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[HP] Chapter 173-174
🕑 Added 2025-09-17 17:22:01 +0000 UTC### Chapter 173: No One Understands Death Better Than Me
Lately, Louis had been studying transformation sweets of the perfect grade.
These candies, which could turn a person into any magical creature, left him somewhat perplexed. Beyond the recipe—most of which he hadn’t yet fully deciphered—there was something he simply couldn’t wrap his head around.
That “something” was the very core that allowed the candy to trigger transformations into any magical beast. No matter what methods Louis used—alchemy, potions, or otherwise—he couldn’t crack it.
So he named this mysterious part the “black box”: something whose function he knew but whose mechanism was utterly inscrutable.
Louis suspected it was a product of the System. Even if he mastered every part of the recipe, he’d never be able to replicate it perfectly.
Still, though he couldn’t unravel the black box itself, the process of analyzing these candies had advanced his knowledge of Transfiguration at an astonishing pace. It also gave him sharp insights into the Weasley twins’ Canary Creams.
“Have you ever heard of Animagi?” Louis asked.
“Of course. Advanced Transfiguration—magic that lets a person become an animal,” they replied.
“It’s said to be very difficult. You need potions to assist the process, and the professors strictly forbid anyone underage from learning it,” the twins added fluently.
Clearly, they’d already been scheming about Animagus transformations.
“In my opinion, your Canary Creams already capture part of the wonder of the Animagus charm, but they lack stability.” Louis grinned. “I have a few suggestions—care to listen?”
Then, without holding back, Louis poured out his insights on Transfiguration and even some half-formed theories he’d gleaned from the candy research.
The material was so advanced that both Hermione and Cassandra found themselves listening closely, even if, without enough background knowledge, most of it went over their heads.
“…And those are the main precautions. Try it out, and when you’ve got results, come tell me.” Louis smiled.
By then, the twins already had parchment and quills out, scribbling notes at top speed. Whenever they hit something confusing, they’d stop him and ask again until they understood.
Before long, they had filled a whole notebook. By the time evening fell, their pages were bursting with notes.
“Merlin’s beard, this is priceless!” George held up his notebook as though it were scripture.
“If we can master all this, we might really make Canary Creams that actually turn people into canaries!” Fred said, dead serious as he pored over his notes.
“You’re a genius!” the twins chorused.
Cassandra glanced over, intrigued despite herself, while Hermione made no effort to hide the admiration shining in her eyes.
Parched from all his lecturing, Louis took a sip of the chilled pumpkin juice he’d just bought, smiling faintly at the twins’ excitement. As for their praise, he accepted it as his due.
Research away, research away. Once they’ve done the work, I’ll harvest the results. Then I’ll have the method of making transformation sweets—without lifting a finger.
Louis chuckled to himself, watching George and Fred like a farmer eying a ripe field of leeks.
Woo-woo-woo-woo…
The whistle shrieked as the train pulled into the station.
They arrived once again at the shabby little stop. This time, though, the skies were clear—heaven’s small mercy. And now that Louis and Hermione were second-years, they no longer needed to cross the lake in boats with the first-years.
“See you… uh…” Hermione had meant to say goodbye to Cassandra after disembarking—after all, they had shared the journey—but Cassandra clearly didn’t see the need.
She placed her pointed hat on her head and slipped gracefully into the crowd, following the new students as they trailed after Hagrid.
“She’s so rude,” Hermione huffed.
“She has manners, just not much. She’s too arrogant,” Louis said casually. “I’m certain that once she sees your true ability, she won’t dare treat you that way again.”
“Why do you sound like you know her so well?” Hermione shot him a look.
“It’s psychology. I read quite a few books on it over the summer.” Louis shrugged. “Come on, let’s take the carriage.”
And by “carriage,” of course, he meant the ones pulled by Thestrals.
In truth, this wasn’t Louis’s first time riding a Thestral-drawn carriage—students leaving the school always used them to reach the station.
But this ride felt… different.
As the carriage rolled closer, Louis’s gaze was naturally drawn to the creatures pulling it.
