HP: Pure-Blood Glory

In the eyes of Slytherin students, their Head of House, Severus Snape, almost always wore a cold, stern expression. His eyes often seemed hollow, but when he fixed his gaze on you, it carried an unsettling sense of being completely seen through.

This semester, however, thanks to the addition of a potions prodigy, they occasionally caught rare glimpses of a smile on his face—a true rarity and almost newsworthy in their view.

But today, they seemed to be witnessing a version of Snape even more exaggerated and terrifying than usual.

As the group touched down on the ground, Snape stormed in from the nearby entrance with hurried strides.

"Do you think we're going to get punished?"

Malfoy swallowed nervously and whispered to Luke.

His fear wasn't unwarranted. Snape, clad in his black robes and wearing a blacker expression, had eyes blazing with fury and a cold smirk curling at his lips. If one looked closely, they could see something in his hand—clearly his wand.

Trailing behind him was Madam Hooch, keeping her distance as though reluctant to get too close to him.

The once-noisy stands fell silent in an instant. The entire Quidditch pitch turned eerily quiet, the hush so profound that even breathing seemed muted.

The Quidditch players behind Luke gulped in unison, visibly losing confidence about what awaited them next.

"We won't, but someone else might not be so lucky," Luke said calmly.

Luke's expression remained composed, though this was his first real taste of Snape's intimidating presence at the school.

Yet Snape wasn't nearly as furious as he appeared.

Luke observed the faint crimson hue of anger swirling around Snape, mixed with large streaks of cool, icy blue—signifying calm calculation.

It left Luke silently marveling at Snape's mastery of emotional deception. Truly, he thought, Snape deserved the title of the greatest actor in the wizarding world.

"WHAT… HAVE YOU DONE?!"

Snape's voice was low, dripping with suppressed fury.

His piercing gaze swept across the group of students in front of him, each lowering their heads in guilt and fear. Inwardly, he smirked coldly but also felt a pang of resignation.

At least there was one person who didn't seem frightened or flustered in the slightest.

"Luke Gaunt," Snape said, enunciating each syllable with deliberate malice. "Once again, this involves 'you', doesn't it?!"

His predatory gaze zeroed in on Luke, radiating what seemed like utter loathing. His voice carried across the now-silent Quidditch pitch, reaching the ears of every student and spectator in the stands. At that moment, all fell deathly silent, as if struck by an icy chill.

Even Madam Hooch, who had intended to step forward and mediate, froze in her tracks. She knew full well that in Snape's current state, intervening would only earn her a scathing remark and a damaged sense of dignity.

If today's events had been her responsibility, she might have accepted her share of the blame. But since she had nothing to do with the chaos, she saw no reason to court Snape's wrath unnecessarily.

"Please show some respect for the victim, Professor," Luke replied, his voice calm and unwavering as he met Snape's furious glare. "Trouble sought me out, not the other way around. I even resolved it."

The crowd collectively froze at Luke's words, their gazes shifting to him in shock. They couldn't fathom how Luke could face an enraged Snape without the slightest trace of fear.

This wasn't a matter of 'I'm in the right, so I'm not afraid.' In the face of an angry teacher, students were naturally at a significant disadvantage. Yet here Luke stood, unyielding.

Luke was fully aware of this dynamic. He understood that if he chose to explain himself today, Snape would twist his words, ridicule him, and humiliate him thoroughly. But losing face—'that' was simply unacceptable.

Moreover, for various reasons, Snape seemed to have a strange sense of déjà vu when dealing with Luke, which naturally led to an underlying hostility. If Luke allowed himself to be suppressed today, it would be much harder to rise again in the future.

"So, you're saying I should 'thank' you?"

Snape's expression twisted into something resembling bitter amusement, as though he were on the verge of laughing from sheer anger. His gaze toward Luke grew even more dangerous.

Luke's expression, however, remained calm. He even offered a slight smile. "There's no need for that, Professor. But if you intend to impose an undeserved punishment on me, I won't accept it."

Luke's audacious defiance of Snape left the spectators in shock. For the first time, they were witnessing a student who showed no fear in the face of an enraged Snape.

Snape stared into Luke's eyes, as though trying to find some crack or flaw in the serene lake-green depths.

Luke met his gaze unflinchingly, noting the calm calculation hidden behind the surface of Snape's seemingly furious expression.

