HP: Pure-Blood Glory

Luke stared at the newly added "Transfiguration" in his skill panel for a while.

Countless thoughts flashed through his mind, but none led to a concrete answer.

Was there something special about Transfiguration? Why did it suddenly appear today? Was there anything unique about the Transfiguration he practiced earlier?

Questions surfaced one after another, but Luke could only speculate without any definitive answers.

Still, he remembered that the Basilisk egg was about to hatch. Now wasn't the time to dwell on such matters.

He quickly retrieved the Basilisk egg from the system's inventory.

Next, he took out a rooster.

This was something he had prepared before the school term even started. Knowing that a Basilisk would be hatched at Hogwarts, how could he not take precautions? Fortunately, the system's storage could hold living creatures, though it seemed to limit magical creatures to their eggs or similar forms.

Creatures stored in the system's space weren't in a stasis-like state. This rooster, for instance, had been regularly fed by Luke whenever it was brought out.

The rooster was lively, brimming with energy. Its eyes were fixed on the Basilisk egg, seemingly curious about it.

Luke also examined the egg closely.

Its eggshell was covered with pale white scales, dotted with shimmering purple spots.

Overall, it was much smaller than a dragon egg, suggesting that the creature inside wouldn't be too large upon hatching.

This was one reason why Luke chose this location for the hatching. If it were something massive, his first choice would undoubtedly have been the Forbidden Forest.

As the moment drew closer, Luke could sense the emotional dust beginning to emerge around the egg.

He focused, putting on a special pair of glasses designed to block the effects of certain gaze-based magical influences.

He also placed a mirror in front of him, positioning himself to view the egg through the mirror and the glasses.

With his wand in hand, he guided the flow of magic with precision.

"Imperio!"

The rooster faltered briefly, then became rigid.

Luke had little aversion to using the Unforgivable Curses.

Especially after gaining the Emotional Control ability. If he needed killing intent, he could amplify it at will. If he required control, he could heighten his sense of dominance.

Moreover, the system's version of these skills seemed to demand less emotional investment.

This was a conclusion he reached after comparing his own emotions while practicing the Fire-Making Spell with those of Taylor, who also used it.

When teaching Hermione standard spells, Luke even introduced her to his system-derived casting methods. They appeared to have practical benefits.

The nature of this magic certainly warranted further study.

While lost in thought, a sharp cracking sound pulled him back.

Looking at the egg, Luke saw that cracks had begun to form on its shell.

Taking a deep breath, he refocused, ready to command the rooster to crow at a moment's notice.

As the shell continued to fracture, the purple spots on it grew increasingly bright. Luke could faintly hear the sound of a heartbeat.

Luke wondered if it was just his imagination, but he could almost feel the entire Room of Requirement's magical flow accelerating, as if the room itself was wary of the soon-to-be-born Basilisk.

The brief wait felt anything but short—each passing second only heightened the tension.

Aside from Herpo the Foul, the original creator of the Basilisk, Salazar Slytherin was likely the only other wizard with the most profound understanding of the creature. The Gaunt family, in turn, inherited much of this knowledge.

A newborn Basilisk was far less dangerous than a fully grown one. For instance, unless someone looked directly into its eyes, it couldn't even cause petrification. At most, it could slow a person's thoughts.

This transitional period usually lasted about a week, varying slightly between individuals. Factors such as the quality of food and living conditions could also affect this timeline.

Additionally, the effectiveness of the Basilisk's gaze varied depending on the target. Creatures like giants, for instance, could largely ignore the stare of a juvenile Basilisk.

As for how such detailed data was collected and the methods used to achieve such precision... that was a question best left unanswered.

Luke wasn't concerned with these past details—they were of no relevance now.

Piece by piece, the eggshell fractured. Finally, with a crisp 'crack', a tiny snake broke through the top of the shell. She tilted her head to the left, causing the shell to lose balance and tip over. The moment her head touched the ground, she swiftly pulled the rest of her body free from the egg.

The little snake surveyed her surroundings and, upon spotting Luke, it immediately slithered toward him without hesitation.

Luke took in her appearance. She was a slender, tiny snake, no thicker than a finger, and about fifty centimeters in length.

Her scales were a deep green base, accented with bright purple spots. Above each eye, there was a faint purple line, resembling delicate eyebrows.

Luke was astonished. He had seen many Basilisk illustrations before, and his family's archives were quite detailed and realistic. Young Basilisks, despite their smaller size, generally bore a strong resemblance to their adult forms.

Adult male Basilisks would even develop a bright red feather on their heads.

But this little Basilisk before him was entirely different. Words like "menacing," "terrifying," or "ferocious" simply didn't fit.

Instead, terms like "adorable," "elegant," and "cute" seemed far more appropriate.

Luke chuckled. 'Is this really a Basilisk?'

The little snake, as if seeing a long-lost family member, quickly slithered up Luke's arm and coiled around it.

She gazed at him with affectionate eyes, gently nudging her head against his.

Luke was momentarily stunned. He couldn't fathom why this little creature would be so affectionate toward him, entirely unguarded. Even if one subscribed to the "first sight bonding" theory, this level of attachment seemed implausible.

He instinctively reached out, intending to gently remove the snake from his face.

Basilisks were venomous, and even a newborn's venom could easily kill a human child.

Unfortunately, Luke was precisely such a vulnerable human child.

Whether this little Basilisk could control her venom was uncertain. According to experimental records, individual differences among Basilisks were significant. Some were intelligent, while others weren't.

The latter category, unfortunately, made up the majority.

