Chapter 9 - Chapter 9 - Making Deal with Daphne

When Lucifer and Hermione arrived at the courtyard, Harry and Ron were already there, sitting at a stone table with a modest pile of snacks between them.

Once everyone was seated, Harry got straight to the point.

"Lucifer, we really owe you and Hermione for the night before yesterday. I didn't know how else to thank you... so I brought snacks."

"You've got good manners," Lucifer replied with a small nod, "But really, I was just trying to save my own skin. I wasn't... about to let that thing chew on me or Hermione."

He reached out and grabbed a Chocolate Frog, biting off its head while the poor enchanted treat twitched weakly in his hand. Harry gave an awkward laugh, "Still, if you guys hadn't been there, we'd be toast."

"No need to keep thanking me. It's over now." Hermione waved a hand nonchalantly, letting bygones pass by, she wasn't raised to be petty, but she could hold a grudge if wanted.

Harry accepted that and didn't press it further.

"Anyways, what a slimy bastard." Lucifer's only response was a low whistle.

One sentence. That was all it took to close the gap between them. Harry and Ron looked at him with expressions of mutual disdain for their shared enemy.

"You should've seen Malfoy's face yesterday morning when he realized we were totally fine," Ron said, smirking, "I swear he could've fit two and a half eggs in that open mouth of his...."

"I'll punch him next time I see him."

"That would be a violation of school rules," Lucifer reminded the out of hand getting boys.

Ron frowned. "You aren't siding with Slytherin, are you?"

"That's my best friend you are talking about!" Before Lucifer could respond, it was Hermione who snapped in his place, shocked by the accused, "If he were siding with Malfoy, he would've left us to get caught by Filch mid-way or worse 'eaten' last night."

Ron had no comeback for that. He turned away in silence, and the mood around the table turned slightly awkward.

Lucifer broke the tension by opening a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. He chewed thoughtfully, "Of course I side with Gryffindor-just like you lot.... Let's say, I can't stand underhanded tricks. Malfoy pulled a dirty move, plain and simple...."

"If you're planning to get back at him, I support that," he added with a grin, "I could even help you come up with ideas... But physical violence? That's the dumbest option. It'd be Snape's dream come true-finally an excuse to come down hard on you, Potter."

Harry immediately tensed.

These days, Aunt Petunia's family had dropped to third place on his most-hated list. Snape was currently at the top, followed closely by Malfoy.

"What do you think I should do?" Harry asked cautiously. Despite himself, he was curious---though still a bit wary. After all, Lucifer was once sorted into Slytherin.

However, boy under scrutiny shrugged as if it were obvious, "Simple. Spread the word."

Ron's jaw dropped. "Are you crazy?! If word gets out, we're dead! Professor McGonagall'll turn into a cat and claw us to ribbons!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Professor McGonagall would never do that."

Harry eyed Lucifer suspiciously, as if seeing a big enemy for the first time, "You're not just... trying to get us in trouble so we lose points, are you?"

Lucifer clutched his chest dramatically, "How could you say that? I'm wounded! I just hate Malfoy as much as 'you' do. I'm just a poor Muggle-born orphan, sorted first in Slytherin, surrounded by arrogant pure-bloods..." Sigh~~'

Harry and Ron exchanged guilty glances. It was true---Lucifer was a Muggle-born, and an orphan. If not for his arguing with the Sorting Hat, being placed into Slytherin with that background couldn't have been easy.

For a moment, their distrust softened. Still, they weren't entirely convinced his plan wouldn't backfire.

But Lucifer wasn't done. He turned to Ron and gently nudged the conversation.

"Let's do a little roleplay, Weasley. Imagine this: You, as a proud member of the Weasley family, challenge another pure-blood to a duel. But when it's time to fight, you don't show up. You chicken out...."

He leaned in, voice low.

"If your parents found out... what do you think they'd say?"

Ron obediently placed himself into the scenario Lucifer had painted for him. In just two seconds, his expression changed drastically. With a trembling voice, he said,

"If I 'really' did that... Mum would 'definitely' send me a Howler. Then Percy would scold me like I'd betrayed the Ministry itself, and George and Fred---those two prats---would prank me for an entire term. They might even change my surname or something..."

The more Ron thought about it, the more terrified he looked. Fallen pureblood or not, the Weasleys were still a pureblood family. And their pride wasn't just for show.

They might be strapped for Galleons, but when it came to honor, no one in the Weasley clan ever compromised.

Challenging someone to a duel and then chickening out? And if Mum ever found out? Yeah... it was entirely possible to be scrubbed right off the family tree---figuratively or otherwise.

'Smack-!'

Lucifer clapped his hands together with force.

"You see? That's exactly the point! Sure, last night's duel was a setup---Malfoy's little ploy to get you caught by Filch and thrown into detention. But here's the cold, hard truth: 'He' issued the challenge to Potter. And he didn't show up. No matter what excuse he tries to cook up, it won't change that one irrefutable fact..."

"If word gets out... you might lose some house points. But 'him?' He'll lose the 'Malfoy family's dignity.'"

"And if Lucius Malfoy hears about it-well, let's just say our dear Draco might find himself on the receiving end of a very personal demonstration of---never mind, but you get me, eh?"

"Either way, you're not the ones who'll suffer. It's a win-win, isn't it?"

Harry and Ron nodded at the same time receiving ground breaking advice. It made so much sense.

Ron could already picture it: Lucius Malfoy raising that silver-topped cane of his and giving Draco a proper aristocratic beating.

But Harry's face fell again.

"But... if this gets out and we do lose points, how will the others see us? Like...." He trailed off, sneaking a glance at Hermione, his meaning couldn't have been clearer.

She didn't respond. 'Something felt terribly off. Isn't Lucifer just using Harry and Ron to stir the pot?'

'But if the truth came out, Slytherin would take a hit too. Their lead in house points might vanish overnight...'

'No way, Lucifer would sabotage his own house in some way, right? Gryffindor' will be fine...' Hermione couldn't figure it out. So she simply fell silent, deep in thought, thinking she might befriended an arsehole.

"Shallow, Potter. That's 'shallow' thinking," Lucifer shook his head dramatically, like some kind of ancient seer, "You're getting blinded by the numbers---forgetting what really matters! What does Gryffindor truly care about?"

"Glory! The House Cup!" Harry answered without hesitation.

"Wrong!" Lucifer slapped the table, startling them. His voice rose ever so slightly, "What Gryffindor cares about the most---is 'face!' Pride! Public image! You can lose points... but only for the right reasons. Something bold, legendary, dramatic---that earns respect."

"But if you just get caught breaking the rules doing something dumb, yeah, people will look down on you."

"Now... imagine this: you lost points 'defending' the Potter family's honor. That's not embarrassing. That's 'cool.' People will envy you. They'll wish they had the guts to do something that daring."

"And with Malfoy chickening out? It's a statement: Slytherin fears Gryffindor!"

"Forget envy. They'll 'worship' you two. You'll have defeated Slytherin!"

Huff, huff---Ron's cheeks were red; he was practically hyperventilating.

An opportunity to be the center of attention like this never came to him---he was always just the sixth Weasley, the invisible one.

"Harry..." Ron turned to his best mate, eyes practically glowing.

Harry's heart was pounding too. He was almost completely swayed. Still, he clung to the last shred of his common sense.

"I'll think about it, seriously, Lucifer... And, er---just call me Harry from now on. No need for 'Potter."

"Same here-call me Ron," Ron chimed in quickly, "There are way too many Weasleys running around anyway."

In his eyes, Lucifer was no longer some shady Slytherin. He was more like a long---lost brother from another mother.

"I will try then---Harry, Ron. You can just call me Lucifer without hesitation." he smiled gently, "This plan does come with risk. It's wise to think it through. But rest assured, what happened last night? Won't ever leave our lips."

Both boys gave him a grateful nod.

"But one last thing..." Lucifer added casually, like it had just occurred to him, "Timing matters. If you wait too long, the impact fades. So if you're going to act-act fast. Now then, I'm off to lunch. See you."

He got up, waving goodbye.

Leaving behind two boys deep in thought, and a Hermione who moved along with him, still silently suspicious, she didn't say a single word to him. The bait had been cast, he was confident the fish would bite on their own.

Looking at Harry's behavior in the past few days, he was the textbook Gryffindor---brave, reckless, prone to charge in headfirst.

But he also had flashes of Slytherin cunning---maybe a side-effect of that famous "main character aura." after defeating Voldemort. So, there was a chance he'd resist the urge to retaliate.

But that's what Ron was for. The most ordinary people often yearn most for greatness---for a chance to shine.

And now, that chance was dangling right in front of Ron's nose. There was no way he'd let it pass. So, all Lucifer had to do... was wait for the moment of success.

"You darn snake...." Hermione kicked his left calf with her little foot clad in school shoes, wearing cute bubble socks, there was definitely something wrong happened just now, an ominous feeling was rising within her guts. She suddenly had the urge to bite him all over. 'This guy's seriously the worst person, I'd ever met!'

xxxxxxx

In Potions class----

Snape, unaware that his house might soon suffer a major hit to its reputation, was still gleefully tormenting Harry.

For his own entertainment, he'd even split up Harry and Ron, that inseparable Gryffindor duo-pairing Harry instead with Neville.

With this pair of chaotic disasters working together, Gryffindor's point total flowed away like water down a drain.