The Quidditch pitch once again plunged into an oppressive silence, so heavy it felt suffocating.

---

Earlier, Snape had stormed out of his office, striding furiously toward the Quidditch pitch. A few students who had hurried out of the pitch to report the commotion had already spread the story far and wide.

Naturally, the news eventually reached Professor McGonagall.

Hearing the report, McGonagall frowned deeply at the student who had come to inform her—none other than Harry Potter.

"And how exactly did you find out about this?"

Harry glanced briefly at Hermione with a strange but not surprising look, then turned his attention back to McGonagall.

"It's already all over the school, Professor. Lee Jordan has been talking about it nonstop."

McGonagall let out a sigh. The moment she heard 'Lee Jordan', she wasn't surprised in the slightest. This news had likely reached Dumbledore's ears by now as well.

"I'll go and take a look shortly. You may go now"

McGonagall said with a weary sigh.

Harry nodded and, after casting Hermione another quick glance, exited the office.

McGonagall turned to Hermione, who had come to consult her about Transfiguration, and sighed with regret.

"I'm afraid we'll have to cut our discussion short today, Miss Granger. It seems I need to look into whatever trouble Luke has stirred up this time."

Hermione, however, met McGonagall's gaze with a serious expression. "You can rest assured about Luke, Professor. There's no need for you to intervene this time."

McGonagall blinked, taken aback by Hermione's response. Her expression shifted to something peculiar as she studied Hermione closely.

"You and Luke..."

"Just friends, Professor. We're just very good friends"

Hermione said quickly, preemptively cutting off the line of questioning as though she had anticipated it and was eager to avoid it.

McGonagall's peculiar look didn't fade immediately, though she eventually allowed herself a faint smile. "Very well, then. Was today's incident part of Luke's plan?"

"He said someone might try to embarrass him, but he'd retaliate if necessary. Still, he made it clear that you don't need to intervene. After all, some Slytherin students..."

Hermione trailed off, only for McGonagall to interrupt her before she could finish the thought.

Professor McGonagall nodded thoughtfully, smiling as she said, "Then let's continue."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the tightly closed door. She turned back to meet the professor's curious gaze and said, "Professor, Luke asked me to remind you: if anyone plans to stir up trouble at Hogwarts, they'll likely choose a lively occasion to do so."

"And Halloween is coming up in a few days. That's bound to be a lively event."

McGonagall froze momentarily, her brow furrowing in concern as she processed Hermione's words.

Hermione stayed quiet, allowing McGonagall to think. Observing the professor's increasingly serious expression, she realized that Luke's warning wasn't just about someone making trouble. It had to mean something more significant.

The weight of the situation was practically etched into McGonagall's face.

After a long pause, McGonagall nodded and gave Hermione a faint smile. "Understood. Thank you."

She then proceeded to meticulously go over the key points of Transfiguration once more. Judging by the delight on Hermione's face, it was clear the lesson had been immensely beneficial for her.

When the explanation was finished, McGonagall quickly left her office, leaving Hermione alone to reflect and absorb the knowledge.

---

Meanwhile, back on the Quidditch pitch, the atmosphere between Luke and Snape was entirely different. If Hermione and McGonagall's interaction could be described as harmonious, the scene here was one of escalating hostility.

"Are you honestly trying to tell me that today's mess doesn't have anything to do with you?"

Snape's voice dripped with sarcasm, practically daring Luke to argue.

Luke's expression grew colder by the second, all traces of his earlier composure vanishing.

"Anyone with a functioning pair of eyes can see this was Nott's doing," Luke retorted sharply. "He tried to set me up and it ended up backfiring on himself."

Everyone present understood exactly what Luke was implying. Those who claimed ignorance wouldn't fool anyone.

The surrounding students didn't dare make a sound, but their anticipation was palpable. The potential drama unfolding before them was too tempting to miss.

For most, it was entertainment. But for one person, it felt like a death sentence.

Nott's heart sank. Initially, Snape had been angry, but now, "angry" didn't even begin to cover it.

Luke had expertly directed all the blame onto him, turning up the heat to an unbearable level.

Sure enough, Snape's gaze, nearly maniacal in its intensity, shifted toward Nott.

The rise and fall of Snape's chest betrayed his fury. He looked utterly unhinged, his composure in shambles.

