In an empty classroom:
"So in the end, they were only punished to copy the school rules?"
Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief, her mouth agape, and her delicate eyebrows knitted tightly together . She looked utterly incredulous.
Luke nodded, twirling a pen idly between his fingers, his face full of helplessness.
"Isn't that a bit…"
Taylor's expression turned somewhat sour. This kind of punishment didn't even qualify as a slap on the wrist. If anyone deserved to be copying the school rules, it ought to be Snape himself.
"A bit too lenient… There must be more to the punishment, right?"
Gemma's face was filled with confusion. Letting such a major incident slide with such a light punishment would surely undermine Snape's authority as a teacher.
"Exactly! At the very least, they should've lost more house points!"
Hermione chimed in instinctively.
But mid-sentence, she realized her mistake. Deducting points would undoubtedly affect Slytherin's score. And among the four of them here, she was the only Gryffindor—everyone else was Slytherin…
Thankfully, aside from Gemma giving her a slightly surprised glance, Taylor remained in deep thought, and Luke looked as indifferent as ever, almost bored.
"It's nothing major. Let it go—it's not like this decision was Snape's alone."
Luke broke the silence with a resigned tone.
He couldn't believe Snape had acted without Dumbledore's approval. In the entire school, only Dumbledore had the authority to direct Snape.
Luke glanced at the three girls around him, smiling lightly. "Alright, for now, we should enjoy the peace and start preparing for Halloween night in a few days."
"Of course, remember to prioritize your safety on Halloween night."
Luke's words made all three girls realize something was off, but from his expression, it was clear he wasn't about to elaborate.
"Got it. We'll be careful"
Gemma said after exchanging glances with the others.
Luke nodded, waving them off. "You three head out first. I've got a few things to think about."
The girls didn't press him further, rising to leave.
As they were about to exit the classroom, Taylor suddenly turned and asked, "Should we save some dinner for you?"
Luke shook his head. "It won't take long. I'll join you shortly."
He flashed Taylor a bright smile as he spoke.
Taylor gave him a long, steady look before nodding and stepping out.
Under the watchful gaze of the other two, she slowly left the classroom and gently closed the door behind her.
The moment the door shut, Luke snapped his fingers. One by one, the burning candles in the room extinguished with a soft pop.
In the end, the only light in the room came from the moon, hanging high in the sky outside.
The cold moonlight spilled in, casting an eerie glow over the classroom.
Luke walked to the window, gazing into the distance.
This classroom had an excellent view. To the right, he could see the Black Lake; to the left, the Forbidden Forest.
The Forbidden Forest was quiet, like a slumbering beast.
The Black Lake rippled gently under the breeze, its surface shimmering like scattered gemstones in the moonlight. The scene was serene, and Luke felt his mind unwind.
But the relaxation didn't last long. From the lake, a massive figure emerged, unfurling four slender yet massive tentacles, reaching toward the moon as if trying to pluck it from the sky.
Watching from a distance, the sight seemed surreal—almost like the creature aimed to pull the moon down to the earth.
Luke knew exactly what it was.
The Giant Squid, one of Hogwarts' unofficial mascots, was a creature famed for its friendliness toward young wizards. Though not officially classified as a magical creature, its intelligence rivaled—and possibly surpassed—that of many magical beasts.
This, however, was far from normal behavior.
Judging by its activity, the squid was likely the undisputed ruler of the Black Lake. Yet the lake was teeming with magical creatures. Take the kelpies, for instance. They might not form packs, but there were certainly more than just one or two of them.
Seeing this formidable creature up close made Luke reconsider his plans.
"Tch, definitely too dangerous. I'd better not stir this pot…"
He muttered to himself in frustration.
If his original idea of rallying some of the creatures from the Forbidden Forest to trigger a terrifying beast tide were to come to fruition, chaos would ensue. It would muddy the waters, sure, but the risks were immense.
If the professors intervened seriously, or worse, if the beast tide spiraled out of control before they could act, it would be disastrous.
Luke knew he wasn't yet capable of fully controlling such magical creatures. Even Newt Scamander himself could only form bonds with them. Assistance was given out of camaraderie, but losing control was instinctual.
Some of these creatures might possess intelligence comparable to humans, but they were still beasts at heart. Their instincts couldn't be so easily suppressed.
While Luke wrestled with these thoughts, the squid's tentacles suddenly crashed back into the water, sending a spray of droplets into the air with a loud splash. The sound jolted him, and his gaze snapped back toward the disturbance.
But this time, his attention was drawn to two figures on the lake's edge.
One stood protectively in front of the other, pointing at the squid's head, which had surfaced above the water, seemingly speaking to it.
The other figure clung to the first one's robe, a smile on their face.
Luke recognized them instantly: Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater. He hadn't expected the two to already be so close.
He allowed himself a small smile. For fifth-years like Percy and Penelope, this was the age when romantic feelings naturally blossomed.
Still… Luke's opinion of Percy wasn't particularly high. While his core might have been good, it was layered with too many flaws, making him far less steadfast and genuine than his twin brothers.
As for Penelope, Luke knew little about her. She was a Ravenclaw prefect—a smart witch, from what he could tell. Smart people, at least, knew when to cut their losses.
Luke was watching the young couple when he suddenly felt a gaze directed at him.
It was the Giant Squid.
He met its gaze, sensing its awareness.
Percy seemed to notice something odd about the squid as well. Following its line of sight, he spotted Luke standing by the window. The unexpected sight of someone watching from the castle startled him.
Without thinking twice, Percy grabbed Penelope's hand and tried to pull her away from the lakeside.
Penelope glanced at the panicked Percy, her expression a mix of anxiety and something more complicated.
From the corner of his eye, Luke caught the scene and couldn't help but twitch his lips in bemusement.
