Chapter 11 - Chapter 11 - Troll in the Dungeon

The noise from the stairwell interrupted him, in any case sure enough, Filch doubled back, lingering at the far end of the corridor for quite some time before finally leaving.

'He was right', Hermione thought, eyes still closed. Thank goodness she had waited.

This was so different from the last time she, they had wandered into a forbidden area by accident as a group. That time she'd been in a cold sweat the entire time, desperately trying to think her way out while those two idiots blundered about.

This time with just her and Lucifer, she hadn't needed to worry at all. He had simply handled it.

She felt, oddly, less afraid. With him here, it seemed like there wasn't really anything to worry about -- he simply would not let anything go wrong.

And so Hermione closed her eyes, and rested, and let her mind go quiet.

They waited in careful silence for a long while, just in case. Only when the corridor had been completely still for some time did they slip out from under the charmed circle's boundary, end the spell and make their way quietly toward the staircase at other end.

"Wait, Lucifer is it actually allowed, studying such a spell, by a first year no less?" Hermione's mind had begun to clear as they descended, and a thought surfaced, "This shows clearly how you sneak out like this in the middle of the night regularly, right? To read, you had said..."

"What do you think the Spell is made for then?" Lucifer said pleasantly, without any apparent guilt, strolling along at a leisurely pace.

He had the air of a repeat offender who had never once considered stopping.

"This is 'against the rules!" Hermione fell into step beside him, keeping her voice low as she scolded, "You can't keep doing this it's dangerous. What if Filch catches you one night? I know you're good at getting out of trouble, but that won't always work! You can't just use the Disillusionment Charm to do whatever you please, or I'll tell Professor McGonagall---"

"Let me point out," Lucifer said, giving her an irritated look, "that if it weren't for that Charm tonight, we'd both be sitting in Filch's office right now, contemplating his chains. A little gratitude wouldn't go amiss."

This ungrateful girl. She used him and then ignored him!

"Grrr...." Hermione made a derisive sound, clearly unpersuaded.

She knew perfectly well 'forbidden', very complex and difficult spell to be learnt, yet Lucifer had somehow been able to cast it, had saved them tonight but that wasn't the point! Breaking school rules was still wrong, full stop.

"There is a difference between an accidental mishap and a deliberate pattern of behaviour, isn't there?" she said stubbornly.

Lucifer stopped dead. He turned to look at her, and a cold, calculating smile spread across his face. "If you go to Professor McGonagall, you'll be explaining tonight right alongside me. We were in that corridor 'together."

"You're threatening me!" Hermione said, outraged. The gratitude she'd felt--the outraged. The gratitude she'd felt---the sense of safety she'd found in the dark evaporated in an instant, "Your best friend?!"

She glared with a sense of betrayal.

"Yes." Lucifer pursed his lips. He walked to the 'first-floor' landing, picked up Hogwarts: A History from where it had landed on the steps, dusted it off with evident distaste, and held it out to her.

Then that infuriatingly composed face leaned closer to hers -- close enough that she startled backward as though he were genuinely curious about whatever was going on behind her eyes.

Hermione was caught off guard by his sudden nearness. His black eyes were sharp and defiant and, she noticed with some irritation, rather striking. His hair caught the light of the nearby candles and gleamed slightly to appear burnt red in wavering light.

And yet every single word that left his mouth was so thoroughly exasperating that she didn't know what to do with him.

Finally, a wave of desperate indignation surged up inside her. Her face flamed, and she said the worst thing she could think of, sort of thing she'd heard older girls say about the boys they wanted to get rid of.

"You bloody arsehole. Be like this, and I will bite your 'dick off!"

Hermione emphasised her warning with a tugging motion of the palm at the metal waistline, what she probably mused to be belt.

And, then rushed the infuriating boy closer to herself while her fingers messed up the insides of school robes.

In short: her heart was a complete mess. How was she supposed to feel about her best friend who helped her and then cheerfully admitted to breaking every rule in the book?

He had also --very coolly and openly --threatened her. Even if his face was rather well put together, he was still thoroughly awful.

Those dreadful dark eyes. Which were, admittedly, quite pretty.

And he smelled really good too.

Hermione's grip tightened on that 'fabric' she was in contact with below as she breathed heavily through her nose, displaying the terrible mood she was in.

A few moments later, they walked the rest of the way to the Gryffindor common room in sullen silence, with Hermione clutching the book he had retrieved for her, looking thoroughly dejected.

She climbed through the portrait of the Fat Lady in a state of considerable internal conflict, with a flush of pink barely concealed--entirely ignoring the boy trailing quietly behind her, his expression like a badly knotted pretzel.

xxxxxx

The days that followed fell into a steady rhythm.

Lucifer found it hard to believe that it was only three days away until his two month mark of being at Hogwarts, but it was true.

He simply wanted peace. A sanctuary where people like Malfoy didn't come to bother him. And in that, he had succeeded----First-years were now behaving. They played among themselves, steered clear of him, and left him in peace.

As the new students settled into Hogwarts life, professors began turning up the pressure. Lessons grew tougher. Assignments multiplied.

The cheerful faces from the first week were gone---replaced by worn expressions, arms full of heavy textbooks and rolls of parchment.

The common rooms turned into hubs of collective suffering, students hunched over desks groaning about essays and potion ingredients.

But the smiles hadn't vanished. They had simply... migrated--to the upper years, who now watched the first-years with smug satisfaction.

"Oh, not smiling anymore?"

You really thought Hogwarts was all fun and games, huh? Thought you could coast through?

In the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Ron were once again pleading with Hermione to "lend" them her Potions homework. To their surprise, she was still writing it.

"Wait, what?" Harry blinked. "Didn't you finish the Potions essay yesterday?"

Hermione didn't even look up. Her quill flew across the parchment.

"That was the History of Magic essay. You're misremembering."

Ron and Harry exchanged glances.

Really? Why did it feel like Hermione was always doing homework? She worked harder than both of them, yet somehow her assignments were never done---?

Suddenly, it struck Harry---Ron didn't know, of course, that she was secretly doing Lucifer's homework, too.

What had started as an offhand suggestion had turned into a personal revelation for her----Writing something twice meant reviewing it twice. Different arguments, new insights---it was like doubling her 'revision time.'

She felt stronger, sharper. Her knowledge had never felt this firm.

Even if Lucifer didn't ask her anymore, she would probably continue doing everything twice. That's just how terrifying she was.

Harry stopped out of humanity but Ron tried his luck again, only to be ruthlessly denied.

"If you have time to interrupt me," Hermione snapped without looking up, her tone borderline dangerous, "you have time to write your own paragraph, Weasley."

Harry had to physically drag an indignant Ron away.

Even as they left the room, Ron kept muttering bitterly, as he glanced over at Lucifer resting on the armchair, his attention focused reading a book, "What's her problem? All she does these days is write essays and hang out with her friend, Lucifer. She doesn't even treat us like housemates anymore..."

"They have history, she knows him before entering school, they are best friends like us," Harry said quietly. He only hated Slytherins, ones like Malfoy, who wore their blood status like a badge of honor.

Lucifer was a housemate, he had helped him out---given him that brilliant idea to get back at Malfoy, and even saved one of his potions from blowing up in class.

To Harry, that was a debt of honor.

"I know they are glued," Ron grumbled, "But Hermione could at least be a little nicer to us."

Harry didn't respond. He just shook his head, nothing could be done about that, what she does was her business.

October really had passed quickly. The last week arrived with a sudden, bitter chill in the air. Many young witches and wizards who hadn't swapped into warmer robes came down with colds, and the Hospital Wing now had queues snaking out the door daily----But the Quidditch players? They still had to train-rain, wind, or frost.

The first match of season was set for the weekend after Halloween: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin.

The rivalry alone was enough to make the match feel like a war.

In the days leading up to it, the pitch was constantly booked, sealed off for private practices. No one else was allowed in.