Although Luke didn't believe his little Basilisk fell into the "mindless" category, caution was still wise.

The moment his fingertips touched the small snake, a new system panel appeared before his eyes.

Luke's attention was immediately drawn to the panel.

---

[Name: Awaiting Name

Species: Basilisk (Snake King)

Gender: Female

Traits: Venomous, Basilisk Gaze, Self-Control, Intelligent Being, Unique Form

Notes: This is a special Basilisk. She's highly intelligent and was born from your magic, giving her a natural affection for you and absolute loyalty. She can freely control her Basilisk Gaze, so you don't need to worry about being harmed by her eyes. However, be cautious of her venom—one mistake could be fatal. She has immense potential and will bring you many surprises in the future. Choose the most suitable method to nurture her. Remember, your choices will shape both of your destinies.]

[Please name your pet as soon as possible.]

---

Luke carefully read through the system's introduction, processing its cryptic implications.

"Her venom is more potent than a normal Basilisk's, she can control her gaze at will, she's incredibly intelligent, and she can even 'evolve' further..."

His expression turned complicated.

"Is 'Basilisk' even a fair comparison for her?"

He didn't know what to say, but one thing was clear: this was a significantly enhanced Basilisk, far beyond standard. As expected of a system-generated pet—the quality was top-tier.

Luke gently stroked the little Basilisk, thought deeply for a moment, and then smiled.

"I'll call you Doris."

The "Awaiting Name" on the system panel changed to "Doris."

Doris seemed delighted by the name, quickly burrowing into Luke's chest and coiling around his neck affectionately.

Luke didn't stop her. He trusted the system. If it claimed Doris was absolutely loyal, he had no reason to doubt it.

"Come down~"

He said in Parseltongue.

Doris tilted her head, looking at him curiously.

Seeing her innocent expression, Luke sighed softly and spoke gently, "Hide in my pocket for now. You can't let others see you yet."

Doris flicked her tongue, hesitating briefly before reluctantly slipping into Luke's pocket.

Watching her obedient behavior, Luke couldn't help but smile.

But the moment passed quickly. He retrieved the enchanted rooster, whose task was now complete, and returned it to the system's storage. He could later use it as food for Doris or gift it to Hagrid, who kept a flock of chickens.

Of course, this would depend on Doris's appetite.

After collecting the remains of the eggshell and every fragment, Luke prepared to leave.

However, when he pushed the door, nothing happened.

Luke frowned and looked around. The room was the same as before, with no apparent changes in its furnishings. But at the moment he tried to open the door, he sensed a shift in the room's magical flow.

The usual cycle had altered, with all the magic converging toward a single point.

In one corner of the room, a door had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

It was an ornate stone door, adorned with golden feathers around its edges. The handle, shaped like a raven poised for flight, seemed almost alive, ready to be twisted at any moment.

The door's appearance was natural, yet its presence felt abrupt—almost as if it were invitingly labeled with "Please Enter."

Doris poked her head out of Luke's pocket again, sensing the strange magical currents.

But before she could get a proper look, Luke firmly pressed her head back in with his finger.

"Hateful!~"

Doris's childish voice muttered grumpily from inside the pocket.

Luke had initially thought she wasn't capable of speech yet, but it seemed she had simply chosen to remain silent until now.

Not that it mattered much.

Luke stood still, his gaze fixed on the mysterious door, showing no intention of moving forward.

The door, equally stubborn, made no further changes. Meanwhile, the door behind Luke remained firmly shut.

It was as though they were locked in a silent standoff—neither yielding an inch.

The Room of Requirement fell into a tense silence.

However, silence on their end didn't mean quiet everywhere else.

In the Ravenclaw common room, the Grey Lady—usually lost in her own thoughts with a melancholic expression—suddenly shot up as if startled by something.

A group of bookish young ravens, scattered throughout the common room, jumped at her abrupt movement and exchanged puzzled glances.

"Lady Grey, is something wrong?"

Ravenclaw's prefect, Penelope, stepped forward to inquire.

The Grey Lady stood motionless, her face frozen in shock, seemingly unaware of Penelope's question.

But Penelope, observing her closely, noticed the slight tremble of her lips.

It seemed like she was trying to say something.

"Mo—Mother…"

However, the words never fully formed.

Eventually, the Grey Lady seemed to snap out of her daze. She glanced at Penelope, her expression gradually returning to its usual calm.

"I'm fine, Miss Clearwater."

With that, she floated upward, passing through the ceiling and vanishing without a word.

The Ravenclaw students watched their house ghost leave in such an unusual state. For a moment, they exchanged looks, unsure of what to say.

However, it didn't take long for them to dive back into their books, the mystery of their ghost's departure quickly overshadowed by their concern for unmastered knowledge.

Within minutes, the Ravenclaw common room returned to its typical tranquil atmosphere.

Only a few upper-year students, who had always been close to the Grey Lady, lingered in quiet concern, pondering what could have unsettled her so deeply.

Meanwhile, in the headmaster's office, chaos reigned.

Portraits of former headmasters clamored noisily, each voice competing with the others. Some debated, others speculated, and all seemed in a state of fervent excitement.

Amid the chaos, Dumbledore sat alone in his chair, his expression as calm as ever, as though entirely unaffected by the uproar.

"Dumbledore, aren't you curious?"

One of the former headmasters suddenly directed the conversation toward him.

"We all know the mysteries of this school," the portrait continued. "Each of us held a portion of the school's authority. Yet the castle has never fully submitted to any headmaster—it only assists within the bounds of the granted authority."

"Don't you wish to uncover the secrets of obtaining the remaining authority?"

*****

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