Chapter 10 - Chapter 10 - Milking Hermione’s Wallet

Meanwhile, Lucifer and Malfoy followed Filch all the way to eighth-floor corridor.

Draco was strutting with his nose in the air the entire time, though he kept his mouth shut---he was too scared of getting cursed. Filch, a useless Squib, couldn't protect him if things got rough.

He figured at least Lucifer would soon face serious punishment. That would be the time to gloat. If he dared lay a hand on him, it would be proof of repeat offenses on students---maybe even enough to get him expelled.

That thought made Draco grin to himself. Filch glanced back and shuddered. That laugh was unhinged.

They stopped in front of the gargoyle guarding the entrance. The statue stirred to life and growled.

"Password?"

"Jelly Slug." The gargoyle sprang aside, revealing the passage beyond.

"Off you go. The Headmaster's inside," Filch said, already turning to leave. Draco eagerly dashed in. As Lucifer stepped forward, however, gargoyle stuck out a claw to block him.

"What was that look you just gave me, kid?"

Lucifer blinked, "You can read human expressions?"

The gargoyle's gaping mouth stretched into a grin. "I've been around longer than your entire family tree. That was definitely a look of disdain, wasn't it?"

"Well," Lucifer admitted with no shame, "Yeah. You're just incredibly ugly."

The gargoyle's rocky fur bristled. "Ugly?! Blame the wizard who sculpted me! Bloody Salazar---!"

"Ohh," Lucifer exclaimed, realization dawning on him, "You're one of the Founders' creations. No wonder you seem smarter than the average statue."

"You conniving little Gryffindor'! You tricked me into spilling that!" the gargoyle roared, then shoved him inside. "Get in there already!"

The stone slammed shut behind Lucifer with a rumble who rolled his eyes in amusement. 'You're the one who blabbed, not me....'

The moving staircase carried him upward, finally depositing before a grand door carved with shape of a griffin. The door stood ajar.

Inside, three figures awaited: Albus Dumbledore... and two Malfoys, identical in their platinum blond hair.

"Good afternoon, Professor," Lucifer greeted, bowing slightly. He paid the two Malfoys no attention at all, except for convincing they really were blood related, judging by the looks, and disgusted expressions.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Morningstar," Dumbledore responded warmly. He waved his wand, and a soft chair appeared behind Lucifer.

"Please, make yourself comfortable. I only wanted to understand the situation better. I hear there was a... conflict with Mr. Malfoy, albeit a duel with Mr. Burke?"

Lucifer settled into the plush seat, leaning back against the cushions and nodded, "It seems Malfoy thought an abandoned child would be easy to bully---an opportunity to make himself feel important.... Unfortunately for him, he chose the wrong target. Orphans are often quite adept at self-preservation."

"He's lying!" Malfoy burst out. Backed by his father, he was bolder now, "I merely asked Goyle to give him a friendly suggestion to practice spells in a big ventilated room. He lashed out first at Burke!"

"Me, lying?" Lucifer raised an eyebrow, "Malfoy, are you suggesting I should live like you---tail between my legs, afraid of everything? You couldn't even properly stand at the door without trembling--- using others for the duel you challenged me to."

Both Malfoys turned beet red. Lucifer locked eyes with Lucius Malfoy. The elder wizard's silver hair made him look aristocratic and smug, but his gaze brimmed with hostility.

It was clear all of this was aimed squarely at him. Spoiled children who always ran crying to adults... how annoying.

....Lucifer figured Dumbledore would defend him, so he wasn't worried about Malfoy. But even flies could be maddening. 'Maybe it's time to play the villain... just for once. Let Malfoy experience what it's like to live like the way, Pot--Harry talks about relatives, and faces he make at seeing food.'

Malfoy was far luckier---he had a family name to inherit, vast wealth waiting for him. There was no such thing as an inheritance tax in the wizarding world.

Hell, there weren't any taxes at all.

This place was paradise for capitalists and pure--blood aristocrats.

While Lucius was trying to figure out the best way to verbally strike Lucifer down, a chill ran through him. Every hair on his body stood on end as he met the boy's gaze-icy, calculating.

He'd seen eyes like that before. In the Dark Lord. A shiver ran down his spine. Lucius slammed a hand onto the table with a loud 'bang', making tea set tremble.

"This is outrageous!"

"Exactly!" Draco jumped in eagerly.

Lucius turned, barking, "Draco! So it was you who picked a fight with Mr. Morningstar? Apologize to him. Now!"

"Exactly-wait, what?!"

'Crack-!

Crack-!'

Draco turned his neck with stiff movements, staring at his father in disbelief, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes. Did he just mishear? Or did his father really say something wrong?

That fantasy shattered the very next second as Lucius smacked Draco hard on the head.

"It's all your fault! You wrote such a vague letter that I completely misunderstood Mr. Morningstar. I thought he was the one bullying the weak----But turns out you were the one who provoked his friend first to a duel-and not showed up! ....Then you came crying to me, expecting me to avenge you? You've utterly disgraced the Malfoy name! Just wait till we get home!"

"I-" Draco opened his mouth, ready to argue, but the steely glare from Lucius made him swallow all his frustration and confusion.

Seeing his son finally behave, Lucius let out a sigh and turned toward Lucifer with a kind smile.

"Mr. Morningstar, it seems there's been a huge misunderstanding. The fault lies entirely with Draco. You did 'nothing' wrong. I'll make sure he doesn't bother you again."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. Something was off about Lucius Malfoy--- he didn't seem to be the type of man, previously created by Draco's bragging, had the man swallowed the wrong potion? Or... was he some kind of prophecy prodigy, already foreseeing that the Devil would soon come knocking on his door?

Still, Lucius's overly deferential attitude made most of Lucifer's killing intent melt away.

"A proper head of a household. I must say, Mr. Malfoy, you truly understand how things work."

"You're too kind. Now that the misunderstanding is cleared up, shall we put the matter to rest?" Lucius probed carefully.

"I have no problem with that. However..." Lucifer glanced at Draco Malfoy.

Under his father's oppressive presence, Draco wisely gave in. "I was wrong earlier. I'll never do it again."

"What a touching moment..."

Dumbledore, who had been watching the drama with great amusement, took off his glasses and wiped away imaginary tears, "Let's hope this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. But... regardless of the circumstances, Mr. Morningstar, you did injure a fellow student, so I'll have to deduct ten points from Gryffindor--"

"---And twenty from Slytherins for attacking a first year student. Mr. Burkes candidacy of Head Boy will be under careful consideration."

"Professor, I understand." Lucifer nodded obediently, though inside, he was grinning darkly. 'If there's no deduction, how can there be a reward later?'

The conflict had been resolved perfectly. The only casualty was Draco Malfoy's pride---and perhaps his head---but no one else seemed to care about that.

Staying in Dumbledore's office made Lucius uncomfortable. Once he was sure that ominous presence had truly vanished, he couldn't wait to leave, dragging his son with him.

Lucifer was also about to take his leave when Dumbledore called out to hi---

"Ah, Transfiguration class has ended, and there's still some time before lunch. Would you care to chat with a lonely, old man for a bit?"

Well, since the headmaster had spoken, he had no choice but to lower himself back into the chair.

Outside the office, Draco glared at Lucius in disbelief.

"Dad, were you under the 'Imperius' Curse just now?!"

"Not only did you not back me up, you actually 'made' me apologize to Morningstar! I'm telling Mum you're siding with outsiders to bully me!"

Lucius ignored his son's tantrum and pulled him into a secluded hallway far from the headmaster's office.

"Draco, let me ask you a question. What do you think the Malfoy family relied on to survive from the days of William the Conqueror until now?"

Draco blinked, confused by the sudden change of topic. But seeing his father's serious expression, he gave a proper answer: "Noble blood, powerful connections, immense wealth, and... strong magical prowess?"

Lucius nodded in approval. "Good. That's all utter nonsense."

Draco stared at his father in shock. 'Wasn't that exactly what you taught me? Now you're mocking me for it?'

Lucius clapped a heavy hand on Draco's shoulder. "Listen closely, son. The Malfoy family didn't survive and thrive through the ages by relying on vague ideals like bloodline or strength....We survived by being adaptable, by bending with the wind, by betraying superiors, slandering allies, stabbing backs, and most importantly---by running faster than everyone else when things go south..."

"That's' how we avoided total annihilation and continued to prosper."

Draco's brain froze. "Dad... are you serious?"

"I have never been more serious," Lucius said gravely. His face held a weariness Draco had never seen before.

"All that pure-blood propaganda I filled your head with---that's just a mask. It's a narrative we uphold to gain favor with other pure-blood families and squeeze out greater benefits. But----

"In truth, bloodline means nothing. What matters is power' A half-blood rose to become the Dark Lord. Would you dare defy him?"

Draco numbly shook his head. "No..."

Everyone knew how terrifying the Dark Lord was---even his allies feared him. Why else would they avoid even speaking his name, calling him 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?'

"But what does this have to do with you siding with Morningstar just now?" Draco still didn't get it.

Lucius sighed. "I've dared to challenge Dumbledore. I've publicly mocked him dozens of times, called him a senile lunatic -because he's a righteous man. He has a moral code. He plays by the rules. He won't lash out just because I insulted him---"

"But Morningstar..." Lucius hesitated, then said quietly, "Just now, he wanted to kill 'me.' No, not just me---our entire family."

"What?!" Draco screamed. "That's impossible! How dare he!"

"No---he dares. The question is, does he have the power? If he's already harboring such thoughts, then he must have the confidence and ability to follow through." Lucius's voice dropped to a near whisper, "Morningstar may be far weaker than

Dumbledore, not even worthy of comparison---but he's an abandoned orphan, a loner, unstable, with no weaknesses.... That kind of man... is far more dangerous than Dumbledore ever will be."