Gryffindor's captain, Oliver Wood, had hoped to keep Harry as a secret weapon. He hadn't counted on Ron, the moment Nimbus 2000 was delivered in the Great Hall.

And, in yet another heated argument with Malfoy, Ron had blurted it out---Harry Potter joined as their Seeker, even revealing the exact position.

The youngest Seeker in over a century. Word spread like wildfire.

Wood could only sigh, "Well, at least no one knows how well Harry can actually fly," he reasoned. "Maybe they'll underestimate him."

Lucifer, meanwhile, paid Quidditch no mind. That was the Chosen One's sport. Sure, winning the Quidditch Cup earned your house a mountain of points---But honestly?

It didn't matter how far ahead you were. In the end, something always seemed to happen that let Gryffindor pull off a heroic feast of reducing house points.

Last minute comebacks were not even something, he considered for these blockheads, unless Dumbledore started barking like mad, rained his own house with bonus points---- that also didn't have any chance, if history records of Slytherin went anything by.

Plus, there was another issue-his magic was growing too fast, too wild. His energy levels were skyrocketing.

xxxxxx

The day before Halloween, the Great Hall was filled with the warm, comforting aroma of roasted pumpkins from the early morning.

When Lucifer arrived, he just happened to see Hagrid lugging in one of his massive, homegrown pumpkins.

Hagrid froze for a second when he noticed the boy watching him. But then he gave a slightly awkward yet kind smile, nodded in Lucifer's direction, and quickly continued on his way---noticeably picking up his pace..... ??

Lucifer shook his head. Voldemort really left behind a mess of Slytherins, didn't he? One man's legacy had completely tarnished their house's name.

Here he was, a perfectly well-behaved and high-achieving student, yet everywhere he went, he was met with suspicion---all because Lucifer might be a Slytherin's spy admitted into Gryffindor' by Dumbledore.

"What are you staring at?" Hermione's curious voice snapped him from his thoughts. She glanced at Lucifer, who had suddenly stopped and was still watching Hagrid disappear around the corner.

A moment later, realization lit up her face. "Oh! You're craving pumpkin now, aren't you? There's definitely going to be tons of pumpkin dishes today!"

Lucifer shook his head, "I'm not a fan. The sweet flavor feels a bit odd-except maybe in pumpkin soup, that I can handle...."

"I was just looking at Hagrid's coat," he added, "It's made from mole hide. Just imagine how many moles he'd have to kill to make that."

Hermione had zero interest in mole hides---but she 'did' silently note that he didn't like pumpkin.

She vaguely remembered that Lucifer had a thing for meat--especially beef and chicken wings. Anytime those were on the menu, he'd go back for seconds without fail---

Over time, the little witch had been collecting all sorts of tidbits about Lucifer's preferences---probably knew him better than he knew himself by now.

Her plan was simple: 'take good care of Lucifer, little by little, until one day, he couldn't live without me. Hehe...'

xxxxx

Today was Halloween and tomorrow would mark his two month arrival at Hogwarts and his away from the underworld.

He was actually hoping someone would show up, but no one contacted him yet, and couldn't believe how well his life had actually been at Hogwarts.

Lucifer had become good friends with a human girl who was able to keep him intellectually engaged and even though neither of them acknowledged it, they still had a small rivalry between them, in who could get new spells correct first.

Hermione hadn't actually cared who it was between the both of them; sometimes it was her, other times it was him but they had fun with it, so it mattered little.

After breakfast, the students of Gryffindor and Slytherin made their way to the Charms classroom.

Charms had recently become one of the most popular subjects. No need to mention Snape---he terrified even the Slytherins.

Transfiguration and Herbology were fun too, but one had a strict professor and high difficulty, and the other involved a lot of hands---on work that left you muddy and sore.

Instead of feeling like a wizard, you'd end up looking like a farmer.

Charms, on the other hand, was actually enjoyable. Professor Flitwick was witty, kind, and patient with young witches and wizards---and best of all, there were lots of practical exercises. Students regularly got to learn new spells.

What's that? Defense Against the Dark Arts? Forget it. This wasn't a battle of subjects, it was a battle of professors---and that one was a total joke.

Quirrell had managed to disappoint just about everyone. Most students treated his class like a free period. The older students had already started betting on what ridiculous reason he'd be sacked for.

Most guesses revolved around his utter incompetence-or maybe some mysterious "unforeseen danger."

No one, absolutely no one, suspected he might be 'evil', or 'doing anything criminal.' From that angle... his disguise was working pretty well.

Back to Charms---today's lesson had everyone buzzing with excitement.

Professor Flitwick walked into class and announced cheerily that he believed the students were now ready to try making objects 'levitate.'

Eyes sparkled across the room as they watched him enchant Neville's toad, Trevor, sending it bouncing and soaring through the air like a balloon in a storm.

Everyone was dying to give it a try.

Then Flitwick began pairing students up. He might've been the only professor who didn't sort groups by House.

Oddly enough, Hermione got paired with Daphne, while Lucifer ended up with Neville. 'Perhaps... Flitwick hoped I could help the poor boy along?'

"H-hi, Lucifer," Neville stammered nervously.

He was the type of student who felt instinctively intimidated by smart kids like Lucifer. But he also kind of admired him---not for the grades, but for how calmly he handled Snape.

Neville's knees practically turned to jelly whenever Snape so much as looked at him. Lucifer gave him a friendly nod, then turned his attention to Professor Flitwick.

"Don't forget the wrist movement we practiced!" Flitwick reminded them. "Too much force or too little flick, and the spell will fail."

"It's a swish and a flick-remember, swish... flick! With a pause in between. Feel the rhythm! And pronunciation is vital-don't be like that wizard Baruffio, who said an 'F' instead of an 'S' and ended up flat on his back with a buffalo standing on his chest!"

As soon as he finished the sentence, Flitwick regretted it. He could see the gleam of mischief in the students' eyes. Kids are like that---if you tell them not to do something, it's as if you've lit a fire under their feet.

Quickly, Flitwick doubled down, describing in detail how Baruffio had most of his ribs shattered and nearly turned into magical roadkill. Only when the students began to look horrified did he breathe a sigh of relief---

He then slowed down his wand movements and demonstrated the spell two more times before finally letting the students practice.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

Lucifer was the first to strike--his reflexes sharp and his form flawless. Before any of the other students had even finished saying the spell, feather in front of him floated up gently, wobbling through the air as if it were dancing the tango.

"A marvelous Levitation Charm! Gryffindor' earns two points!"

Flitwick clapped.

Hermione shot him a sharp look, cheeks puffed in frustration, and quickly began casting the spell herself.

Flitwick, by now, wasn't even surprised. Lucifer's immediate success clearly meant he had already mastered the spell prior to today.

But that didn't stop the professor from giving praise where it was due. When students outpaced the curriculum, especially through talent and hard work, they deserved to be recognized.

That said... Flitwick 'had' started dialing back the house points. What used to be ten or five points was now more like one or two.

They couldn't let Lucifer rack up so many points that the House Cup was over before it began.

Ironically, Hermione was actually his biggest obstacle to earning points. The two were in constant competition, first to cast, first to score.

If he really wanted, he could just ask her to ease off---but he didn't see the point. If he needed people to go easy on him for such a small matter, then what was the point of all his "cheats"?

Most of Lucifer's academic success came from his own relentless study, not just a few scattered house points---

After his success, both Hermione and Daphne also managed to cast the spell correctly---clearly they'd practiced it before as well, getting rewarded three points each to their respective house.

She earned more than Lucifer's, and passed him a "smug look" from her seat. Seeing three students succeed so quickly made the rest of the class anxious and frustrated.

They'd watched Flitwick's demonstrations carefully--he'd explained everything so clearly. Why was it so hard when they tried?

Harry and Seamus gave it a go-swish, flick---but their feathers didn't budge.

Frustrated, the latter tried putting more power into his wand movement.

'BOOM!'

The feather caught fire-vanishing into ashes in a flash, leaving Seamus with a completely blackened face.

