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[HP] 64: Huh? I’m a Descendant of Merlin?
🕑 Added 2025-07-30 15:31:01 +0000 UTC“I think your tactics could be a little more refined. Maybe you’d be more persuasive if you stopped using such crude intimidation.”
Louis calmly ignored the churning black fog and the furious voice within, speaking slowly and smoothly. “We’re both smart people. No need to embarrass yourself like this.”
The black fog finally dissipated, and the chilling atmosphere returned to normal, leaving only the Ravenclaw Diadem resting silently on the desk.
Fafnir lay trembling in his cage, clearly still shaken by the terrifying scene.
“Who are you?” came a weak voice from the Diadem. “Do you know who I am?”
“Oh, I know all too well. The great Dark Lord, second only to Dumbledore,” Louis said deliberately.
“I’m the most powerful wizard!” the voice roared in fury. “Dumbledore… Dumbledore is just a decrepit old fool! I’ve already escaped the clutches of death! I alone am the greatest wizard!”
The Horcrux’s rage startled poor Fafnir again.
“Come on now, calm down,” Louis said, soothing the dragonling. “Look at yourself. In that condition? Don’t you feel a little embarrassed?”
The outburst had clearly drained the Horcrux. After a long silence, Voldemort’s fragment rasped, “You don’t understand. This magic is powerful enough to defy death. As long as I exist, no one can kill me!”
The Diadem wasn’t like the diary—Tom Riddle’s diary allowed for easy, low-energy communication with the outside world. The Diadem, on the other hand, relied solely on itself. From the sound of it, Voldemort’s soul shard was on the verge of collapse.
“Is that so? But what does that have to do with you?” Louis asked, voice laced with malice. “He’s immortal, and you’re the one suffering this prison.”
“We are one and the same!”
“But not anymore. You’ve noticed it, haven’t you? You’re no longer bound to the main soul. Your body died—killed by a baby, no less.”
“No! Impossible! I’m the Dark Lord! I’m Voldemort! I can’t be dead!” Voldemort’s voice rose again, only to glitch mid-scream—he was losing cohesion.
“Careful now. If you scream yourself to death, I won’t be able to save you,” Louis chuckled. “Besides, shouldn’t you be happy that your main body is gone? Why get so worked up?”
“Happy? Are you mocking me?” The voice cracked, distorted, like a failing speaker on its last legs.
“Why don’t you think about what it means? With the main body gone… doesn’t that give you the chance to become the real one?”
Louis’s smile deepened as his eyes shifted toward a new system prompt:
> [Your distortion ability has successfully deceived a minor wizard]
> [The effect is outstanding]
> [You have gained 500 Trick Points – Current: 7420 Points]
Looks like someone had returned to the dorm and triggered the door’s reversed in/out effect—probably scared half to death.
“Well, that’s enough chatting for today. Think about what I said,” Louis said, ignoring Voldemort’s desperate protests as he once again wrapped the Diadem tightly in dragonhide and kicked it under the bed.
Then he turned and walked to the door, canceling the distortion field.
Standing outside was a vaguely familiar Black student, his expression clearly shaken. When he saw Louis, he jumped like a startled cat.
That guy… roommate, maybe?
Louis scratched his chin and asked, “What was your name again?”
“Blaise… Blaise Zabini,” the boy answered stiffly, his face showing a hint of humiliation.
“Oh, sorry. We haven’t really talked much, so I didn’t remember,” Louis said with a shrug. “I was just experimenting with a spell and sealed the door. Hope I didn’t scare you.”
Not that the explanation helped much—judging by the system's Trick Point reward, Blaise had clearly been frightened out of his mind.
“It’s fine,” Blaise said through gritted teeth, trying to control his emotions. Proud as he was, he still managed to squeeze out, “Your magic is… impressive.”
“It’s okay. I’m just really confident—and I learn quickly,” Louis replied casually.
“Remarkable,” Blaise nodded stiffly and walked past Louis, body still tense.
“You’re actually the most interesting person in Slytherin,” Louis said with a smile. “You’ve spoken to me more than anyone else. What’s the deal? Don’t hate Mudbloods?”
His calm mention of the slur made Blaise visibly surprised. After a moment’s silence, he said, “I’m a proud pure-blood. I detest those who abandon their bloodline. But I respect the legacy of lost bloodlines.”
“Lost bloodlines?” Louis raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like I missed something.”
“People are saying… you have Nightmare blood, a legendary trait said to belong only to the great mage Merlin,” Blaise explained. “They say you’re not a Muggle-born at all, but a descendant of a noble bloodline. Sometimes noble lines produce Squibs, and after generations, their descendants forget their wizarding origins entirely.”
“So you’re a Squib’s descendant. But a Squib from a noble line… that explains your genius as a wizard.”
Well, well.
Louis narrowed his eyes.
There’s an old saying: If you can’t beat them, join them. But if they won’t let you in, then drag them into your camp instead.
The magical world had always been ruled by pure-blood ideology. These kids from noble houses really had a talent for bending the rules they made.
Honestly, Louis had to respect the craft. Even he, a seasoned scam artist, was impressed.
Sure, it was pure self-delusion—but someone would believe it. They’d believe that the one who crushed Slytherin students wasn’t a Muggle-born, but a descendant of noble blood.
Raise your opponent’s status, and you raise your own by proxy. Slytherins were sly, no doubt about that.
“But come on… shouldn’t I be the one pushing that narrative?” Louis smirked inwardly. “How else am I supposed to farm Trick Points?”
The whole Merlin’s bloodline thing was clearly nonsense. But if he could get the entire wizarding world to believe it? That’d be a master-level fraud—and worth a fortune in Trick Points.
So, with a charming smile, Louis said to Blaise:
“Wow, I didn’t think my secret would be discovered so soon. I really did want to live as a normal person, but that only got me distanced from everyone. You’re right. I admit it now—I am Merlin’s descendant. Cards on the table.”
***