"So Draco, stay away from him. Even if you curse him, do it behind his back. People like him either rise to power or die in ruin. What good will it do you to be his enemy?"

Draco's face turned ghostly pale. He didn't doubt Lucius's words for a second---his father's authority was absolute. So he believed it. 'Morningstar... really had wanted to kill us all.'

"I... I understand, Father," Draco said with a shiver. Lucius nodded, pleased. If nothing else, his son knew when to listen-that alone was a valuable trait.

"Don't feel humiliated. The Malfoy family never forgets a grudge. When the time comes---when he falls---we'll be the first to kick him while he's down. The methods don't matter. The only thing that counts... is the result. Understood?"

"Yes, Father, I will make choice---best suited to the interests of our family...."

"Good, Draco."

xxxxxx

Inside the Headmaster's office, Lucifer had no idea that elder Malfoy was currently using his name to indoctrinate Draco in the so-called Malfoy survival doctrine.

Right now, he was savoring one of Dumbledore's lemon ice drops while taking in the layout of the room.

The office sat at top of one of the castle's towers and had such a high ceiling that it was split into two levels. The upper level, he assumed, must be where----Dumbledore lived.

The lower level, meant for receiving guests, featured portraits of former headmasters and a handful of precious magical ornaments along one wall. The rest of space was dominated by enormous bookshelves that flanked both sides of a grand desk.

The shelves stretched from floor to ceiling and were packed with books.

With his keen eyes, Lucifer spotted a few titles---books he had never seen before, neither in the library nor in Diagon Alley. Maybe they were from the Restricted Section?

Though up to this point, he hadn't yet ventured into the Restricted Section.

Suddenly, his gaze fell upon an empty shelf. It was made of phoenix wood, and there were faint traces of ashes still clinging to it, "Professor, I heard you have a phoenix. Why isn't it here?"

"Fawkes?" Dumbledore smiled. "I never try to restrict his movements. He's probably off looking for food somewhere..."

Lucifer was a bit disappointed he didn't get to see the legendary bird. He wondered if it really looked like the ones in Silver City. He just thought that ordinary pets were pointless. If he was going to raise one properly, it had to be something special---like Albion, or Ddraig.

"Lucifer, if you don't mind, I'll just keep calling you that," Dumbledore said with a warm smile as he noticed the boy staring at the empty shelf, "You seem to enjoy books quite a lot."

Lucifer turned his head, taking another bite of the lemon ice. "There really aren't many entertainment options in the wizarding world... Other than reading, I honestly don't know how else to pass the time."

"I feel exactly the same," Dumbledore said, nodding in agreement, "In the Muggle world, opera, radio, and television offer a wide variety of entertainment... The sheer size of their population fuels endless creativity. It's a pity..." he sighed, "This castle outright.. 'rejects' those things. I once tried setting up a television in this very office. Couldn't get it to power on, and after a few days, it just broke completely..."

"Was that caused by magic, Professor?"

Lucifer asked curiously, remembering his second visit there, watching a football match, "Because the magical density in Diagon Alley isn't exactly low, yet the television at Leaky Cauldron works just fine."

"No, it's not just about magical interference. 'That' typically only happens during magical surges, and the ambient leakage from young wizards wouldn't cause that.... The real culprit here is the castle itself. Hogwarts is, in and of itself, a 'supreme magical artifact.' There are many mysteries within it---even I, as Headmaster, don't know them all."

"I see," Lucifer nodded, understanding or at least pretending to then lapsed into silence. He wasn't sure what Dumbledore's real reason was for keeping him back, but he was fairly certain it wasn't malicious.

Might as well go with the flow and see what card the old man plays.

To his surprise, Dumbledore didn't seem to have any ulterior motives at all. He simply chatted about this and that---asking about Lucifer's studies, his daily life, and thoughts on various classes.

He found it puzzling but answered every question dutifully.

"I heard from Minerva that you came up with the concept of a "Year prefect system?"

Ah, here comes the real agenda.

Lucifer perked up, sitting a bit straighter, "It was more of a random idea, I got talking with Hermione. In the Muggle world, a school house is like a homeroom class.... You can't expect only upper years to have class monitors while the younger ones go unsupervised.... There's always a gap between age groups, and having someone from the same year manage things just makes more sense."

"A rather clever idea," Dumbledore chuckled, "And what about this Assistant Head of House business?"

"Professor, I just really want to improve," Lucifer said earnestly, "Professor Mcgonagall is extremely busy-over twenty classes a week, plus grading---she barely has time to manage the students. I just want to help lighten her load."

Even with Dumbledore's legendary calm, he was momentarily at a loss for words. A first-year saying this... seriously?

But Lucifer's approach was classic trial-and-error. Throw out an idea and see if it sticks. If Dumbledore by some miracle agreed, he'd rack up loads of house points. It was a win-win. And if he didn't agree... well, nothing lost.

Eventually, he'd say yes. As expected, Dumbledore declined--gently. "Lucifer, your most important job as a student is to learn and enjoy your school years. Leave the grown-up worries to the grown-ups. Minerva is a highly capable Head of House. You should trust her abilities. And, alas might ease a bit on Severus as well..."

He did trusted Gryffindor's head. But for Snape, well----Ministry labelled Double agent, Potions Master, Head of House, trying to make friends with Quirrell, ridiculing Harry Potter...

Snape was practically born to carry the world on his shoulders. No wonder Dumbledore wasn't the least bit concerned.

"Alright," Lucifer shrugged with indifference, then pivoted the conversation again, "Then what do you think about spreading class prefect system schoolwide? Good ideas should be shared."

Dumbledore fell silent for a moment.

"Perhaps not," he finally said, "Not every House is like Hufflepuff. Some may prefer a bit more... freedom."

Then, glanced at the wall clock, "Time's just about up. I believe Miss Granger is waiting to have lunch with you. I won't keep you any longer."

Honestly, the conversation had run dry. Dumbledore had asked Lucifer to stay, but now he couldn't wait for him to leave. But now it was Lucifer who wasn't in a hurry. The boy blinked innocently, "Professor, you have a lot of books here. Could I borrow a couple?"

Dumbledore was taken aback for a second, but readily agreed. "Of course. I can never say no to a student's thirst for knowledge."

"Thank you."

Lucifer stood up without hesitation, walked over to the massive bookshelf, and climbed the ladder leaning against it to begin picking out titles.

He wasn't sure if there were any magical protections on the shelves, so he figured he'd stick to old-fashioned way.

It didn't take long for him to select his two books:

'Advanced Magical Developments of the Sixteenth Century'

'From Ignorance to Blissful Words: The Horrible Crimes of Grindelwald,

----For the Greater Good.'

"These two, Professor." Dumbledore glanced briefly at the first one and paid it no further mind. But the second... He chuckled dryly.

"You're interested in Gellert too? That one was written by an old friend of mine. It was never released to the public by Miss Kowalski---circulated only in very limited circles."

"For you to pick it out from all these books... looks like the two of you are destined to meet."

"Is that so?" Lucifer also smiled vaguely, not caring his prophetic words, "Perhaps someday, if I run into a tough question, I could ask your friend directly."

On the bottom of the cover, aside from the gold-stamped title, was a discreet line of small text indicating the book's author---

'Queenie Golstein--Kowalski.'

xxxxxx

Dumbledore was wrong---he didn't believe in those strange twisted fate sisters, Those ancient, terrifying triple-goddess entity.

Hogwarts was a school, built to serve the average wizard. But Dumbledore's collection? That was curated for his own use. If a book didn't meet his standards, it wouldn't even make it onto his shelf.

Of course, Lucifer wasn't about to push his luck and ask for change of books later on. He simply promised Dumbledore he'd return the book within a week and left Headmaster's office.

As he reached the exit, stone gargoyle once again blocked his path.

"Something else?" Lucifer raised an eyebrow.

"Young man, since you've already uncovered my secret, there's no point hiding it anymore."

Lucifer stared blankly. 'What now? This thing's got a flair for drama.'

The gargoyle's face took on an oddly human expression---mysterious and wise, "Salazar Slytherin was only one of my creators. All four founders worked together to bring me to life. Salazar gave me consciousness, Helga forged my unbreakable body, Godric granted me great strength, and Rowena imbued me with profound intelligence."

Lucifer gave the statue a skeptical once-over. The first three checks out. Just by looking at its composition, he could tell the thing was built like a tank. But that last part.... 'This is Rowena Ravenclaw's so-called wisdom? No wonder you're blue.'

"Are you judging me again?!" the gargoyle cried out in a mix of anger and disbelief. That was the second time today someone had mocked it.

"No," Lucifer waved his hand casually, "Just wondering why you're telling me all this."

"Oh." The gargoyle's tone dropped. Then, in a rather pleased voice, it said, "I haven't bragged in ages. Needed someone to remind of how awesome I am."

"..." Lucifer.

xxxxxx

Lucifer arrived at the Great Hall just as lunch began. Every Gryffindor' and Slytherin from their table turned toward him with eyes of curiosity.

---News traveled fast-word had already spread that, Lucifer and Malfoy had been summoned by the Headmaster, a matter related to Burke, who had taken an oath of silence in not revealing what might have happened.

But only Lucifer had returned. Malfoy was still ΜΙΑ.

Hermione "calmly" waited until he sat beside her before blurting out her question. She hadn't looked particularly worried after her "chat" with Greengrass', but that was only because she assumed it wouldn't be anything serious. 'But who knew what kind of punishment Dumbledore might hand out?'

Professor Mcgonagall wasn't present in the Great Hall either for a while.

"Ten points deducted. That's it," Lucifer replied, unbothered. He spooned a heap of mashed potatoes onto his plate and drowned it in rich beef gravy.