The feather caught fire-vanishing into ashes in a flash, leaving Seamus with a completely blackened face.

Professor Flitwick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Seamus was truly his nemesis. Since the beginning of term, he'd already destroyed half the classroom equipment, and just last week, he nearly singed off Flitwick's eyebrows.

Why did every single spell Seamus cast end in an explosion?

He couldn't understand it.

Nor could Lucifer. In fact, on more than one occasion during Charms and Transfiguration, he had tried to observe the boy's inner soul, leaving him---dazed and confused.

He simply couldn't fathom how someone could mess up a levitation charm and accidentally turn it into an 'explosive one.' The boy certainly had weird talents.

"He moved! It moved!" Ron shouted excitedly. Professor Flitwick turned just in time and waved his wand to close the window.

"Mr. Weasley, that wasn't your spell-it was the breeze," Flitwick corrected.

The entire class burst out laughing. Ron's face turned beet red.

"Longbottom, your turn," Lucifer urged when he noticed Neville hesitating. "If there's a problem, I can help you figure it out."

"O-oh, okay!"

Neville was visibly flustered, but also thrilled---Lucifer Morningstar was offering to help him! He quickly lifted his wand and cast the charm in one go. Nothing happened. At all.

Lucifer shook his head. "Your pronunciation is spot on, but your pauses are all wrong. Win-gar-dium Levi-o-sa. The pause has to be clear," he instructed patiently, "Don't be afraid of going too slow---what matters is that every syllable is distinct. And the last word needs to rise in tone, like a crescendo-layered, uplifting."

He explained in great detail. Neville understood him... but executing it was another story entirely.

So, Lucifer tried a different approach---he told Neville to sing the spell as if it were a song lyric. That worked much better. The feather twitched slightly but didn't lift off.

Still, Neville looked thrilled. Lucifer, on the other hand, frowned.

"Longbottom, this wand... did you get it from Ollivanders?"

Neville flinched, and with a sad look, whispered, "It was my father's wand. My gran wants me to be as brilliant as he was, so she gave it to me...."

"That explains the disconnect." Lucifer nodded in realization. He had noticed earlier---the wand kept quivering in Neville's hand, as if it didn't recognize its wielder. That resistance alone could ruin spellcasting.

"My advice: get a different wand," He said bluntly, not caring theatrics of his personal feelings, "You already struggle with memorization and spellwork. Pair that with a wand that refuses to obey you... frankly, your gran is holding you back'. If you want to become a great wizard, it's not about clinging to sentimental heirlooms... You need the right tools."

Lucifer couldn't understand what Neville's grandmother was thinking. It's not like the Longbottoms were poor---a new wand would be nothing to their family.

'What, did she think using this relic would suddenly make Neville awaken hidden potential and rise to become an Auror like his father? That kind of thinking was just delusional....'

Lucifer knew he shouldn't speak too freely, but whether Neville took his advice or not was up to him. As long as he spoke his mind, that was enough.

Neville lowered his head, lost in thought. Meanwhile, a conflict suddenly erupted between Hermione and Ron.

Ron was flailing his arms around like a windmill,shouting, and waved his arms like a madman, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

He tried several times without success. Hermione, who was seated just across the table, finally couldn't take it anymore and, corrected him, "Your motion's all wrong, and your pronunciation has no emotion at all. No wonder it's not working...."

Ron waved again for a good measure just to irritate her, while he was at it.



"Stop, stop, stop. You're going to poke someone's eye out, plus, you're saying it wrong," Lucifer watched Hermione as she proceeded to show him how to do it right, "It's Levi-o-sa not Levi-o-sar."

Then she demonstrated the correct technique.

"Aren't you just brilliant!" Ron snapped at her and turned away angrily, resuming his windmill swinging with even more aggression.

By the end of the lesson, he was completely falling apart.

"No wonder nobody can stand her. Honestly, I bet she doesn't have a single friend. A living nightmare!"

He didn't shout, but he didn't bother lowering his voice either. Hermione's face turned pale instantly.

Daphne, who had remained silent until now, furrowed her brows and gave him a sharp look, "Weasley, is this the kind of upbringing your family teaches---talking behind people's backs? No, wait---you said that to her face. That's even worse."

"I truly can't imagine a more disgraceful pure-blood."

Hermione looked at Daphne in stunned disbelief. She never expected someone like her to speak up on her behalf.

"What's it to you?" Ron turned crimson, caught red-handed. "It's not your business, Slytherin."

Daphne's expression turned even more disdainful. It reminded Harry of how Malfoy looked at Ron---disgusted and superior.

He never would've imagined that sweet, doll-like Daphne Greengrass', who usually spent her time alone, with an air of cold icy aura, aloof temperament, had this side to her.

"You may not be my business, but you were insulting my rival," She said coldly. "So I have every right to insult you back. What? Can't handle the truth?" she sneered for rubbing the wounds deep, "As Malfoy says... you're the perfect example of double standards. Rude, vulgar, untalented... Compared to your brothers, you're pathetic...."

Thud-!

That hit Ron right in the pride. It was a direct hit, brutally honest, and devastating. The one thing he hated most was being compared to his brothers. It only emphasized how mediocre he was, how little he stood out-like he wasn't even a real Weasley, just some kid they'd picked up off the street.

Bill was Head Boy. Charlie was Quidditch Captain and Head Boy. Percy was a prefect and very likely on track to become a Head Boy too.

Even the twins-though not prefects, were wildly popular. Their word held more sway in Gryffindor than Percy's ever could. And Ron? What did he have? Just as the bell rang-salvation, he grabbed his books and bolted for the door, ignoring Harry's attempt to stop him.

Hermione exited the classroom with Daphne, hesitating before saying softly, "Thank you."

"For what?" Daphne didn't look at her. She weaved through the crowd, heading towards her friends, Bulstrode, and Davis, "I just can't stand watching Weasley be jealous of someone else because he's useless. It had nothing to do with you."

Hermione said earnestly, "Whatever the reason, you stood up for me. That means a lot...."

"Well, don't read too much into it. That was just incidental."

Hermione looked down, but then asked nervously, "When you said I was your rival... was that just to shut Ron up?"

"Oh, that..." Daphne's gaze flicked away, "Let's say... I couldn't stand such childish behaviour in front of me."

Then, she literally stormed off.

Hermione's gloomy mood lifted instantly. When she finally found Lucifer at the back exit, she was already smiling again.

He raised an eyebrow, hearing their private chat clearly from the long distance, and hustle-bustle, "Why do I get the feeling you two suddenly became best friends?"

Normally, when these two sat on the same table in Library, Lucifer had to adjust his seat between them like a human buffer. Now, they practically exited class shoulder to shoulder, almost holding hands.

"You wouldn't believe what just happened..." Hermione started eyes bright, eager to tell him everything.

Lucifer's glare because of Ron had now somewhat eased as he listened. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes dry, lips curled into a smile-clearly unaffected by Ron's words. No crying at least, he'd heard teen girls had a habit of doing it in girls' bathroom in private.

Score one for Daphne.

"Well done, Daphne," Lucifer said, patting Granger lightly on the head. She beamed, eyes practically turning into crescent moons at the touch.

"Hermione, you really don't need to take Weasely's words to heart."

After praising her, Lucifer immediately began pouring a fresh round of soul-soothing chicken soup into Hermione's heart, "What you just saw was nothing more than a 'weak man' expressing envy and jealousy."

"Think about it---doesn't Weasely's behavior just now remind you of what Malfoy did to me not too long ago?" Hermione's expression turned contemplative. Of course, she remembered what had happened recently.

Now that he mentioned it, there was a resemblance. The only difference was that Malfoy had deliberately gone out of his way to provoke Lucifer, while Ron... had flown into a rage simply because she had pointed out his mistake while casting a spell.