Sand through fingers. Nothing could stop it. Snape didn't even have to say anything. Just 'standing' silently behind them was enough.

Harry felt like he was being pricked by needles. Neville was shaking so much it looked like he'd explode. Combine that with his awful memory, and the potion they brewed...

Well, even Snape---a Potions Master-couldn't tell 'what' that mess in the cauldron was supposed to be. Wasting school supplies. Ignoring instructions. Disrupting class.

Another ten points vanished from Gryffindor's hourglass. Hermione somehow was able to keep a straight face through it all. Snape announced the end of class in high spirits.

And Lucifer? Snape hadn't even looked at him all lesson.

Harry packed up his cauldron gloomily, only to hear Malfoy's voice-loud, smug, and dripping with scorn.

"Potter, you and Longbottom should be permanently paired. Potions class hasn't had this much comedic value in years."

Crabbe and Goyle chuckled stupidly on cue. Harry didn't respond. He just looked at Ron--and saw that little spark in his best friend's eyes.

He nodded. Let's do this. Lucifer's face seemed to live up seeing the gesture of two idiots with a glee, which Hermione called "evil smugness"

From the very first moment---no, even before stepping foot in Hogwarts, back on the train---Malfoy had been like a persistent flea, constantly buzzing around Harry.

Even someone as peaceable as Harry Potter had reached his limit. This time, even if it meant mutual destruction, he was going to strike back. Hard.

With one last frosty glare thrown in Malfoy's direction, Harry dragged Ron back to the dormitory, already plotting his retaliation.

Meanwhile, Lucifer was simply out wandering the corridors. As for Granger, she had gone off with her roommates for "afternoon tea", which in means words could be interpreted as another "verbal spat", apparently she'd had enough of getting bitched upon, and ridiculously insults behind her back.

Who would do the thrashing, you ask?

Better not to ask. All her roommates knew was that, under Hermione's watch, they had been "re-educated" lately.

xxxxxx

Hogwarts Library, to Lucifer's mild amusement, Hermione was already there---and waving him over.

As soon as he sat down, the bushy-haired girl leaned in and whispered, "I forgot to ask yesterday... that night you suddenly appeared in front of me---like you were invisible---was that magic? How did you do that?"

"Invisibility Charm," Lucifer whispered back, glancing around for Madam Pince, "It's a spell that bends light. Pretty effective."

"Where did you learn it?"

"Back shelf----Practical Advanced Charms. Also listed in the fifth-year curriculum."

Hermione didn't even wait another second. She jumped up and scurried off to retrieve the book, burying her nose in its pages the moment she returned.

A few minutes later, he nudged her with his elbow. Hermione frowned and looked over.

"So," he asked quietly, "any word on the plan I suggested yesterday? Did Potter and Weasley go through it?"

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, "Look, I still haven't figured 'you' out. There's definitely something fishy going on here."

"Come now, how could you accuse me like that?" Lucifer said, putting on a wounded expression which made her left brow flinch, "I only helped them because of 'you.' We're friends, aren't we? Past relationships shouldn't get in the way of that." He had intended to say, "You have my House's word," but thought better of it.

Gryffindor''s reputation on promises wasn't exactly... pristine. Especially one's own house, saying that would only have deepened Hermione's doubts.

So instead, he played the sentiment card. A few well-placed compliments later, her cheeks flushed pink. She gave him a mock glare and tapped him twice with her small fists, "I don't trust you one bit, you 'sneaky snake."

"Words like that can hurt," Lucifer said, gently catching her soft hand and letting it fall back onto her lap, "I was just curious, that's all."

Hermione sighed in defeat, "When I was heading out, I saw Harry and Ron talking to the twins. Ron was positively beaming---I'm guessing they followed your advice."

xxxxxx

Gryffindor Common Room.

A group of young lions had gathered around Harry and Ron, eyes wide with curiosity.

To make sure everyone could see him, Ron had climbed up onto the armrest of a sofa and was now speaking loudly, practically spitting with enthusiasm.

"That slimy git Malfoy challenged Harry to a duel because he showed him up during flying class! That's the whole reason this happened!"

"He flew like a natural-bloody brilliant! If you want details, ask Wood. Anyway, Malfoy couldn't take the humiliation, so he 'challenged' Harry to a duel. Plenty of people saw him do it. Right?"

A few boys nodded vigorously. "Yeah, I remember. It was Thursday. He showed up with those two bulky goons, said a few words, and left."

"Exactly! Now we've got witnesses," Ron said, even more excited. "But guess what? That night, he didn't even show up! Harry and I waited for half an hour! The only ones who showed were Filch and his cat!"

Ron kicked Harry's shin as a cue to speak who pulled on a sorrowful expression and jumped onto the couch beside him.

"Ron told me that a wizard's duel is a sacred tradition. Especially for someone like Malfoy, a pure-blood from the 'Sacred Twenty-Eight'. They take honor very seriously. If it were anything else, I never would've gone sneaking around at night...."

"But this was different. This was a duel requested by one of the most ancient wizarding families. And yet... he didn't even show?"

"This is... this is..."

Harry trailed off, words escaping him. Thankfully, the twins were ready and waiting in wings.

"Shocking!" said one.

"Disgraceful!" added the other.

"Truly, the world is going to hell in a handbasket!" they chimed in unison.

"What good is a wizard's honour?!"

And just like that, Gryffindors roared with laughter and outrage---exactly the kind of attention Harry and Ron had wanted.

xxxxxx

Gryffindor has many admirable qualities: courage, boldness, determination, and a deep regard for honor.

Translated less flatteringly? Recklessness, a complete disregard for consequences, stubbornness, and an unhealthy obsession with pride.

Human nature is complex, contradictory traits often coexist in the same person. It's simplistic to define someone using only a few adjectives.

But the existence of House system at Hogwarts tends to amplify these traits, especially during the formative years of a young witch or wizard's life, gradually shaping them to fit the ideals of their House.

Most Gryffindor students had already been thoroughly marinated in these ideals.

So when word spread that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had dared to sneak out of bed at night just one week into their first year, the general reaction among lions was admiration and praise---they thought the two boys were incredibly brave.

Only a few, like Percy Weasley, frowned in disapproval.

Percy wanted to scold his brother and Harry---but even he got too caught up in the storytelling to speak right away.

Then came the real shocker: Malfoy never even 'showed up' to the duel.

The Gryffindors exploded.

The insults flew fast and furious--each more scathing than the last. But alongside the outrage was a wave of fierce pride.

See? Slytherins don't even have the guts to face the righteous Gryffindors in a duel. They talk a big game, but when it comes down to it, they don't even dare to show up.

Watching his classmates burst into cheers and jeers, Harry suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.

He was in awe-and a little afraid-of Lucifer Morningstar. He understood Gryffindor psychology so well, he could manipulate it effortlessly... That was terrifying.

If Lucifer knew what Harry was thinking, he'd probably just shrug and say there was nothing impressive about it.

Manipulating hotheads and blockheads? Any halfway clever person could do that. Once the noise settled a little, Harry raised his voice dramatically.

"I'm not telling you this to brag," he said solemnly, "but to 'warn' you. If Malfoy-or any Slytherin-challenges you to a duel, don't fall for it. They're cowards. They won't show up."

The Common Room erupted with laughter and applause. That line? It was perfect.

But make no mistake--it hadn't come from Harry or Ron. It was a Fred-and-George original. There was no way those two boys had the brains to come up with it on their own.

Worried that warning others might ruin the secrecy of their little scheme? No need. This was Gryffindor.

If you were a true lion, how could you not take this opportunity to drag Slytherin's name through the mud and ridicule 'Draco Malfoy' in public?

Sure enough, the moment Harry finished speaking, a few students darted out of the Common Room.

No prizes for guessing what they were off to do. Harry and Ron exchanged a victorious glance. 'It worked!'

For the entire weekend, the story of Draco Malfoy backing out of a duel swept through the castle like wildfire.

The Gryffindors turned into walking megaphones. Whenever they ran into friends from Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, they'd launch into a dramatic retelling of Harry's speech, complete with sound effects and exaggerated gestures.

When they crossed paths with Slytherins? Sarcasm. Sneers. Biting remarks that made no sense unless you already knew the backstory---leaving the snakes confused and increasingly frustrated.

Of course, it's human nature to enjoy a bit of drama. Hufflepuffs took the whole thing in stride, giggling along on the sidelines.

But Ravenclaws? They 'got: involved.

See, Slytherin and Ravenclaw had their fair share of history. You think Slytherin won the House Cup six years in a row by playing fair?

Gryffindor sabotaged themselves just fine without help. Hufflepuffs were too neutral to matter.

The only real competition came from Ravenclaw. And if Ravenclaw had a Head of House who shamelessly favored their own students like Snape did, the Cup could've easily gone to the eagles.

So when Ravenclaw students saw an opportunity to kick Slytherin while they were down, you'd better believe they took it.

Hard. They used their greatest weapon---research.

One particular Ravenclaw girl, unkempt and bookish, her glasses reflecting a determined gleam, stood at the center of a growing crowd, clutching a thick tome.

"Draco Malfoy's behavior," She began, voice crisp and authoritative, "isn't a fluke. It's a 'family' tradition. There's a pattern to this."

She flipped open the book dramatically.