The moment he mentioned point deduction, the little lions showed almost no reaction, it was a meager penalty, first years caused more than in a day, and senior had to cover for them---

Among the four houses, Hufflepuff was the most chill. The House Cup was never really their concern.

Ravenclaw took things as they came-if they could win, great; if not, no big deal.

But Gryffindor and Slytherin? Lifelong rivals. House pride meant everything. That said, Gryffindor had a habit of getting carried away and turning into "Gryffin-snore" by losing points left and right without even noticing.

Someone once said lions and snakes are two sides of the same coin. 'A cunning and ambitious lion becomes a snake, and a brave and daring snake becomes a lion.' Not entirely wrong.

If it had been anyone else losing points, specially more than twenty, even Gryffindor' would've torn them apart. Even the light side favourite house's cubs weren't safe from ostracism if they messed up.

But Lucifer? Even if more than twenty---No one dared. This wasn't about whether they'd ostracize him. It was about whether he might decide to ostracize them---with backup.

Lucifer had just been crowned to defeat one of the strongest in Slytherin's House. No one was stupid in Gryffindor enough to pick a fight.

Besides, the guy was practically a point-generating machine. He could earn that ten back in a single Class, without breaking a sweat.

Unlike Harry and Ron, who were nothing but dead weight.

The only one visibly distressed was Snape, standing in front of House Points board with a face full of unspoken pain.

'Come on, Dumbledore...I told you to punish Morningstar however you wanted. Detention, cleaning duties, a serious write-up-whatever. But a ten-point deduction? Even worse double from mine...'

'Are you trying to discipline him or destroy me?'

"Severus, it seems Headmaster has made his unbiased decision." Snape's mouth twitched at the gloating in his colleague, Minerva's tone, who went to deal with issue of Burke's parents, as Lucifer's Head of the House.

Their son himself admitted doing the first-year wrong, what could his own father do but complain bitterly?

xxxxxx

"Lucifer, Burke actually attacked you? Want me to deal with Malfoy and him?"

After lunch, Fred and George eagerly sidled up to Lucifer, voice low but brimming with enthusiasm, "You don't even have to lift a finger... I'll take care of it. I've still got some Draught of Living Death brew left from last time. One dose and Malfoy's stomach will remember me forever."

George nodded furiously, unwilling to let his twin hog the glory, "I've got a stash of healing balm I made for myself. Thought I'd gift it to Burke now--how thoughtful, right?"

Percy, however who was pushed around by his siblings, but also a sense of justice, flushed bright red and struggled to contribute:

"Me... me too." He had the worst way with words when it came to breaking school rules. Out of the three, his tongue was the clumsiest.

"Don't act without orders," Lucifer said flatly, waving a hand, "I've already said---whatever was between me, Malfoy, Burke it's done. If he comes looking for trouble again, then you can do whatever you want. But for now, stay put."

"...Okay," the Twins answered obediently, though a wave of regret swept through both. It was the perfect chance---to teach Malfoy a lesson.

Who would've thought Lucifer had such principles? When he said "we're done," he 'meant' it.

Then again, that had always been his way. He handled everything case-by-case. If someone messed up, they got punished. But once that was over, he never held a grudge or sought payback.

Percy Weasley was nearly in tears.

'Morningstar was... a good person all along? And to think, at the start of the year, I actually tried to bully him. I must've been insane...'

After Percy went away, Lucifer got to the juicy bite, which he didn't say on purpose, "I dealt with him... let's just say he spent the night hanging on a wall... Since then, people seems a lot more... respectful."

He wasn't lying. Just selectively telling the truth, "Whoa~" The twins whistled together. To them, Lucifer was truly an honorary Gryffindor---doing the exact thing they'd always dreamed of.

They had the brains and the skills to pull it off, sure, but not the 'guts.'

Hanging a Slytherin up on a wall like a painting? In broad daylight? With Snape still alive and breathing?

The reason the twins could get away with so much mischief was that they knew their limits. They always toed the line, never crossing it.

But Slytherin's inner politics? Snape wouldn't dare pick sides too openly, when Burke and Draco were on two different views, after his beatdown. If two snakes wanted to eat each other, he'd let them.

For a brief second, the twins even wondered: 'What if we transferred to Slytherin?'

Then immediately killed the thought. Even if Snape did accept them, McGonagall would shred them into bits and mail the pieces home to Mum.

"Lucifer, you're something else," George said with genuine admiration.

Fred nodded enthusiastically.

"Now can you give me the info?" Lucifer asked, unmoved by the praise-or teasing. He had no interest in banter. He just wanted to know about the forest, grab his stuff, and be ready for the next class. He was thinking of exploring the secret passages that leads outside the castle.

Hogwarts locked its gates at night, and sneaking out through the main entrance was way too risky. Lucifer preferred a more... discreet route.

He wanted to take a walk in the Forbidden Forest, always heard it's off-limits to students... but the more he heard, the more curious he got.

Curiosity was only part of the truth. The magical ingredients sold in Diagon Alley weren't nearly as comprehensive as he had hoped.

And with such a rich natural resource right next to the school, not using it felt like a sin, at least, he should go check out if Dinosaurs escaped extinction from meteors were there or not, poor creatures suffered his Dad's experiments for "evolution" believing to survive the strike, things will work out, but it didn't----

He had considered befriending Hagrid from Harry's contacts, half-giant groundskeeper. The guy seemed decent enough, and if they got along, buying off some ingredients might've worked.

But in the end, he gave up on that idea. According to Harry, man can't keep a secret, and if he got irritated, cause of loving animals too much----

Yeah---forget making friends. If he even dared step near Hagrid's hut, the man might report him to Dumbledore immediately.

Fred and George, on the other hand, were thoroughly impressed. This guy---just a first-year-and he was already thinking about sneaking into the Forbidden Forest?

'A kindred spirit!'

"Don't be in such a rush, Lucifer. The Forbidden Forest isn't just a bunch of trees---it's a labyrinth of magical insanity. One misstep and you'll regret it."

George chimed in, "Last time we wandered too deep, we accidentally stumbled into something... weird. Couldn't even see it. It kicked us ten times before we crawled out. If we'd stayed longer, we'd be 'hobbling' back."

Lucifer raised his head slightly, suddenly much more interested. He listened closely as the twins shared their stories and warnings. The key takeaway? Know where the magical creatures were.

That was pure gold---many of these creatures were guardians of herbs and ingredients. Find them, and the good stuff wouldn't be far.

And some creatures... well, they 'were' the ingredients. Aside from Hagrid, no one probably knew the Forbidden Forest better than Fred and George.

After thirty minutes of storytelling, their enthusiasm began to wane. Lucifer thanked them sincerely and left to disturb that ol'Granger in the Hogwarts Library.

xxxxxxx

Malfoy didn't show up again until the afternoon Herbology class. He wore a calm expression, ignoring the curious stares around him, but every time he caught sight of Lucifer's back, his heart gave a nervous jolt---his father's stern warnings still fresh in his mind.

All Malfoy wanted now was for Lucifer to keep his word: the past was the past, and hopefully, that's where it would stay. He wasn't going to provoke Lucifer again... unless the boy was on his last legs. Then, maybe---he'd consider 'stepping' in.

xxxxxxx

"What adorable 'little beans!"

Hermione squeezed a Snargaluff Vine pod between her fingers, and with a satisfying pop, it burst open--releasing scalding hot, pink beans that bounced on the ground like pinballs.

Everyone was wearing gloves during harvest to avoid getting burned by the sizzling little things.

Lucifer picked up one of the beans she had popped, blew on it, wiped it clean, and popped it in his mouth. His eyes sparkled, "Tastes pretty good.."

Hermione perked up at that and quickly squeezed out another one, "Let me try... mmm, you're right, Sweet and soft!"

Professor Sprout watched them from behind with a helpless but amused look.

"Morningstar, Granger" she called, "you shouldn't eat too many of those beans. They might give you pimples."

Lucifer didn't react, but Hermione's face turned white in horror. She immediately spit the bean out and kept spitting, as if trying to rid herself of the very idea.

"No way, Snape said there's a potion to cure acne, didn't he?" He said casually.

"I don't care!" Hermione cried, shaking her head like mad, "I want to be cute, and become pretty forever! Pimples are the 'worst enemy!"

Professor Sprout chuckled softly and didn't scold them for chatting during class. Honestly, she felt a bit regretful. With an appetite like Morningstar's, he should've been sorted into Hufflepuff....

xxxxxx

'Hell, yes!~'

Snape' wasn't an evil bat after all---he was a walking treasure trove of Potions, Lucifer's little goldmine.

His eyes burned with fervent intensity, Snape unsettled, leaned back ever so slightly.

"But Professor," Lucifer replied, slightly disappointed. But he quickly brightened again, "I can't win House Cup alone for Gryffindor'---I'm not the Chosen One."

Snape frowned, sensing something loaded behind that comment.

"I still have a lot to learn," he continued, "Especially in Potions. I've got a few questions..."

And just like that, conversation naturally shifted into a Q&A session, while other Gryffindor' and RavenClaws took frequent notes, faces hardened terribly.

Snape never turned away a student who was eager to learn. Even if that student was 'Potter' or 'Longbottom', he might snap and sneer, but he'd still give them the answer.

Of course, in Lucifer's case, he was much more composed. He wasn't sure if the boy would one day hold a grudge and make him suffer for it, so he stuck to calm, straightforward replies.

But gradually... Snape's expression began to shift. From casual indifference to cautious seriousness. Internally, emotions roiled like a storm.

Lucifer's questions weren't 'first-year' level. Some were taken from advanced coursework, others were about properties and brewing methods that weren't even in textbooks.