'Looking at it this way---was Ron actually worse than Malfoy? At least Malfoy's outburst had a clear motive---to push himself further. Ron's, on the other hand, was just petty embarrassment---'

"See it clearly now?" Lucifer said with a calm smile, "Doesn't matter if it's Slytherin or Gryffindor---every house has people like this. They can't accept that they're ordinary, and they want everyone else to be as mediocre as they are.....When you show kindness, they'll see it as mockery. Don't waste your energy getting upset over people like that---they're not worth it. And don't try to change their fate. Just focus on your own..."

Hermione gave a firm nod. "You're right, Lucifer. Learning magic is what really matters."

"Exactly."

With a snap of his fingers, he led her up the staircase. "And of course, friends matter too... Who says you don't have friends? You and I have known each other for months now---aren't we friends? And Daphne stuck her neck out for you---doesn't that make her your friend?"

'It absolutely does not,'

She could imagine Daphne muttering that, cheeks slightly pink as she turned her head. Hermione beamed, the lingering gloom in her heart completely dissipated. 'Just like he said---getting angry at people like Ron is utterly pointless.'

xxxxxx

Because it was Halloween, the feast tonight would last longer than usual. It would end just before curfew, so after their afternoon classes, Lucifer moved up Hermione's training session and brought her to the nearest empty classroom, and charmed it to be closed.

A month of consistent training had started to pay off. Her magical stamina and total magical output had both improved significantly----

More importantly, she had finally grasped the feeling of spellcasting, something that let her apply her magic far more smoothly across a wide range of spells. From now on, learning new spells would be a breeze....

Just in the past week alone, she'd mastered five spells. She was practically glowing with joy. All the hard work she'd poured in over the last few weeks had finally borne fruit.

After an hour of training, Lucifer handed her a vial of revitalizing potion to restore--- her drained mental focus.

As for her physical energy? She'd need to refuel at the feast.

By the time the two of them arrived at the Great Hall, familiar space had transformed entirely.

Thousands of bats flapped along the walls and ceiling. Some hung in clusters while others flew in slow, lazy spirals overhead---like dark, low-hanging clouds swirling above the long tables.

Hundreds of floating jack-o'-lanterns flickered eerily, candlelight blinking from inside their hollowed-out shells.

Aside from the Start-of-Term Feast, Lucifer had never seen this many ghosts appear at once---practically every ghost in Hogwarts was present.

Moaning Myrtle from the girls' bathroom and the Ravenclaw house ghost, the Grey Lady, were the only notable absentees.

He had never seen Myrtle before, but the Grey Lady had left quite an impression---an ethereal beauty with an icy demeanor and a distinct, deep scar running across her chest.

'Yes, a real scar.'

"Come on, Lucifer!" Hermione called from ahead. The festively transformed Great Hall had her practically bouncing with excitement. She had never spent a holiday with so many people before.

Lucifer picked up the pace. As he passed through the doors, he glanced over at the Slytherin table. Daphne Greengrass' was chatting cheerfully with Tracey Davis.

---Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe she sensed his gaze-but she looked up right at that moment.

Their eyes met. Daphne gave him a playful wink. Lucifer smiled back. After everything that had happened that morning, she really did seem a lot more cheerful.

As they walked past the Hufflepuff table, a snippet of conversation drifted into Lucifer's ears. Justin Finch-Fletchley was talking to an upper-year student----

Justin sounded troubled, "Are you sure those bats won't... you know, poop? What if it drops right into someone's food?"

"No worries. If it falls in, just scoop it out within three seconds. As long as it's quick, it doesn't count as real contact. Trust me, I've got experience."

"..."

'Hufflepuffs, of course. Holiday spirit meant nothing to them if it got in the way of eating....'

And now that he heard it, Lucifer couldn't 'unsee' it. He found himself constantly glancing up at the bats while eating, half-expecting one of them to dive-bomb his plate at any second.

"What are you looking at?" Hermione asked suspiciously. She noticed that he was pausing every few bites to glance upward.

Lucifer hesitated, then reluctantly shared what he'd just overheard.

Now Hermione Granger went silent. She immediately regretted asking. One look at the wicked smirk on his face told her everything---'he'd done it on purpose, arsehole!'

She instinctively pinched his arm, then leaned over and whispered the story to Parvati Patil.

Her face twisted like she'd swallowed a fly. She retaliated by spreading the rumor to another roommate.

And just like that, the tale spread like a contagious curse. Soon, every Gryffindor' student at the table looked utterly miserable, especially Ron Weasely, whose mood only worsened----Eat or don't eat---they were stuck in limbo.

Nobody could be sure whether any...

"foreign substance" had already dropped onto their plates when they weren't looking. Some were even tempted to cast a spell and drive the bats away entirely.

'Why don't you go hover over the Slytherin table, you flying demons?!'

Meanwhile, the culprit-Lucifer---sat happily finishing his food, waiting for the chaos to unfold.

Feeling bored, he chatted casually with Neville while watching the professors, who were almost unrecognizable tonight, Hermione went to the loo, she'd already tried eating some of her plate, and now wanted to get it out stomach, before it gets upset, and she had to spend next days in the Hospital Wing.

.....Professor Flitwick couldn't stop grinning. He even wore a little goblin hat--clearly poking fun at himself.

Professor Sprout's robes were covered in cartoonish evil pumpkins and miniature demon bats-clearly tailored for the occasion.

Even the normally stern Professor McGonagall was smiling, locked in a drinking contest with Dumbledore, who was wearing a hat shaped like bat wings.

Halloween, originally born from Celtic traditions over two thousand years ago, was "absorbed" into Christian customs during the 8th century.

Pope Gregory III had declared November 1st as All Saints' Day, transforming a pagan celebration into a day to honor saints rather than demons.

Christmas, Easter---the more you looked at these holidays, the less they seemed related to wizarding culture. After all, the Church and wizarding world were mortal enemies.

Countless witches had been persecuted, burned at the stake, or crucified in the name of "righteousness."

"There was no way wizards would willingly celebrate Jesus's birth or resurrection...."

And yet, here they were. Over time, Muggle-borns and half-bloods had subtly shaped wizarding traditions.

And they'd done it so thoroughly that most purebloods didn't even find it odd anymore. But while the whole hall was buzzing with festivity, there was one person who didn't fit in at all.

Professor Snape sat expressionless, a hint of sorrow in his eyes, cutting into his steak with mechanical precision-bite after bite after bite.

No one was particularly surprised. Snape never struck anyone as someone who cared about holidays.

Harry's motions didn't look any better, if you ask Lucifer who knew.

Ten years ago to the day,

'James Potter' 'Lily Evans--Potter' had died at the hands of Voldemort. For everyone else, today was Halloween.

For Harry Potter---it was the day his parents died. His Mum and Dad's death anniversary. A personal torment, he realized, he also had no idea what to say next to cheer a sullen

looking Ron....

What could he do? His red-head friend was emotionally shattered after Daphne verbally eviscerated him? He'd already spent so long trying to comfort him--now he couldn't even enjoy the feast, because of bat's poop possibly mixed in...?

Ron was mentally obliterated.

'BANG!'

The heavy oak doors burst open with a thunderous crack, instantly breaking the festive buzz. Every head in the Great Hall turned instinctively toward the noise.

Professor Quirrell staggered in, face pale and wild with panic. He'd barely made it five steps before tripping over his own robes and crashing headfirst to the ground---right between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables.

"A t-troll... in the dungeons... thought you should know---" And just like that, he collapsed in a heap.

'The entire act seemed... fake.'

The Great Hall instantly erupted into chaos. Dumbledore had to shoot several bursts of fireworks from his wand to get the room back under control----

"Prefects," he said in a deep voice, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories. At once."

The House prefects leapt into action. But what Lucifer knew he had to find Hermione right fucking now---

Slytherin's own---Eustace Burke--was just about to stand and take charge when he froze mid-motion.

He was looking at Lucifer

Lucifer was looking right back at him.

Cold sweat rolled down Burke's forehead. Without another word, he sat his butt straight back down and went utterly mute.

