Chapter 123 - Ch 122 - Reunited ~Cute~

"I see..." Lucius said slowly to Dumbledore.

"A clever plan," Dumbledore said in a level voice.

He continued to stare at Lucius, "Because if Harry here," Lucius shot the scar head a swift, but noticeable look.

"Lucifer here," Older Malfoy shot him a swift look as well, "and their friend Ron hadn't discovered this book, why--'Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame.' No one would ever have been able to prove she wasn't acting of her own free will..."

Lucius said nothing, his face suddenly became masklike.

"And imagine," Dumbledore continued, "what might have happened then... The Weasley's are one our most prominent 'pure-blood families'. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing Muggleborns... Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle's memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise?"

Lucius practically had to force himself to speak, "Very fortunate indeed," he said stiffly.

"And do you want to know where she got the Diary from, Lucius?" At this time, Lucifer suddenly spoke up.

"You will show me respect, boy-"

"You have done nothing to 'earn' that respect," Lucifer said in a calm voice, cutting him off, "She got the Diary out of her cauldron after it was given to her back at Diagon Alley before the year started. It was given to her... by you, Lucius."

Harry was nodding in agreement and Dumbledore was eyeing him.

"When you were insulting the Weasley's for having to buy 'Second-Hand school supplies', you took a book out of her Cauldron. And, when you put it back, the Diary went along with it," he eyed Lucius for a moment, "I'm right, aren't I?"

Lucius clenched and unclenched his hands, "I want you to prove it."

"Oh, that's quite impossible. No one will be able to do that," Dumbledore said quickly, smiling at the boy, "Not now that Riddle has vanished from the book. On the other hand, I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving out anymore of 'Lord Voldemort's' old school things. If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley, for one, will make sure they are traced back to you..."

Lucius Malfoy stood for a moment, as though thinking of doing some brash, when he turned to his House Elf, "We're going, Dobby!"

He wrenched open the door as the elf came hurrying up behind him, he kicked him right through it.

Lucifer's anger flared for a moment; his mind made up, he would definitely be looking into House Elves over the summer, if he had the time.

Suddenly, Harry spoke, "Professor Dumbledore?" He said hurriedly, "Can I give that Diary 'back' to Mr. Malfoy, please?"

"Certainly, Harry, just don't dawdle too long," Dumbledore said calmly.

Harry then grabbed it and ran out, Dumbledore then turned to Lucifer, "I believe we have a fair bit to talk about..."

"I believe we do, sir," Lucifer went and sat down in front of the Headmaster.

"So, Harry told me that Riddle was surprised when you were alive?" Dumbledore asked him.

"Yes, sir... when Ginny figured out where the entrance to the Chamber was, I ran back down there to try and find a way to open it. But she wasn't herself, controlled by Riddle... she aimed her wand at me and said... 'Avada Kedavra'."

Dumbledore's eyes widened at that.

"It wasn't of her own volition, so she shouldn't be punished... but I raised my hand and... this may sound ridiculous to you... but I just grabbed the spell out of midair... closed my fist around it, and was blasted back into the wall. I guess Riddle thought I was dead at that moment and took me down into the Chamber to be feasted on by the Basilisk," Lucifer looked over at Fawkes, who was resting nearby, "I only woke up moments before Fawkes arrived to help."

"Most peculiar..." Dumbledore stroked his beard, "My dear boy, I wish I had an explanation, no book about Merlin has ever recorded something like this before."

"...Well," he suddenly said, "let's get to the feast, shall we? I'm famished and I'm sure you will want to see Miss Granger again?"

Lucifer nodded, wanting nothing more than to see Hermione okay.

He stood up with Dumbledore and walked down to the Great Hall.

________

On mid-way, Lucifer couldn't help himself, after excusing from Albus, he ran towards Hospital wing who chuckled at the display of youth, and shockingly found Snape walking towards him, "Severus, going to see the patient's, I see."

"When did you start joking? I am merely here to see my brewing's geniusness."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

.....

Meanwhile, Lucifer walked around the beds, students have now started to wake up, where he saw Madam Pomfrey leaning forward slightly. "Tell me, though--what happened that night? 'What do you remember?"

Penelope frowned, frustrated. "I... don't know. I wish I did. I'd just come back from the courtyard--it was raining, and I was soaked through. I wanted to change into dry robes before joining the feast. That's when I saw Mrs. Norris following me. I shooed her away, when---"

Her voice faltered.

"A sudden flash of yellow light filled my vision. After that... nothing. Until I woke up here."

Yellow light? Justin, Colin, and Percy Weasely sank into thought, searching their knowledge for a spell with such an effect. Yet, after several long moments, none could recall anything conclusive.

Lucifer who had stopped to listen, spoke in a softer voice, "What was it like--being 'unconscious?"

Penelope noticing him frowned in thought, "Like... falling asleep. At first, when I woke, I didn't even realize anything had happened. Only last night did fragments of memory return--the moments just before the attack."

Her tone was calm, even composed, though a flicker of worry lingered.

...

But then Lucifer saw her bushy brown hair. His head began to pound and he could practically feel his heart thumping in his chest, his nerves were fried, but he had to see her.

As he walked forward, and saw her dazed face, her cheeks frowned, trying to clear the vision, he also felt a teardrop streaming down his face.

Lucifer ran to her and threw his arms around the girl, letting out all the tension of the past, ignoring the slight pain in his ribs.

He moaned into her shoulder, clutching her robes, not wanting to let go, "I'm so s-sorry, Hermione..."

"...Lucifer, what are you sorry for?" She asked in bewilderment, after noticing the familiar scent, using her red nose to sniff around.

"For not keeping you s-safe... for letting you g-go alone... you figured it ou-out before I did..." he somehow managed to get out.

She rubbed his back soothingly, letting him cry it all out. Hermione didn't care if people stared, she was just happy to see her boyfriend alive and well, "Actually, I firstly wanted to ask--this won't leave me with... 'permanent damage, will it?"

Lucifer shook his head firmly. "No. You might not trust Professor Snape's brewing, but you should trust the Headmaster's judgment. He examined you himself--there's no trace of lingering Dark Magic."

"What you're feeling now is just weakness from going without food for months. Once Madam Pomfrey lets you out, I'll take you to the kitchens for a proper feast."

Snape's face went dark as his robes as he entered the hospital wing, while Dumbledore stroked his beard in clear amusement.

The old Headmaster even shot Snape a mischievous wink, as though to say, See? At least he speaks well of me.

Hermione blinked, bemused. "The kitchens? No, I don't want to disturb the cooks. Why not just eat in the Great Hall like everyone else?"

Lucifer grinned, "Because with me, you'll get the hidden menu. Well, I can have delicacies out for you in girl'd dorm then instead..."

"The kitchens have a hidden menu?"

It wasn't Hermione who spoke, but Dumbledore himself, his eyes suddenly alight.The old wizard realized he was out of touch, Hogwarts had a hidden menu he'd never even tried?

"I have... eclectic tastes," Lucifer explained smoothly, "When she got petrified, my tongue died entirely. So, I gave the cooks two entire new foreign Norwegian, and Australian books. They've been practicing ever since--some of the dishes are actually quite 'good now."

"Oh?" Dumbledore leaned forward, intrigued. "I must try them! Some students have complained of bland meals, but truth be told, compared to the fare elsewhere on this island, Hogwarts' food is already abundant."

"Ahem."

Snape's sharp cough cut through the air, dragging the conversation back on track, "Headmaster, it is still some time until lunch. Perhaps we should be discussing how to announce 'DADA's future."

"Yes... you're right, Severus." Dumbledore agreed mildly, rising to his feet, "But not here. This is a hospital wing--we should let everyone rest. Severus, inform Filius---come both with me. My office."

Once the professors were gone, Lucifer made to leave as well. But his girlfriend reached out, stopping him.

"Stay. Madam Pomfrey left, and she probably won't let anyone in once you leave. Just... talk with me for a while."

Lucifer settled back into his chair with an easy smile, "Seems everyone knows Madam Pomfrey's habits well enough. She's strict about quiet, no visitors-'only recovery."

"Morningstar..."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Call me Lucifer," he interrupted gently, with a grin, "Didn't you say hearing your surname over and over feels like you are being summoned for a disciplinary meeting with the prefects."

"...Alright then." Her lips curved into a small smile. She hesitated, then drew a breath. "I have something important I can't decide on. I'd like your advice."

Lucifer arched a brow. The tone in her voice hinted this was no trivial matter. But really--they'd only just met after months today. And, she was already spilling personal dilemmas.

Still, he leaned forward. "Go on."

Hermione's gaze turned toward the sunlight streaming through the window. It lit half her face in gold, her features sharpened, framed in brightness. After a long pause, she exhaled a quiet sigh.

"Lucifer... I'm grateful I woke up from an unconscious state. But it keeps happening, bad things, that means... I could be attacked again this term, or next year..."

Her fingers tightened on the sheets, "I'm thinking... maybe I should take a leave from Hogwarts next year. Step away and request for 'home-schooling. What do you think?"

Her words rang with the fear others dared not admit aloud. The whole school was nervous, yes-but few had felt the petrification. She had.

Colin Creevey hadn't awakened for almost the entire year. No time to worry, no choice to make, school time wasted. What about the possibility of something like it happening again, next school year?

Lucifer didn't answer at once.

"If you're asking this question... it means you've already decided," he said quietly.

"You're right." Hermione nodded slowly, "I am afraid. And I do want to run. But if it were you... what would you do?"

His eyes hardened, "I wouldn't run. I'd fight. Anyone who hurt me-or someone I care about-would pay dearly. I'd never stop until vengeance was mine."