"Draco's great-great-great-grandfather once dueled a Muggle knight. Before the duel. he fed the knight's horse a powerful duel, he fed the knight's horse a powerful laxative-senna pods. The poor beast couldn't perform the next day. Malfoy won by default. Disgusting!'

Gasps and whispers echoed through the crowd.

"And his great-great-great-granduncle? Bribed his way through a duel with a famous wizard---rigged the bets, pocketed the winnings. That stunt funded an entire Malfoy manor expansion."

By now, her crowd had expanded to include students from all four Houses. Mouths hung open. Eyebrows climbed toward hairlines.

What they'd thought was just Draco being a coward... turned out to be 'ancestral cowardice.' The girl turned another page with relish.

"And get this-they brag about being a pure-blood family with no Muggle ties. But their land? It was granted to them by 'William the Conqueror'. That's right---their current estate is thanks to a Muggle king."

Cheers erupted.

"And in the 16th century, Lucius Malfoy the First tried to 'woo' Queen Elizabeth I. When she turned him down, he allegedly cursed her. What kind of pure-blood family regularly rubbed shoulders with Muggle monarchs?"

Some stories carry no weight on their own, but once shared, passed around, and stacked atop each other...

They become crushing. With every whispered rumor, every shared anecdote, the Malfoy family's carefully polished image cracked and crumbled.

Fueled by this new intel, students roamed the castle looking for lone Slytherins---eager to deliver mocking jabs and petty insults with giddy delight.

Even the Slytherins eventually figured out what was going on. Their faces turned darker by the hour.

By Monday morning, the snakes could hardly lift their heads at breakfast. The other three Houses stared openly, exchanging grins and whispered jokes.

Most of the Slytherins would've gladly traded their toast for an invisibility cloak.

Lucifer Morningstar, however, remained perfectly composed, leisurely spreading butter on his bread like none of this had anything to do with him.

Then Malfoy walked in. The Great Hall exploded. Boos. Jeers. Laughter. Draco's face was sheet-white. He didn't even make it to the table.

Grabbing two slices of bread, he turned and fled. The teachers at the High Table exchanged puzzled glances. Something was clearly wrong.

Dumbledore arched a questioning eyebrow at Snape whose jaw clenched. He rose stiffly and gestured for a Slytherin prefect to follow him out. In the Entrance Hall, the prefect explained everything.

Snape nearly fainted. 'The Slytherin reputation... destroyed.'

Human potential is truly limitless, Snape never imagined that a first-year student could land him in such a mess. Though it was Malfoy who lost face, it was clear the other three Houses had already escalated the incident to a matter of "House pride."

And Malfoy, unfortunately, was the face of Slytherin. 'It was like one bad apple... spoiling an entire barrel of bad apples.'

No wonder his students had been strangely silent just now---that wasn't the Slytherin way at all. But clearly, they had neither the face nor justification to speak up.

Even if he dragged one of them forward, none of them had the nerve to say a word. Right now, Snape had the overwhelming urge to run away.

If Professor McGonagall found out, the look she'd shoot him with those sharp eyes of hers would be..."interesting," to say the least.

But he couldn't just not go back, Dumbledore was still waiting for his reply. Snape impatiently waved away the prefect he had summoned and returned to the high table with a stormy expression, muttering something low to the Headmaster.

The old man's face visibly shifted---he looked increasingly... 'bewildered.'

Though Snape had kept his voice down, it wasn't like he could whisper directly into Dumbledore's ear.

Naturally, the other nearby Heads of House had perked up their ears and picked up enough of the conversation to make out the gist---and their expressions turned just as colorful.

Professor Sprout was grinning, completely uninvolved and more than happy to enjoy this like a juicy piece of gossip.

Professor Flitwick was also smiling, though his brow was furrowed.

A great lover of dueling---he had even been a Dueling Champion in his youth---he considered dueling a sacred and honorable tradition. Malfoy's conduct, in his eyes, was deeply disappointing.

As for Professor McGonagall, she didn't even know what sort of expression to put on anymore.

"Well..."

Even Dumbledore was a bit speechless. He'd thought something truly serious had happened, but it turned out to be... 'this' kind of conflict.

But precisely because it wasn't a major incident, it made handling it that much trickier. What was he supposed to do? Tell the students to shut their mouths and 'not gossip' about it?

"Professor McGonagall," Snape suddenly turned the issue toward her, "Let's set everything else aside for now. At the very least, Potter and Weasley clearly broke school rules by wandering the castle at night. That's a fact, wouldn't you agree?"

McGonagall could tell Snape was trying to deflect the blame onto her students, and she wasn't having it.

"Snape," she said coolly, "shouldn't we first ask Mr. Malfoy why Potter and Weasley were wandering the castle in the first place? Surely we should identify the 'instigator' before deciding on punishment."

She bit down hard on the word instigator, and Snape understood exactly what she meant---his face twitched in frustration.

"In that case, let's bring them in,"

Dumbledore said, playing mediator. The two professors gave low grunts of agreement and turned away from each other.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry, Ron, Malfoy, Crabbe, Filch, and Mrs. Norris were all brought to a small side room off the corridor.

Dumbledore did not come---only the two involved Heads of House.

He trusted that Professor McGonagall would be fair in her judgment.

Even Snape trusted she would be impartial---that she wouldn't favor her own students. That's what we call 'credibility', something he sorely lacked.

"Potter, tell me," Professor McGonagall said sternly, eyeing the boys, "Is it true, as rumored, that you and Mr. Weasley 'were' out wandering the castle Thursday night? Did you go to the Trophy Room?"

"It was them, Professor McGonagall!" Filch blurted before Harry could even speak, "I almost caught them that night---would have too, if it weren't for that blasted Peeves! Covered for those brats and threw me off!"

"Mr. Filch, I'll speak with you shortly,"

McGonagall said calmly, silencing him with a look. Then she turned her piercing gaze back to Harry.

"Yes, Professor," Harry said, meeting her eyes. "Ron and I did go to the Trophy Room Thursday at midnight. Not long after we got there, Mr. Filch and his cat showed up---clearly expecting us."

At this point, there was no backing down, he laid it all out, dragging Malfoy down with him. Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to mention Hermione and Lucifer was deliberately left out of the story.

This was enough to nail Malfoy to the wall.

"Mr. Malfoy, do you have anything to say?" McGonagall turned her gaze on the pale, bloodless boy. Malfoy stammered for a while but couldn't form a coherent sentence.

Snape was staring daggers at him, as though he were already a corpse.

"Mr. Filch, was it Mr. Malfoy who told you someone would be in the Trophy Room that night?"

"No, it was the big one who's always with him---not here today."

"That would be Mr. Goyle," McGonagall nodded and made her conclusion.

"The situation is clear. Mr. Malfoy instigated a duel with Mr. Potter, informed Mr. Filch, and then conveniently 'did not show' up himself. Correct?"

No one responded---but she was waiting for Snape's acknowledgment.

"That seems accurate," Snape finally said through clenched teeth, "Professor McGonagall, you may issue your punishments. I have no objections."

"Potter and Weasley violated school rules by wandering the castle at night. 'Fifty points' will be deducted each. Starting next week, both of you will report to my office for detention every night for a week."

Her tone was calm---but her words were devastating. With just a sentence, Gryffindor's house points were nearly wiped out.

Ron's legs buckled---he nearly collapsed, and Harry had to catch him. Not that he was doing much better---boy had braced himself for punishment, but this was brutal.

A hundred points gone... he hadn't even earned a tenth of that yet.

Well---Harry's current point total was still a nice, 'round zero!' Normally, Snape would've been grinning ear to ear to see Gryffindor punished like this.

But today, he wasn't smiling. In fact, he looked even more grim. Because if she was being this harsh to 'her own', then what would happen to Malfoy?

Sure enough, McGonagall's next words confirmed Snape's worst fears.

"Mr. Malfoy, while you didn't violate curfew, initiating a duel without permission is a serious offense. On top of that, you misled your classmates..."

"For the sake of your family's reputation, I will officially state that 'you' and Mr. Crabbe were also wandering the castle that night. Therefore, Slytherin will also lose one hundred points. Both of you will serve detention in Professor Snape's office."

"I've said my piece. Any objections?"

xxxxxx

During lunch, nearly everyone in the Great Hall witnessed it---the Gryffindor hourglass was practically empty, and Slytherin's point total had been slashed in half.

Professor McGonagall explained the reasons for deductions in front of the entire school.

Though she clarified that punishment was for breaking curfew and did not mention the word "duel" at all, there was no way to control how students would interpret it.

At the very least, one thing had become certain in everyone's minds: 'Malfoy had chickened out.'

Not only had he embarrassed his family name, but he'd also dragged Slytherin down with him, costing them a huge number of points and destroying their comfortable lead in the House Cup standings.

Now, many of the younger Slytherins were casting Malfoy dirty looks.

As for Gryffindor... while they were heartbroken over the point loss, the fact that Harry and Ron had managed to drag Slytherin down with them filled the house with a certain grim satisfaction.

As long as Slytherin suffered, Gryffindor could handle losing a few points of their own. Besides, if it hadn't been now, it would've been later. Deductions were inevitable sooner or later.

And what's more, Harry had warned everyone to keep it secret that night. In a way, they were all at fault.

Lucifer, for his part, was in excellent spirits. Ravenclaw had now taken the top spot, and Slytherin had fallen behind. Maybe now Professor Snape would start to appreciate just how valuable 'Greengrass' was?