He'd gotten a little too comfortable lately, what with this horrifying monster' not bothering to interfere in anything---He'd almost forgotten that

Lucifer Morningstar 'was' still his superior. Good thing he hadn't gotten cocky. Otherwise, boy would've definitely held a grudge.

What Lucifer only knew, he had to find Hermione Granger---'right fucking now!'

Lucifer lifted his chin, his eyes practically glowing with deep---like a general in battle, and without so much as a glance---stepped squarely on Quirrell's head as he marched past.

Quirrell, still 'playing dead', nearly exploded on the spot.

"Damn you, Lucifer Morningstar! This orphaned mudblood trying to be the Dark Lord!"

His heart screamed in outrage, but before he could process the pain, it hit him like a freight train----

"How dare you insult, bringing up my past----! That's not allowed! How dare you curse the great Lord Voldemort!"

The enraged voice of Voldemort shrieked through Quirrell's skull, it made him remember his own Gaunt lineage, that Muggle of a----Sharing the same background pattern was already an insult enough to bring his scars back... But now this impudent brat had literally stomped on the Dark Lord's face?

And Voldemort wasn't done.

"Why were you lying face-down?! If you'd laid on your back, it wouldn't have been my face he stepped on!"

Quirrell wanted to cry but had no tears. 'Wasn't I trying to protect you, my lord?' he thought desperately. 'If I'd fallen backwards, your head would've slammed into the stone floor!'

Now it was somehow his fault.

Of course, he couldn't say any of that. Instead, he silently redirected all his rage toward Morningstar. But even then, he didn't dare use any other mud-or half bloods insults in his mind, since it was like enraging Voldemort's own dark history.

So "that brat" would have to do. But the worst part? The real horror was still to come. Once Lucifer had gone ahead, the other students followed hurriedly in uneven formation.

Due to the chaos of rowdy students, Neville who was beside Lucifer, came to be the next----'Stomp!' as he struggled to be in line of Percy's shout.

The rest of the students quickly caught on among the uproar. All eyes of Slytherin turned to Burke.

"First-years, form a line and follow me. Then second-years, third-years-older students in the back!"

Leading the charge, after Burke was none other than Malfoy. Wherever he went, rest of the scared Slytherins followed. Same pace. Same route.

Which meant...

BOOM.

Voldemort got stomped again.

Then again.

And again.

Student after student from Slytherin trampled poor 'Quirrell' like he was just part of the furniture. If this had been any other House, maybe a few kids would've hesitated at the idea of stepping on a professor.

But Slytherin?

'Not even a blink!'

No one liked Quirrell anyway. They considered him an absolute joke.

Maybe they didn't realize he was down there. Or maybe they did---and just didn't care. It didn't matter. The damage was done. After close to a 'hundred face-smashes', Voldemort was emotionally numb. The worst part? Many of the students trampling over him were descendants of his former Death Eaters----

Meanwhile, Lucifer concentrated on his wand, "point me: Hermione Granger" and his wand lifted up a couple inches from his hand and started to spin. 'Please work....please work....'

After several moments, it stopped moving, and pointed out towards the direction of the hallway, which leads to the girl's bathroom, there were two located on entirely different routes, cause of the 'four' House Entrance's.

Quirrell's suffering went unnoticed.

As the students were escorted out, Dumbledore quickly assigned professors to sweep the castle floor by floor in search of the troll.

He exchanged a brief look with Snape, who understood instantly, gave a slight nod, and vanished into the shadows without saying a word-headed straight for the 3rd-floor corridor.

....Lucifer immediately started sprinting, and after coming across many empty rooms, which may have been used for the extra subjects, that were taught at Hogwarts in previous years, he could hear the muffled snobs----When he took a peek, and saw that no one was inside, except the weeping girl.

He entered the bathroom and knocked three times on her door.

"Who is there?!" Hermione asked while crying, as she'd just puked.

"Not the time, it's dangerous, are you going to open the fucking door or I have to break it and get detention?"

His tone wasn't polite, which made the girl realise he was serious about this, Hermione didn't want Lucifer to get disciplined because of her fault.

That's why, she decided to open the door, and Lucifer also sighed in relief, "Here, I thought you were going to let me be tortured. Quickly, place isn't safe----"

Hermione just gave him a small smile in return, "It's not a torture, you just like to exaggerate some things," but, even though, her first response was just another complain, she still threw her arms around his neck, feeling light headed from eating unhygienic food----

"...." Lucifer, who was hugged, his brain momentarily went blank.

'This....what should I do?' He wasn't exposed to this kind of touchy behaviour yet, the things done in his bed, are not similar to the one Lucifer's experiencing now, it was quite a different.... new, feeling.

So, he tried to do the same, that he did with the three-headed dog, on 3rd floor, just pat her head. 

Only, Hermione didn't stop his actions, and got this weird feeling to, "Please, don't stop," she muttered in a low voice, and snuggled deeper into Lucifer's arms, and to her it was perfect, it didn't matter they were on the bathroom floor.

Her face was buried into the crook of Lucifer's neck, and because of the comfort, she received from him, her slow hiccupping had already stopped--- but it nearby came back again, when she heard his next words.

Hermione felt her ears had started to mishear things, pupils widened to the back of her head----'HAAh!"

Naturally, the troll incident became the hot topic of their discussion. Where had it come from? How had it gotten in?

Amid her terror of a chatter, her body couldn't exactly move to run away, instead somehow took the opportunity to roast Dumbledore and Quirrell.

"Hogwarts," She scoffed, "supposedly the safest place in the magical world-and yet there's a full-blown troll wandering around?"

And Quirrell? Sure, trolls were terrifying. Ridiculously strong, freakish magical resistance, and massive physical power. But wasn't he the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?

'Wasn't this literally his job?!'

"He didn't even fight the troll. He just showed up, blurted a warning, and collapsed like a fainting goat....?!"

In Hermione's mind, Easily the worst professor Hogwarts had ever seen.

And likely 'ever' would see.

Lucifer from above suddenly pricked up his ears, boring down, heavy footseps, the girls in his arms had pinched her nose because of some foul some coming towards them.



'Oh no...!' What the hell was I doing?? Standing here, of all the places, there was a troll on loose, Merlin!'

'Cant' a girl not even go to bathroom alone without the danger of being kille----wahhh!'

The air reeked of something foul-sour, rotting, eye-wateringly pungent. Lucifer also clapped a hand over his nose. Troll stench. They both now smelled like they'd crawled out of a barrel of pickled herring.

xxxxxxx

They were going to be beaten to a pulp, just because she couldn't hold it in for a---this time, surely, she would die, and meet her Dad----

Lucifer suddenly heard her screaming and saw a troll who was coming towards them, raising its club so high, it might burst into light abo---on quickly adjusting himself to get in a battle position, he pushed the girl aside and moved at an inhumane speed to step away from him----

'WhAM!' Clink---zroomm----

The Troll has smashed through the wall separating the boys and girls bathroom, which alerted Moaning Myrtle who was holiday peeping----

And, her flying body was stunned. Then, Troll for some reason became obsessed with trying to smash Myrtle, unfortunately for the beast, it's pretty hard to hit a ghost.

"L-Lucifer....?!"

"Stay put there, she's already dead---"

Enraged and flailing madly, the troll lost balance while swinging it's clun----the next thing Hermione saw, Lucifer's eyes went red, transformed its club into a giant needle---!~

----and used Floating spell to jam the entire needle rod in the Troll's head, who died a horrible death. There was blood everywhere, pieces of his brain all over the floor.

Even Hermione's clothes were soaked with blood and she looked at Lucifer slightly afraid of him, then.... a hand was moved, and there were no longer any.... both of their robes, it was just like, when they first bought them together at Madam Malkins.

The once-functional bathroom now looked like a battlefield, part of the head missing of Troll with metal plunged inside----completely dead creature was now bounded by heavy chains, while four enchanted golems from wooden chunks gripped it's chains tightly, keeping it restrained.

