now that it was four against one, they didn't need to risk everything to subdue Leach. They decided it was best to let him bear the full brunt of the consequences alone.

Luke approached the scene, Malfoy hovering just behind him like a devoted lackey.

Technically, Luke shouldn't have entered the pitch during a match, but the situation had spiraled so far out of control that the professors would undoubtedly arrive soon. Given that he had been a target of Leach's insults, it was understandable for him to intervene—or even step in personally.

"Oliver Nott," Luke called out, his expression dark. "You started this. Are you just going to stand there and watch?"

Nott's name being called caused his brows to furrow sharply, his face clouding over.

"He's insulting you and your beliefs. Are you really not going to fight back?"

Nott retorted with a jab of his own, though to onlookers, his response lacked any real conviction or bite.

Luke merely chuckled at the sight of Nott's attempt to rile him up.

For all that Nott was the sole heir to a pureblood family, at the end of the day, he was still just a teenager.

Joining in a four-on-one fight would be dishonorable and make him appear unnecessary. But challenging Leach one-on-one risked injury—or worse. Trading blows with that lunatic would be like smashing porcelain against iron.

Luke glanced at Leach, now completely consumed by rage, then began moving toward him.

Leach wasn't particularly intimidating. His level of power, though notable, wasn't beyond what Luke could handle.

Luke's magical strength already rivaled that of an average senior student. When enhanced by his own emotions, his abilities could reach even greater heights.

The key difference was that Luke wouldn't handicap himself by succumbing to the double-edged sword of blind fury.

Just as Luke was about to intervene, he felt someone tugging on his sleeve.

He turned to see Malfoy holding him back.

"What is it?"

Luke asked, puzzled.

Without saying much, Malfoy pulled a pocket watch-like device from his chest and handed it to Luke.

"Luke, take this. If something goes wrong, just grip it tightly"

Malfoy said with an unusual seriousness.

The crowd witnessing the scene didn't know the exact function of the item Malfoy offered, but they all understood one thing: it was something very valuable.

Luke furrowed his brows, hesitating to take the pocket watch.

Malfoy quickly explained, "This thing can generate a very strong Shield Charm. It'll protect you."

As he spoke, Malfoy nervously glanced at Leach, who was still rampaging like a madman, holding his own against four opponents.

"He's gone insane. You'd better be careful," Malfoy added, pushing the watch toward Luke again.

Though his reluctance was evident, Malfoy tried his best to appear generous.

The others present, including Flint and Nott, couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

They all owned similar protective items, but they wouldn't have dreamed of using them to deal with someone like Leach, let alone giving them away.

For a brief moment, both Flint and Nott considered whether they should strengthen their ties with the young Malfoy heir. After all, he seemed to perfectly embody the phrase "foolish and rich."

When the phrase crossed Flint's mind, his mouth twitched slightly. He suddenly remembered the main reason he was here: to benefit from Malfoy's wealth.

But judging by the current situation, forget about gaining any advantage—he'd be lucky not to leave a poor impression on Luke.

Flint wanted to say something, but with so many people watching, he couldn't bring himself to speak.

Luke looked at the watch in Malfoy's outstretched hand, silent for a moment. Then he gently lifted Malfoy's four fingers and pressed them down, leaving the watch in Malfoy's grasp.

"I don't need yours. I have my own."

Luke smiled lightly and spoke to Malfoy in a gentle tone. Then, glancing at the others, he added with a smile, "You all have one too, don't you? Make sure to use it when you need it."

With that, he turned and flew toward Leach, ignoring the reactions of the others.

The group watched his retreating figure with complicated emotions. If they were in his place, they couldn't imagine refusing such a valuable gift.

Who could have too many life-saving tools?

Malfoy, watching Luke leave, was filled with both regret and a deep sense of gratitude. He had many friends, but Luke was the only one who would decline such a grand gesture.

Even if Luke had no shortage of such items himself, facts were facts.

What the others didn't see was the gleam in Luke's eyes.

