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[HP] 97: Fate – King’s Sculptor
🕑 Added 2025-08-11 17:17:39 +0000 UTCThe word “Fate” instantly caught Louis’s attention.
Ever since unlocking Fate Points, he had grown particularly sensitive to anything involving fate—after all, it usually meant points, powerful tools, and major benefits. There was no way he could afford to ignore it.
However, the fate here was clearly unrelated to Fate Points. Instead of altering one’s personal trajectory, this version of fate seemed more aligned with cause and effect.
Louis had received a character template, and along with it came a destined cause-and-effect bond from the template’s origin.
Right then, the system provided an explanation:
> Fate – A trait always attached to character templates. Represents the most important achievement of the template’s original owner.
> Fate: King’s Sculptor – The embodiment of Merlin’s mentorship of King Arthur. Requires the bearer to mentor and aid an individual with ‘the potential of a king’ in ascending to a leadership position.
> Note: “Throne” does not exclusively refer to a literal kingship. It may be any region or race’s nominal leader.
> Upon completion, a reward will be granted from the template’s origin.
> No penalty for failure or incompletion.
That was the full explanation for Fate: King’s Sculptor.
At first, Louis had been a little worried—it sounded like it might involve meddling in the Muggle world. After all, kings weren’t really a thing in the wizarding world anymore.
If he had to stir up political waves in the Muggle world, that’d be a major hassle. Grooming a Prime Minister or something? Cool idea, but Louis had no clue how to pull that off.
Besides, the wizarding world was extremely sensitive to that sort of interference. If he ever tried it, he’d probably be hunted down and labeled a threat.
But after reading the footnote, Louis felt relieved. In fact, this so-called fate seemed… too easy.
All he had to do was help someone rise to leadership?
Hermione seemed like a great candidate—her destiny practically screamed Minister for Magic.
That’s right. The position of Minister for Magic was essentially the recognized leader of the wizarding population in Britain. And raising Hermione to that post would be a piece of cake. Even without Louis’s help, she had a high chance of getting there on her own.
But the more he thought about it, the more uncertain he became.
“Maybe not… Before I interfered, Hermione was always close to Harry Potter, basking a bit in his limelight. But now that we’re in different Houses and that troll-incident friendship never happened, she might not get the same opportunities.”
Louis wasn’t wrong to think this way. From his perspective, Hermione becoming Minister wasn’t just about hard work or heroism in the war against Voldemort—it had a lot to do with the fact that she married Ron Weasley.
Joining a pure-blood family was arguably the most significant reason she was able to break into the top levels of wizarding governance.
Being “the Chosen One’s companion” and “a brilliant and diligent witch” only came into play after that.
“Besides,” Louis murmured, “helping Hermione become Minister would just be following the original timeline. That won’t earn me any Fate Points.”
He started thinking deeper.
“If she lost the backing of a pure-blood family, she might never reach that position. But… if she had someone with Merlin’s bloodline behind her? That would definitely turn the tide.”
Of course, that would require the entire British wizarding world, maybe even the global wizarding community, to acknowledge him as Merlin’s descendant.
“…Shouldn’t be too hard,” Louis figured. “I do have the actual Merlin template, after all.”
Even if he failed, it wasn’t a big deal—there was no punishment. The fate tied to a template was like a bonus quest: complete it for rewards, ignore it without consequence.
So really, there was nothing to worry about.
…
After the lottery ended, Louis left the Room of Requirement holding the Devourer Beast, whom he had now named Hastur.
By this time, curfew had already begun—but the castle was still buzzing with activity.
It was Halloween Eve, after all. What’s Halloween without a bit of late-night mischief?
So instead of the usual quiet, laughter could still be heard from several corners of the castle, making Filch stomp his feet in rage. Grabbing his cat, Mrs. Norris, he stormed off to catch the culprits.
But students bold enough to sneak around after curfew weren’t so easy to catch.
Filch wandered around with his cat for what felt like forever and was nearly driven to a stroke by the mischievous students.
As Louis passed by, he saw Filch with bloodshot eyes looking like he’d just spotted his parents’ killer. Louis could only shake his head.
Was it really worth it?
Just as Louis was about to turn and leave, something completely ridiculous happened.
And the culprit… was none other than Mrs. Norris.
The cat seemed to have caught Hastur’s scent. Her fur bristled, and then—without warning—delivered a perfectly aimed flying kick to Louis.
This, despite the fact he was using the Snake Talisman’s invisibility. That cat shouldn’t have been able to see him at all. And yet—bullseye.
Even Mrs. Norris herself was stunned. She stared at the empty hallway, her little kitty brain lagging as she tried to figure out why she had kicked—and more importantly, what she had kicked.
This curse is ridiculous.
Back in the dorm, Louis found his roommates already fast asleep. He pulled out some clothes and made a little bed for Hastur.
Fafnir, full of energy, opened his eyes in the darkness and immediately locked onto Hastur with a predatory gleam.
Hastur wasn’t intimidated either. His round eyes glared right back at Fafnir.
“Don’t fight,” Louis warned, pointing at Fafnir’s nose. “You’re no match for Hastur. Be careful, or it’ll eat you.”
Fafnir sulked and turned his head away, refusing to look at the smugly triumphant Hastur.
Good boy.
Satisfied, Louis nodded, then turned on his Incubus abilities.
One by one, dreamscapes floated into view before his eyes like drifting clouds. Louis didn’t even need to enter them—he could see people’s dreams from the outside.
For example, Blaise Zabini, the Black boy in his dorm, was dreaming of himself sitting on a grand throne, surveying the world with disdain.
People knelt before him—but oddly enough, they all had facial features similar to Zabini.
Confident in his looks, huh.
Louis lost interest after just a glance. Dreams with zero imagination were boring.
Then he checked the dreams of Goyle and Crabbe, Draco Malfoy’s two goons. Their dreams were shockingly identical—both were in the Great Hall, stuffing their faces with sweets during a feast.
Typical. No ambition at all.
Louis clicked his tongue and looked into Draco Malfoy’s dream.
Now this was more like it.
A nightmare.
Malfoy found himself back in an illusion, being chased through his own dream… by a clown.
And this time, the clown had upgraded—it was now a pumpkin-headed jester.
“Tsk tsk. Poor guy,” Louis chuckled, amused.
After laughing for a bit, he suddenly smacked his forehead. He’d completely forgotten about the little clown he’d released earlier—it was still wandering the castle!
Now that he thought about it, the laughter he’d heard earlier when leaving the Room of Requirement did sound familiar…
Seemed like the pumpkin clown was still following his last command—to wander the castle and scare people.
Those night-prowling students were probably still trying to track it down.
In that case, Louis had no intention of calling it back. For most students from other houses, the pumpkin clown just came across as a Halloween-themed prankster—nothing too terrifying.
“Besides, that thing’s just a construct from the black Qi. It’ll probably dissolve by morning anyway.”
The pumpkin clown was just a toy—he had more important things to focus on.
Louis gazed outward. The dreams of everyone in the school who had already fallen asleep were spread out before him.
“…Let’s start with Hermione’s,” he said with a smirk, shifting his gaze toward the direction of the Ravenclaw dormitory.
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