Just in case, if for some reason, it still started to move----

Only, then girl with bushy-brown hair, seemed to have a smile on her face, and it wasn't normal, if Lucifer had to describe it in a word, creepy, and she silently walked towards him, and for a moment, a warm sensation was felt on his cheek, and then, the other one.

----He tried to find the origin, and it was Hermione, who was clinging to his body, doting on him, with her right hand on his cheek, and she looked very busy in peppering his face with small kisses, his forehead, cheeks, nose, there was just a lot of lips being forced all over his face, and even a quick peck was given on his lips.

"..." Lucifer, who felt like, he was still on his bed and dreaming, but in the end, it's not, "Herm-

But, the girl didn't even give him a chance to say anything, instead she just went towards his earlobe, and bit it quite hard, leaving a mark on them, using her two-front teeth, which was the reason, she was named a beaver, and whispered in a very unlike Hermione voice,

"You are mine now, Daddy!"

"....." Lucifer's jaw dropped, and it seemed to make a hole big enough for a mosquito, to fly into. 'What on dad's name went wrong?!' Did she get possessed----'

The Professor McGonagall, Snape and a still-dusty Quirrell arrived as if in cue, they were flabbergasted at the scene before them---- bloody mess on the floor, which almost caused them to empty their stomachs.

All were gathered around the wreckage. Surrounded by professors, stood Lucifer, Hermione, and a bespectacled ghost.

"What in Merlin's name were you three thinking?!"

Professor Mcgonagall's lips were pinched tight, and eyes blazed with fury behind her glasses.

"I told you to return to your dorms! What are you doing here?!"

And, it wasn't Lucifer who gave the answer, the boy was just too shocked, and busy touching his cheeks, his face was pale as a sheet, Hermione didn't look much better--- face slightly drenched in dirty water, looking utterly pathetic.

"Sorry, Professor. I'd went to the bathroom, I felt like puking cause of bat poop---so I didn't hear warning, Lucifer came to pick me up--- then we ran into... this thing."

She said this, her fists slightly clenching behind her, it was like, she just wanted to punch someone, maybe Ron Weasely's face for ridiculing insults on her.

....Next few seconds, she explained as best she could about Lucifer's eyes glowing red, and turning club into a big needle, and then blasting the Troll's head, including Myrtle's heroic, as she took on the creature's attendance for him to kill it----

Minerva, was all aware of Lucifer's ancestry after Dumbledore informed her that day, but told her to keep it a secret from all students, including Lucifer. (No intention of telling him)

....She knew that him being a descendant of "Merlin", made this boy a prodigy with wandless and non-verbal magic. It was also very clear to Minerva that he was especially protective of Hermione,

"Miss Granger, looks like luck was on your side this time," McGonagall said, giving both a scolding glare before turning to Myrtle.

"Thank you, Myrtle, you might just saved their lives."

Moaning Myrtle ducked her head in embarrassment, "Well... it was nothing, really. I'll consider it payment if the boy marries me."

She sneaked a bashful glance at Lucifer from the upside.

"...."

'Lady... technically, I'm still a child.'

Hermione shot her a deathly glare as if making up a conflicting decision of changing her career path to an exorcist,

Myrtle stared at her wide-eyed, knowing she had just been marked as criminal, who was definitely going to be executed again without a fair trial.

"Professor....well... I already explained every bit, I believe..."

"Well..." McGonagall looked at the said boy warily, who wasn't paying much attention to their conversation, but there was also a slight hint of pride at Lucifer, "I will be giving Twenty Points to Gryffindor for Mr. Morningstar heroics. And Fifteen more points for advanced, and 'wandless' use of Transfiguration and Levitating charms.... While, Twenty points will be taken from Mr. Weasely, for his utter idiotic behaviour, and crude remarks towards Miss. Granger, informed by Professor Flitwick....If this continues, I will personally write a letter to Molly."

She said, while deciding to put the fear of Merlin inside the red-head.

Ron who was already inside Gryffindor' Common room, was almost sweating at this point for no good reason. And, then Mcgonagall eyes looked towards students robes, which were...."Now, I implore you two to return to the Gryffindor tower and join your classmates, who are all well underway of feasting on the Halloween food--- that has been transported there for your enjoyment."

Hermione, nodded her head whimpering, but also a bit lively, as she enthusiastically interlocked her fingers with Lucifer.

Minerva stayed behind to deal with the mess. Quirrell, who seemed to understand some hidden truth, and started moving his wand around at the Troll, while Snape went to report everything to... Dumbledore.

It was Hermione on the way, who 

yelled angrily, she was really furious, and may have wanted to use a leg-locker curse on Ron Weasley, she didn't have anyone to practice curses with, but this boy. 'Maybe, I should....'

Even though, she wanted to lift her wand, and spat venom, only Hermione decided to be a better person, then, she just turned around in the corner, gripping Lucifer's hand, tightly and went away, making her way to the Gryffindor tower.

....In Common room, green-eyed boy, who has the ability to understand the atmosphere, after being exposed to malice for so many years at Privet drive, and wisely chose to shut his mouth. After this day, she and Ron had become even more hostile towards each other instead of becoming friends, and

"....." Lucifer, even though he was quite proud of her, this boy still hadn't recovered from what happened in the sacred bathroom.

xxxxxxx

Eighth Floor.

Snape limped into the Headmaster's office, clearly in pain. Dumbledore was already seated behind his desk, as though he'd anticipated the visit.

His eyes dropped to Snape's injured leg, eyebrows raising in surprise.

"Severus, what happened to you?"

"That 'damned dog'," Snape growled as he sat down, "I merely stepped inside to check the room. Didn't even close the door-and it lunged at me before I could react....I couldn't go all-out, obviously. Just one bite was enough."

Dumbledore looked like he was suppressing a laugh.

Snape wasn't just the Potions Master---he was a prodigy. Back in his student days, he'd invented a number of original spells, most of them hexes or borderline Dark Arts.

If he'd been serious, there was no way a three-headed dog could've landed a hit. So this wasn't just carelessness---it was desperation. Snape had likely panicked, thinking Quirrell might've already gotten past the creature, and rushed in without any magical protections.

'But... maybe there was another reason.' Dumbledore recalled pitiful state the last time he inspected Fluffy. Had he been traumatized into a stress response?

"Severus, actually..." Dumbledore began, sharing his own theory.

Snape's face morphed from blank 0_0 to cold -_-.

That brat, Morningstar, had tricked him again?! Enraged, Snape slammed his palms down on the desk. 'BANG! BANG!'

"That student doesn't sleep like a normal child! Troll's bloody brain is a mess. Wandering the halls at night---how is this acceptable?"

"Dumbledore, I strongly suggest you put him in detention! Severely!"

Dumbledore didn't respond. Instead, he smoothly changed the subject.

"Did you run into Quirrell while you were there?"

As expected, Snape was successfully redirected. He frowned.

"No. I ran into him on the stairs while I was heading down. We met in the hallway and went together to the girls' bathroom to rendezvous with McGonagall. He couldn't have arrived at the third floor before me."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.

"Seems like it was just a test run on Quirrell's part. Now that he knows the security is tight, he'll likely try another route."

Snape agreed. Unfortunately, while their conclusion was correct, the reasoning was completely wrong.

Was Quirrell testing the waters?

Nope. He'd been flattened and left numb on the floor. It took him ages to even get back up.

By the time he limped toward the second floor, Snape was already heading downstairs---there was no way he could proceed without being caught.

xxxxxx

After reporting in, Snape dragged his injured leg back to his office.

Fluffy's fangs were venomous. Regular healing spells wouldn't cut it---he needed to brew a proper antidote first, then apply healing magic.

Thankfully, his office was well-stocked. He could prepare the antidote tonight. Delaying it until tomorrow would've caused complications.

He took out his key, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.

With a casual flick of his hand, the fireplace roared to life, and candles on the racks lit up one by one, illuminating the entire room in warm, golden light.