To Snape, the questions themselves weren't hard. But even a seventh-year student eligible for his Advanced Potions class wouldn't have asked them so precisely---let alone answered well.

Yet here was a first-year, with detailed knowledge, familiarity with theoretical texts, and only lacking real hands-on experience, which would get treated with drops of time.

'What kind of monster is this?!'

Snape remained seated, hands clasped beneath his nose, silent for a long time. Just now, a daring idea had crept into his mind. 'What if I raised a muggle-born... to defeat---or even kill-- Tom Riddle permanently?'

The boy's talent was the most terrifying he'd ever seen. Once Snape was certain that this 'boy' had nothing to do with Voldemort's schemes, all his bias melted away.

The trouble he caused in school was trivial compared to the bigger picture.

In the dim room, a whisper like a spell echoed low and cold:

"I don't care what happens to the wizarding world. I don't care if another Dark Lord rises."

"If it means the new will rise by crushing the bones of the old one..."

"Then so be it."

"I only want... Voldemort dead."

"Only then, will I get my----revenge."

xxxxxxx

"Hermione? What are you doing here?"

Lucifer had just stepped out of Mcgonagall's office, mulling over the professor's sudden concern of his well being, when he caught a glimpse of bushy dark brown hair peeking from around the corner of the corridor.

One look at the height, and he immediately knew who it was.

He walked over to confirm---and sure enough, it was Hermione. The little witch looked conflicted, her fingers tangled together as if wrestling with some world---ending dilemma.

Lucifer's curiosity was piqued. There wasn't even a Transfiguration' class today---what was Hermione doing in here?

"Lucifer?!"

Hermione, startled by his voice, jumped nearly a foot in the air. If he hadn't reflexively dodged, her fluffy head might've smashed straight into his chin.

"Something's off..." Lucifer stepped back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "Why do you look like you've been caught sneaking around?"

She shot him an exaggerated eye-roll, "You're the one sneaking around."

Despite the mess of her hair, she was still the very picture of cuteness. That scowl only added to her charm.

'Adorable,' Lucifer thought to himself.

Not dark-skinned, not tan---just pale and soft like a porcelain doll. As for how she smelled today... he hadn't exactly wanting to test that out yet.

Couldn't draw conclusions without data. Shaking the weird thought from his head, he refocused. "Don't dodge the question. What are you hiding here for?"

Hermione fidgeted for a long moment, then finally she admitted, amidst her pink turning cheeks, "I... I heard someone say that Professor Mcgonagall called you in, going to the loo. I was waiting to talk to you..."

Lucifer nodded slowly. "So you're here because you need something."

She seemed to gather all her courage, then closed her eyes tight and blurted out in one breath, "I heard from Greengrass that she's getting Muggle textbooks and entertainment items from you... And, I-- I asked you to be my dummy---! I don't have anything to offer but sweets, if there's anything I can give, just say it----I'll do whatever I can."

Once upon a time, she and Lucifer had been rivals, neck-and-neck competitors throughout the first couple of weeks at Hogwarts.

But that all changed the moment they entered into October. No, from the very beginning, Lucifer had shown an almost frightening talent, pulling farther and farther ahead. She had tried to chase him through sheer will and hard work...

However, after her first training, and today's incident, she'd realized the gap was starting to be even more insurmountable. Those brilliant, explosive spells he wielded---they weren't something she could reach just by studying hard.

They might've been the same incantations on paper, but results were leagues apart.

So by asking him for help last weekend, she'd essentially admitted a sort of for now defeat. Between pride and power, she had chosen the one that mattered most.

After finishing her request, she kept her----eyes shut, anxiously awaiting Lucifer's reply.

Just by pulling sweets, it was more like doing a favour, hearing what Greengrass' paid him----she got panicked about the decision earlier.

Lucifer, however, looked thoroughly unimpressed, "That's it? I thought you had some earth---shattering news."

Hermione blinked, thrown off by his reaction, "So... does that mean you're saying sweets are good?"

"Obviously yes," he replied, like it was the most natural thing in the world, "I said it's no big deal, didn't I?"

"But Greengrass' said... she gave you two hundred and seventy Galleons for, for---"

Hermione said, stunned.

Lucifer sighed. "I'm not some shady merchant, and I'm certainly not a capitalist dangling from a lamppost. We just made a 'deal' for her sister's otaku hobbies.... You don't need that kind of money to learn from me. Honestly, any Hogwarts professor is way more qualified than I am---and they don't earn much more than that per year. What makes you think I'm worth it?!It's just that... Daphne Greengrass insisted I take the extra money for my time. She probably thought, it was her only way to show her sincerity..."

Hermione looked even more shocked. "And you just took it?"

"She looked like she was about to cry. What was I supposed to do---refuse? Her sister is very ill cause of a blood curse, and needs potions to just survive...."

"I.... I didn't know that."

"Anyway, I'm treating it like a payment to cure her younger sister. I'll pay her back that way.... So you don't need to feel like you're burdening me or anything."

Besides, if he took Hermione's pocket money, Lucifer would get kindly invited to the Granger dental clinic and had a few "words,"

'Brat, you want my precious granddaughter--whom we've raised for twelve years, to end up in your hands this early?'

Lucifer didn't want to guilt-trip the old man into coughing up a few kilos of gold bricks. And you better believe it---dentists in the UK were rich like that. Hermione's Mum, and grandfather didn't just work at the clinic---her family owned it.

Also, unfortunately to become so strong at her age, that was just a dream. To reach that level it demanded, blood, sweat, and late-night grinding. A "no pain, no gain" kind of deal.

xxxxxx

After listening, Hermione finally realized---Greengrass had just scared her for no reason. No, wait---girl probably genuinely believed she was paying for her lovely younger sister's stay at home tendencies.

Hermione's heart instantly lightened. If Lucifer had actually demanded a three hundred Galleons, she wouldn't have been able to afford it even if she gave him her 'entire seven years'' worth of living expenses.

"But..." Lucifer's voice suddenly changed tone, making her tense up again, "What Daphne gave me, even if I plan to return it, will help me out somewhere along the line. It's money, and needs to be burned... So tell me, Miss Granger---what are you planning to offer besides your Mum's cookies?"

"What do 'you'... want?" Hermione asked, tinge of pink on her cheeks now getting darker.

"I want... you..." Lucifer drew out the words dramatically.

Hermione's face instantly turned bright red--like a freshly plucked apple, pink with just the faintest shimmer. Her brain short-circuited.

'Me? Isn't this... a little too soon?'

Sure, he was smart, patient, always one step ahead, and most importantly, very good-looking. She often sneaked glances at him while pretending to ask questions.

'But still---wasn't it too fast? Aren't people supposed to start dating around third or fourth year? Wait---if I waited that long, Greengrass would have already snatched him up. Maybe I should just agree? Who knows who'd benefit more?'

"I want you... to help me with my homework," Lucifer finally said with a devilish grin. All the spark in Hermione's eyes vanished. She stared blankly at the bastard's smirking face.

"Lucifer Morningstar... I'm going to kill you!"

The little witch snapped, launching herself at him and pounding her tiny fists against his chest. Not that it hurt---they were soft and fluffy like a kitten play-fighting.

Good thing no other students were around---otherwise they'd assume these two were hopelessly flirting.

She was clearly regretting her earlier smugness-bragging to Greengrass had backfired horribly.

But she also understood how it looked from Daphne's perspective. After all, she had paid 'him' fair and square.

Galleons didn't matter much to a pampered heiress---After venting her frustration, she pushed Lucifer away, panting, "No! Everyone should do their own homework. I'm not writing 'yours' for you."

"What's the point of doing homework?" Lucifer countered smoothly.

"To review what we learned in class, obviously," Hermione answered without hesitation, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Lucifer raised his hands in an innocent gesture. "But I don't need a review. I'm already way ahead of the class.... Doing homework is just a waste of my time---especially Snape's and Binns' assignments. They're always long, tedious, and completely soul-sucking. So really, homework isn't helping me---it's slowing me down."

Hermione paused. His argument gave her pause. She was starting to falter, and Lucifer, sensing victory, leaned in with a sly smile.

"You're different, Hermione. Writing homework 'twice' will help you see things from two perspectives. It's perfect for----reinforcing your understanding. Who knows, maybe you won't even need to study for finals."

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione shot back instinctively, "You have to revise before exams!" This guy was an arsehole through and through. At this point rumours of Dumbledore's "careful guidance" or Lucifer's trickery of Sorting Hat wasn't entirely too far stretched in her mind.

"And besides..." She hesitated, clearly torn, "Your handwriting is totally different from mine. The professors will catch on immediately."

"That won't be a problem," Lucifer said confidently, "In a few days, I'll show you something. I guarantee no professor will suspect a thing---just don't hand in the exact same essay."

Still a little doubtful, Hermione agreed with a reluctant nod. Deep down, she sighed at her own moral slip. Her roommates weren't even allowed to peek at her homework, and now here she was, stepping into the realm of ghostwriting.

But if everyone was like Lucifer---'brilliant', far ahead of the syllabus, she probably wouldn't mind helping them either. With a convenient little excuse tucked into her conscience, the young witch felt her guilt begin to fade.

Lucifer's attitude? That mattered a lot. He was actually willing to say no to Greengrass's money initially---As, for her, he was doing it more out of friendship. That 'meant' something.

Realizing this, Hermione lit up again, her good mood returning.

xxxxxxx

Before they knew it, two days had passed. On Wednesday, just before Charms class, Lucifer presented the promised solution to Hermione.

Harry who had nothing to do, since Ron was eating a few snacks he'd stored tagged along too, he didn't have appetite for any extras both watching the two curiously.

"A quill?" It looked utterly ordinary---not crafted from any exotic or rare feather.