Moments later, Luke positioned himself directly in Leach's path. With a subtle motion of his fingers, Leach's rage-filled gaze regained a sliver of clarity.

The wand in Leach's hand, which had been swinging wildly, froze before it could strike Luke.

"Haven't you caused enough trouble?" Luke said coldly. "If you keep this up, what's left for you besides a harsher punishment from the professors?"

Leach roared at Luke, "They humiliated me! Those filthy Mudbloods! They insulted a pure-blood! You're a pure-blood noble! A descendant of Slytherin! Why won't you help me?"

Luke blinked, momentarily taken aback. He subtly adjusted the level of emotional control he was exerting. For the first time, he realized that while controlling emotions was useful, it wasn't flawless.

Dealing with someone as stubbornly foolish as Leach was still a challenge.

After his outburst, Leach panted heavily, but he didn't lash out again. This restraint surprised the crowd.

It seemed that the name Gaunt carried enough weight to command respect—even to an extremist pure-blood supremacist like Leach, even if Luke himself didn't fully support pure-blood ideology.

"They humiliated you?!" Luke sneered. "If anyone humiliated you, it's yourself!"

"Look at you—acting like a mad dog! Where's the so-called pride of a pure-blood now? Is the pride of pure-bloods to attack your own teammates like a maniac? To harm the innocent? To persecute those who aren't pure-blood?"

"Heh... tell me, is this what you call pure-blood pride? Or is this just being a Death Eater?"

Luke's cold gaze locked onto Leach, exuding clear disdain.

His words silenced the onlookers. The term "Death Eater" was no trivial label—it carried significant and dangerous implications. Being associated with it, even in passing, was enough to cause immense trouble.

Leach, already unnerved by Luke's scorn, visibly faltered. As the anger began to drain from him, he replayed his earlier actions in his mind. Even an idiot could see he was in deep trouble.

If someone pinned that label on him now, he was done for.

Expulsion from Hogwarts wasn't out of the question.

And unlike Hagrid, not every expelled student could count on receiving a decent job from the school afterward.

Panicked and remorseful, Leach stammered;

"I'm not! I didn't! Don't make stuff up!"

His voice carried fear and regret. Why had he been so impulsive earlier?

Luke, however, simply shook his head slowly. He opened his mouth, as though about to speak again—but in the blink of an eye, he raised his wand arm with lightning speed. His wide sleeve slid back, revealing his toned forearm and an elegant wand.

"Stupefy!"

A bright white light shot forth, striking Leach squarely in the forehead.

Leach's expression twisted in resistance, but he soon slumped unconscious.

As his body began to fall, Luke, prepared for this outcome, quickly moved forward. He cast a Levitation Charm just in time, gently catching Leach before he hit the ground.

Hovering Leach's body in mid-air, Luke noticed the deep exhaustion etched into his face.

Extreme emotions like joy, sorrow, anger, and fear all drained one's energy—so Leach's fatigue now made perfect sense.

The crowd, observing Leach calm down under Luke's words earlier, had realized the matter was nearing its conclusion.

And now, with the ordeal finally over, everyone let out a collective sigh of relief.

But their attention quickly shifted, their gazes falling on Nott with displeasure.

They all knew who had stirred up this mess today.

Though Nott tried his best to maintain a composed expression, his face visibly paled. He was keenly aware that his plan had backfired spectacularly—not only had he failed, but he'd also made a mess of things.

Although Luke's statement distancing himself from the Death Eaters had value, it wasn't nearly enough to justify the trouble caused.

On top of that, his scheming had been exposed, creating a scene that offended the half-bloods and Muggle-born players he had involved, as well as offending Luke and Malfoy in the process.

Just then, commotion erupted from the distant stands.

Everyone turned to see a bat-like figure rapidly approaching.

"The professor's here… Let's see how he handles this"

Luke said, his tone calm as he glanced at Nott.

Hearing this, Nott's face turned even paler.

*****

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