“So these are Thestrals?” he murmured, frowning at the skeletal, winged, horse-like beasts before him.
“What Thestrals?” Hermione asked curiously. “Aren’t the carriages self-moving?”
“Clearly not.” Louis stepped forward and placed his palm against one Thestral’s face.
The creature’s hollow gaze fixed on him, and then, unexpectedly gentle, it nuzzled against his hand.
Thestrals—magical beasts said to crave blood and flesh. And yet, for all their fearsome appearance, they were docile.
Like death itself—harsh, but a harshness that came with a strange, merciful release from life’s suffering.
According to legend, only those who had witnessed death and truly understood it could see a Thestral. Louis, whether in this life or the last, had never directly witnessed someone’s death. By that logic, he shouldn’t have been able to see them.
Well, the troll didn’t count. That was just a big, dumb monster. Hardly a death worth noting.
Ugly, clumsy—less dear than a cat or a dog.
If a cat or dog died, he’d at least feel a pang of grief.
“Unless…” Louis’s eyes narrowed as a thought struck him.
“Unless what? Louis, what are you touching?” Hermione, standing beside him, saw the way he reached out and imitated his motion, stretching out her own hand.
Her fingers brushed the folded wings of the Thestral—the leathery skin stretched tight over bone made her flinch.
“Ah! What was that?” Hermione yelped in fright.
“Thestrals. A kind of magical beast,” Louis explained quietly. “Ordinary people—even wizards—can’t see them unless they’ve witnessed death.”
“Witnessed death? You mean the troll?” Hermione frowned. “But then why can you see them, while I can’t?”
“Who knows? Maybe it’s just my bloodline—special talents, you know.” Louis chuckled, unashamed of bragging. “Come on, let’s get in.”
The two climbed into the carriage, joining Fred and George as it slowly set off toward Hogwarts Castle.
Louis leaned back, lost in thought, his eyes lingering on the Thestrals leading the way.
“No one in this world understands death better than I do,” he mused, recalling those eyes that had stared back at him beyond the Stone Door. “If I’m not mistaken, I’ve looked Death in the eye itself. That’s what it truly means to witness death.”
“No one understands death better than me.”
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### Chapter 174: Call Him What? Just Call Him a Sacrifice
The brightly lit Great Hall once again grew lively as students poured in.
They filed toward their respective House tables in neat lines, buzzing with excitement as they reunited with friends they hadn’t seen for two months and eagerly swapped tales of their holidays.
Even at the Slytherin table, the mood wasn’t bad. Though Louis was like a schoolyard tyrant in reputation, after a full term most of Slytherin had realized that this so-called “Heir of Merlin” was actually quite easy to get along with—so long as you didn’t cross him.
Oh, and so long as you didn’t cross his Muggle-born girlfriend either. Leave the two of them alone, and Louis was surprisingly approachable.
The first to figure this out had been Blaise Zabini.
The dark-skinned boy was pure in his own way—pure arrogance, but also sharply pragmatic. He had hypnotized himself into believing that Louis was a powerful wizard he could never match, but he could befriend.
Once Blaise understood Louis’s strength, he started showing goodwill whenever possible—offering help, sharing tidbits of school gossip, things like that.
Louis, in turn, tossed him the occasional favor—like weaving him a sweet dream or two.
Not friendship, exactly, but enough to make them drinking-buddies of a sort.
Most of the other Slytherins couldn’t manage more than ignoring Louis as best they could. They lacked Blaise Zabini’s ability to self-delude and chat with him casually.
So at the Slytherin table, there was always a wide gap of empty seats around Louis—except for Blaise, who sat a little closer.
Louis didn’t care. Settling into his spot, he tilted his head toward the staff table. Aside from the familiar professors, one unfamiliar, smooth-faced man stood out conspicuously.
“See that professor?” Louis tapped Blaise’s arm. “The new one.”
“Gilderoy Lockhart.” Blaise’s tone sounded odd. “A famous wizard… he almost became my stepfather.”
Louis gave a solemn nod. “Ah, yes. Madam Zabini.”
For Blaise, his mother was a legend—not for her magical power, but for her life story.