"This quill can perfectly mimic my handwriting..." Lucifer explained, and

demonstrated by writing

"Lucifer Morningstar," "Harry Potter," and "Hermione Granger" on a fresh piece of parchment.

Then he had Hermione copy the names with her own quill--and then again using his. Her version with her own quill looked neat and elegant, completely different from Lucifer's.

But the moment she used his quill, the letters twisted ever so slightly as she wrote---transforming into a flawless replica of Lucifer's handwriting.

"How did 'you' do that?" Hermione gaped, her mouth wide open in a little 'oh' position.

"A mimicry charm," Lucifer said matter-of-factly, then slowly revealing a grin, "and a bit of basic alchemical enhancement...." He didn't think it was impressive. Just a few evenings with an alchemy primer had done the trick.

Satisfied, Hermione agreed to write Lucifer's assignments---on one condition: if he scored lower than her in the finals, he'd have to go back to writing his own.

He agreed without hesitation.

"Hehe, I mean, Hermione..."

Harry Potter suddenly leaned toward her with a sheepish look, "Since you're already helping Lucifer, want to help 'me' too? Without knowing, I've got loads of allowance. You could buy so many books...."

"No thanks," Hermione said curtly, ignoring green-eyed boy's hopeful look, "Lucifer can help me with real magic. Galleons can't. I don't need your money." She even gave a wretched look in Lucifer's direction, practically stating, 'see what your influence had done to the innocent boy.'

"Hmph! Fine, be that way." Harry almost sounded annoyed with a pout, "Mate, I want a quill like that too---with 'my' handwriting."

If he couldn't have the brilliant Granger, he still had other boy friends. Dean, and Seamus in their dorm could each write two subjects for him, who complained about pocket money, maybe even Ron.

He didn't need to beg Hermione. They all had to---slightly different essays a bit, which was nothing for Harry Potter, he had a knack doing it.

Lucifer chopped the guy's shoulder with an exasperated look, "You wish, Potter, you wish-- If I gave you one, I doubt you'd even pass your finals...."

Harry was a typical twelve-year-old wizard, no better than muggle-born, in terms of the new world. Too many things interested him about magic. If he stopped doing homework altogether, he'd be hopeless in a month, even worse than Ron.

Seeing Lucifer's refusal was absolute, he sulked but didn't argue.

Just then, Professor Flitwick trotted cheerfully into the classroom, Hermione shooed the glasses boy away, as the teacher was climbing up his stack of books to reach the lectern.

"Today, class, we'll be learning a new charm -the Mending Charm..."

The Mending Charm was a staple in any wizard's daily life---yet ironically, it was also one of the most problematic spells in magical society, according to Lucifer.

Its convenience had come at a cost: thanks to the fact that nearly every wizard could cast it, objects could last across three generations---still being used long after their original lifespan.

No one knew how many times some heirlooms had already been magically repaired. 'And what did that mean for the wizarding economy? No one was buying new things anymore...'

'And if no one was spending, how was anyone supposed to make money?'

Today, Professor Flitwick was teaching only the most basic form of the Mending Charm, the kind that could repair simple, single-material items. If the object was complex in structure or made of multiple materials? No use. And magic-infused artifacts? Forget it.

Each young witch or wizard was handed a plain white porcelain plate. Professor Flitwick told them to break it themselves and return a fully repaired one before class ended.

A crisp symphony of shattering porcelain filled the classroom.

Harry gawked at Ron. "Why did you smash yours into 'powder?!"

His own plate had split into five or six clean pieces, but Ron's? It was 'rubble'.

Ron shrugged without a care. "When else do you get a legitimate reason to break things? Gotta make it count, right?" He looked slightly regretful--maybe he should've jumped up and slammed it down harder.

Harry looked both amused and exasperated. "But the more you wreck it, the harder it is to fix! We have to return these to Professor Flitwick before class ends!"

Ron's grin faltered.

On the other side of the aisle, Malfoy was smirking. Compared to dealing with someone like Morningstar, these two buffoons were far more manageable rivals.

Malfoy had been lying low these days, steering clear of Morningstar while carefully reflecting on Lucius's teachings. It all boiled down to a few simple principles:

---Pick fights only with people you can actually afford to bully.

---Only reason with people who are reasonable.

---Follow the strongest.

---Align with those who offer benefits.

The last one? Still out of reach. But the rest? Totally doable. Malfoy drawled with a smug tone, "Weasley, if you can't fix that plate, you'll have to pay for it. Got enough pocket money?"

Ron's ears turned red. Harry instantly stepped in to defend his best friend, and he and Malfoy were bickering in no time--loudly and evenly matched.

Perfect. A rival worthy of his current level. Meanwhile, over by Hermione's side, Lucifer had already restored his plate to pristine condition---smooth, flawless.

No bonus points this time, though. Hermione had beaten him by a few seconds. He, however, wasn't focused on points.

Lucifer was pondering something deeper---what were the true limits of the 'Mending Charm?'

Take wands, for instance---arguably the most common magical artifacts. The longer a wizard used one, more magic it absorbed and internalized.

By popular understanding, a broken wand could never be properly repaired. A snapped wand was done for. Even if it was patched together with Spellotape or a Mending Charm, the magic core would be damaged. It might look fixed, but spells would behave unpredictably----

----Just look at 'Ron Weasley's' for instance. It wasn't even the guy's wand, Lucifer wondered, if it even suited him to do magic.

xxxxxxx

Everyone had to start with the basics. It was like football or basketball---you didn't jump straight into complex tactics or high-skill moves. First, you had to build a feel for the game.

And here, their differences became clear. Daphne had told Lucifer today, once she managed to do eighty consecutive Lumos before magical exhaustion kicked in.

Hermione? Sixty. That gap came from magical reserves---from 'bloodline.'

Half--bloods produced powerful wizards all the time. Snape. Voldemort. Dumbledore.

But first-generation Muggle-borns?

Flip through any history book---you'd be hard---pressed to find a single example of one who rose to greatness in their first generation. Maybe a few forgotten stars here and there, but those were rare exceptions.

Still, in terms of spell 'learning speed', Hermione was far ahead. She hadn't even known the 'Vera Verto' spell until today, and within thirty minutes, Lucifer had already taught it to her.

And if there was one thing Hermione beat Daphne at completely---it was willpower. All Lucifer now had to do was set a plan, and she would give it her all, no complaints---maybe one or two, but more or less, she was a good child.

With Daphne? Even a single spell to show her ability, Lucifer had to coax, coddle, and tiptoe around her "princess moods." talk about tricking them into a collective shared training rivalry sort to rile each other up was a long shot for now, even for him.

Just as he imagined, on Hermione's next training session that Saturday, Lucifer faced a problem.

"Morningstar, I really don't want to study with Granger all the time. She's absolutely insane," Daphne finally voiced her true complaint, she was in the designated room for Muggle Q&A, however a certain witch was also present, "Can't we split our schedules?"

Girls realised, they'd been 'played.'

"I don't have enough time," Lucifer replied simply. He shook his head, "At most, we can split during the weekday lessons. But weekends? That's a full afternoon---I have other things to take care of. Either cancel them or share it."

Hermione thought about it and realized he had a point. The potions he prepared for her alone took a huge chunk of his time. So, she agreed.

From then on, Tuesday evenings would be Daphne's, Wednesday nights for Hermione, and weekends would be shared among the three, if everything went well, otherwise it would be abandoned---cause, each girl couldn't stand seeing the other.

With the clingy bushy haired girl settled, Lucifer turned his attention back to his own plans of exploring castle, instead of proving twins for the "Secret passages."

xxxxxx

The weather tonight was rather pleasant.

The moon was bright, and stars scattered the sky. No clouds obscured the moonlight, which dimly lit the narrow, shadowy path ahead.

A small cluster of fireflies drifted past Lucifer, who didn't disturb them. These weren't ordinary fireflies---they were fire wisps. When they die, they release all the heat they've stored in one violent burst, producing terrifyingly high temperatures.

The Forbidden Forest was just as dangerous as Fred and George had claimed. It wasn't just magical creatures and enchanted plants that lurked here---there were intelligent species, like the centaur clans, who called these woods, home.

Of course, Hogwarts wouldn't just allow such a dangerous place to exist unchecked right next to school grounds. The forest was actually divided into the Inner Zone and the Outer Wilds.

The Inner Zone was officially part of the Hogwarts grounds. Most of the truly dangerous beasts had been driven out---either chased away or naturally relocated to the outskirts.

The Outer Wilds were what students referred to when they said "deep in the Forbidden Forest"---the domain of Acromantulas, Graphorns, Thestrals, and more. This section was connected to the untamed wilderness beyond Hogwarts.

In short, Fred and George Weasley were absolutely fearless. Or lucky. Probably both.

They'd wandered into the deep Forbidden Forest with zero protection or precautions---and somehow survived all the way to today.

If they had wandered into the Acromantula colony instead of Thestrals' or Sleiphnir territory, the Weasley family would've had to start funeral preparations----

But Lucifer was different. He wasn't reckless, He was... prudent. Upon entering the forest, he was observing everything happening outside.

"Well now, that's an ugly little thing."

He had spotted a Mottlerat and couldn't help but comment.

The Mottlerat looked similar to a regular rat but was three to four times larger. On its back were fleshy, sea-anemone---like growths that pulsed faintly. Definitely unpleasant to look at.

They were native to Britain---you wouldn't find these in Greece, so this was his first time seeing one.

Compared to Greek magical beasts, which he'd seen on a different earth, like the Sphinx, Pegasus, and Golden Bulls... British creatures looked borderline ridiculous....

"Big deal. It's not like I'm marrying it anyway. It's useful, that's all that matters..."

Lucifer wasn't about to let this squishy rodent off the hook. A swift Impediment Jinx tripped it mid-scurry, followed by a 'Petrificus Totalus', freezing the poor creature in place.