Penelope Clearwater who was listening from nearby bit her lip, a little ashamed. A second-year boy, braver than her-a 'fifth-year prefect.'

He continued, his tone steady. "Since you asked me, I'll be honest. My advice? Stay. Hogwarts for all it's trouble is already one of the safest places in the wizarding world. Your 'future job' will be far more dangerous. If you run now, maybe it means you're not suited for this magical life at all."

.....Hermione had no answer. His words struck true. Would she go back to the Muggle world knowing it all exists? She could never rest or have peace of mind.

_______

Now removing her wand from the inside of the pocket, she pointed at the curtains, and they drew around.

The girl immediately pushed him down on the bed, and placed her head against his chest with a sigh.

"I missed you a lot," Lucifer whispered.

"I'd say I missed you too, but, well, I didn't really feel anything. One second I was at the library holding the mirror around the corner, next I was here. Hate the thought of you fighting that thing though. It was huge."

"I guarantee it was probably larger in Chamber, that thing took up half the floor. I'll show you one day."

"No thanks!" Hermione said, as she pulled herself tighter against him.

"So..." she said slowly after a long pause.

"So?" he said, looking down at her.

"Did you happen to... um... meet anyone else? While I was petrified..."

"I did learn from looking into Potter's eyes that I got a date with Myrtle set up for when I die, she told him I could share her toilet," Lucifer said, in a joking way, but it only made Hermione to smack his chest.

"Idiot!"

"Did you meet someone else whilst encased in stone? I've read Medusa-"

but he was cut off as another blow landed into his stomach.

"Ow!"

"Shut up!"

"You aren't meant to punch the guy in the Hospital Bed..."

"We're both in the Hospital Bed, Madam Pomfrey just told me you were a patient, 'it cancels out!"

"That's not how---"

'Thwack!'

"Okay okay I get it, jeez."

They lay there for a long while, neither of them saying anything, and when Hermione finally raised her head to look at him, he could see tears in her eyes.

Lucifer leant down and kissed her forehead, she closed her eyes as he did so and blushed.

"Come on, " he said, "As much as I want to just stay like this all evening, they have prepared a feast that we should probab---"

Hermione grumbled and yanked Lucifer back down onto the pillow as he tried to sit up.

"Granger," Lucifer said warningly, "I killed a basilisk, I'm hardly gonna be bossed around by-"

'Thwack!'

"Five more minutes it is then." he spluttered in defeat.

xxxxx

When they entered the Great Hall, and sat down, Professor McGonagall announced that, as a treat for enduring the year, exams were taken under consideration to be delayed.

Hermione turned her face towards the boy, her left arm possessively around his waist, fixing him in the seat, looking stricken.

"Hey, you can take a break for one year. They were due to start in three days..."

'Three days?!" she shrieked, "How long was I petrified for?"

"A couple of months," Lucifer's tone was normal, but the girl had now lost her sense of reason.

"I'll have missed out on so much, so many lessons, you'll have to help me catch up, Lucifer. Over the summer-!"

"You're going to France. I already made several bottles on your request, so that you won't go hungry over th-"

And, Hermione gave another little squeal, began listing off how they can use the mirror, to help with the past lessons, but her mood became complicated when she heard, 'The Tale of Whipping Howlers~'

Draco Malfoy was no longer acting like he owned the place after his father had been sacked as a School Governor.

While seeing Ginny not looking pale and actually lively also made Lucifer smile, knowing she was free from Riddle's influence.

xxxxxx

By the time dinner rolled even before they had finished eating--Daphne impatiently dragged a confused Hermione out of the Great Hall.

At first Hermione had no idea what was going on. But the moment she heard "Chamber of Secrets," it was her turn to seize Daphne's arm and break into a run.

The three witches finally tucked themselves away in an abandoned classroom, whispering in hurried voices.

"That Riddle boy-he lived fifty years ago," Hermione shushed her urgently, "I found his name in 'The List of Former Head Boys'. He even received a 'Special Award for Services to the School. And fifty years ago..." she drew a sharp breath, "...was the exact time Professor Binns mentioned--the Chamber of Secrets was opened for the very first time."

"So he was rewarded for that?" Daphne scowled. "All that glory, when in truth he was the one who opened the 'Chamber' in the first place? The whole thing was his twisted little play?"

"Exactly," Hermione nodded, her voice trembling with outrage, "He's the Heir of Slytherin. Even after so many years, he was still causing chaos with nothing more than a notebook."

Astoria tilted her head thoughtfully, "But where is he now? I mean-anyone who could make something like that while still a student... Even if he isn't Lucifer's equal, he's not far behind. There's no way someone like that would just disappear without a trace."

The truth was, most of the older generation did know Voldemort's secrets. But none of them would ever casually reveal such things to the younger ones.

Mrs. Greengrass certainly wouldn't tell her innocent daughters. So Astoria's ignorance was only natural.

"What's his future? The basilisk was cut into Love-bug salad. The diary got pierced by Harry, 'making a big hole!"

"Fufu." The sisters giggled at that, the bushy haired girl gave the two a suspicious look, was she missing something here?

"Anyway, what's your side of the story? I heard it has to do with a RavenClaw girl?" Hermione asked carefully.

Astoria replied, "Oh, Luna, you mean. She helped us capture Ginny. Lucifer said he wanted to study it first, and then handed it over to Dumbledore."

Daphne added, "He hid it away in that little 'pocket-world' of his all day, researching it.... No idea how far he's gotten or what he did. But I saw in Binns's lecture, the diary was trembling on his desk."

xxxxxx

The next morning, a new week began.

Astoria Greengrass rose early, dragging Daphne with her to guard the entrance of the Slytherin common room. Every first-year who emerged, she stopped and corralled.

Within minutes, the entire crop of trembling eleven-year-olds stood gathered before the two, exchanging nervous glances, unsure why they'd been summoned.

Older students loitered too, curious to see what mischief Greengrass family was planning this time.

She let them sweat only briefly. Then clasped her hands behind her back and said smoothly, "There's something I need your help with. Follow me..."

The moment Astoria spoke, the first-years all sighed with relief.

....

"Don't be so alarmed."

Bloody Salazar, why was he here?

Their fear was unfounded, Lucifer wasn't here to punish them-only to assign them something. For a terrifying heartbeat, most of them had been certain they were about to be "disciplined."

They'd all heard the stories, after all. Even if they hadn't witnessed last year's chaos, the tales of how Lucifer Morningstar had dealt with the prefect had spread far and wide. Too many students had seen it happen to keep such things secret.

And now... the aura he carried only grew heavier by the day. Except for Astoria Greengrass, there wasn't a single 'first-year' who wasn't frightened of him.

"Who are your representatives?" Lucifer asked casually.

Two nervous students shuffled forward at once. Astoria whispered quietly at his side, introducing them: Celeste Rowle, her roommate, and Caspar Bulstrode.

Lucifer inclined his head and said smoothly, "This is a simple matter. You all know Luna Lovegood, yes?"

"Loony Lovegood?" one girl blurted out without thinking.

"...Hmmm?" His eyes slid toward her-just a glance, but it was enough. The girl froze, horror flooding her face as if she had been pinned under the gaze of some beast.

Knees nearly buckled beneath her.

"I won't hold your past ignorance against you," Lucifer said softly. "But in the future-be careful." His finger tapped lightly on the armrest, each precise beat strangely resonating with the rhythm of their own hearts.

Everyone held their breath, bodies taut, focused only on what he would say next.

"Lovegood helped me once. Even better, she's my family, The name 'Loony'-never again."

The first-years nodded furiously, eager to prove obedience. The tapping stopped, and the invisible pressure lifted; only then did they feel like they could breathe again.

"And another thing," Lucifer continued lazily, "I've heard she doesn't get along with her dormmates."

Celeste Rowle perked up, eager to contribute. "That's true. I once heard Melrose mocking her behind her back. She even hid Lovegood's slippers. The poor girl searched for days and never found them."

"Mm. Then let's start with her," Lucifer nodded as if issuing judgment, an irrelevant statement, girl would have if she really wanted to.

"Anyone who bullies my family," his smile sharpened, "is bullying me. And I simply cannot allow that. She deserves-well, never mind. I'm merciful, after all. I dislike bloodshed."

Several older students lowered their eyes quickly, hiding the incredulous looks on their faces. Merciful? Gentle?

Was he referring to the time he slammed a professor into a wall so hard they had to pry him out, before giving him 'fifty lashes?! That kind of mercy?

Caspar Bulstrode swallowed hard. "I understand. We'll... warn those Ravenclaws. Make sure Miss Lovegood is treated fairly."

"Wrong," Lucifer corrected him instantly, his tone sharp. "Not warn. Retaliate. Luna doesn't need fair treatment. She only needs those gnats too afraid to bother her again."

Cold sweat ran down Caspar's neck. "R-retaliation I can do, but if the professors find out---"

"Then let them come to me." Lucifer's glance cut him like a knife, "If you can't handle such a simple task, perhaps I'll find someone else to replace you."

He leaned back, voice calm and smooth:

"Detention? Filch runs most of those--I'll handle him. House points? I'll ask Dumbledore to give some of fine. As for Snape, just tell him it was my idea. Your Head of House is... an 'understanding man."

The two stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Any other objections?"

"N-No!" a pudgy boy blurted loudly. "I swear, we'll make sure those Ravenclaw girls steer clear of Lovegood forever!"

Celeste Rowle added quickly, "They're only bullies because Luna's an easy target. Once they're hit back hard enough, they'll fold."

At last, Lucifer repeated his promise: whatever punishment came down, he would take the blame. If any older students interfered, 'upper-years' who wanted to gain his favour would handle it.

Then he dismissed them for breakfast.