His Double Sorting, gifted him a mental leeway to transfer points he earned or got deducted to either Gryffindor' or Slytherin, whatever he prefers at the time of being his name called to----a fact Lucifer had noticed when he got points deducted by Snape in the corridor for looking at the "ceiling wrongly" where scoreboard glass hours hung.

He only wished the house of Slytherins a bad day----result.

And sure enough, come Friday's Potions class, Snape uncharacteristically remembered his star point--earner.

The first half of class turned into something of a trivia contest between him and Daphne Greengrass', with Lucifer interrupting or talking mid-way as the questions were uttered once or twice, whenever he preferred, then getting house points deducted.

Snape fired off questions nonstop.

Daphne answered what she knew without missing a beat, causing her to stand proudly than ever, only for Lucifer to "idiotically" "stupid brainlessly" deducting ten points three times, for throwing goofballs, he let Gryffindor' deducted the next ones, creating an illusion of being mental, in a way to cover up this under handed practice.

And for every correct answer, of course, Slytherin earned a point.

To avoid appearing too biased, Snape occasionally tossed questions to other students---Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, that sort. But when their answers were subpar or outright wrong, well, that was hardly Snape's fault.

No points for Gryffindor today. After class, Snape and Daphne exchanged a look---he saw the reflection of Cyrus's in her eyes, one of his classmates.

But Snape quickly collected himself, face returning to its usual stony blankness, and swept out of the classroom with his textbooks tucked under his arm.

Still, he couldn't deny it... having students like Greengrass' and Morningstar was genuinely satisfying, for entirely different reasons, of course. 'Let's see how Gryffindor' treats you now for having a mental capacity of Troll... talking back to the teacher, ought to deduct points.'

Incredible. But why--why--did the score of his house was even lesser when class started....? Where were Slytherin's sizable chunk of House points? That was the part that made Snape miserable, idiots fooling around---this nonsense.

Looks like some needed tormenting, momentarily distracting him from Harry Potter----or was this some kind of twisted gift from Dumbledore?

He wasn't the only one.

Hermione Granger was fuming.

She was currently venting to Lucifer about the blatant unfairness. He'd answered five questions in that class, while Greengrass' did twenty.

She herself could only got in two---one of which she got wrong. One point earned, one lost. Net zero. All for nothing.

"You should go confront Professor Snape," Lucifer suggested with a smile. He was in a fantastic mood---yet another professor had recognized his "brilliance", and it was only going to continue.

Cause hourglass never mentioned the name who got points on the board, lest somewhere kept---probably Dumbledore, from what he gathered his personality, he didn't think the old man would tattle around, might even find it amusing in a fit.

Of course, to make things more "challenging" for Slytherin, Lucifer would need to stir the pot a little.

Not sabotage---it wouldn't be fair to call it that. He was just balancing out the deductions Snape unfairly imposed on others. That was real fairness. All he would have to do was cause trouble in his lectures.

In a way, he'd also dealt with Greengrass's strange moods, whose proud nature was conflicting, sometimes adorning looks of sadness at being ignored or putting in the side, even after knowing answers.

That was similar to Hermione's, once Snape got used to handing out points for good answers to Greengrass, it would become a habit.

While the girl in question, puffed her cheeks like a hamster---adorably frustrated. Confront Snape? 'What, was Lucifer under the impression I had nerves of steel and a thirst for emotional trauma? Or did he think... Gryffindor had too many points and needed to throw some away?'

....Daphne had been smiling the whole time, clearly enjoying Hermione's sulking. The witch shot her a glare.

Daphne glared right back, just as defiant. But with both girls still carrying a hint of baby fat, their glares had all the menace of a stuffed animal.

They looked more like bickering friends than bitter rivals. Even Lucifer didn't intervene. This rivalry wasn't anything new. The two of them had been like this from day one---always verbal sparring, never anything physical.

At least Malfoy and his gang had attempted some actual retaliation campaigns. These two? Just petty squabbles.

"I say we go have afternoon tea together," Lucifer said casually.

"No!" both girls responded in unison.

"Perfect. Let's go out to the courtyard. Not many days left where weather's nice enough to eat outside."

Both girls scowled loudly. The days were getting colder. Once October hit, even stepping out the castle doors would feel like a punishment.

While Ron and Harry headed up the stairs, chatting and laughing, so cheerfully that none of them noticed the pair of eyes burning into their backs. Malfoy was watching.

And in his eyes, pure venom.

This had been the worst week of Malfoy's life. He was the subject of ridicule across the entire school---not just from other houses, but from his own. Even Slytherins now saw him as the one who had humiliated their house.

He was being ostracized, slowly but surely. Besides his usual two goons, the only person who still talked to him was Pansy Parkinson.

To make matters worse, someone---some gossiping idiot had leaked the news back to his father.

Lucius Malfoy had sent a letter so full of insults it might as well have been a howler. Draco had never seen his father use so many vulgarities. It was brutal.

Already in a foul mood, seeing Greengrass shine in class and be surrounded by her friends, Bulstrode and Davis pushed him over the edge.

Why was he the one being ridiculed and shunned, while Potter, Weasley, blood traitors, two mudbloods with no background and filthy Muggle origins, were living the high life at Hogwarts? The prettiest first-year girl in Slytherin was practically eyeing Morningstar to a glue.

And Malfoy? He, the heir of the prestigious Malfoy family, was stuck with Pansy Parkinson---a girl so ugly she could kill his appetite.

The comparison stung. Malfoy realized his enemies Harry Potter and that blood-traitor Weasley were stealing his spotlight.

If he could just drag these down, humiliate Harry in front of everyone---he'd win back his status.

Malfoy's eyes gleamed with a new idea, "Goyle," he whispered, "here's what you're going to do for next---"

xxxxxx

On Friday evening, most of the students had already slipped into weekend mode---lazily lounging about, their minds temporarily free from homework and classes, soaking up the relaxed atmosphere.

Lucifer knew how to balance work and rest. Right now, he was playing Gobstones with Hermione. He had now entered a new phase---not one of strength, but of magical understanding.

He had brushed against the essence of magic itself--just the outermost layer, but even that was enough to make his studies drastically more effective.

Many wizards go their entire lives without ever reaching this point. To them, magic was just a talent, something they wielded by instinct.

They learned whatever spells their teachers gave them, without understanding the deeper "why" behind the magic. Sure, they could use magic, they weren't true wizards.

Lucifer had already risen past that stage. He might not know as many spells as a grown wizard, but with his grasp of magical principles, he could bridge that gap quickly. He was entering a phase of explosive growth.

It was clear now how much good teachers and a solid learning environment could matter.

Harry was clearest counterexample. Не had inherited 'Lily Evans's' gift for Potions, but it rarely showed, because he clashed with Snape.

Swap in an empty classroom and hand him Lucifer or Hermione's written notes textbook? Harry might even soar to the top of the class and won a vial of Draught of Living Death, which Snape keeps boasting about, but no one was quite "worthy enough" in his tunnel eyes.

"You lost again, Hermione."

Lucifer flicked her pink Gobstone cleanly back into her starting pit. As it landed, it immediately sprayed a foul---smelling liquid straight at her face. She had braced for it, but still couldn't dodge in time.

Gobstones was the wizard version of marbles---your goal was to knock your opponent's stones back into their starting pit. Every successful shot resulted in the loser's stone spraying a revolting liquid as punishment.

They'd only been playing for half an hour, and she had already been sprayed six or seven times, "Ugh, come on, Lucifer. Can't you just let me win once?"

Fuming, the girl grabbed a deodorizing spray and gave herself a thorough misting. The putrid stench disappeared instantly, and in its place returned the scent of a sweet, fresh princess.

"Alright, alright--how about I play left-handed this time?" Lucifer raised his left hand in mock solemnity and tucked his right one behind his back.

Hermione pouted. "Nope! I get 'two' turns for every one of yours."

"Fine. Whatever you say."

Her face lit up---not just because she was getting her way, but because she enjoyed being indulged like this, readying herself to take her shit at the game board.

xxxxxxx

When Hermione woke up the next day, it was already past 9 a.m.

At eleven or twelve years old, growing kids ate a lot and slept even more. As soon as she sat up, her stomach gave a loud growl.

After a quick wash-up, she was ready to hunt for breakfast.

One thing about Hogwarts---it was human-friendly. The school knew young wizards and witches liked to sleep in on weekends, so breakfast was extended till 10:30 a.m.

And thanks to warming charms on the plates, the food was never cold---

"Although, the more popular dishes might be gone if you were too late..."

xxxxxx

Headmaster's Office.

Snape's arrival shattered the early morning stillness. His entrance startled the portraits of past headmasters awake, and one by one, they stirred, curious about what business Severus Snape had so early.

After all, whenever Snape came to see Dumbledore, it was always something to do with---

'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.'

Something deadly serious.

These portraits had nothing better to do all day. They relied on events like these to break their eternal monotony. To them, Voldemort was just... amusement. A spice to flavor the afterlife.

After all, they were all dead already (except for the previous headmaster, Armando Dippet). What could Voldemort possibly do? Kill them 'again?'

The room was silent, yet Snape could feel the weight of a dozen stares pressing down on him. He knew exactly where the feeling came from but didn't bother to address it. What was the point of arguing with a bunch of paintings?