The Mottlerat's antennae secreted a rare fluid with excellent medicinal properties. It could treat "brain damage" and was a key ingredient in potions related to mental strength, for a moment he considered giving them to Neville.

Snape's quips in class included two or three recipes that used it.

Lucifer harvested every last drop from the sea-anemone-like antennae, filling up two small glass vials he had prepared earlier. Only then did he release the dazed creature.

The rat turned and gave the boy a deeply resentful look before waddling away sluggishly----Not that it didn't want to run. But after being squeezed dry, anyone would feel that 'weak.'

Lucifer, however, was in great spirits. His Forbidden Forest trip had barely begun, and he'd already scored a valuable ingredient. A perfect start.

Each of those vials would go for at least ten Galleons in any potion shop. Hogwarts truly sat on a treasure trove.

And if anyone could be called the richest person on campus, it was probably "Hagrid." He roamed the Forbidden Forest like it was his backyard and had good relations with several dangerous species----

It was just a pity that Hagrid wasn't the sharpest wand in the shed. If he ever decided to get serious-organizing and managing the magical creatures here---even Voldemort would have had a tough time dealing with him.

Not necessarily defeated, but certainly 'annoyed.'

With the Mottlerat released, Lucifer pressed forward. According to Fred, after entering the forest, he should keep heading west.

Somewhere in the woods near a small river to the west, there lived a flock of Banshee Birds----These avian creatures, originally from the Black Forest, came in various colors--though most were a soft pink---and looked adorably round and puffy.

But their charm was deceiving. Their cries had effects similar to the 'Imperius Curse', capable of clouding minds and pushing people to act in bizarre, irrational ways.

Lucifer was here to collect their feathers. Additionally, where Banshee Birds nested, there was a high chance of finding----Sneezewort, an herb used to brew alertness potions.

After walking for about fifteen minutes, he found the small river twins had mentioned. Or more accurately---a creek. He followed the flow for a bit and soon spotted his targets.

A flock of Banshee Birds had made their home in a large "Patron Tree."

These magical trees were a favorite among flying magical beasts. Fights over nesting rights were common.

Sharing the tree were a few Bowtruckles---tiny stick-like creatures that helped maintain tree health. They coexisted peacefully with birds, as they weren't competing for resources.

Lucifer strolled in boldly, instantly alerting both groups. The Bowtruckles peeked out from holes in---the bark, their long twiggy necks craning to get a look. They were friendly toward humans---or rather, toward most creatures so they made no fuss.

The Banshee Birds, however, were not so forgiving. As soon as they spotted Lucifer, seven or eight of the plump little things puffed up and took flight, glaring at him with fierce little eyes.

He nodded politely at Bowtruckles. 'So cute', he thought. If he were in Hufflepuff, he'd absolutely adopt two and keep them as pets. Add a Niffler to the mix and voilà-the perfect Hufflepuff starter kit----

Wait---no, something was missing. Ah, right. A magical suitcase. A proper one, like one of Scamander.

'Cheep! Cheep!'

The Banshee Birds' shrill cries snapped him out of his thoughts. They weren't using their mind---warping screeches yet---just regular bird calls.

He would be unaffected either if they did it or not. Though Lucifer didn't understand bird---speak, the message was clear: 'Get lost.'

Polite birds. But if they were going to play fair... well, Lucifer didn't plan to.

"Lumos Maxima"

A blast of blinding white light erupted in the night like a miniature sun. The Banshee Birds froze midair, disoriented by sudden flare. Two of the dumber ones forgot to flap and dropped like stones-----

On the ground, enchanted ropes---woven from tough grass whipped through the air and lashed around birds' plump little feet. The rest weren't spared either. Lucifer took aim and tagged them all----

Spells weren't just for single targets. Even Disarming Charms could hit multiple enemies if used right--- The Stunning Spell, too, could affect groups---it just required more magical power and precision. Most wizards preferred concentrating their magic into tight beams, but with Lucifer's finesse, spreading it out worked just fine.

"Silencio."

He raised a finger to his lips. The birds opened their beaks to unleash their signature sonic attack but no sound came out----And that, right there, was why Banshee Birds were only ranked as XXX on the danger scale.

Level XXX meant they could be handled by a moderately trained witch or wizard. One Silencing Charm and a couple of basic spells were all it took to subdue them.

"No need to panic. I'm just here to borrow a few feathers. You'll grow them back, right? So... no returns."

Lucifer crouched beside one of the fluffy prisoners and gave its squishy body a gentle rub, "I'll be quick. Just a few snips."

"One... and done."

Three of the brightest, most radiant feathers were plucked from the top of the first Fwooper's head---then came the next.

Soon, feathers from six Fwoopers had been collected, their vivid colors gleaming like jewels---Two younger ones, not yet fully developed, were spared---'for now.'

These feathers weren't just valuable ingredients for potions or alchemical concoctions; they were also the most sought after materials for high-end quills----Lucifer carefully tucked the feathers away.

But he wasn't done. As the Bowtruckle watched with wide, nervous eyes, he began to circle the area. Then, suddenly---his eyes lit up.

"Found it..."

Behind a large moss-covered stone bloomed several stalks of Sneezewort, delicate white flowers trembling in the moonlight.

Lucifer slipped on a pair of gloves, then transfigured a pebble into a sharp pair of shears with a flick of his wand. Carefully, he snipped the plants, one stem at a time---

Sneezewort was dangerous stuff.

Mishandle it, get even a smear of its pollen on your hands, and inhale it? You'd be sneezing non-stop the entire day. Even he had to be cautious.

With that done, he finally released the Fwoopers and stepped away from tree-guardians' territory.

Fwoopers didn't come after him. They had understood by now---this human wasn't out to kill them, just to collect. And since they were no longer under threat, there was no need for retaliation----

That's just how nature worked. In the animal kingdom, survival trumped all. By the time, Lucifer reluctantly returned to the dormitory, it was already 3 a.m.

On the way back, he made two more stops, harvesting Moonlight Moss and collecting a clutch of Ashwinder eggs.

Honestly, the travel time was the worst part. He should've brought a broomstick. Or better yet... invent a flight spell of his own----

But that was a dream for another time. He needed more study, more understanding, more breakthroughs.

Still...After all, Voldemort's flight spell had been hailed as an unprecedented magical feat for a reason. Maybe someone else in history had attempted it, maybe even succeeded but none had made it known, or left it behind.

Call Voldemort cruel. Call him mad. Say he lacked empathy, lacked vision.

But weak? Never.....

xxxxxxx

"But Harry Potter wasn't expelled, and he became the 'youngest' house team member in a century. All you ever think about is your marks! You have no idea what it means to be on the Quidditch team, Granger!"

Lavender glared at her as if she were a complete 'madwoman'-- and dragged Parvati away in a huff.

'Of course I didn't understand!' Hermione thought furiously. She had no intention of understanding whatever this absurd spectacle of riding a broom was supposed to be.

Even so, she wouldn't leave herself unguarded, just wait for Madam Hooch's next 'flying' disaster and called an idiot for it, during Lucifer's second private flying lesson, she couldn't help but complain: "I really don't understand why boys become so completely unreasonable whenever brooms are involved."

By now she was quite proficient in the preparatory movements and the theory, but she still couldn't bring herself to actually fly.

Neville Longbottom's horrific crash during their last lesson seemed to have left her with a real psychological block. Lucifer glanced at her, "I ask again, you're not afraid of heights, are you?"

Occasionally, wizards did claim to have acrophobia or even motion sickness in articles. But Lucifer believed that for most wizards, fear of heights was psychological-- something that could be overcome through practice.

Besides, this was Hermione Granger. She had done bungee jumping from a cliff twice in France when she was five and a half years old, the girl had almost risked her very life questioning Madam Hooch if she could take one of the brooms he had broken apart to study its internal mechanism.

"Acrophobia? You must be joking. I just think 'flying' is boring." Hermione stood beside the broomstick with an air of supreme disdain, head held high, looking enormously self-important and making no move whatsoever to take off.

She was clearly just stalling. It was starting to make Lucifer impatient. 'This is flying. Does she have any idea what she's missing?'

"Right, then." He stepped forward, mounted the broom, and quickly shifted forward to make room. "I'll give you a demonstration. Hold on tight...."

"What are you--" Hermione had just grabbed his robes when the broom launched into the air. She didn't even have time to brace herself before the wind hit her like a wall.

And just like that, he swept her up into the sky. Suddenly. Without warning. Completely without mercy.

Her feet left the ground and dangled in empty air, unsteady and terrifying.

The wind rushed at her face and body. The only reason she hadn't fallen was the broomstick beneath her--which she trusted 'not at all!'

She gripped his robes tighter. Was it even safe for two people to ride one broomstick? She couldn't help but worry.

If Lucifer had known her thoughts, he would have told her that under ordinary circumstances, a broom was built for one adult wizard -- but in an emergency, it could support two adult wizards, let alone two underage ones.

But those words would have to wait. Right now, Hermione was far too frightened to ask anything. She clung to his robes, gripped in the terror of her first flight, with the dawning awareness that she had absolutely no control over what happened next.

She was like a feather adrift in the air carried entirely in his hands, every rise and fall beyond her own will.

Through the rushing wind, Lucifer shouted ahead of her, sounding for the first time as though he were experiencing something close to genuine joy, "You have to feel it for yourself--the freedom of it! Otherwise you'll never 'understand!"

"No, Lucifer--" Hermione called out, but the wind swallowed her words. She tried to look around. The clouds seemed both near and impossibly far, and the wind came from every direction at once, making her shiver.

She had never had any faith in the broomstick. Back a couple of months ago it had been nothing but a 'cleaning' tool to her and now she was expected to believe it could carry people through the air!