Slytherins, after all, were professionals when it came to bullying. Even their youngest were well-trained. They'd been raised on pure-blood pride, taught from childhood that they were entitled to whatever they desired, and that others were beneath them.

And so, by mid-morning, Melrose and her clique--those who normally took delight in mocking Luna-were in for a shock.

Before class, Celeste Rowle deliberately bumped her hard, then stood nose-to-nose with her, unleashing a five-minute tirade of insults. Melrose's friends tried to intervene, only to be shoved aside by other Slytherin girls.

In Potions, her seat was stolen. The ingredients she was given were all defective, and her cauldron was ruined before class even began.

Melrose thought it was just a run of bad luck-until a group of older Gryffindors gave her a lecture, then even Slytherins cornered her and made it plain: this wasn't chance. It was deliberate.

Touch Lovegood again, and whatever you did to her will be returned tenfold. Melrose's head spun. Since when had "Loony" Lovegood been shielded by a 'full Gryffindor' and half of Slytherin House?

By the end of the day, her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Save your disgusting tears," Iris Stellamaris, now a second year student, who had dissected the Malfoy family's black history sneered, arms folded as she loomed over her with a pair of glasses, "Where was this pitiful act when you tormented Luna? You thought it was funny then, didn't you? Now you've only been given back a fraction of what you dealt out--and you can't take it?"

Her two ponytails swung wildly, as she reprimanded these juniors.

However, Astoria Greengrass beside her wasn't finished. Her wand flicked, a jet of red light hit Melrose squarely in the stomach, and the Ravenclaw girl collapsed to her knees, clutching herself in agony.

The display stunned even the Slytherins.

Astoria Greengrass had always been seen as delicate, soft-spoken, a porcelain doll trailing quietly at her older sister's side. She rarely raised her voice, let alone her wand. No one could remember a time she had ever been angry, and certainly never this furious.

But now, with her eyes burning and posture imperious, the pampered heiress looked every inch the noble lady of an 'ancient pure-blood line'--commanding, dangerous, untouchable.

"Remember this," Astoria said coldly. "This is only the beginning. The next week will be your nightmare."

She turned sharply, wand vanishing into her sleeve, and swept out of the room with a flock of Slytherin witches behind her. She didn't bother with threats; her words weren't promises, but statements of fact.

And indeed, for Melrose, the week that followed was pure misery.

Her robes tore inexplicably as she walked the halls. Her shoes vanished, only to be found later covered in the sticky slime of Flobberworms. Her cauldron cracked in class, her ingredients were mysteriously spoiled, her homework ink was swapped with disappearing ink.

It was open, blatant, and merciless.

The rest of Ravenclaw couldn't help but notice. A few upper-years tried to intervene for the younger girl-but Gryffindor students of the same year blocked them with equal force.

And when Melrose went crying to Professor Flitwick, the punishments he handed out barely scratched the surface. Everyone knew: in school, tattling never solved the problem. All she did was dig her own grave deeper.

If it had been Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, this would have exploded into inter-house warfare. But Ravenclaw?

"Scatterclaw" wasn't just a cruel nickname. Unless their personal interests were threatened, most Ravenclaws had no appetite for conflict. And with Slytherin, Gryffindor pushing so hard, few were willing to bring trouble upon themselves.

The truth became obvious soon enough anyway: Melrose and her friends had brought this on themselves. They had mocked and tormented Luna Lovegood, never realizing she was under Lucifer's protection. Now they had slammed into a wall made of iron.

Even Cho Chang felt regret, and terror, then apologised to Luna when she learned the details.

Ginny felt no sympathy, only distaste for their behavior, "Every House has its rotten ones," she said smoothly.

And with that, the matter was dropped.

...

~Flashback~

A few drops of dragon blood stirred the Riddle's Diary into life again, but when Lucifer demanded more of Salazar Slytherin's puzzle route for Chamber's location, phantom boy tried to bargain.

Lucifer didn't bother arguing. He went to the Underworld, borrowed a few drops of unicorn blood from the cutest one, saying hello to his Thunderbird, Max.

And, when the silvery liquid touched the diary's pages, black smoke hissed up at once. Unicorn blood was power incarnate, a pure, sacred force. The year before, even Voldemort had used it himself to cling to life--but a Soul Shard was not a man.

It was an object, a dark thing, and to such a vessel, purity was poison. The diary writhed. The shade of Riddle buckled. And then it broke.

"Shit....."

xxxxxx

Before the dispersion of classes, Dumbledore stood up to address the entire school during the breakfast.

"I must apologize," he began solemnly, "for my 'clouded judgment' in selecting an utterly unqualified professor of 'Defence Against the Dark Arts." He looked out across the rows of students, his voice calm but heavy.

"According to Ministry's investigation, every single adventure recounted in Gilderoy Lockhart's books was 'stolen' from others. He took credit for their deeds, and as for his own magical abilities---his only true skill is the 'Memory Charm."

A murmur rippled across the hall.

"Effective immediately," Dumbledore continued, "Lockhart has already been stripped of his position as professor, but due to being mentally affected, he would be staying at St. Mungos ward.... And, until a suitable replacement is found, your 'Defence Against the Dark Arts' classes will consist of study sessions and substitute lessons shared among other professors..."

The moment his words fell, the Great Hall erupted into a chorus of shocked chatter. Many had been wondering why the Ministry was even involved---'dismissal from teaching' was hardly their affair.

But now it all made sense. And Dumbledore's announcement confirmed what so many had already suspected: 'Lockhart was a fraud!'

Students who had long been skeptical of him straightened proudly, smugness written all over their faces.

"I told you! Look at him-flimsy, frivolous, not at all like someone who's done half the things he claimed."

"Exactly! His books sounded so detailed, but when I asked him about them, he stammered and dodged the questions. Turns out he just copied everything!"

"Couldn't even handle a pack of 'Cornishpixies---yet people still believed him!"

The students who spoke did so loudly on purpose, directing their words toward Lockhart's diehard fangirls. Their faces flushed green with anger and humiliation, but what could they say? The Ministry itself had dragged him away. All they could do was endure the mocking until the scandal eventually blew over.

Still, such students were a minority. Most whether Gryffindor or Slytherin were delighted. For once, the two rival Houses found themselves united.

In that sense, Lockhart was remarkable: in only a single year, he had accomplished something it had taken Phineas Nigellus Black, as Headmaster, 'years to do'--bring the Houses together.

"Headmaster Dumbledore!"

A sharp, clear voice suddenly rang out. Hermione Granger had stood up, and at once the hall fell silent, all eyes snapping toward her. "Since it has been proven that Lockhart was a fraud and a 'criminal," she declared boldly, "shouldn't 'Lucifer's punishment' be revoked as well?"

"...so brave.."

Daphne's eyes went wide, her cowlick blonde curl trembling. To openly confront Dumbledore in front of every teacher and student---'it was reckless!'

Even Lucifer was stunned. His own battles with the Headmaster had taken place in the privacy of Dumbledore's office, with only Snape as witness. Compared to Hermione's audacity, his efforts seemed pitiful.

But she didn't care. All she knew was that it had been Lockhart who provoked her boyfriend in the first place. Even if Lucifer wasn't the type to obsess over House points, he still didn't deserve unjust punishment.

From two houses, no less.

"She's right." Another voice joined---Luna Lovegood, standing tall, her dreamy eyes flashing with a rare look of conviction. "Headmaster, even though Lockhart hadn't been exposed at the time, he was scheming to harm Lucifer's 'daughter... Everything he did was to protect what was his. That shouldn't have been 'punished."

No one from RavenClaw protested. No one sneered at Luna for defending a Gryffindor.

(Usagi was Luna's cousin, she couldn't let 'unjust' come for her kin.)

For one, everyone knew about her having some kind of family type relationship with Lucifer; inter-house rivalry was one thing, but even the most nagging RavenClaw wasn't about to try breaking up 'blood relation.'

And two--well, Lucifer's actions had been immensely satisfying to watch.

Dumbledore's expression remained calm, his half-moon spectacles glittering in the candlelight.

"Miss Granger, Miss Lovegood. I will admit---'your arguments' for leniency are not without merit," he said, his voice carrying a weight that stilled even the boldest students, "But Mr. Morningstar... could have handled the matter with more restraint. He might have sought a professor's intervention, or chosen a gentler response.... Instead, he chose the path with the 'worst consequences'. Were it not for a gap in the school rules, his punishment would have been far harsher."

Hermione frowned, her violent temper ready to flare--but before she could open her mouth, Dumbledore continued.

"Still, you remind me of something I have 'yet to announce." His eyes twinkled now, a spark of light against the shadows.

"Because of Mr. Morningstar's efforts, Lockhart's true nature was exposed swiftly.... For that, 'Slytherin' House is awarded seventy points, and 'Gryffindor' house eighty points."

A radiant smile bloomed across Hermione's face.

Thunderous applause erupted from the Slytherin and Gryffindor' table, spreading quickly through the entire hall until it seemed very stones of Hogwarts vibrated with it. Even two usually cold hearts found themselves warmed by it.

When the feast ended and Slytherins returned to their common room, celebration exploded in full.

This victory over Lockhart was more than personal vindication---it was a 'declaration' of Slytherin's strength. Eight governors had stood together to challenge authority; 'Dumbledore himself' had admitted to an error.

They had proven that Headmaster's voice was not the only one that mattered in Hogwarts.

Of course... they could only 'influence the balance of power'. After all, even united, they still weren't strong enough to overcome white-bearded giant completely.

xxxxx

'Gryffindor's Common Room '

Lucifer had arranged plenty of food and drink, celebrating with his fellow lions before slipping away to his dormitory to bring out a lazy Eve, small bribe for Hufflepuff''s

Also, the Ministry's efficiency had far exceeded his expectations. Originally, his plan had been to publicly force Lockhart into performing a few basic spells, something any real wizard could manage.