If he won the argument, no one would care. If he lost, he'd never live it down.

More importantly...

He'd once been young and hot-tempered-once made the mistake of arguing with these old ghosts. He got roasted.

Absolutely 'obliterated.' The memory still stung.

'Click!'

Just as he was reliving that traumatic episode, the door upstairs creaked open. Dumbledore appeared, descending the spiral staircase in a flowing nightrobe, his steps light and carefree.

"Severus," he greeted warmly. "Forgive an old man's unpredictable sleep. I spent all night fretting over which chamber pot to use. Finally made my decision at dawn and slept wonderfully after that."

As he spoke, the Headmaster seated himself behind his grand desk.

Snape's face darkened.

This---this was why he hated these talks. Dumbledore, for all his wisdom, had an infuriating habit of wrapping himself in a veil of eccentricity, saying the most 'disturbing' things with a straight face.

And the worst part hadn't even started. Sorting Hat galled to dare others inherit Albus's sense of humour....

Dumbledore waved his hand lightly over the desk. At once, honey water, bread, sausages, and-of all things---a platter of 'Cockroach Clusters' appeared as if they'd been sitting there all along.

The Headmaster took a sip of honey water, then bit into a cockroach head with relish.

"Care for some breakfast, Severus? I insist."

"I've already eaten. Quite thoroughly, in fact," Snape replied, eyes shut, refusing to look at that grotesque insect pile. Even dogs would turn up their noses at that garbage.

If he ever had the chance, Snape would love to sneak a few real cockroaches into the mix. Just to see Dumbledore's face when he realized what he was actually eating.

"...Very well, then."

Dumbledore didn't insist. "What brings you here this morning?"

"It's like this..."

As the Headmaster enjoyed his disturbing breakfast, Snape launched into a detailed report of what had transpired in the Slytherin dormitory the previous night.

From Quirrell being absurd to Lucius Malfoy's provocation, Harry Potter's lack of talent, with only spare of anything worthwhile his green eyes to House points not making sense, and everything revolving around a certain Gryffindor' who dueled Burke last night----

Snape bared it all down to the last word, he had to levitate the still unconscious boy down from half merged inside the wall!~

The Burke family-one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families was also among the oldest lineages in wizarding Britain.

Their most well---known member today was none other than Caractacus Burke, the proprietor of Borgin and Burkes, infamous shop tucked away in Knockturn Alley. People rarely called him by his full name anymore.

Most simply referred to him by his store's name or just "Old Burke."

Old Burke wielded considerable influence. Even someone as high-ranking and careful as Lucius Malfoy would offload shady Dark artifacts to his shop whenever he found himself in trouble.

That alone showed just how much faith Lucius had in Burke's ability to stay a step ahead of the Ministry's investigators.

The Burke family itself was shrouded in mystery. Very few of its members had ever served in the Ministry of Magic. For generations, the Burkes had harbored an intense-almost unnatural---fascination with Dark magical objects.

Even begrudgingly Snape had to give a few approving nods from the sidelines as he watched sixth year's Burke's memories. Regardless of what he thought of the Morningstar boy personally, that was a beautiful counter.

---It wasn't some obscure high-level spell, either---it was a clever variation of the 'Scouring Charm', typically used to clean dust and grease. Lucifer had simply adapted it to handle the fog.

Such ingenuity made even Snape's cold heart stir with interest. For a moment, he even felt the impulse to take him on as an apprentice.

Dark magic was dangerous not just because of its cruel power, but also because many curses caused irreversible harm, often with no counter---curse at all.

'Ssshhh!' Two venomous snakes slithered from the fog, fangs bared, lunging at Lucifer's legs. But they were halted---stopped dead by an invisible shield.

"When did you cast Protego?" Burke's face darkened as he realized---it must've been during the mist-covered moments earlier.

Snape watched Lucifer spun, flicking his wand. Slicing Curses took out the two serpents in an instant. Holding his breath, he began hurling two Explosion Hexes one after another.

The relentless barrage shredded the remaining venomous fog, and forced Burke completely on the defensive.

Finally, with one last shattering sound, Burke's shield broke, who stumbled, chest heaving---his spell had failed.

Dumbledore's expression barely changed. He nodded occasionally, taking everything in.

His pace slowed gradually, and by the time Snape finished reiterating the duel happened in an empty classroom, instigated by Lucius Malfoy' behind the scenes, Albus drained the last of his honey water and conjured a handkerchief to dab at his lips.

"Severus, what are you trying to say?"

Dumbledore looked up, meeting his heavy gaze, "Are you telling me Gryffindor' has produced another outstanding student? Then allow me to congratulate Minerva on your behalf."

"You're still playing dumb?" Snape's frustration nearly burst through his skin, his brow furrowed in a deep scowl, "Don't tell me you really don't see the problem. Morningstar is 'unnatural'. Be precise. From the moment Professor Mcgonagall first met him until today, it's been what---near two months of magical training? What were you doing after two months?"

"Me?" Dumbledore blinked, genuinely thoughtful, a wistful gleam in his eyes, "Honestly, I was luckier than young Lucifer. My father was a wizard, so I started dabbling in magic at age seven. But even then, after two months, all I could do... was basic transfigurations---turning animals into other animals. Compared to him, I was woefully mediocre."

'You've got to be kidding me!' Snape's temple twitched, 'I'm here to stress how serious this is---and you're showing off? Transfiguration after two months at age seven?! That's O.W.L.-level material!'

"Dumbledore, I don't care about your genius childhood or your glorious past. Even if Morningstar's as talented as you, he doesn't have a magical parent... He has no mentor. Are you telling me the first-year syllabus alone could have brought him this far?! Do you really believe that? I think he's hiding something... His skills are too abnormal. Are you sure he's not tied to 'You-Know-Who' in some way?"

"Isn't that the wonder of magic?"

Another line from Dumbledore that made Snape want to spit blood. Thankfully, the old man knew not to push it further---any more teasing, and Snape might whip out his wand and give him another "lesson."

"Severus," Dumbledore said seriously, "some people only seem like geniuses. Others are geniuses. But either way, we mustn't dismiss their efforts just because they appear gifted... Much of their success happens out of sight, earned through effort most people couldn't even fathom."

"I happen to know for a fact that Mr. Morningstar has spent many nights in the library, tirelessly poring through books. To be honest, that sort of determination impresses me even more than his magical talent. So while his growth is... surprising, it's not unreasonable."

Snape nodded instinctively. Late-night study sessions... so diligent. No wonder he's---wait a second!

That's just... 'wandering the halls at night!' Snape barely caught the implication and shot forward like a spring.

"Morningstar's been out of bed at night?! And from the sound of it, not just once or twice! Dumbledore, if you're aware of this, you have to punish him. I don't care what it is---detention, a formal reprimand---I'm all for it. Just don't bother docking points. He's so eager in class he'll earn them back in no time. It won't mean anything."

Snape's blood boiled just remembering the brat's defiant face the last time he tried to assign detention. 'Let's see him try the same stunt with Dumbledore. Let's see it!'

Dumbledore blinked, slightly taken aback by Snape's uncharacteristic fairness. 'Was this really the same Slytherin Head of House? Something felt... off.'

"I think we can skip the punishment," he said gently. "You know the school's unwritten rules---unless we catch a student breaking the rules, we can't just hand out punishments based on suspicion. And besides... I may have used a few less-than-ethical methods myself...In any case..."

Dumbledore's expression turned solemn.

"Lucifer is not a 'pawn' of Tom Riddle, like you suspect. His background checks out, and he has no connection to the Dark Lord... He is simply a student--one blessed with talent and driven by relentless effort."

"And more importantly..."

A shadow of sorrow flickered in Dumbledore's eyes.

"I've met someone like him before. Another boy who never touched magic until he came of age... and yet, within a short span, gained the power to shatter mountains. Later, he could even duel me."

Snape was completely absorbed in the conversation as he remembered the name of Aurelius, an obscurial, but Dumbledore suddenly stopped, pulling discussion back to the present.

"So we mustn't be so quick to judge Mr. Morningstar simply because of his strength," he said calmly.

"As a professor--and a student who was first sorted into 'Slytherin, you bear duties as his Head of House---I don't want you jumping to conclusions or being overly suspicious. Instead, pay close attention and offer him proper guidance. Do you understand, Severus?"

Ever since raising a student who turned into Lord Voldemort---his greatest failure---Dumbledore had been questioning whether something had gone wrong in his teaching methods.

And the answer he came to was: yes, terribly wrong. Voldemort's descent into darkness might have been rooted in his own nature, but Dumbledore held himself responsible for at least thirty percent of what had happened.

He remembered when he first met Tom Riddle at Wool's Orphanage and sensed something... unsettling about the boy. From then on, during Riddle's entire time at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had remained cold, distant--even wary.

When Riddle asked to stay on as a professor after graduation, it was Dumbledore who had persuaded then---Headmaster Armando Dippet to 'reject' him.

That decision had led to Riddle vanishing from the public eye for two decades---only to reappear as the most feared Dark Lord in modern history.

Had Dumbledore shown more patience? Had he approached Tom with a more open heart---would the future have been any different?

He didn't know. But he believed it was a teacher's duty to try. So from that point on, he made a promise to treat every student with patience, regardless of personality or behavior.

