Chapter 25: The Little Conflict

In a split second, the once empty tables were suddenly filled with all kinds of delicious food, and the young witches and wizards wasted no time digging in.

Harry, still thinking about Dumbledore's odd choice of words, turned to Percy and asked hesitantly;

"Is he a bit... crazy?"

Percy immediately refuted this idea, asserting that Dumbledore was a genius and the greatest wizard alive, but even Percy admitted there was something slightly eccentric about him.

Despite his defense, he piled Harry's plate high with potatoes.

Meanwhile, Hermione, pondering Dumbledore's seemingly random four words, couldn't help but recall Luke's descriptions of the four houses when he had introduced them to her.

With this thought in mind, she glanced over at the Slytherin table once again.

There, she saw Luke chatting happily with the other students. Even the older ones seemed eager to talk with him.

Hermione turned her gaze to Harry, noticing how both Harry and Luke were receiving nearly the same level of attention.

"Hey, Hermione, who's the witch or wizard in your family?"

A young girl next to her suddenly asked.

This was the same girl who had been sorted into Gryffindor right after Hermione.

Hermione smiled and replied, "I'm the only witch in my family. When I got the letter, my parents were so shocked—they thought it was a prank!"

"Same here! My mom's a witch, though, and then..."

The girl went on about her own family, and Hermione noticed that many of the first-year students were having similar conversations about their backgrounds and experiences.

It wasn't just in Gryffindor. Across all four houses, this topic seemed to dominate the tables as the new students bonded over their shared surprise and excitement.

However, over at the Slytherin table, the atmosphere wasn't as lively as in the other houses. It was clear that while there was some conversation, it was more subdued.

Luke, on the other hand, was amused by a plate of fried rice that had appeared before him.

He glanced toward Professor McGonagall, who gave him a small smile and raised the chopsticks in her hand.

Luke chuckled softly, nodding his thanks to her before eagerly digging in.

The table offered dishes representing almost every major European country, though unsurprisingly, the local British cuisine remained untouched.

Luke also noted something curious—while many were chatting with one another, there were a few students who were clearly being isolated.

One of those students was the girl sitting next to Luke, Taylor, who ate in silence.

Although she didn't seem as gloomy now, her messy hair still obscured much of her face.

"Luke, are you a pureblood too? It seemed like they were really excited to welcome you earlier," a new Slytherin student on his other side asked, his mouth full as he bit into a roasted quail.

"Yes, I'm a pureblood, from the Gaunt family. How about you?"

Luke responded warmly. He remembered this boy's name: Humphrey Hagen.

"Me? Oh, I'm a half-blood. But my parents only told me when I got the letter. My mom—well, she's a witch, but she can't do magic."

Humphrey explained this with a shake of his head, adding, "That's what she says, anyway. She was thrilled when I got the letter."

Luke nodded, understanding the sentiment. He could imagine how an outcast like a Squib might feel. To see their child avoid the same fate would surely be an overwhelming relief.

Luke also sensed that Humphrey knew the term "Squib," but out of respect and perhaps a bit of love, he refrained from using such a harsh word to describe his own mother.

"You-"

Luke had just opened his mouth when someone cut him off.

"Ha, a Squib's kid, and a half-blood too? How did you end up in Slytherin?"

A sharp, deliberately mocking voice echoed through the crowd, laced with undisguised disdain and scorn.

Luke's brows furrowed instantly, and the smile on his face vanished. Beside him, Taylor raised her head, revealing deep blue eyes beneath her golden hair.

Humphrey's face went pale, then flushed with uncontrollable anger.

He turned to face the person who had spoken.

Luke remembered the boy's name.

Blaise Zabini. He was the last student sorted at the ceremony.

"Say that again!" Humphrey shouted furiously.

But Blaise ignored Humphrey's anger and, smiling, addressed Luke directly. "Hello, Mr. Gaunt. My name is Blaise Zabini. Surely, you've heard of the Zabini family? While we may not have the long-standing legacy of the Gaunts, we've always taken care to keep our blood pure."

"We don't let Muggles taint our noble blood."

With that, he extended his hand.

"I'm sure you'd prefer the company of someone as noble as yourself."

Luke was stunned, staring at the smug-looking Blaise in bewilderment. He couldn't quite understand the kid's thinking.

This attitude was similar to Draco Malfoy's haughty remarks on the train back then, but instead of simply arguing between families, Zabini had taken direct aim at both half-blood and Muggle-born wizards.

Sure, Slytherin was known for its bloodline pride, but that didn't mean it was exclusively pure-bloods. Muggle-borns might be few, but the number of half-bloods in the house wasn't small.

Was this guy really that bold...?

Blaise's smile widened, as if he expected Luke, the heir of a prominent family, to approve. Although the Zabinis had earned plenty of money in recent years and moved closer to the nobility, they hadn't gained the acknowledgment of any truly prestigious families. His father had often lamented this fact.

But today, that worry would disappear. Upon learning that the heir of the Gaunt family would join him at Hogwarts, he had researched the Gaunts extensively.

Proud, aristocratic, graceful to nobles, but contemptuous toward Muggles. They were everything he admired. Especially when he read stories about how the Gaunts dealt with "filthy" Muggles, he could barely contain his admiration.

In that moment, he felt like a Gaunt in spirit.

He was sure that he and the Gaunt heir were destined to be natural friends.

So, upon realizing the person next to him was an annoying half-blood Squib's kid, he'd spoken up right away.

Surely, Luke Gaunt would agree with what he'd just said, Blaise thought.

But before Luke could respond, a mocking voice rang out from across the table.

"Zabini? The family that made their fortune selling socks? How dare you call yourselves nobility? Noble blood? You're really flattering yourself!"