If Lockhart failed, Dumbledore would have no choice but to dismiss him, McGonagall certainly wouldn't allow such 'incompetence' among her colleagues.

But with the appearance of Ministry Aurors yesterday, all that trouble had been avoided. Naturally, he was eager to dig for details from Evelyn.

xxxxx

Below was what he got out of her.

The truth was, it wasn't complicated. Many of the events in Lockhart's books left traces. Susan's aunt, Lady Amelia's department tracked down several of the real victims and 'restored their memories!'

That gave the proof Ministry needed.

Restored memories, you ask? Ordinary wizards can't do that. Even Dumbledore once praised Lockhart's Memory Charms. And the Ministry managed to undo them....

How, well the fierce Head of DMLE brought in 'Unspeakables.'

"The Unspeakables from 'Department of Mysteries?"

"You actually know of them? Even most Ministry employees have no idea they exist. But Amelia sometimes tells me stuff.... Yes, exactly them. Their raw power may not rival greatest duellists, but they are most secretive wizards alive. She says they were probably researching 'souls, death, and other unfathomable mysteries.' Their expertise is unique!"

The conversation ended with Madam Greengrass thievingly giving him a flying kiss, with that leaving 'lover of hers' deep in thought.

Lucifer realized he had underestimated breadth of magical talent in this world. His eyes had always been fixed on figures like Dumbledore, Nicolas Flamel, or Newt Scamander.

But being "the greatest wizard of the century" didn't mean one man monopolized every field of magic.

Dumbledore for instance, still depended on Snape's potions to cure any major injuries, he might sustain or just anything in daily life, while his assistance was needed.

And now, in the field of memory restoration, Unspeakables had achieved what even the so-called 'geniuses could not.'

"The Department of Mysteries..."

Lucifer had once dismissed the entire bureau as little more than smoke and mirrors from his light bed reading. Now, he was intrigued. A part of him itched to step foot inside that hidden hall of secrets....

But Evelyn's words had been clear: the Unspeakables seldom interacted with outsiders. They knew too much--too many truths about magic and the world. Even Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, 'dared not meddle' in their affairs. To the world, the Department of Mysteries might as well 'not exist!'

If Lucifer wanted to investigate, he would need the right timing, and an impeccable excuse.

xxxxxx

Next day, at the Great Hall.

"What are we meant to do with 'Defence Against the Dark Arts' now?" Ron asked, looking down at his timetable, as they were due there in ten minutes.

"They're cancelled," Lucifer gave a whistle, "We just don't go, consider them free periods."

"Brilliant!" Ron also said eagerly as he tucked his timetable away.

Hermione gave her boyfriend a disappointing tut, she didn't like his idea of skipping classes. What if they hired a new teacher?

Even though, knew it's just impossible, but still...

"Come on, Hermione. You know, he actually didn't teach us anything, right?" Harry said, "The most exciting lesson was the one where Lucifer ridiculed hi-"

"You insulted him?!" Hermione asked, spinning to look at Lucifer, with a disbelief expression, her reaction so big, it looked somehow this has taken a worse account of level in her mind than 'being whipped!'

"He was insulting Hagrid, said that he was definitely guilty for the snake or he wouldn't have been taken away. I couldn't exactly 'break his spine, but Lockhart deserved it, and the chair, and the book..." Lucifer just marked his own death.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked warningly, her fingers twitching, eyes narrowed at this boy's figure, "Did you cause trouble while I was gone?"

"I mean I magically threw a chair at him at the end, then Thomas also threw a book. Or so he tells me, I stormed out before---" but Lucifer paused seeing the look on his girlfriend's face, "Now I know how you feel about breaking the school rules, or causing trouble which may lead to expuls---"

"I'm going to give you a ten second head start, Lucifer. You'd best hope that giant snake taught you how to 'run faster than me!"

They returned to the common room that night with Harry, Ron and Hermione in very high spirits and Lucifer wincing slightly as he walked.

"Proud of yourself?" Hermione asked him as she slotted into the same armchair as him in the common room.

"Couldn't be prouder," he said, throwing his arm around her.

She gave a loud snort.

xxxxxxx

By Friday, Hogwarts buzzed with excitement. Two incidents happened, which Minerva reported.

The long-paused Dueling Club was set to return that evening, and rumor swirled of a clash between Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Would Melrose and her friends dare challenge their tormentors in public?

Second news, there will be bigger gaps between exams, and students were given more time to study, it came as a reprieve for the older O.W.L. and N.E.WT. giving.

The Great Hall was loud with speculation when the morning owls swooped in. Newspapers and packages rained down across the tables, parchment rustling, letters opening.

The Prophet. Nearly every student and professor had a subscription. With so little entertainment in wizarding Britain, the paper was both news and gossip, lifeline and distraction.

And today, it carried a surprise. Eyes widened across the hall. Students craned their necks. Professors lowered their utensils.

On the second page of the 'Daily Prophet', in a prominent column near the fold--An article.

Its author?

Evelyn Greengrass.

xxxxxx

Headmaster's Office.

Albus Dumbledore sat behind his great oak desk, a tray of breakfast untouched at his elbow. His half-moon spectacles slid low on his crooked nose as he leaned forward, eyes fixed intently upon the newspaper in his hands.

It was not every day the 'Daily Prophet' reprinted a piece from the Wizarding World News. And certainly not a piece like this.

"Redefining Pure-Blood: The Rosier Lineage"

(This article, originally published in Wizarding World News, reflects only the views of the author. The publisher claims no responsibility.)

In 1926, the British wizard Cantankerus Nott published the so-called "Pure-Blood Directory," declaring that only twenty-eight families could be considered the "Sacred Twenty-Eight," the last of the 'true pure-bloods.'

From then on, the rhetoric of the Sacred Twenty-Eight became the shield and banner of Britain's pure-blood elite, a mark that all wielded to separate themselves from others, a doctrine spread not only through Britain but across continental Europe and even into North America.

But the truth, as this writer argues, and realised is that the Sacred Twenty-Eight is utter nonsense. For centuries, Muggle blood has blended irreversibly into our lines. Strictly speaking, all wizards alive today are mixed-blood.

Take Cantankerus Nott himself: his great-grandfather married a Muggle author, from whom he seems to have inherited his literary flair-how else could the Notts have become so influential in the publishing trade?

The Gaunt family, descendants of Salazar Slytherin himself, insisted on inbreeding-siblings marrying siblings-until the linechoked itself into extinction. Isolt Sayre, founder of Ilvermorny, was herself a Gaunt, and she married a Muggle. Every Gaunt in North America today is mixed-blood.

The Weasleys have never denied their own Muggle ancestry. And yet Nott conveniently ignored their statements in his Directory.

In conclusion: by such strict definitions, "pure-bloods" have already gone extinct. Thus I propose a new standard: three generations of activity in the wizarding world, with both parents being magical, should be sufficient to count as pure-blood.

By this measure, even Harry Potter-the Boy Who Lived-is pure-blood, not half-blood.

But among pure-bloods, too, there are differences. The Sacred Twenty-Eight classification is obsolete. We need a new, more accurate, more detailed, and more objective system to measure a family's contributions to wizarding society.

This series will introduce one hundred and twelve families, organized into Twelve Chronicles, Thirty Houses, and Seventy Accounts.

This issue: the Rosier family of France.

The article went on to detail the Rosiers' history with painstaking precision:

Clovis Rosier, an eighth-century wizard, court sorcerer to Pepin the Short, granted lands and title, raising the Rose Estate from which the family took its name.

Their centuries of dominance in magical flora trade. Their split during the Hundred Years' War, birthing the English Rosiers.

Their migrations into Spain and Italy. Their prominent scions--'famous duellists, potion-masters,' even disguised pseudonyms of wizards long thought unrelated, now revealed as Rosiers.

Even Dumbledore, with all his knowledge, found himself learning new details, reassembling the family's tapestry with fresh clarity. From an academic standpoint, the work was... brilliant.

But brilliance was not what worried him. Why had Greengrass Matriarch written it? The opening salvo alone-the blunt demolition of the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight--' was dynamite.

She had stripped away her own pure-blood families' proudest banner and declared it worthless. She had laid bare truths long whispered but never shouted in print.

And she had not published in a minor pamphlet. But had forced it into the 'Prophet'. That meant strings had been pulled, editors persuaded, money moved. This had taken deliberate effort.

Why? For what purpose? Surely not just "academic research." No, there was something more. Dumbledore could feel it, but the woman's true aim eluded him.

The difference between a prodigy and a schemer, he reflected, was that one could be predicted, and the other... never.

For the truth was simple: 'Evelyn had done all of this for gaining Lucifer's goodwill in hopes of--- taking her as the boy's bride, spending rest of the life together and "impregnating" to fulfill her desires of having his children, specifically she hoped a boy to be born in their lineage with his genes!'

A concept the Headmaster could not even begin to fathom. And yet, knowingly or not, she had also seized something else.

In the Muggle business world, there is a saying: 'first-rate companies set the standards, second-rate companies build brands, third-rate companies sell products.'

Greengrass family was setting a standard. She was grasping the reins of language, of definition. When enough people repeated her terms, believed her words, then her words would become truth.

"The God said, 'Let there be light, and there was light."

That was power. By contrast, even Dumbledore, esteemed, respected, beloved--had seen his credibility toppled by a smear campaign when he spoke of Sirius Black's possible innocence. The Ministry had whispered, the Prophet had mocked, and the world had doubted, before Crouch throwing Potter's closest friend to Azkaban for caution!'