So she could only turn to the one person in the sky who offered any sense of security the one actually 'controlling' the flight.

Her face went pale; her heart hammered. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around the boy's waist and held on.

'That's better', Hermione thought. He was clearly very comfortable on a broomstick and felt no fear at all. If she held on to him, she probably wouldn't fall.

"Look! Look down!" Lucifer shouted. "You have to see this!" Only when he said so did she dare to look.

'Good heavens, we have flown so high!'

The Hogwarts grounds had become a vivid picture beneath her feet, an entirely different world from within them. The magnificent castle looked like a set of exquisite building blocks; Gryffindor Tower stood below them; the dense, sprawling Forbidden Forest resembled an enormous cauliflower.

Everything she had only ever glimpsed from a window was now laid out before her, unobstructed, in every direction.

And further still rolling mountains and glassy, still waters stretched out like an oil painting, with the sky and earth as its canvas and contours of the lakes and peaks as its brushstrokes.

They were as insignificant as specks against the vast sky, yet as free as mayflies in the boundless universe. Lucifer rode his broom and carried her through the beautiful scenery like two shooting stars blazing across the open cosmos.

The sight made Hermione forget to breathe. She forgot her fear. She was overwhelmed with awe, her heart pounding. In that moment, no words could have done it justice.

"So beautiful..." she said in a dreamy voice, resting her head against his shoulder. He laughed ahead of her, and a few low vibrations came through his back.

"Lucifer this must be against school 'rules..." she thought aloud, her voice soft with wonder -- but edged with faint nervousness, "We should really go back down----"

"Give me five minutes!" Lucifer called out. He hadn't flown freely like this in far, far too long without the constant reminder of that origin.

Rush, height of the realness of the cold wind and dizzying speed could make him feel that he was truly alive; that everything happening with humans capable of magic was real and not some 'drawn-out' dream.

Constantine's earth magicules was different. And, could make threads to realms of bein-----

"Hold on tight!" Lucifer suddenly shouted. On impulse, he banked sharply and sent them plunging almost straight down toward the Black Lake.

Hermione let out her first proper scream in the air small and sharp, like a fledgling bird thrown from the nest. She clung to his back and seized the only steady thing left in the whole careening sky.

The sudden rush of weightlessness brought back every scrap of fear she had managed to forget, and her heart pounded like a war drum. The fierce wind tore at her hair and cheeks. She couldn't look---she pressed her face into the curve of his neck, away from the cold, desperately seeking his warmth.

Lucifer held steady, completely unshaken by her grip. And strangely -- inexplicably clean, faintly sweet scent drifted from his collar.

Hermione thought she must be going mad. In the middle of this terrifying, stomach-dropping fall, she somehow had presence of mind to notice that the smell was rather nice.

Her scream snapped Lucifer back to himself; she was 'petrified.' With a practiced flick, he levelled the broom out and skimmed low across the mirror-smooth surface of the Black Lake, pulling out of the dive at the last possible moment.

The screaming stopped. Her heart didn't.

The wind gentled. Warm sunlight settled over them, making the whole plummet feel, suddenly, almost dreamlike.

But the faint scent against his collar reminded her it had been real. That she had genuinely just fallen straight out of the sky. And now, every last bit of her strength had been spent on the screaming and the falling.

The Black Lake lay still and glassy. At this hour it was always deserted -- which was why Lucifer had felt safe bringing her here.

A soft breeze moved across their faces.

"Look at this lake," Lucifer said, his voice lit with excitement. "Isn't it beautiful?" Below them, the water shimmered, reflecting their image like a pair of birds in flight.

"Yes -- it's 'lovely' but I'm worried--" Hermione's voice wavered as she clung on, terrified the broom might slip and send her into the water.

"Nothing's going to happen to you."

Noticing the tension in her grip, he called out from ahead, then glanced back briefly and found nothing but a curtain of windswept, curly brown hair. "I promise."

His voice was clear and bright, carrying something lighter than his usual tone less aloof, less guarded.

There was a touch of something almost childlike in it. It wasn't unpleasant. Hermione steadied herself slightly and tried to breathe, to actually feel the air and the height.

But the dive had shaken her too badly. She simply closed her eyes and held on like a sloth clinging to its branch---face buried against his collar, pretending she was on solid ground.

Sitting on the back of a bicycle, perhaps. Her arms stayed wrapped around him, not daring to loosen for even a moment.

Five minutes. That was all he'd said and that was all it was. But it felt like she had run a marathon.

When they landed and she stepped off the broom, her legs gave way beneath her.

Lucifer, the little wretch reached out and steadied her.

"Well, then? Want to go again?" His eyes were bright, the smile on his lips both smug and triumphant. Miss Know-It-All's hair was thoroughly destroyed by the wind, which seemed to please him even further.

This was the 'first' time Hermione had seen him smile like that. It was as radiant as sunlight, as warm as a clear sky. She was struck silent for a moment, entirely disarmed by it.

A strange thought rose unbidden in her still-racing heart: he should smile more.

Of course now was not the time for that! She came to her senses at once and rallied herself into proper indignation: "You... I am 'absolutely' certain this was against school rules!"

"Nobody saw," Lucifer said, with an easy shrug. "If you follow every rule to the letter, you'll miss all the best things."

"Lucifer Morningstar, you absolute madman! All 'boys' go completely unhinged the moment a broomstick is involved!" she snapped, still trembling from residual fear, from the fall, from something she couldn't quite name.

This impossible boy. She no longer considered him any kind of gentleman. When he went wild, he was worse than Harry and Ron put together.

What made it worse was that she couldn't properly explain what flying had felt like. She had hated it. The height, the helplessness, the terrifying sense of having no control. At moments she'd felt positively 'ill.'

But she hadn't hated holding on to him. She hadn't hated the scent of his collar. She hadn't hated the way he'd smiled at her.

And when he'd said he wanted to go up again for just a moment, she had actually thought about saying yes.

Which made absolutely no sense. Because she hated flying. The out-of-control feeling, the emptiness, the freefall she hated all of it.

So why on earth would she even consider going back up?

What a complete, chaotic mess of feelings.

She marched away with her face hot pretending to be angry at Lucifer, perhaps a little flustered by the wind, but probably most of all frightened by her own thoroughly confused emotions.

Good heavens. She hated flying. She hated this ridiculous internal muddle. 'And it all came back to boys and their utterly senseless obsession with broomsticks. It's just a broom....'

'Who in their right mind believes it can fly?!'

For the entire next day, Hermione was stiffly formal and didn't approach Lucifer on her own in the Common room to wish morning. He felt a small twinge of regret; perhaps he shouldn't have impulsively taken her flying and now one of his few genuine pleasures at Hogwarts had vanished.

He had been out of control in that moment. He probably hadn't properly been able to fly without using those feathers in a very long time. He'd felt a sudden, strange rush of a desire to let go, and to share it with her.

And, he admitted to himself, he had selfishly wanted to see her be less of a Know-It-All for once. Less composed. Less rigidly contained within the safe, comfortable limits she drew around herself oblivious to things that might be frightening but could also be wonderful.

Lucifer always wanted to provoke her. That is not a good habit.

It had clearly been the wrong approach. Too blunt, too thoughtless. And she was still only a young girl not always the brave, 'fearless' Hermione Granger who could withstand his teasing.

He should have been gentler. More patient. Lucifer glanced at her ruefully; she was preparing potion ingredients alongside the round-faced Longbottom, her expression blank, lost in thought.

So, he had no choice but to pair up temporarily with the dull -- if not entirely unintelligent Dean Thomas.

He did notice, at least, that she was ignoring Potter and Weasley too.

It seemed she didn't particularly want to talk to anyone.

Lucifer knew this mood well. When she gets like now due to their differences in terms of a matter of understanding, she had always shown an attitude of being guarded and 'resentful' towards him---often glaring at him as though he were something she'd found under a rock. And, would probably led her astray too.

At least this wasn't as severe. She was simply quiet -- wouldn't look at him, wouldn't engage. That was manageable.

Lucifer told himself as much.

...

Hermione Granger was, in fact, at the moment in a thoroughly foul mood.

Hogwarts Stairs shifted every Friday, attempting to lead students somewhere entirely unexpected; and some had a step that simply vanished halfway up, ready to swallow an inattentive foot.

For the dazed and disoriented new students, however, these stairs were far more treacherous than charming.

Memorising their layouts and habits was no small feat -- after all, everything seemed to be in constant motion.

Even Hermione Granger had clearly not yet worked out all the tricks.

This very same evening was Friday, after the library had closed, she was making her way upstairs, weighed down by a stack of heavy books, when her foot sank into a missing step simply because she wasn't paying attention.

"Of all the 'wretched' luck," Hermione muttered, frowning. She tried to climb out on her own. It was impossible without help.

But she wasn't sure anyone would come.

This staircase was a shortcut she had recently discovered---hidden behind a door, with sliding panels and hanging curtains that made it exceptionally secluded. Hardly anyone used it. The quiet had been its appeal, and now it had become its drawback...

What was worse, at this hour most students had already returned to their common rooms, which greatly reduced her chances of being rescued.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Please -- could someone help me?" she called out tentatively, up and down the stairwell, hoping for a stroke of luck. Only silence answered from both ends.

She couldn't help noticing the wall beside the staircase. Dim candlelight flickered across the stone, deepening the eerie atmosphere of corridor.

Hermione's pulse quickened. She raised her voice and tried again, several more times but all she received in return were small, hollow echoes bouncing off the surrounding stone

She pushed and strained on the step, increasingly discouraged, and began flipping miserably through the copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' still clutched in her hands, searching for anything that might help her free herself.