After all, a beautiful witch who had been widowed seven times, each time growing richer… how could she not be a legend?
She was practically a Black Widow. It was a wonder she hadn’t managed to snare Lockhart. If she had, that would’ve sealed it: straight to Widow Number Eight.
Unless… maybe Lockhart had been the one too frightened to follow through?
“So, do you think Lockhart’s handsome?” Louis asked.
“He’s all right. His looks aren’t bad—otherwise he wouldn’t be so adored. Why do you ask?” Blaise looked puzzled.
“Then tell me—who’s more handsome, me or him?” Louis clearly still hadn’t gotten over Hermione praising Lockhart.
“You, of course. No question.” Blaise answered firmly.
In truth, Blaise thought both of them were mediocre. If anyone was truly handsome, it was himself.
Yes, he was that narcissistic. He judged everyone’s looks by his own reflection. But he also had enough sense to know he couldn’t afford to offend Louis.
So he didn’t speak the truth—he spoke what his survival instincts demanded.
“Exactly. What’s so great about that puffed-up fool?” Louis shook his head.
One professor was missing from the staff table: Snape.
He was off rounding someone up—likely Harry and Ron, the two blockheads who hadn’t boarded the train.
Not that it mattered. Dumbledore would never allow them to be expelled.
Waiting grew dull. The students sat around the tables, fidgeting as they anticipated the first-years’ entrance.
Louis yawned, deciding to liven things up with a little lottery draw.
After all, he still had one Legendary Draw unused.
With a snap of his fingers, Louis laid down an illusion and shamelessly began his lottery draw.
【Legendary Draw Initiated】
As the system prompt appeared, a cascade of special effects flashed before his eyes. Soon, something dropped into his hand.
“Huh? This feels different.” Louis frowned in puzzlement. He hadn’t seen the final shadow freeze-frame as usual.
Looking down at the object in his hand, he hoped for an explanation.
【Legendary Crystal: Can upgrade an item to Legendary rank】
That was it—just a short line of description.
Louis studied the rainbow-hued crystal, unsure what to do with it.
“Not useless, but I can’t really use it right now,” he muttered. None of his current tools were lagging behind, and most of the time he didn’t even need tools.
He tucked away the precious crystal, and just then, the sound of the Great Hall doors opening echoed through the chamber.
The new students had arrived—it was time for the Sorting Ceremony.
Louis stifled a yawn, listening to familiar and unfamiliar names being assigned to their Houses.
“…Colin Creevey, Gryffindor…”
“…Luna Lovegood, Ravenclaw…”
“…Cassandra Vole, Slytherin…”
“…Ginny Weasley, Gryffindor…”
…
Before long, the Sorting ended. Amid applause, the first-years joined their House tables. At Slytherin’s, students shuffled their seats to make space—except around Louis. The empty buffer around him remained untouched.
Far from feeling offended, Louis thought these kids were actually quite considerate.
But clearly, not everyone was so “considerate.”
A waft of perfume brushed by as a blonde girl sat down beside him as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Good evening, Mr. Wilson.” Cassandra removed her hat, her flawless beauty silencing the Slytherin table.
Louis rubbed his chin, giving her a long, searching look.
He couldn’t shake the feeling this girl had some hidden agenda. Why else act so cold at Ollivander’s, only to deliberately cozy up to him now at school?
Having her sit beside him gave him pressure—but not from Cassandra herself.
No, the pressure came from somewhere else entirely.
Sitting at the Slytherin table, Louis could clearly feel the death glare aimed at him from the Ravenclaw table.
Hermione did not look happy.
Louis could only meet her gaze and give her a reassuring smile.
As always, Dumbledore stood to give his usual reminders: the Forbidden Forest was off-limits, no spellcasting in the corridors, and so on. He also introduced the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
“…This year, let us welcome Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart as our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher…”
As Dumbledore’s words rang out, Louis’s mind automatically swapped “new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor” with “new sacrifice.”
Professor? Out of courtesy? What kind of school goes through a new professor every single year?
Just call them sacrifices—it’s more accurate.
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