'For the ambition of being Minister!'

But Lady Evelyn? She was weaving authority with every line of print.

In the Great Hall below, breakfast chatter had died away. Students hunched over their papers, lips moving silently as they read. Professors lowered their forks and exchanged wary glances.

At the Slytherin table, the effect was electric. Students leaned forward, breath caught, eyes devouring every word of certain girls's mother.

Rosier slammed his copy of Prophet down, eyes wide, "Greengrass," he asked incredulously, "did your family write this article?"

Every eye around the table turned to Daphne and Astoria.

The later met their gazes calmly, lifting her teacup, "Yes. I've also been reading through a great deal of historical material lately, and Mother realized our records of magical 'families' are too biased, too incomplete. So, she wrote this piece. Any problem with that?"

For a heartbeat, silence. Then Rosier all but jumped from his bench, shaking his head so hard it nearly snapped off. "Problem? Absolutely not! It's... it's brilliant!"

His cousin beside him was beaming too. Yes, the article exposed at least five instances where the Rosiers had married Muggles. Yes, that shattered the illusion of their 'pristine blood'.

But compared to the grandeur of their lineage now laid bare--their wealth, their power, their spread across Europe--such "blemishes" seemed trivial.

In fact, for the Rosiers, this was vindication. Proof that theirs was a thousand-year-old house, with roots deep and wide. To see it in print, in the most circulated paper in wizarding Britain--it was glory!'

The wider the spread, the brighter their name would shine. At another corner of the table, Nott's cheeks flushed red with excitement. "So that's why you kept pestering me with history questions! You were planning something this big? Redefining blood status beyond Britain, across the entire world? Merlin's beard, why didn't I think of it first?"

He leaned closer eagerly. "Who's next? Another great House? A Chronicle, a Family, or one of the seventy Accounts? When will it be published?"

Astoria only chuckled, when ever her sister looked as if she had never seen the girl before, "Hmm, I hear, Next one's a 'LineageAccount.' But as to who-well, Mother didn't spoil it. A good author never leaves her readers without suspense I guess, right?'

But not everyone was smiling. Even after a year of being "tamed" under cruel shadows, some Slytherins stared at her with narrowed eyes, suspicion etched across their faces.

'We accepted you because of your status', they thought, 'because the Sorting Hat chose you. But tearing away the House's carefully crafted facade? Exposing their family secrets for the world to see? That was betrayal.'

For what were they, if not their names? Their heritage? The 'Sacred Twenty-Eight' was their shield. Their weapon. Without it, how would they sneer at the rest of the school?

Without it, what gave them the right to stand tall? And the weakest families-the ones who clung to the name "pure-blood" like a lifeline--realized something chilling.'

When Lady Greengrass's list was complete... some of them wouldn't even make the cut. Daphne and Astoria felt the malice pressing against them. The former ignored it.

A duel over insults, she would never shy from. But this? This was something their mother had done. To answer anger with hexes would only undermine her work, make it look like bluster instead of truth.

No--'the only solution was pressure from above'. Daphne thought, 'The great Houses. If the strongest and most respected endorsed classification, then the weak could howl all they liked. They would be drowned out by the tide....'

Astoria finished the last bite of toast, rose under the weight of dozens of watching eyes, and strolled out of the Hall with Daphne at her side.

"Hey," Daphne murmured curiously, "where did Mother 'rank our family?"

The silver haired girl smirked. "Not telling you."

"Ugh! You're impossible." She pouted, nudging her sister who had become quite devilish.

xxxxxxx

Beyond Hogwarts, chaos.

Across Britain, 'pure-blood' households slammed newspapers onto polished tables, voices raised in outrage, but somehow endured at seeing the Author's name.

Some minor families spat curses at Greengrass's name, some ranted that the woman had gone senile with her husband dead, maybe under "Imperius Curse," this was an attack on wizarding heritage itself, her blood had betrayed the Magical history, and proudest nature.

Petitions were sent. Threatening owls flew toward the offices of the 'Daily Prophet.' Demands were made: never publish this old hag's work again.

But in the Prophet's newsroom, those letters were tossed into the fire without even being opened. The 'editor-in-chief' knew very well who had given the order.

The "big boss" had made it clear: publish the work, or find another job. And when a polished wand pressed cold against the back of your skull, you didn't argue. You obeyed.

xxxxxx

Meanwhile, at Malfoy Manor...

Lucius Malfoy's silver eyes burned with fury as he read. Then cooled into thought. Cyrus was a good friend.

The Dark Lord' himself had forbidden them to interfere with this pure-blood family, in fact Abraxas had several contracts with his own generation's.

Evelyn Greengrass's redefinition was a dagger aimed at the foundation of their world. If her system took root, countless families once scorned as "mudblood-tainted" would be reborn as pure-bloods under the new standard.

It was blasphemy.

And yet... 'there was temptation.'

The Rosiers were already basking in the glow of newfound glory. Their name, their history, spread across Europe by a single article. Recognition, prestige, respect-all delivered overnight.

'Couldn't the same happen for the Malfoys?' Lucius steepled his fingers, a gleam in his eye. "Perhaps... if I were to have Draco offer her young daughters a gift or two... She might raise the Malfoy name higher. Perhaps omit a few... 'unpleasant details..."

The thought lingered-until a colder one struck him. Lucius froze, realization dawning.

"Merlin's beard..." he muttered aloud. "I don't even know if the Malfoys have any good deeds to be written."

He sank back into his chair, pale. For the first time, he wondered what truths that despicable 'Matriarch' might dig up when it was his family under her quill. Lucius Malfoy knew his family's history all too well. If he were to summarize it in a phrase, it would be: 'duplicitous opportunism, profit snatched through cunning and force....'

To find even one act worthy of public praise in the Malfoy legacy? That was harder than becoming Minister for Magic itself.

"Perhaps," Lucius said suddenly one evening, "perhaps we should... do something good, Narcissa."

Narcissa Malfoy, sipping her tea delicately, froze. Then she looked at her husband as though he had grown a second head, "Lucius, what nonsense are you talking? Malfoys doing good deeds?" Her blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. "No one cursed you, did they?"

Lucius's lips twitched.

"No," he sighed. "I merely want to polish the 'Malfoy reputation."

He tapped the newspaper on the table. Narcissa glanced at it, then let out a soft, disdainful laugh.

"Dearest, it's just an article. Written by that arrogant woman, no less. Hardly worth your anxiety. She hasn't touched our family yet. If she does write nonsense, we can settle it directly. And if you're worried, why not simply warn her in advance?"

Evelyn had declined Lucius's proposal with a disdain, and had chosen the younger heir of Vane family, Cyrus to wed. Not that Narcisaa wanted the woman to accept, since she had a crush on Lucius, everything worked out well in the end. But she was not impressed how quickly the vixen had rejected 'Malfoy's or Regulus Black.'

"Don't!" Lucius's voice cracked sharper than intended, and he sprang from his chair as if stung, "Don't be reckless, Narcissa. Don't you know, she had publicly declared 'Lucifer Morningstar' as her family's ward. That boy is not what you think."

She frowned. "You mean the boy? I know he's talented, Lucius. Draco is terrified of him, but---"

"There are no buts." Lucius cut her off harshly. Her lips parted, temper flaring--but before she could unleash it, his hand pressed over hers. His voice dropped, "My love. Do you trust my instincts?"

Narcissa hesitated. But then she nodded. She knew her husband's faults, but one thing was undeniable: Lucius Malfoy always had an uncanny sense for danger. That sense had kept them alive when Voldemort fell, when others were dragged to Azkaban.

"Good." Lucius leaned closer, lowering his voice even further, "When I went to Hogwarts over Draco's... incident last year, I had every intention of confronting young Morningstar'. Of putting him in his place. But when I met his gaze..."

Lucius's pale face tightened, "It was the Dark Lord's gaze. That same disregard 'for life itself'. And, I felt it again this year when Dumbledore returned..."

A shiver rippled down Narcissa's spine, "You're not joking?"

Her husband's expression was severely grim, "Would I jest about this? His arrogance, his ruthlessness--it eclipses even the Dark Lord's youth. He doesn't see us as living beings. Think on it, Cissy. Voldemort in his school days was the model student--Head Boy, charming, untouchable. No one would have believed he'd become the one whose name we dare not speak."

He gestured sharply. "But this Morningstar'? He flaunts his tyranny. He strikes students, humiliates professors, sneers at Snape, openly defies Dumbledore himself--chased a professor out of the school with the whole of Slytherin at his side. And what happened? Nothing. He still walks Hogwarts, 'unchallenged, untouchable."

Lucius's lips curled thin. "We are not his enemies now. Draco remains on cordial terms with him. Better it stays that way. As for these bloodline essays of Greengrass--let her place House Malfoy at the back of the line. If she withstands the pressure of the 'great families', we yield. If she crumbles, then she will perish. Either way, we bide our time..."

Narcissa studied her husband. The severity of his tone left no room for debate. For the first time, she, too, felt a whisper of unease. She inclined her head, "Then let the other fools test that woman first. We'll also watch and see what this Lucifer Morningstar is truly made of."

"Exactly." Lucius smiled faintly. Marrying Narcissa, raising Draco-these, he mused, were his greatest triumphs.

xxxxxxx

Hogwarts. Potions class.

Snape's glare was sharp enough to cut glass, but Lucifer ignored it entirely. His quill scratched rapidly across the enchanted parchment-- as he used Spatial magic' to converse.

Across the Atlantic, Evelyn's article had been reprinted in major 'American publications.' 

Tina Goldstein had also saw it at once.