The book, however, appeared to assume that all students made friends at Hogwarts, and that at the very least, no one would want for a friendly hand to pull them out of a missing step.

The all-knowing Hogwarts: 'A History, Hermione, She thought bleakly, and 'it can't offer a single practical solution.'

After nearly half an hour of fruitless waiting, she finally heard footsteps someone coming downstairs.

The sound of leather soles on stone steps, unhurried and easy. At that moment, it was the most welcome sound she had ever heard.

This might be her only real chance of rescue tonight. Who knew when the next person would come?

"Hello--- 'could you possibly--" she looked up and started eagerly, but the words died on her tongue.

It was Lucifer.

'Oh, Merlin. This is mortifying.'

She had spent the entire day being cold and aloof toward him, blanking his friendly greetings and now, apparently, Merlin's retribution had come swiftly, not even waiting out the night.

This boy would certainly take the opportunity to humiliate her.

Hermione lowered her head at once and went back to flipping through her book, determined to pretend she hadn't seen him.

If she was stuck, then she was stuck. She would rather be here all night than ask him for help and give him the satisfaction.

Lucifer had already seen her. He had just been given the cold shoulder by the 'famous' Grey Lady, whom he gone to pay a visit and come downstairs in a low mood only to stumble upon Miss Know-It-All, stuck in the middle of the staircase.

'You little rascal. Typical Hermione Granger recklessness getting herself caught in a disappearing step... '

His mouth twitched.

'Look at her. Gone was the arrogant composure of the daytime. In its place: a girl who looked exactly like a cat that had accidentally stepped into a mousetrap, holding her book up as a shield, guilty and mortified...'

His mood improved at once. He walked calmly to her side, stopped, and tilted his head to look at her. "Need any help?"

"No," she said curtly, eyes fixed on the page.

"What are you doing here?"Lucifer asked, a hint of a smile hovering at his lips.

"Reading." She waved the thick book at him.

"Does reading while wedged in a step do particularly good things for one's concentration?" He raised an eyebrow.

"That's none of 'your business," she said, her face colouring.

Her guilty expression was... rather endearing.

"I can help, if you ask," Lucifer said pleasantly with a warmth in his voice he didn't quite notice himself.

"I don't accept help from people who don't 'follow' rules." She refused to look at him, but she could hear the amusement he was trying to contain.

'He's laughing at me!, she thought furiously.

"Still going on about that? No one even noticed. You need to learn some flexibility." He spoke lightly, as if it were of no consequence whatsoever.

"I have nothing to say to you." Hermione drew herself up with as much dignity as could be managed from a sunken step.

Then, abruptly, the staircase shuddered. It moved with great purpose, apparently bored by the conversation taking place on its back.

In an instant, it gave a mischievous heave that sent them both staggering.

"Arrogant" was suddenly a word that didn't apply to either of them; "dishevelled" was considerably more accurate.

Hermione's book tumbled from her hands and went clattering down the steps. But that was not the worst of it.

The worst of it was that the jolt of the staircase sent her pitching sideways directly onto the boy -- entirely against her wishes. And he caught her shoulder with startling speed, stopping her from falling further.

That was really rather too much. 'Would I have to cling to his clothes in the middle of a spinning staircase and actually thank him?' Hermione wondered, flustered, as the world lurched around her.

The staircase, having spun with tremendous enthusiasm for a good while, eventually ground to a lazy halt. When everything settled, the doors at either end led somewhere entirely different from where they had been.

Both of them let out a breath. They glanced at each other -- and then, in a sudden flash of realisation, said at the same moment:

"Friday!"

On Fridays, some staircases shift erratically, attempting to lead to different places and causing mischief for students...

The shared understanding dissolved some of the awkwardness, and a small, unwilling smile appeared on Hermione's face. Lucifer seemed to feel the same a brief smile crossed his expression too.

"Let me help you." He glanced at where the staircase had brought them, then frowned and said, "These stairs aren't safe..."

If he remembered correctly, this passage led toward the restricted area on the 'third floor'. Not a pleasant place to linger, and meet a dog.

"Yes. Thank you," Hermione said, a faint blush rising, "If it's not too much trouble.."

"Not at all," Lucifer said briskly. He studied Hermione's foot, still embedded in the step, and said with easy practicality, "I'd suggest putting your arms around my neck and holding on as tightly as you can."

Somewhat dazedly, Hermione did as he said. She wrapped her arms around his neck, rested her head on his shoulder and he pulled her into a full embrace and freed her cleanly from the treacherous step.

He set her down on solid ground, a smug gleam in his eyes as he looked her over.

"Better? Still nothing to say to me?"

His smug look made Hermione feel rather put out. She was about to retort when a cat's meow from somewhere below the stairs cut her off--followed by Mr. Filch's agitated voice:

"I heard someone talking up there!

Someone's making trouble on the third floor tonight I'll have them, mark my words! No amount of 'excuses will work!' I'll break out the chains from my office!"

"We have to move. This staircase leads to the restricted corridor on the third floor..." Lucifer's expression sharpened, "If Filch catches us here, there'll be no explaining it. I don't feel like testing Deja-vu..."

"But my book--" Hermione started.

"It fell to the 'first' floor. We'll come back for it." He grabbed Hermione's sleeve and pulled her upward.

"But the third floor is up shouldn't we be going down--" she tried to point out.

"Down to the second floor, straight into Filch? Use your head." Lucifer rolled his eyes and kept pulling, "He's hunting students tonight. He's in the mood..."

"But there's nowhere to hide up here----"

Before she could finish the thought, he had turned sharply right and pulled her into that 'familiar' pitch darkened third-floor corridor black and deeply unpleasant.

At the far end was a door. The very door to restricted area.

"We can't go in there -- there's----!" Hermione gasped for breath and said, somewhat incoherently, "Professor Dumbledore said so. We are definitely going to be 'mauled' this time around."

A three-headed dog was in there, for merline's same. They had already encountered it by accident. But seeing in the situation of protecting school rules, she didn't care to mention exactly what she was talking about....

....wouldn't it mean openly admitting she'd already broken school rules herself? She was deeply conflicted, and didn't mention Fluffy's name for obvious reasons.

"I know!" Lucifer said impatiently, and kept pulling her not toward the door, but behind a statue some distance from it.

By now Filch's complaints and threats were growing louder, and the flicker of a lantern had appeared at the top of the stairwell.

"Are you sure this will work?" she whispered from behind the statue, trembling slightly. "He'll see us."

"No, he won't." Lucifer reached into his robes for the wand, and drew out a shimmering motion of creating a round cloak, enclosing the magical white line around and draped it over both of them.

Hermione stared and watched her own hand disappear, "This is---" she breathed, eyes wide.

"The Disillusionment Charm. It's not perfected. Space is tight come closer, quickly, don't let anything show," he murmured.

....Hermione was transfixed. She had never seen such a thing happen in her life. And, thought she had become a starring ghost actress in a science horror genre.

Besides, Mr. Filch was terrifying. She had no desire to be caught, to have points stripped from her record, or to be subjected to whatever chains he kept mentioning. Panic overrode any self-consciousness. She nestled almost entirely into the shelter of his arms and carefully shifted her feet beneath the silverish gleam, she thought only ones being cast upon could see.

"Will it work? Like the book says," she asked anxiously.

"Not another 'sound," he breathed against her ear.

Hermione held completely still. Filch was getting closer. His cat Mrs. Norris had appeared at the base of the statue and seemed to be sniffing the area with unnerving interest.

'What exactly is that cat detecting?'

Without meaning to, she drew in a small breath-- and caught that same clean, pleasant scent from the collar of her best friend named Lucifer.

She turned her head slightly to look at him. He was watching Mrs. Norris. Watching Filch. The caretaker was right beside them now, his face drawn and furious, his pale eyes passing less than an arm's length away.

She pressed herself tighter to his collar, unsettled by Filch's contorted face and those awful close-set eyes.

Lucifer, however, was utterly still his expression unchanged, one hand curled into a loose fist against her back, the other tight around his wand.

From his expression, she thought, he looked exactly as though he were prepared if Filch so much as glanced directly at them to cast a 'Memory Charm' on the spot. She barely dared breathe.

Fortunately, Mr. Filch found nothing. He snapped at Mrs. Norris and moved off to search elsewhere.

"Can we move now--" Hermione asked in a barely-audible whisper, her entire body stiff from holding the position for so long.

"Wait a little longer," Lucifer said softly, his fist still resting lightly against her back.

Filch's greatest talent was the ambush. He knew his methods all too well from his previous wanderings.

Hermione let out a faint, exhausted sigh and let her head rest against his shoulder. Between being wedged in a step for half an hour, sprinting up and down two flights of stairs, and the prolonged tension of the dark corridor--it had entirely worn out a twelve-year-old girl's 'reserves!'

In the quiet darkness, she found herself drowsy and heavy-eyed. His shoulder was solid. Lucifer had already pulled her free from the step and hadn't said a single sarcastic thing, which was more than she had expected.

This boy--- had been far kinder to her than all the muggle and Gryffindor boys put together. He was also clever and remarkably calm under pressure, having outwitted Mr. Filch with what appeared to be no effort whatsoever...

More importantly, he was both her first and bestfriend, so it wouldn't hurt to rest her head there, just briefly. They couldn't move anyway. 'And there is nothing else to lean on.' Hermione thought, drowsily.

Lucifer felt the weight settle against his shoulder and glanced sideways in surprise. His lips moved, but he said nothing, and let her stay.

How does she have absolutely no guard against him? Not even an hour ago she had been icing him out with spectacular coldness. And now here she was, leaning against his shoulder, completely and trustingly as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Something no one could have predicted in his long life.

This impulsive, infuriating, rather wonderful girl, he thought, and found---Lucifer couldn't quite finish the thought.