Even during the days when young Death Eaters ran rampant through the school, he'd never acted outside the rules. His stance was always: 'guide them while they're here.' Their future choices are theirs alone. He and the other professors must be able to sleep with a clear conscience.

Otherwise, had Dumbledore truly wanted to act, there would have been no Death Eaters. Voldemort would've ended up as a lone lunatic talking to himself in a cave somewhere.

People forgot he once held the sole military authority of the only wizarding academy in the British Empire. His influence was not to be underestimated.

So when it came to this young Lucifer, Dumbledore had even less reason to harbor hostility or suspicion.

The boy had done nothing out of line. Even when visiting the library, he only accessed publicly available materials---he just read more than most.

As for the events unfolding with Mr. Burke? They had nothing to do with him. And Dumbledore could clearly see that Lucifer's actions were meant only to establish authority and avoid unnecessary conflict, in a way of protecting himself on being cornered.

Even if the boy harbored ambition---even if he sought influence or control-what did that have to do with being a student? Must all Hogwarts Gryffindor' students behave like---Brash, reckless, and disinterested in power?

Absolutely not. Plenty of Gryffindors had chased high-ranking careers.

The only time Dumbledore would ever consider intervening is if Lucifer began walking the same dark path as his Muggle namesake. And even then, not during his school years.

So... Snape's visit today had been entirely unnecessary. He was overreacting.

But Dumbledore could understand that too. Anything remotely linked to the Dark Lord---any clue, any whisper---was bound to set Snape on edge.

"I understand." After a long silence, Snape finally admitted to himself that this time, he had misjudged the situation.

Still, he insisted stubbornly, "I just have a gut feeling. Morningstar's a dangerous one. He's only been here for a month, and I already sense trouble. Who knows what he'll stir up in the 'next seven years..."

"Then let's wait and see," Dumbledore said with a smile, "After all, a completely still pond isn't very interesting, is it? Take Quirrell, for example. He's been so quiet lately that I'm starting to wonder if I misjudged him...."

"He's definitely up to something!" Snape blurted out, finally remembering the task that was truly important this term, "I'm certain he's working for the Dark Lord. His goal is whatever your asked Hagrid retrieve from Gringotts."

Dumbledore nodded slowly, acknowledging Snape's judgment.

"Yes, Quirrell has been rather guarded around me. We've barely spoken since term started... I didn't want to scare him off too soon--that's why you're the one keeping an eye on him."

"I understand." Snape's expression didn't change, but he nodded, "Technically, we're colleagues. I'll do my best to gain his trust."

"And while you're at it," Dumbledore added, "see what you can find out about 'Lucifer"

Albus Dumbledore wasn't omniscient. Based on all current clues, he could tell that Quirrell was working for Voldemort---but never would he have guessed that Dark Lord had actually possessed Quirrell and was now hiding under everyone's noses.

Snape didn't object to the request.

But another question left him unsettled.

"You really believe the protections on the third-floor corridor will be enough to stop him?"

"Of course not," Dumbledore shook his head, "Quirinus is an exceptional wizard. Back in his Ravenclaw days, he had great potential. It's a shame he chose the wrong path."

He tapped a finger to his chest with a faint smile, "True protection doesn't come from enchanted barriers---it comes from the 'human heart.'

Snape's face didn't change. He'd grown used to Dumbledore's cryptic remarks, "If there's nothing else, I'll be leaving."

"Go on. And be more lenient with Mr. Morningstar."

"...." After Snape left the office, the room grew even more animated.

The portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses, who had been pretending to sleep, all opened their eyes and began talking at once.

"Unbelievable! A first-year beat up a sixth-year-and won?" grumbled a large-bearded headmaster, clicking his tongue.

An old man with a hawk-like nose chimed in, "Maybe the past few Slytherin students have just been stupid."

"Rubbish!" another snapped. "Back in our day, Slytherin students were the best trained of the bunch. If they were idiots, then what does that say about the rest of the school?"

"What is it with cat names? Both Tom, and Lucifer---both of them turned out to be monsters."

"Creepy, right? Maybe we should suggest our families name their next kids based on "Cat calendar"' and see what happens."

"Hahahaha!" As the portraits argued over the mysterious power of the Cats, a burst of wild laughter rang out.

It came from a thin-faced, mustachioed middle-aged man in one of the portraits.

"You lot are ridiculous!" he laughed hysterically. "You think just naming a baby can make them a genius? We're wizards--not charlatans! In the end, it all comes down to one thing, boy should rightfully be in---Slytherin, they have the best aura. Our House breeds greatness!"

His arrogance enraged several other portraits. In a flash, one headmaster leapt from his own frame into the mustachioed man's and began punching and kicking him. Soon, a full-on brawl broke out, screams echoing through the office.

No one stepped in to help the unfortunate man---for this was Phineas Nigellus Black.

The most unpopular headmaster in Hogwarts history. So disliked, in fact, that during his tenure, the four Houses---traditionally rivals---united in opposition, resisting every one of his ridiculous reforms.

It was hard to imagine a more hated figure in Hogwarts' long legacy.

The ruckus didn't bother Dumbledore. He sat deep in thought. His mind was a tangle of concerns-about Quirrell, Voldemort... and Lucifer Morningstar, descendant of Merlin himself, no wonder Adrian sorted into Slytherin so fast, it broke every past records.

Even if he chose not to interfere with his current behavior, he still believed it was Headmaster's duty to guide the boy's growth. But Lucifer's style was... ruthless. He didn't pull punches.

That kind of temperament could cause trouble down the line.

And how to guide such a person? That was a dilemma. Lucifer wasn't like Harry-a hot-blooded, wide-eyed child still figuring out the world.

Lucifer was a mature, self-reliant youth who had already developed his own way of handling life's challenges.

Any forced instruction or moralizing from "above" would only backfire.

Method mattered. Dumbledore sighed, feeling the dull throb of an oncoming headache. Then his mind turned again--where was Tom hiding?

Meanwhile, our protagonist Lucifer had no idea that his first honorable Head of House, Potions Master, had just tattled on him to Headmaster...

And that the even more honorable Headmaster had started plotting how to "ICU" him. At that moment, he was facing a major life decision.

"Lucifer, let me keep you as my sugar baby!"

"???"

"Granger, do you even realize how dangerous that sounded?!"

Lucifer had just finished lunch and was heading to Black Lake for a relaxing walk when Hermione stopped him in the Entrance Hall. And the first thing she said nearly made him choke on air.

She was stunned too the moment the words left her mouth. Her face flushed bright red like a boiling teapot, and she waved her hands wildly, "No! That's not what I meant! I meant---could you practice spell work with me? I want to get stronger too!"

'Damn it! Did I just blurt out what I was really thinking?!'

'These two thoughts couldn't be more different---how did you manage to mess it up this badly?!'

Both of them were thinking wildly different things at the same time.

"That's such a simple request. How could I say no? Just train with me this afternoon," Lucifer said, stepping in quickly to rescue Hermione from drowning in her own awkwardness.

"Hehe, I knew it---you're the best, Lucifer!" Beaming, she looked up at him, clearly relieved, then pulled out a small pouch and handed it to him, "Here. For you."

"What's this?"

Lucifer took the pouch and opened it---and fell silent. 'Hermione... you're really trying to rot my teeth, aren't you?' The pouch wasn't big, inside were piles of "Chocolate chip cookies" just a rough glance told him there were easily over thirty or so. 'Am I worth that much now? If this is now, imagine when she's older...'

"It's tuition reward for being my live dummy partner," Hermione said before he could spiral too far into his thoughts. She spoke matter-of-factly, "You're going to be my target, right? Isn't it normal that I treat you?"

This brilliant idea had popped into her head the night before, right after watching girls's pillow fight.

Lucifer was strong---his spell repertoire was insane and she was a studious girl who loved learning. He had the knowledge, she had the sweets. 'A perfect match!'

She was so thrilled with her clever idea that it had taken her ages to fall asleep last night.

"I'm not.. I'm not charging you tuition. Haha." Lucifer couldn't help but laugh as he placed the pouch back into the girl's hands, "It's really not a big deal. Just some training. I don't need this kind of bribery, they are made by your Mum, enjoy."

Value isn't always measured by results. From beginning to end, Hermione had never distanced herself from him, even though he was basically an orphan, and was drafted into Slytherin's infamy like black history, which couldn't be erased from memories, that was more than enough to doubt rowdy Gryffindor's.

But she had always stood firmly by his side. That attitude---loyalty without expectation--was the most precious thing of all. That's why he wouldn't take her favourite cookies. If it were anyone else, he'd think twice even if they offered him sacrifices.

Hermione panicked when she saw him trying to return the pouch, "You can't just not take it! I'm not getting better by just practicing textbook spells on my own here---I want to learn the stuff properly to protect myself, so the dog incident wouldn't repeat again... just left standing, I am going to mess up, and might hurt or irritate you. Valuable experience like that shouldn't be free!"

Lucifer chuckled. For a second there, she sounded exactly like a Ravenclaw, and kept rambling on. After much back--and--forth, he finally gave in and accepted to share her mum's home-baked cookies.

He could see what she really wanted, an excuse to spoil or pamper him. Refusing it again would only make things awkward between them. 'Damn it... I still ended up taking her sweets like a freeloader.'

Still, he wasn't exactly flush with delicacies right now. Fine. He'd treat this as a loan. One day, he'd pay her-and Granger family---back a hundredfold. That was a promise.