Lucifer had already written a reply to her letter in the morning. Now, he was contacting, person responsible for the mess, that just started.

[Hearthrob: Evelyn, why on earth would you write something like this? Stop at once. You've torn away the last veil of dignity these 'pure-bloods' still cling to. Do you realize what you've unleashed?]

....Within minutes, her neat handwriting scrawled across the page pleased with herself.

[Mommy Evelyn: Darling, my whole life is a tightrope. Do you think I'll make it to your side?]

[Hearthrob: Speak plainly.]

[Mommy Evelyn: There's no turning back. The arrow's already left the bow.]

[Hearthrob: Daphne's beard... you didn't even consult us? Not even that old 'fossil' grandfather of yours?]

[Mommy Evelyn: No. He's too old, and dying. I don't trouble him with... trifles.]

[Hearthrob: Trifles? TRIFLES? This is going to bring the wrath of half the old families down on you!]

[Mommy Evelyn: British pure-bloods are trash-(except the Greengrasses). Those abroad? If they want a word with me, they'll have to pass through Dumbledore first. Otherwise, they're not qualified.]

Lucifer paused, blinking. And then his eyes gleamed, wicked and delighted.

The little succubus. She had just shoved "Albus Dumbledore" into the line of fire, making him the shield against every vengeful family.

Meaning, she had something on the old wizard' generation.

A sly smile tugged at his lips. Yes, it was reckless. Yes, it was dangerous. But Lucifer realised oh, how he loved it when someone clever made even the Strongest squirm!'

[Hearthrob: Fine, Madam. You always find a way to wriggle out. 'But don't get careless.']

[Mommy Evelyn: You're underestimating 'my family' too much. We even helped Scamander's once when they were in trouble---I'll send a letter. A public appearance, that should keep the old vultures quiet.]

[Hearthrob: ...All right.]

His mood was complicated. A little wry, a little amused. He hadn't expected that, Greengrass had not even left Newt outside of their influence, depending on Scamander's personality, he might actually leave his home to appear together if he owed this woman.

And judging by Evelyn's sly tone... Was it possible she already had allies of her own hidden there?

Well, even if Dumbledore's looming presence wasn't enough to deter trouble, the Rosier family's quiet influence, past several years of history with "Wizarding families" could shield her from most inconveniences.

[Mommy Evelyn: In return, I want you, no, need you to take 'me.' This is so exquisite, Salazar... I can't see if Evelyn Morningstar or Lucifer Greengrass sounds more elegant?!]

Lucifer exhaled. Never mind, he would ask Ellie to build up barriers and protection at their Manor. Let Newt stretch his legs too. Being cooped up in America all the time must be suffocating for him anyway.

Their correspondence ended--'just as the class bell rang.'

Lucifer, of course, had been detained after Potions. Not for the usual reason-not for "writing letters during class"---but because Snape wanted to deliver the same warnings, he had given to Evelyn, albeit in his own scathing way.

In short: Morningstar', you must have something to do with it, Greengrass youngest I tried to no wail.

This might put a target on your back instead as a "muggle-born." You are not as invincible as you believe. Wait until you reach the level of a 'Dark Lord' or a 'Dumbledore' before you can handle or 'start making enemies on this scale'. Until then, focus on your strength. Stop playing games.

Lucifer had brightly offered to demonstrate exactly how "invincible" he was now. Snape's expression had darkened like a stormcloud, and he'd nearly thrown the boy bodily from the room.

xxxxxx

Today, in the Great Hall, news spread like fire. McGonagall announced that Dumbledore had already left Hogwarts at dawn. Where had he gone? To find a new 'Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, of course.'

Two disasters in a row--Quirrell and Lockhart-had shredded confidence in the position. If the next professor turned out to be another fraud or lunatic, Dumbledore's reputation among the students would 'crumble.'

But that was the "curse of the job." Who with real power and competence would want to take on such a cursed seat? Few, if any. Yet the school could not function without it. Other professors could teach remaining part of the year, what about next?

They couldn't cover the class forever.

So the weary headmaster, over a hundred years old, set out under the moonlight, knocking on the doors of old allies, hoping someone, anyone---'might foolishly agree.'

Meanwhile, Hogwarts classes continued.

xxxxxxx

It had been a week and a half since Gilderoy Lockhart's arrest. The delay wasn't due to leniency--quite the opposite. Lockhart's crimes had entangled far too many people and incidents; the 'Ministry of Magic' had to collect every piece of evidence before rendering a sentence.

That, they called procedural justice.

To be honest, the efficiency surprised Lucifer. From what he knew of the Ministry, he wouldn't have blinked if the investigation had dragged on until the start of next school year.

The verdict was finally announced:

"Gilderoy Lockhart is convicted of altering the memories of eighteen individuals, falsifying records, and bribing members of the 'Wizengamot' to fraudulently obtain a Third-Class Order of Merlin. 'The Ministry of Magic' has ruled that after the treatment in St. Mungos, he will serve 'fifteen' years in Azkaban. Furthermore, all parents and students who purchased his textbooks this term will receive full refunds within ten months."

The Great Hall erupted in applause, even the Slytherins joined in. The punishment was a rare moment of justice everyone could agree on.

Lucifer noticed Ron Weasley clapping so hard his palms turned red. To Ron, this refund was like receiving several years' worth of pocket money all at once--'an unexpected windfall.'

During Transfiguration, he even approached Lucifer with a grin, chatting to him a little, more than friendly gaze.

This sudden friendliness had nothing to do with admiration. The Ministry had today announced fines for Lockhart after his trial, every student who bought his worthless books would be 'refunded...!'

Seven books, over 'ten Galleons' in total---that was a small fortune back to Weasley household.

"Mr. Ron Weasley," Lucifer remarked dryly, "if you spoke incantations as fast as you talk, you'd already be a 'spell-casting prodigy."

Ron flushed scarlet and shrank his neck, obediently returning to practice.

....McGonagall's 'stern' gaze lingered until Lucifer successfully transformed a flower basket into a prickly hedgehog. Only then did her eyes soften and shift to another student.

He toyed with the hedgehog's spines idly until it was poked by Hermione's second finger, and she yelped in pain.

xxxxxx

That evening, the Great Hall had been rearranged into five dueling stages.

Compared to the first session, Professor Flitwick looked far more relaxed; no need to waste time teaching etiquette this time. Не jumped straight into strategy.

"Do not fixate on your own wand-'watch your opponent's. Pay attention to their grip, their stance, their eyes. A spell begins before it's cast."

He raised his own wand. "At the moment their hand moves, you can already anticipate. Predict. Counter. Sometimes even strike first."

"Conversely, conceal your own tells. Do not let them read you so easily. Dueling is not only an exchange of spells-it is a battle of minds."

"I know it's difficult for you now. But habits matter. Form bad ones, and you'll never break them later. Now, pair off. Slow down your casting--'victory isn't important. Learning is."

He clapped his hands once. "Oh, and if anyone has... personal grievances to settle--use the main stage."

Draco Malfoy immediately perked up, eager to challenge Harry again. But Harry wanted no part of it.

The whispers still hadn't stopped about him speaking "Parseltongue," about whether he might also be the 'Heir of Slytherin'. His friends still trusted him, but Hufflepuffs like Justin Finch-Fletchley? Even after apologising, they still taunted and barely stopped bolting the moment they saw him.

So the first duel wasn't Draco versus Harry. It was Celeste Rowle.

"Melrose," she called, stepping onto the main stage. "You say we gang up, many against one? Fine. Here's your chance-one on one. Do you dare?"

Melrose's face drained of color. She wanted to flee, but dozens of eyes were on her. To run now would ruin her completely. With no choice, she climbed up.

It was a disaster. She could barely cast a spell before Celeste flattened her with a 'Nose-Tweaking Jinx' and a 'Tickling Hex'. Nothing serious--but humiliating all the same.

Lucifer had half a mind to whisper encouragement to Harry, bolster his confidence. But then a familiar voice rang in his ear-clear, girlish, urgent.

"Lucifer! Over here!"

He turned. A shock of fiery red hair poked from behind the oak doors. Ginny Weasley. She beckoned him, eyes wide and conspiratorial.

"Why is she calling you?"

Hermione asked confused. He arched a brow in response, shrugging his shoulders and strolled over.

Outside, Ginny shut the doors quickly. Beside her stood Luna Lovegood.

Lucifer pinched Ginny's still-chubby' cheek between his fingers, tugging just enough to make her squeak.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Getting bold, are you? Ordering me around now?"

Ginny's freckled face scrunched in indignation, "I wasn't ordering-I was just asking you to come out!"

"And now you're talking back?"

Her resolve crumbled instantly. "I was wrong'!"

Lately, Ginny had fallen into a strange routine-scribbling near-daily essays to Lucifer. At first, they were careful, detailed reports, but soon devolved into chatty tirades: this girl acts superior, that girl flirts too much...

He loved it. Gossip, grievances--this was his entertainment!!

Bit by bit, Ginny's fear had eroded. Lucifer wasn't gentle like Hermione described him, who always knew the perfect sympathetic word. No, to her he was biting, sardonic. His barbs often matched her secret thoughts so well that she couldn't help but laugh.

They were beginning to share a language.

"Lucifer," Luna's dreamy voice floated between them, "It was me. I asked Ginny to call you." Her silvery eyes blinked. "Thank you for your... 'intervention.' But I truly don't mind Melrose and the others. Their pranks are only pranks."

"No need for thanks," Lucifer said evenly, "Consider it compensation. For last time. For dragging you off."

"Then... could it stop now?" Luna tilted her head, "They're frightened of me. I don't like that."

He smiled faintly. "Why should it stop? You said yourself--it was only mischief. If you don't mind, then surely they don't either."