And then----

Snape froze. He blinked. Then rubbed his eyes. Was this... still his office?

Why did it look so 'empty?'

The shelves, normally brimming with jars, bottles, and containers of every color and shape, were missing two entire racks. What remained was half-full at best.

Snape's face shifted from confused... to stunned... then to furious...

And finally, to his ultimate form-rage incarnate. There was no mistaking it now---his office had been robbed.

Adrenaline coursed through him, completely numbing the pain in his leg. He moved with shocking speed, darting around the room, taking inventory of what had been taken.

Snape had always been meticulous about his collections, so he quickly tallied the losses. His head spun, and he slumped into his chair.

The good news? All the ingredients needed to brew the antidote were still intact. No delays on detoxing himself.

The bad news? Aside from those few ingredients---and some common ones---'everything else was gone.'

The most precious materials? Wiped out completely. The moderately rare ones? Some reduced to half, others a mere third.

"That bastard." Snape practically growled through clenched teeth. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the armrests, veins bulging on the backs of his hands.

"Quirrell... if I find even one of your filthy little chicken--feet anywhere near this, I swear I'll make you pay with interest..."

He didn't even consider other suspects. In his mind, the guilt squarely-and obviously--belonged to Quirrell.

Who else in this school was as suspicious as that man?

Even if it was a student, they would've only dared to steal a few ingredients for class. No one would've gone this far, as if they were stocking a bloody store.

Plus, he'd run into Quirrell on the stairs---Quirrell had looked rattled, clearly avoiding Snape's scrutiny.

It all lined up perfectly. Now, the only question was---'would Dumbledore reimburse these losses?'

Snape had bled for this school. Sacrificed personal resources, time, and now---a fortune in potion stock!

...

Half an hour passed before he recovered from the blow. Then, gritting his teeth, he began brewing the antidote.

xxxxxx

Elsewhere, hours later--- Lucifer was also brewing potions.

"You did good Makima, you are allowed to leave."

"My Lord."

'Pop!~' And, she vanished deep underground.

Deep in the Forbidden Forest, near the Mooncalves' territory, he'd set up a cauldron under the light of an oil lamp, his hands moving with utmost care as he processed each ingredient.

Every step was exact, deliberate---he couldn't afford a single mistake.

He'd even opened his fourth dimensional space to watch the entire process. ----These ingredients were not easy to come by. If he ruined a batch, his heart would ache for days.

Initially, Lucifer had wanted to practice a few simpler potions first---to hone his technique before attempting this particular brew.

----One of his trusted Demoness'd even robbed Snape's office, the moment she got her chance. Commiting a

'Night Raid on a Professor's Office'

But his body was running out of patience. The stronger Lucifer's body became to its original state, the more magic it could handle---

Driven mad by constant itching from inside, he had no choice but to haul his cauldron out into the woods in the dead of night. As for why he didn't brew in one of the empty classrooms or more private spaces?

This particular potion, 'Body Strengthening Elixir'---had unique requirements. It needed to absorb both moonlight and sunlight during its brew cycle.

Many high-level potions had these kinds of bizarre prerequisites.

Take 'Animagus transformation', for example: the practitioner had to keep a Mandrake leaf in their mouth for half a month-and even then, their first transformation had to happen during a thunderstorm. 'With bad luck, you could end up waiting a whole month.'

After two hours of careful work, Lucifer finally finished preparing the materials. He wiped the sweat from his brow and stood up to stretch.

A new problem arose. This potion needed to simmer for three full days and nights.

Leaving it alone---even with trap spells---was too risky. It had to be watched constantly, he still had classes tomorrow.

Instead of asking for his servant, he pondered a moment, before he called softly, "Kaka."

'Pop!' With a small explosion, a house-elf appeared in front of Lucifer and gave a deep bow.

"Master Morningstar."

Lucifer handed the responsibility of guarding the potions to Kaka. To be more precise, he entrusted it to the 'house-elves.' Kaka couldn't possibly keep watch 24/7---he had his own duties to attend to.

Fortunately, Hogwarts had no shortage of house-elves. At Kaka's call, five or six of them popped into existence, quickly huddled together, and drew up a shift schedule.

For Hogwarts house-elves, all students were technically their masters. So Lucifer's request was met without resistance. Only a direct command from Dumbledore or another professor could override his.

And he wasn't concerned about any of them leaking secrets. Dumbledore wasn't omniscient----if he ever questioned him that precisely, it would only mean Lucifer's cover was already blown.

Besides, this way he could also test the

man's boundaies.

With that assurance, he began brewing under fourth dimensional guidance. After completing the first stage of potion-making, he left the rest to Kaka and exited----

xxxxxxx

The next day, the troll incident hadn't faded---it was, in fact, still escalating.

Because one of the key players, Moaning Myrtle had decided to publicly "share their story."

When Lucifer entered the Great Hall, the Gryffindor table was packed with students leaning in to listen. At the center of it all, for some reason, sat Ron, animatedly recounting last night's events like he was on a stage.

Like he knew even better than the students who were almost crushed, and died last night.

Hermione's dislike towards Ron sky-rocketed, when she, and Lucifer themselves, the ones involved weren't talking about it, what 'right did he' have to make a story of heroic glory of valor, using it to make everything about him?

And here, Ron's strengths were on full display. Despite having Hermione and Lucifer, his housemates, nearly died the night before, he bounced back from Daphne's hellish rebukes completely, even turning harrowing event into a "thrilling tale" for breakfast conversation.

Not everyone had that kind of psychological resilience.

Maybe it was because moments like this being the center of attention, were so rare for him, but Ron took the opportunity to embellish the tale with... let's call it artistic license.

His version was so intense and dramatic that even Slytherins sitting two tables away could hear the lion cubs gasping and Ron's theatrical narration.

"Hmph."

Monet Selwyn scoffed. "You'd think Weasley defeated the troll himself, the way he's carrying on. As if he wasn't just 'running' for his life...."

"You know, he must be lying, it should just be a ghost who saved those two."

Theodore Nott drummed his kitchen utensil on the plate twice, before he spoke.

"A ghost, right?" Zabini snorted. He'd been listening more carefully than he let on, "If the troll had even half a brain, they'd have been splattered across the floor. Try punching a ghost---see how that goes."

Their fellow snakes burst into snickering.

Slytherins couldn't stand Gryffindors flaunting their glory. Naturally, they responded with biting sarcasm.

Then Avery, the sixth-year prefect, shared a tasty bit of news: "I just checked the points board. Gryffindor lost another twenty points. At this rate, they'll' almost drop back behind Hufflepuff..."

This made the Slytherins cheer even louder. "Still not enough," Zabini said with mock regret, "Make them down in the negative---haha. What fools, trampling on those know-it-alls efforts...."

While at the Gryffindor' table, Lucifer was unfazed, he sipped his lemon tea and offered a different take, "Actually... I think the deduction is a little 'misguided."

The table fell quiet. After all, they were all gossiping about his being a shining knight in armor for Hermione Granger.

---Had anyone else said that, they'd be met with scorn. But Lucifer? No. If he had something to say, it better be good-and people listened.

He set down his teacup and swept his gaze across the table.

"This was clearly a failure in the school's management system. Four Heads of House. Six or seven professors. Plus Filch, who acts like a bloodhound sniffing out rule-breakers every second...."

"And yet, with 'all' that staff, a troll still managed to get inside the castle. What are we saying here---that the troll is smarter than our professors? Or..."

Lucifer 's voice lowered slightly, "...that it was 'let' in on purpose?"

"Me and Hermione were just unlucky. If we're going to deduct points over something like this, what message does that send? If the castle itself isn't safe, should we all just stay holed up in our common rooms after class? That way, we're not just avoiding danger---we're also avoiding 'blame'."

Silence. Everyone mulled that over.

He had a point. A very good point. Why were students being punished for the school's failure?

---They might not all like Slytherin's, but at the end of the day, they were all students. And suddenly, they could all relate.