What's there to be so embarrassed about? Hogwarts professors didn't punish students for teenage romances, and at their age, there was nothing shameful about young love. Even in his previous life, middle school teachers often turned a blind eye to such matters.
Not every teacher was eager to play the role of a match-breaker.
Luke couldn't fathom Percy's thought process and decided to ignore it. What intrigued him more was the behavior of the Giant Squid.
He could sense the squid's friendliness toward him. It was a sensation so palpable he didn't even need to read its emotional aura to confirm it.
Although he remembered from his previous life that the supposed connection between the Giant Squid and Gryffindor was just a baseless rumor—an offhand joke by the author that fans had taken too seriously—in this world, similar tales persisted.
Of course, people mostly treated them as amusing anecdotes.
Even the daring Gryffindors rarely risked provoking the squid. After all, angering a creature of its size would be disastrous for any young wizard.
After a brief moment of eye contact, the Giant Squid quietly sank back into the depths of the lake, vanishing once more.
Luke was momentarily puzzled but dismissed it with a self-deprecating chuckle. Getting worked up over a squid seemed foolish.
He turned to leave. There were preparations he needed to make.
As he stepped out of the classroom, his mind churned with uncertainty about the speech he had mentally rehearsed earlier. There seemed to be room for improvement—details that needed refining.
Thinking this, he silently began revising his approach, chalking up his unease to having noticed something amiss. He didn't dwell on it further.
---
"Dorisk! How do you have money to visit me today?"
In a dimly lit, noisy tavern, the barkeeper puffed on a pipe as he addressed the scrawny, dark-skinned man before him.
"What do you mean, 'how do I have money'?!" Dorisk squawked in a grating, raspy voice, like a broken bellows. "I've never lacked the cash to come here! Bring me a butterbeer, now!"
His tone reeked of arrogance—a classic case of a petty man reveling in fleeting success.
The bald bartender sneered and rolled his eyes. "You little scoundrel. You still haven't paid for the drinks from last time. If you want another, you'd better cough up the money for both visits."
Dorisk's dark, weathered face showed no trace of shame. "What's the rush? Put it on my tab. Once this big deal goes through, I'll pay you back!"
He sounded bold and grandiose, completely at odds with his shady appearance.
The bartender, however, wasn't fooled by the bluster.
"Hah, that's what you said last time, and I'm still waiting. You know how expensive Dragonblood Whiskey is? And you've got the nerve to show up empty-handed? Do you really think I won't kill you?"
As he spoke, the barkeeper reached under the counter and pulled out a wand that looked like it had been snapped off a random tree branch.
Seeing the wand, Dorisk didn't panic. Instead, his confident bravado melted into an ingratiating grin.
"Oh, come on, Beneto! We've been buddies for years now. Don't fuss over such a trivial thing. I promise, this time I'll definitely make money. That last idiot? It was just a momentary lapse on my part."
As he spoke the latter half, Dorisk pounded his chest with confidence, looking utterly self-assured.
Beneto, however, wasn't buying it. He sneered coldly but eventually sighed and put away his wand. Turning back to the bar, he poured a butterbeer and slammed it onto the table.
"Cheers to you getting swindled out of even your underwear again."
Beneto sneered.
Dorisk chuckled awkwardly, grabbed the mug, and took a large gulp, smacking his lips in satisfaction. A contented grin spread across his face.
"Relax, that won't happen. I've done my homework on this client. Absolutely the obedient, gullible type—easy to deal with."
As he spoke, he glanced slyly at Beneto, winking as he added, "Oh, and don't forget to add a little something extra to their drink when you serve it."
Beneto scoffed but didn't outright refuse.
"Let's hope you haven't misjudged them this time."
Dorisk was about to reply when the bell above the door jingled. His demeanor shifted instantly as he straightened up, puffing out his chest. His wiry frame, draped in oversized robes, made him look like a rat caught in a plastic bag.
But anyone who saw his face wouldn't doubt his capability.
Though unattractive, he exuded a confidence that suggested everything was under his control—a trait that could inspire a peculiar sense of trust.
Dorisk turned to face the newcomer: a figure clad in black robes, their hood obscuring their face, eerily reminiscent of a Dementor in the dimly lit tavern.
"Obedient and gullible?"
Beneto's almost-mocking voice echoed in Dorisk's ears.
Though a flicker of unease crossed his mind, Dorisk kept his composure. He confidently stood, motioned subtly to the hooded figure, and led the way to a corner table.
The robed figure followed without hesitation, their movements silent but deliberate.
Behind the bar, Beneto polished a glass while casually observing the guest.
The tavern's design was intentionally shadowy, ensuring anonymity. Getting a clear look at anyone was difficult—and perhaps not always wise.
As the figure passed the bar, Beneto exchanged glances with a few nearby wizards. Without a word, they subtly shifted their focus to the hooded individual.
At the table, Dorisk gestured grandly for the figure to take a seat.
Without hesitation, the hooded figure sat.
"Friend, care for a drink?"
Dorisk's face was plastered with a huge grin.
The figure remained silent, head bowed. A voice, raspy and cold, finally emerged from beneath the hood.
"Let's talk business."
Dorisk wasn't fazed and responded with a chuckle. "Oh, come now, have a drink! My treat. You know, the Dragonblood Whiskey at Hash's Tavern is the finest in all of Britain!"
Without waiting for a reply, Dorisk turned and called out, "Kiel! Two glasses of Dragonblood Whiskey!"
The waiter nodded with a smile and headed to the bar.
Having placed the order, Dorisk laughed heartily. "Ha! I don't drink much of it myself—it's far too pricey. But for you? I'll make an exception. Even if we don't close a deal today, we can still be friends, right?"
From beneath the hood came only a cold, derisive chuckle in response.
*****
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