"But..." Luna frowned, his logic tangling with her instincts, "But Melrose has cried. Several times."

"That only means she's got overactive tear ducts. Truthfully, she's enjoying herself. From a nobody to the center of attention among first-years? Isn't that an upgrade?"

He leaned closer. "Tell me, Luna. Do you care if people are afraid of you?"

She shook her head.

"Then stop fretting. They're irrelevant."

"You really are like how mother always.... 'described you."

Lucifer swung the doors open again, the roar of spells and cheers spilling out, "Come along, Ginny. Let's see whether the little tricks your Tom Riddle taught you have stuck. Otherwise, I might need to give bonus lessons."

Ginny stiffened, eyes wary. "Lucifer... you haven't been... influenced by that diary, have you?"

"Of course not," he said lightly, "Stick with me, and you'll be far better off than with a diary. That's a promise."

If Voldemort had heard that, he would have cursed Lucifer until the pages burned. Better off? 'He was bled dry!'

Reduced to a miserable scribbling machine in trying to sway the boy in wrong direction, his "insights" wrung from him with dragon blood and unicorn blood, burned when not satisfactory, suffering enough to make him wish for death. And Mudblood dared to call this "better"?

xxxxxxx

Back inside the Great Hall, Ginny Weasley climbed the dueling stage at Lucifer's command. She moved with startling ease, casting hexes one after another, swatting aside opponent after opponent.

Even Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick exchanged a look.

"Professor McGonagall, it seems Gryffindor has birthed another prodigy," he said with a small smile.

McGonagall shook her head, but the twitch at her lips betrayed her pride. At the same time, she felt a sting of regret. Her batch year's prefect appointments candidate had been far too hasty decision. She noted, she had to stop making guesses of each batch's talent to be appointed "Prefect" in their 'fifth-year.'

Hermione Granger, was already a given in her eyes. For boys, Lucifer Morningstar, there was no one else who could be suited to the position.

She's considered Neville as a second option, only if the boy's confidence was somehow healed. In Ginny's year, she had shown nothing remarkable till now, so McGonagall had chosen another girl.

But seeing her now... there was no comparison. In truth, Ginny was the strongest witch in her entire year.

"...that's the 'Bat-Bogey Hex," Flitwick muttered in admiration as the youngest Weasely unleashed a storm of flapping wings that sent her opponent fleeing.

At Hogwarts, it was taught in the fourth year. And Ginny wasn't just managing it--she was "controlling" it.

Summoning ten or more batlike creatures at once, intimidating without actually injuring. That level of finesse was rare indeed.

Flitwick's eyes flicked toward Lucifer, standing quietly with Miss Granger, and briliant Luna Lovegood. They'd entered together. 'Could it be... he had taught her?'

He was wrong. Of course, it wasn't Lucifer who had instructed Ginny--but Voldemort himself!'

Her gift was obvious. Especially her talent for hexes. Even Lucifer found himself nodding in appreciation. With the right training, she could grow into a formidable Dark witch.

The Weasleys, he reflected, had a peculiar kind of magic in their blood. Every one of those redheaded siblings had talent. Ginny's fiery temperament would one day make her power blaze all the brighter.

Her brothers, (excluding Bill whom he had barely heard anything of) Too soft-hearted, restrained by their own good nature. Except Ron-his temper was fine, but his ability... less so.

Ginny's display had not gone unnoticed. The Weasley twins were staring in disbelief. When she stepped down from the stage, Fred and George pounced.

"Ginny, what potion did you drink? You're terrifying all of a sudden!" George demanded.

Fred pinched her arm mischievously. "Yeah, share it with us. We've been at the 'ShieldCharm' for months and you're summoning flocks of bats?"

"I--" Ginny panicked. She couldn't possibly mention the diary. Her instincts screamed at her, and she jabbed a finger toward Lucifer, to whom she had given it.

"...It was Lucifer who taught me!"

Lucifer. The twins froze, their faces twisting in unison as they turned to stare at him.

'We invited you to eat with us. We treated you like a mate. And you-you're teaching our little sister?'

The accused's mouth twitched, and so did Hermione's. The weight of their betrayed glares was almost comical. Lucifer couldn't throw Ginny under the broom now, so he gave the most reasonable excuse he could muster.

"Ginny's always with Luna. Even Astoria, who finally has a friend of her own. What's the harm in offering a few pointers?"

Fred and George glanced at each other. The excuse... wasn't entirely implausible. They weren't exactly the most attentive brothers; half the time they didn't know who Ginny was with. If they'd been paying attention, they'd have caught on long ago.

"Enough, stop fussing!" Ginny shoved them away, cheeks flushed. "Astoria isn't like Malfoy. She's not someone you need to worry about. Like I said, Lucifer taught me."

George opened his mouth. He wanted to argue--'wanted to say that's exactly why we're worried!' But the words stuck in his throat. Weasley history had no precedent for one of their own siding with a Slytherin.

And if Ginny did end up smitten... could she really rival the Greengrass sisters? Or Granger, for that matter?

They gave Lucifer one last, unreadable look before stalking off. Only if they knew it wasn't the Sisters, they needed to worry about, but girls's mother herself.

'This isn't over', their eyes promised. 'We'll be watching.'

[Note PS: Neville will marry Ginny, and Hannah Abbott. Susan paired with Rolf Scamander.]

"You used me as your shield," Lucifer said dryly, flicking Ginny's forehead, "Tomorrow, you'll come give me a back rub."

"No!" Hermione was outraged.

"Eh?" Ginny's face fell. "But I already promised Luna-we were going to watch Hagrid wrestle with some gnomes!"

"Cancel it, Weasley. You wouldn't want---"

"Stop! Don't say it like that!" Ginny groaned, "Every time you start a sentence with 'you wouldn't want', I know it's going to be something awful."

Lucifer only grinned. "You'll get used to it."

"...." Ginny.

xxxxxx

Basilisk.

It wasn't some made-up creature—no, existed for real in Wizarding world.

If you looked into it carefully, you'd find that tales of this magical beast had been passed down in Muggle world for over a thousand years. It was even mentioned in the Bible.

Behind every myth, there's always a secret few know.

'From a different angle, maybe the person who wrote Bible had been a wizard—or at least had contact with the magical world. Otherwise, how could they describe such a creature?'

Still, compared to symbolic language in the Bible, description in Hermione's copy of 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them' was far more detailed...

"This type of serpent can grow to an enormous size and live for several hundred years... It hatches from a rooster's egg, incubated by a toad. Disgusting...."

Hermione visibly grimaced as she read aloud. Probably because the illustration of the toad on page was a little too vivid for her liking.

She took a quick sip of hot chocolate to shake off the discomfort, then turned her eyes back to the book.

"A Basilisk's method of killing is extremely terrifying. In addition to its venomous fangs, its gaze is lethal. Anyone who makes direct eye contact with it dies instantly...."

Her voice paused there. That line matched exactly with what Myrtle had described. But one thing Hermione didn't understand was why it didn't have a stated effect on Lucifer, not that she was hoping for him to die, Merlin cut her tongue...!

But it was still bothering her. Was it all because of him being descen---

"Did I miss something?"

When in doubt—ask Lucifer. Not that she even realized it herself, but he had come to hold a rather special place in Hermione's mind too.

Thinking of him, she turned her gaze from the book to Lucifer sitting nearby. But there was something curious in her expression as she looked at him...

"What are you doing?"

Lucifer was holding his wand—but he wasn't casting anything. He was just... holding it in position. At first, Hermione hadn't thought much of it, but now she noticed something strange. There had to be some purpose behind it.

And sure enough, if one were attuned to magical energy, they'd be able to sense the steady flow of power gathered at the tip of his wand.

Lucifer, seated calmly in an armchair, his eyes half-closed, answered without opening them fully.

"Control training."

"That's training?"

"Yeah... Keep your magic focused at your wand's tip without casting any spells. The longer you hold it, more precise your control becomes—and it helps you understand your wand better too...."

"I see... Like this?" Hermione perked up with interest, pulled out her own wand, and began trying to follow her boyfriend's instructions.

And just like that, the Basilisk was no longer on her mind.

"Right, don't force too much magic through at once. Build it up slowly."

"Mm-hmm."

....Lucifer didn't hold anything back in Chamber while his body screamed at him to stop going beyond a human who could basically handle any kind of celestial interference. That, and Curses hurled at him by Voldemort was likely the reason for the magical exhaustion, he suffered.

This technique which he shared casually, not realizing—or maybe not caring—that tips like these weren't something most wizarding families had access to.

This was the kind of knowledge passed down in the old wizarding bloodlines. A piece of inherited magical legacy, he received in an apology described letter from Molly Weasely for her husband.

Fortunately, Hermione didn't know that. Nor was she aware of the subtle shift in Lucifer's caring attitude toward her lately. If she had, her pride might have made her hesitate to follow his advice so easily.

But he didn't seem to mind one bit. And so, in the middle of Gryffindor common room, Hermione sat quietly trying out the training Lucifer had shown her.

She probably never imagined she'd find herself back here again, in this way after suddenly when her mind went black in the library due to an attack of petrification.

"Your output's too high—and completely uneven..."

"Hah... Easy for you to say!"

"Well, it is easy."

Hermione scowled at Lucifer as he moved closer and took hold of her hand. Feeling like she was being treated like an idiot, she puffed out her cheeks in frustration.

Never mind how things had suddenly escalated to this point—she'd completely forgotten that he was still holding her hand.

"Focus 'witch. I don't have all night to waste on something this simple...."

"Ugh, you're so annoying."