Hermione was grinning ear to ear, delighted that she could finally help him in some way.

xxxxxx

She kept going. The first few times were fine. But once she passed a dozen, spell began to fizzle mid-air.

Her face turned pale. She suddenly felt like she'd been woken up too early, her mind foggy and heavy.

"...What's going on? I feel so sleepy..."

"That's what extreme magical depletion feels like," Lucifer put his wand done, and settled into a plush armchair and helped her sit down. Then he pulled out a bar of chocolate he'd prepared in advance.

"Eat this. Magic drains more than just energy---it takes a toll on your whole body. You need to recharge."

Hermione hadn't realized how empty her stomach was. She'd only had breakfast a little while ago. Mumbling a thank-you, she nibbled on the chocolate like a tiny hamster. Before long, she had eaten the whole thing, and her body began to recover. But she was clearly no longer as energetic as before.

Lucifer watched her with a half-smile, "Once you're done resting, we'll resume in ten..."

Her face immediately scrunched up. She looked at him pitifully and asked, "I was just too excited earlier... Can we make it fifteen instead?"

"Are you seriously trying to bargain with me right now?" He laughed, flicking her forehead, as he eeped a tiny Ow, then glared at him from below, "No way. Twelve, at the very most. Draining your magic to the edge is 'actually good' for your magical development. Fifteen won't do.."

"Developing?" Hermione lowered her head, compared to a girl from Hufflepuff house, Hannah Abbott's, her own looked, 'flat as a board', so flat that not just her toes but even her ankles were clearly visible with a glance downward.

"Bring it on!" Summoning strength from who knows where, the girl shot up with fiery determination and flung another spell.

But this time, her stamina wore out even faster, and the success rate of her spells began to drop.

A sudden sense of urgency gripped Hermione's heart. The gap between her and Lucifer was widening. Even if she lacked the same innate talent, that was no excuse for giving up. If she didn't push herself harder, they would soon have nothing in common, no foundation left for friendship.

So when Lucifer told her to rest, she didn't slack off. She gave it everything she had, squeezing out every last drop of her magical energy.

They trained in turns from 10 in the morning until 2 in the afternoon. Only then did Hermione manage to finish casting her goal of thirty two spells listed for today.

The consequence? Her legs were shaking with every step. All she wanted was to crawl into bed and pass out.

....Lucifer had no choice but to support her all the way from the empty classroom back to the Gryffindor' tower, while she limped. There, he handed her off to an older girl, asking her to take Hermione back to the dorms.

The upper--year girl shot him a very odd look. If they weren't still underage, her mind would've immediately run wild with very 'mature' speculation.

What kind of intense activity could leave a girl so thoroughly exhausted...? Lucifer watched as they climbed the stairs to girls' dormitory. Then he turned and left Common room again.

He needed to visit Rowena in the school Owelery, and send an order to Diagon Alley---for potion ingredients. He wanted to prepare energy restoring and fatigue-relieving potions for his friend.

....Constantly draining one's magical reserves might be painful in the short term, but this kind of training had a unique advantage: it helped unlock hidden potential and increased one's magical limits.

Of course, there was a natural ceiling based on talent, but this method could help one reach their peak much faster.

And the constant repetition of spellcasting? That was laying the foundation. More often than not, magic relied on feel---on muscle memory developed by instinct.

Building this internal rhythm would help tremendously when learning other spells in the future.

....These techniques were all wisdom passed down from books he had been reading in Library, and purchasing off from Diagon Alley, some gained in probing of upper year RavenClaws, including his own knowledge.

Hard work could make up for a lack of talent. But for those who were gifted, hard work was essential---only through relentless effort could they unlock their full potential. Otherwise, it was all just a pretty illusion.

As for ordinary people... diligent ones had to push even harder---just to outpace other ordinary folk. And that was what created a culture of brutal competition.

'Our war with the Muggles---

'Compared to the hunger for power that wizards once had, modern wizards and witches had grown far too complacent---'

Despite having better education and a well-structured magical system, the backbone of Wizarding society had cleared weakened.

----Even if you couldn't win, you'd fight with your life, tear flesh from your enemy if needed.'

By Gellert Grindelwald.

Interview transcripts during Running campaign for the position of Supreme Mugwump of International Confederation of Wizards; the highest office in the wizarding world.

xxxxxxx

In the two holidays of the weekend, public humiliation was what shattered Draco Malfoy. Never in his life had he been so degraded.

Fallout from duel incident to this embarrassment. The first thing he did upon returning to the dorm was write a letter to his father.

He was going to make sure those blood traitors and mudbloods got expelled from Hogwarts--banished back to their filthy Muggle world!

Could it be done? Draco was quite confident. After all, his father was a school governor. As long as all governors agreed, even Dumbledore could be overridden. By now, the letter should've reached home...

"Hmph. I'll make sure you can't even stay a student." Muttering curses under his breath, Draco stormed out of common room with Crabbe and Goyle in tow. If not for Snape's mandatory attendance rule, he wouldn't have shown up at all---let alone endure judging eyes of his peers.

.....

Wiltshire. Malfoy Manor.

Draco's guess wasn't wrong, his father Lucius Malfoy--had indeed received the letter, but his reaction was far from furious, vengeful rage his son had imagined.

Instead, Lucius sat with cunning eyes, fingers tapping as he clutched the parchment. It seems quite clear Draco had provoked Harry Potter, there was not much bad blood before, no history.

His son tried to climb the social ladder by dragging The Boy Who Lived, down. Unfortunately, it backfired by possible schemes of a "mudblood." dragging Malfoy family name in the mud.

.....Apparently, Lucifer Morningstar, was sorted into Slytherin, then re-arranged back to Gryffindor', which Lucius suspected was Dumbledore's attempt to salvage the situation.

Lucius Malfoy fell silent, Slytherin hadn't changed. Back when he was in school, he'd relied on family influence, and carefully chosen "friends" to stay at the top, often as the expense of other.

Just like now, finding out the culprit behind dimwits Potter and Weasley was a mudblood, so he'd called in favour of Sixth year's promising student, Eustace Burke to clear off the matter with boy targeting his family's reputation.

But now? The tables have turned. Son of Burke had been humiliated---not by another old bloodline, but by a Muggle-born brat. Worse yet, no one had come to Draco's defense, and he was being isolated. The other pure-blood families merely looked on, indifferent.

He'd already received Snape's reply, there's nothing off about Morningstar, just a mere brat with no magical background, yet he's defeated a sixth year student, Lucius wasn't a fool, to believe that he's a lone genius, but Dumbledore himself vouched, no dark magic involved.

'If you still have doubts, you're welcome to take it up with him.'

Lucius might strut around like he owned the world, but when it came to Dumbledore, he harbored a deep sense of fear. Marching into the Headmaster's office without a solid case just wasn't an option.

He needed reinforcements---and reassurance, besides the issue of Draco could be resolved with a few letters here and there, it wasn't Lucius's problem, 'Borgin and Burkes's' eldest turned out to be a disappointment.

Muggle-born sorted into Slytherin, now that rigged old memories.

He could never forget---

Voldemort had always proclaimed the sanctity of pureblood heritage. But anyone with half a brain in the pureblood circles knew better.

He didn't crawl out of a stone---his records at Hogwarts were well-documented.

Any pureblood family with connections and insight knew the truth: that boy was plucked from an orphanage by Dumbledore and brought into the magical world. He went on to become the Dark Lord everyone feared.

Of course, most people only knew this much. The deeper ties between Voldemort and the Gaunt family were shrouded in deeper secrecy.

But knowing the truth didn't mean anyone 'spoke' it aloud. It would only enrage Voldemort---and worse, make them laughingstocks in the eyes of rebellious wizards.

Imagine the ridicule: a bunch of blood-purity zealots who followed a Muggle-born orphan? They'd never live it down.

So, the Death Eaters all silently agreed--Voldemort was pureblood. It wasn't about the truth. It was about maintaining an ideology.

"One that brought power and unity under a grand, righteous cause..."

Lucius had learned these secrets from his father. And now, after all these years, that pattern has surfaced again. 'Slytherin. Talented. Ruthless. Orphan. Could it be... another dark rising of a wizard, like him?'

Lucifer Malfoy trembled. 'No wonder Dumbledore interfered with his House Sorting....'

He didn't believe the Dark Lord had truly returned. But there was a creeping fear in his heart by the sudden events of coincidence, if the situation worsened at Hogwarts, then only he would visit Dumbledore.

....However, his son was insistent.

xxxxxx

Monday morning dawned with a heavy fog blanketing the castle grounds.

It seemed there'd been rain during the night as well--inside Great Hall, alongside the aroma of breakfast, hung distinct earthy scent of damp soil. For many sleepy young witches and wizards, it became difficult to tell whether they were eating mashed potatoes or just plain mud.

Slytherin Burke, true to his form, kept his mouth shut, he had no intention of blabbering his shamef---The rest of school---remained oblivious to events of the weekend, though a strange tension in the air had not gone unnoticed.

It was odd---yes-but not something most would waste time thinking about. Harry and Ron, however, were completely baffled.

After all, it was Lucifer's idea last week that had helped them pull off that perfect prank on Malfoy.

Until now, Lucifer had always kept to himself, his only companion being Hermione Granger. The rest of the student body gave him a wide berth.