"You—'Oliver Nott?! You're telling me you had the audacity to 'orchestrate' this?"

The disdain and mockery in his tone were so blatant it felt like a physical blow. Normally, Nott might have been able to temper Snape's anger by invoking his family's influence. After all, the Nott family, as one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, was not a force to be trifled with.

But that required Snape to remain calm. And Snape's current state was anything 'but' calm.

When Nott met Snape's blazing gaze, it felt less like looking into human eyes and more like staring into an inferno.

"P-Professor, I…"

"Ha! How could I possibly call myself your professor? Are you telling me I've failed so miserably as a teacher that I've produced someone as idiotic as you? Clearly, I should quit teaching altogether and stick to brewing potions. At least then I wouldn't have to suffer the embarrassment of you ruining my reputation!"

The final words were delivered in an enraged roar. The students who had been eagerly spectating quickly sobered up, their heads lowering as they pretended to focus on nothing but the ground. No one dared to meet Snape's eye now.

Luke raised an eyebrow, utterly surprised by how unexpectedly Snape was cooperating with him.

While others might think Snape had lost himself in anger, Luke could see everything with absolute clarity. From beginning to end, Snape had merely been playing along, using the situation to his advantage.

Though it appeared as if Snape was arguing with Luke, it was all just a ploy to make his eventual emotional outburst more impactful.

After all, what had happened here—students causing trouble on the Quidditch pitch, even resorting to wands and spells—was a matter that could be handled as seriously or as lightly as one chose.

No Unforgivable Curses had been used, after all.

Realistically, what student would ever use an Unforgivable Curse on another?

But by staging this argument with Luke, Snape could justify any severe punishment he decided to mete out, blaming it on his "overwhelming anger." Moreover, he could use Luke as a convenient scapegoat to deflect further scrutiny. After all, Luke wasn't entirely innocent in this affair.

For Luke, who was intent on cutting off anyone's attempts to test him and ensuring his activities at Hogwarts were as undisturbed as possible, this outcome was a stroke of good fortune.

What puzzled him, however, was why Snape—a professor who had never shown him any kindness—would choose to add fuel to the fire on his behalf.

Luke silently noted this in his mind, heightening his vigilance.

Although Snape appeared to be staring intently at Nott, his peripheral vision remained fixed on Luke.

He had tried using Legilimency, but to his surprise, the boy was skilled in Occlumency.

This discovery not only astonished Snape but also deepened his suspicions about Luke.

After all, what kind of people mastered Occlumency? Snape knew the answer all too well.

What normal person would learn Occlumency?

The only ones who went to the trouble of mastering such a niche magic—useful primarily for defending against Legilimency—were those with secrets they absolutely couldn't afford to reveal.

And today's spectacle was undoubtedly staged for the sake of the little troublemaker's own private schemes. If he weren't left with no other choice, Snape wouldn't have wanted to help him at all.

After all... the more Snape looked at him, the more Luke reminded him of 'that person who must not be named'.

"Hmph! Nott! Come with me. Gaunt, take Morton Leach to Madam Pomfrey. Once he regains consciousness, bring him to see me as well."

Nott paled at the command, realizing that he was unlikely to escape unscathed today.

Luke, however, simply nodded to indicate his agreement.

Snape cast another sweeping glance at the gathered students. Aside from Luke, all of them looked like quails, heads bowed, not daring to make a sound. Snape let out another disdainful snort.

"Hmph… Marcus, you come too. I need to have a serious word with you about how you're managing this team!"

Marcus turned pale, feeling as though he'd been caught in the crossfire for no good reason. Of course, that was merely his perception. While he might not have been the main culprit in today's events, he was far from innocent.

"Y-yes, Professor," he stammered.

With a dramatic sweep of his robes, Snape turned and strode out of the pitch. Madam Hooch, who had been lingering on the sidelines, looked as though she wanted to say something, but in the end, she remained silent.

The spectators in the stands began to disperse, thoroughly satisfied with the dramatic show they'd witnessed today.

Gemma and Taylor approached Luke, clearly eager to ask questions.

"Later," Luke said with a light smile, gesturing toward Morton Leach, who was still hovering unconscious in midair.

"Let me take this idiot to the hospital wing first."

At the same time, he exhaled a long breath.

Finally, it was over.

*****

Upto 20 chapters ahead on patreon :-

patreon.com/ReduxMagister