As she struggled to maintain her magical flow, Hermione gritted her teeth and mentally stabbed a little imaginary Lucifer doll repeatedly. Still, she had to admit she'd seriously underestimated this training.

He had looked so relaxed while doing it, but now that she was trying it herself, she realized just how naive she'd been. 'There's no shortcut to becoming stronger...'

Though the Gryffindor common room didn't offer a clear view of the lake, she could still see the huge, sluggish squid drifting at the bottom of the Black Lake. That meant it was nearly nightfall.....

At twilight, the squid always appeared beneath the lake—a little secret she discovered.

Lucifer also noticed the squid with his sharp eyes and only then did he finally let go of Hermione's hand. She was red-faced and breathless, her whole body limp with exhaustion.

The sight gave him a strong sense of déjà vu. Just this dawn, Hermione didn't even have the strength to shoot him a glare...

"Here, drink this. It'll help."

She wasn't anywhere near magical burnout yet, but Lucifer knew exactly how unpleasant it could get. The potion he pulled out was designed to ease that very feeling.

But, as expected, the stubborn girl in front of him wasn't eager to accept his kindness.

"I don't... need it... huff."

Hermione, too weak to even lift a finger, still tried to refuse. Whether it was because she was embarrassed or because she didn't want Lucifer to be the one helping her, especially after what he did last night—it was anyone's guess.

"I see how it is..."

"That's not what I meant!" The know-it all shot a furious, flustered look at the potion hovering near her lips, clamping her mouth shut like she was afraid Lucifer might 'force-feed' her again.

"You sure you've got this? Ginny was in the same state as you when she showed me how to do it properly...."

"..."

"She handled it way better than you, though." Lucifer wasn't sure if he was imagining things, but the moment he finished speaking, something dark flashed through Hermione's watery eyes—like murderous intent.

Before he could react, she snatched the potion bottle with her mouth, yes with her bare teeth, tipping her head back and drank it in one go.

Her glare as she did it, though... was downright terrifying.

xxxxxxx

Pulling her gaze back from the room, Hermione turned toward Lucifer with a look of quiet complexity...

"So this is why you're stronger than everyone else...."

Watching him still holding his wand, not taking a break, she finally realized just how hard he worked behind the scenes---how focused and serious he was about his goals.

Her eyes flicked toward the empty potion bottle on the table, and she turned away, cheeks slightly red. Beyond the embarrassment of her earlier reaction, there was now a more complicated emotion stirring inside her.

She couldn't identify the potion, but she could feel how effective it was. And being Hermione, she quickly realized how rare and valuable it must be. Yet Lucifer had offered it to her without hesitation that left her... unsure of how to respond being spoiled like this.

As time passed, the magical fatigue from their earlier training began to ease. Hermione, who had been slumped weakly against the sofa, was finally able to move again.

And the moment she regained her strength, she reached for the book about Basilisks and began poring over it again with full focus.

Her sudden shift caught Lucifer's attention, and he glanced at her with mild surprise.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah... It's not mentioned in book, but clearly, even if they don't meet Basilisk's eyes directly, its powerful curse can still cause petrification...."

As if a switch had flipped, Hermione began flipping through the pages while murmuring to herself.

"So... its weakness is a rooster's crow?

Seriously?"

Her brows furrowed. The idea that a creature so ancient and powerful--one with a killing gaze-could be defeated by a rooster's cry seemed ridiculous. Her expression shifted into a mix of doubt and disbelief.

Still, while she didn't entirely buy it, she didn't dismiss it outright either.

"So, could imitating a rooster work? No, it's better to improve our Transfiguration. But... that's still risky. Using a real rooster would be safest. Besides that, main issue was how to deal with its deadly eyes..."

More than her developing magical ability, what Hermione prided herself on most was her intellect.

Too focused on figuring out how she would have had defeated the Basilisk if it was her, Hermione didn't notice the deepening look in Lucifer as he watched her.

Listening to the girl's soft voice and watching her focused expression full of intelligence, he couldn't help but be drawn to Hermione Granger---there was something undeniably captivating about her. 'If only instead of trusting Ginny like a fool, I went to the library with features known about creatures or... cared enough to take a rooster, but then again I wouldn't have find the Chamber itself, who knew it would be in Myrtle'sbathroom of all people.... And, it was bloody Harry Potter again, he even escaped a raging Lockhart' by sheer luck of being Ron Weasely's friend... Protagonist aura is too strong with him. Would he be able to escape the Chamber, if I wasn't there? Hmmm.....'

Under his gaze, Hermione's cheeks flushed slowly. Not wanting to get her abruptly stood up or squeak at him, Lucifer let his eyes wander on the book, to be precise on the illustration of the Basilisk.

Maybe as the Serpent himself, he had concluded he had no reason to fear a mere snake, even if it was quite big.

"Should we ask Longbott---I mean his pet Trevor to impregnate a rooster to verify the book's claim?"

Hearing word "impregnate" sparked an uncomfortable feeling inside her. Hermione's previously calm face now flushed with irritation. She stopped reading and turned her face to glare at him, as if he'd just accused her of something terrible.

"What exactly do you want to say? If you're just here to trash books, save it for tomorrow. It's not like it's the first time I've heard you do it."

Hermione had quite the presence when she was angry. Her raised voice made the surrounding Gryffindors who had been watching with interest quickly avert their gazes, pretending they hadn't heard anything.

Still, the occasional sideways glance betrayed their curiosity.

"...Huh? Scandalous, weren't you the one, who tore a piece from this same book?!"

Her gaze narrowed into seething, as if realising he'd gone too far. But Lucifer, didn't seem ready to let go just off yet.

"Shut up, Lucifer Morningstar! How dare, how how....you...? 'I did not commit such a crime!"

Hermione's face turned scarlet. She clenched her teeth and growled his name, tone sharp with a lace of warning. It was enough to quiet Lucifer up, but even through the anger, an inexplicable panic stirred in her chest when she felt the stares which she found very irritating.

"That's... That's because you repaired the book after doing so---"

She pulled her wand out to genuinely hex this guy's balls on the spot, while a few first years who were also present in Common room, quivered in fear at the screaming witch. 'What kind of nerves does he have to spout nonsense....?!'

xxxxxxxx

Wizard's chess.

A popular and fascinating game among wizards, though in truth, it's not much different from the chess played in Muggle world-except for one thing: pieces are alive. Enchanted with magic, they follow the player's commands on their own, giving the sensation of commanding an actual army.

Interestingly, perhaps because of that life, the pieces also have thoughts and personalities. If they don't trust you, they might even disobey or deliberately mess things up.

But it's precisely this trait that makes the game so much more compelling. Winning under such conditions requires real skill-and for many pure-blood families, wizard's chess is almost a required course.

It teaches you how to read people, control them, and eventually, win. Right now, as Hermione entered the girls' bathroom, she saw Lucifer in the middle of a match with Moaning Myrtle.

He was fully immersed, showcasing his strategic flair on that tiny battlefield...

Somehow, at some point after Harry's message of her offering a seat to Lucifer in an apology at Hermione's cat transformation, he and Myrtle had become chess partners.

...In truth, it was mostly because Myrtle wasn't a weak opponent. In fact, she was slightly better than Ron.

That alone had made Lucifer invest more time into the game lately, which was why scenes like this were becoming more common.

Noticing this, Hermione couldn't help but think he seemed unexpectedly down-to-earth-especially the time Myrtle "beat" him.

The look of shock on his face had been so priceless, she had the sudden urge to ask Colin to snap a photo of it.

Moments like that from Lucifer were incredibly rare.

In any case...Just as he and Myrtle were deep in concentration, the door to the usually deserted girls' bathroom creaked open. Hermione burst in, her face tight with worry, but the moment she spotted him, she relaxed visibly-if only for a second.

Her expression quickly turned serious again as she walked up behind him.

And the moment she stood behind Lucifer, she felt a sharp, hostile stare directed her way. It came from the Chessboard, one he'd bought somewhere around the year.

Specifically, from Queen piece.

For some unknown reason, Lucifer's queen always seemed to harbor intense hostility toward Hermione. The moment she got too close to him, it would glare at her menacingly.

So, she shot a glare right back at the piece before leaning in and whispering to him, "You really have the time to play games right now?"

"What's the matter?"

"Now that Lockhart is all messed up, there are no DADA classes. I chatted with Mcgonagall...she looked worried, cause of his reputation..."

"Oh....?" Lucifer's fingers which had been tapping lightly on his arm, suddenly stilled as he studied the complex board in front of him.

"You mean it would be difficult to accept a cursed position..."

Hermione's expression tightened at the word, he didn't have to be so rude about what she said. Without saying anything more, he picked up a piece that had been knocked unconscious and dragged it off the board...

"Hermione."

"Hm?"

"You have to step off the chessboard if you want to see the full picture...."

"What? Are you saying my shadow is the problem?"

Lucifer chuckled at her confused expression, suddenly playing the role of a cryptic riddler. That laugh---it sounded like he was calling her an idiot. Annoyed and embarrassed, Hermione kicked his calf.

The queen piece on the chessboard immediately reacted, angrily waving her weapon like she was ready to take Hermione down with her.

"From what you just said, I'm even more certain about Dumbledore..."

"...."

"But it doesn't really matter. This'll all be over soon." Hermione grew more and more bewildered, unsure of what to say. She simply stared at Lucifer as he cornered the white pieces, forcing them into check.

"Checkmate."

"Wahh...?! Why's this, how come you become so cruel in tactics..."

As Myrtle wailed on an unfair display of sudden decisive motives which left her sweating, she floated back toward the toilet wondering if her win that day was just an illusion, Lucifer rose from the floor brushing off the queen piece's protests.

He declared the match finished without a second thought.

xxxxxxx

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