But today....

Harry genuinely wondered if Lucifer had spent the weekend rewriting the genealogy records of two Slytherins, namely, Eustace Burke II, and Yorkshire Carrow, Seventh year female prefect, because now they were staring broad eyed at Gryffindor table, at Lucifer like he was their revered ancestor.

It seemed like any second they were ready to pour tea for him, cut his sausages, and buttering his toast. Faced with the students' incredulous stares, Yorkshire smiled faintly and even tossed a flirtatious wink at Lucifer from across the tables.

Naturally, Harry and Ron should be the ones, being kept under closer eyes on---However, gaze in Slytherin prefect's towards Lucifer was more absurd than how Aunt Petunia spoiled Dudley.

Harry was confused. Ron, on the other hand, was practically green with envy-his eyes glowing as red as his hair. 'That's the dream! Why does Morningstar get to live it first?!'

"What the hell is going on?" Ron hissed, staring across the table at the bushy-haired girl instead, "You two are friends, right? How did Morningstar become Hogwarts royalty in just one weekend?"

"How should I know?" Hermione snapped, clearly in a foul mood. She stabbed her eggs repeatedly, turning them into a mushy pulp.

That mood had everything to do with the fact that Lucifer had avoided her all Sunday---not a single glance, not a word, not even a run--in in the common room or hallways.

Ron shrank back at her tone, wisely choosing not to prod her further. He just grumbled internally.

A little further down the table, Fred and George exchanged a look filled with mischief and curiosity.

Something had gone down in Slytherin, that much was clear. Whatever it was, Lucifer seemed to have come out on top.

"Next time we see him in the kitchens, we're getting the full story," Fred muttered.

George nodded. "Definitely."

At that moment, a flurry of owls soared in through open doors, swooping over tables and dropping parcels and letters with pinpoint accuracy.

Lucifer caught his own package mid-air, saving it from a tragic dive into his milk.

....Hermione slowly leaned in, curious as he unwrapped the parcel, he rarely received any, inside were neatly packed pouches of potion ingredients, some common, others quite exotic.

"Um, why did you order so many potion materials?" she asked.

"Some are for my own use. Others are for you," he replied casually.

"For me?" she blinked.

"Yes, they'll help you recover energy and regain your strength more quickly." Lucifer checked each item carefully, ensuring the quality met his standards before repacking the materials to take them back to the dormitory.

Hermione, meanwhile, now looked at him with eyes full of growing stars. He was so thoughtful, so thorough in his planning-and he'd even paid for everything himself...

For a moment, she actually felt guilty about how little treats she was offering, especially more so for not wishing him a "Good morning" today.

xxxxxxx

After dropping the materials off, he and Hermione headed to Transfiguration class. At the same time, Lucius Malfoy arrived at Hogwarts.

...He didn't go to Dumbledore right away. Instead, he sought out Severus Snape who was in the middle of teaching when Lucius appeared. He barely blinked.

With a simple order for the class to stay quiet and keep brewing, he stepped outside.

"Severus," Lucius began without preamble, "Don't you owe me an explanation?"

Snape raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure you even understand what happened, Lucius? I told you, I've spoken to several students. It's quite clear... that Draco was under your orders, planning with Burke, and provoked Morningstar...So tell me---what would you have me do?"

Lucius scowled. "That boy's a filthy nobody! You've known Draco since he was born, Severus. A 'pure-blood' was left hanging in an empty room all night like some criminal! Our family name is in the mud! Aren't we friends?"

'Friends? Don't make me laugh.'

"Of course," Snape said smoothly, "But as you know, there's a line between friendship and professionalism. They are both students here. Minerva won't let me take 'sides....' Surely you haven't forgotten the laws of survival in Slytherin?"

Lucius's eyes darkened, "Are you really certain there's nothing off about Morningstar? Under possession of--you know who..."

Snape let out a cold huff. He understood Lucius's paranoia all too well. But he had no interest in debating it, and said one word, as if that name was enough, "Dumbledore, he asked the headmistress to pick up the boy."

Lucius wasn't satisfied. He badgered and pestered until Snape finally gave in and agreed to escort him to the Headmaster's office.

xxxxxx

In the Headmaster's study...

Now that Lucius had heard what he needed from Snape, he felt emboldened, marched in and immediately demanded Dumbledore expel Lucifer Morningstar, a muggle-born, easier target than going for renowned celebrity Harry Potter.

Dumbledore tilted his head, bemused.

"Lucius, if I recall correctly, Board members don't have the authority to interfere in internal school matters. And even if they did... such decisions would require a full vote."

"I'm not speaking as a Board member," Lucius growled. "I'm speaking as a concerned father and relative to Burkes!"

His anger surged. Dumbledore's calm demeanor felt like mockery. That serene expression and those twinkling eyes---it was like being looked at by someone who thought you were a complete idiot.

But Dumbledore only smiled gently, his serenity a perfect contrast to Lucius's boiling rage, "I only just learned of this incident. Naturally, I'll need to hear the full story before taking action."

He scribbled something quickly onto a piece of parchment, then folded it into a delicate origami crane and sent it fluttering out the window.

"Please be patient. I've just asked Mr. Filch to bring the two students involved. We'll let them tell us how it all unfolded."

Lucius grunted and sank into a chair, refusing to meet Dumbledore's eyes.

Snape, meanwhile, turned to leave, "I'll return to my class. Whatever decision you make, I'll accept it."

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said kindly.

xxxxxx

In Transfiguration class, Professor McGonagall was having the students practice turning goblets into pencil boxes. As expected, Lucifer was the first to succeed, earning Gryffindor two points.

He hadn't gotten it perfect on the first try---it started as a crude prototype. But under Professor McGonagall's guidance, he attempted it twice more and finally achieved a flawless transformation.

This approach allowed him to showcase his talent as a reasonably outstanding student---not too miraculous to raise suspicion, yet clearly ahead of his peers. At the same time, he offered McGonagall the joy of witnessing a student's growth under her tutelage.

Two birds, one stone.

He wasn't pretending to be weaker than he was, nor playing some cunning game. He just wanted to avoid Dumbledore's over the top suspicions, and maybe earn a few house points white at it.

Simple as that.

"Focus your mental energy a little more... And stop staring at Morningstar. You're supposed to transfigure the goblet, not his face, Miss Granger."

McGonagall chided.

"Oh," Hermione quickly averted her gaze from him and raised her wand---just as the classroom doors slammed open with force, drawing everyone's attention.

Professor McGonagall frowned. "Filch? What is it?"

"Professor McGonagall," Filch replied with an ugly grin. "Headmaster Dumbledore requests Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Morningstar to see him immediately."

McGonagall glanced at the two students. Malfoy looked overjoyed. Lucifer rose calmly from his seat.

With her permission, the two of them followed Filch out of classroom.

Most of Slytherin students had already guessed the reason behind the summons. They whispered among themselves, wondering if Dumbledore would punish Lucifer.

Expulsion? No one was foolish enough to think that.

Dumbledore had been headmaster for years and had never expelled a student. It was just a fight---far worse offenses had happened with barely any consequence.

Even Daphne didn't look worried. She kept practicing her transfiguration, determined to succeed at least once before class ended.

"You know why, don't you?" Hermione couldn't contain her curiosity anymore. She slid into the empty seat beside the cold heiress, "Greengrass, did Lucifer and Malfoy have a fight?"

Daphne shot her a sideways glance, there was a hint of a cool vibe around her seated figure, "Granger, why should I tell you? And, even if I don't know, I'll just ask him myself next time we're in the library... He always answers when I ask him 'one-on-one.'"

"Suit yourself," Hermione huffed, as her fingers clutching her wand twitched and her curls fizzled again, matching her emotions, she didn't like the bickering atmosphere of the library; it should usually just be Lucifer and her having their little private world there.

But most of the time, a creepy unwelcoming presence was always nearby lingering. Suddenly, she remembered something that made her smile again, "You didn't hear? Lucifer agreed to be my sparring partner. We spent the whole Saturday practicing together. I doubt we'll have time... for the library anymore. Maybe you should find a Slytherin study buddy."

This time, Daphne's lips pressed into a thin line. So that's why she didn't see those two in Library, the entire weekend---he was giving Granger private lessons. But she was smarter than this stupid mudb--muggle--born. And more hardworking.

....To Hermione, it was only because her best friend was kind, he often gave Greengrass' hints and tips that both girls appeared to be making equal progress.

"It's alright," Daphne said earnestly, shaking her head. Then she moved on from the topic altogether, "My little sister really likes Muggle fashion magazines... But she only has one really old one she found ages ago. Your 'best friend' helped me buy a few more? I paid handsomely, of course."

The thought troubled Hermione greatly, and for once, she had no energy to bicker with Daphne.

Greengrass meanwhile, reminiscened about all sorts of things from the Muggle world, and he answered patiently. When something particularly interesting came up, she'd even take out parchment and jot it down, saying she wanted to write to her sister about it.

It wasn't hard to tell from her words and actions---this was a sister who loved her sibling dearly. Granger was also a muggle-born, a girl no less, Maybe... she should ask her to entertain Astoria, could at least put her mind away from the health illness...?

But nothing in life comes for free, especially for someone raised in a world that values merit and exchange. If Daphne wanted Hermione to reveal a few things, she'd have to offer something in return.

What could she give Granger?

xxxxxxx