The Gryffindor' table fell quiet. The cheers of bravery stopped. Slytherin's jeers did too, what if someone from their house had been the unfortunate one----faces turned grim, wasn't this the safest place in the entire Britain?

An uncomfortable silence settled in.

And just as Lucifer finished speaking, Professor McGonagall entered the hall. She caught his words clearly. Her expression was unreadable---was it guilt? Embarrassment? Perhaps a little of both. But behind it was unmistakable admiration.

What he said struck a chord. It wasn't him or Hermione who failed for using the loo---not at all.

It was them---'the professors!'

The realization hit her like a jolt. She had failed to protect her students. Her eyes drifted toward the head table and narrowed on the empty seat at its center-Dumbledore's chair.

Her gaze darkened with discontent.

After all, the troll wasn't even the most dangerous thing in this castle. Let's not forget the three-headed dog---that monster could shred the troll in seconds, and it was currently sitting quietly on the third---floor corridor.

But who's to say it would stay quiet?

This was all Dumbledore's decision. She had opposed it from the start, but he was the Headmaster. What was a Deputy Headmistress to do?

Yet today, Professor McGonagall's opinion of Lucifer rose to new heights.

While all the other Gryffindor' were going on and on about his courage, bravery, Slytherins were mocking Gryffindor, Lucifer saw past the house rivalry and stood up for fairness. He was more thoughtful than she'd been as their professor.

If only she had a legitimate excuse, she'd have awarded him house points on the spot, off seeting morning's deducted caused by a notorious third year, Gryffindor'.

'What a child. What a brilliant child.'

She glanced one last time at Lucifer, who was chatting with Hermione, slowly recovering from last night's trauma and laughing lightly.

Then she turned sharply and walked out, back straight, her silhouette radiating steely determination.

She would confront 'him' today. If Dumbledore wouldn't fix the school's security, no one would have peace.

xxxxxx

Meanwhile, at the head table, Snape was ready to explode on Quirrell.

The man had waltzed into breakfast like he didn't have a care in the world, even flashing Snape a friendly smile.

To Snape, it was nothing short of provocation. 'I raided your office', his eyes seemed to say. 'What are you going to do about it?'

Arrogant bastard. Acting like Snape didn't even matter.

Quirrell, on the other hand, was silently fuming himself. 'Why is Snape looking at me like he wants to skin me alive?' He hadn't even gone up to the third floor last night--he'd been cornered on the second. What the hell was Snape so worked up about?

"Oi, Quirrell."

Snape suddenly called out. His soft tone sent a chill straight down Quirrell's spine, "You seemed injured yesterday. That swelling on your forehead still looks fresh. I've got a potion-want it?"

"N-No! No need!" Quirrell shook his head frantically. 'That potion is a trap. No way I'm drinking that!'

Snape looked disappointed. Of course he hadn't spiked the potion-he'd just laced a little 'Veritaserum' into it.

But if Quirrell refused, there wasn't much he could do. He could hardly force it down the man's throat. With a tsk of annoyance, Snape stood up and stalked away.

There was still time before classes began when Professor McGonagall stormed up to the eighth floor. She uttered the password and swept into the headmaster's office without hesitation.

Dumbledore was already exasperated. He'd always been a late sleeper, and ever since the start of this term, it seemed like everyone had suddenly decided the early morning was the perfect time to pay him a visit.

First Snape, now McGonagall-who was next? But once they were here, he couldn't exactly turn them away. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Dumbledore reluctantly descended from the upper loft.

"Minerva, what urgent matter brings you here at this hour?"

"Dumbledore."

McGonagall's expression was grim. She didn't waste a single word on pleasantries.

"I believe the school's security is riddled with holes. You need to remove those... 'things' from the third floor immediately. Who knows if that three-headed dog will go berserk and show up in front of the students, just like the troll did?"

"Miss Granger was lucky this time to have a good friend in Morningstar. But what about the next? We cannot leave our students' safety up to luck. They're not all walking around dosed with 'Felix Felicis!'

Dumbledore blinked, clearly not expecting an outright confrontation.

"Minerva, I know you're worried, but calm down for a moment. You agreed to my arrangements before---what's changed so suddenly?"

McGonagall launched into a rapid account of what she'd overheard in the Great Hall---Lucifer's pointed criticisms about the school and its staff. Dumbledore listened silently, falling into deep thought.

McGonagall assumed he was reflecting on his decisions and felt some comfort in tha---until she saw his face. He was smiling.

No, not just smiling---his eyes were shining with tears. Dumbledore removed his glasses and gently dabbed at the corners of his eyes.

"How wonderful. This is true friendship at its purest. Mr. Morningstar has taught this old man a valuable lesson."

"Even Slytherin and Gryffindor... who still remembers they were once the best of friends?"

This was the moment Dumbledore had long hoped for. Talented students who lived in isolation often grew emotionally distant---sometimes dangerously so. They lost the ability to empathize, to value the lives of others.

Just like Voldemort.

Lucifer had been praised by everyone at school, yet he always wore a mask and kept himself aloof. Even now, Dumbledore never truly let his guard down with him. He wouldn't interfere in the boy's choices, but he still feared that the pursuit of power might one day consume him.

But those words from earlier had given him peace. Voldemort would never have thought that way. In his world, there was room only for himself.

"So, you're agreeing to my request?"

McGonagall pressed.

"I'm sorry, Minerva." Dumbledore composed himself and slid his glasses back on, "I understand your concern, but we cannot move what's in the third-floor corridor. Not yet."

"Why not?" McGonagall looked genuinely puzzled, "I know those enchantments are there to protect the Philosopher's Stone---but honestly, what could be safer than your own office?"

Dumbledore explained patiently.

"If we move it here, the one with dark intentions will lose all hope---and I fear what he might do when 'cornered.' Bait only works when it's visible and seemingly reachable. We need him to keep trying, until he makes a mistake."

Did Dumbledore care about student safety? Of course. But weighed against the danger posed by Voldemort, the choice was clear.

He didn't make mistakes when it came to matters like these.

Let's not forget- "For the Greater Good" was originally his philosophy.

Dumbledore was a man of unshakable focus and steely resolve. If the time came, he wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice even his own life.

That's why the bait had to stay. Let Quirrell see it, almost touch it---until he made the fatal slip.

McGonagall opened her mouth again, but Dumbledore silenced her with a look.

"I swear, on the name of 'Albus Dumbledore'," he said solemnly, "that no student shall suffer irreversible harm or lose their life on the third floor. Trust me, Minerva."

She stared at him for a long moment before finally sighing and rising to leave. A vow like that from anyone else might've meant little---but from Dumbledore?

It meant everything.

xxxxxxx

As the first week of November proceeded, it turned much colder than what Hermione was used to. But it didn't have any effect on Lucifer, as he was already used to the temperature much lower than this.

The mountains became an icy gray and the lake was like chilled steel.

This Saturday was the first Quidditch Match of the Season and it was Gryffindor v Slytherin.

Even though he wasn't on the team, Lucifer was still excited to watch and see a game in person.

He'd seen Wizarding Photos that showed off the game, but it was barely an experience worth mentioning.

Oliver Wood, Gryffindor Keeper, didn't let anyone see Harry practice, because he wanted to keep Harry as their Secret Weapon, a Secret.

Ron'd started envying Harry secretly, with people constantly, constantly telling him he'd either do brilliantly, or they'd be below him to catch him with a mattress when he fell.

Lucifer saw Hermione lend him her copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, which he didn't remember her actually owning, but borrowed, but he didn't figure it mattered.

He also noticed that Hermione would help Harry with his homework.

Harry, he understood, because now that he had Quidditch to deal with, his homework would've been at risk of not getting done.

Not having her physically drained, of course Lucifer didn't ask her to do each of his assignments, in fact, if he had to be honest, that was purely in a matter of a jokely side, to make her focus stay away from the matter of handing over galleons.

She ignored Ron like he didn't even exist. This boy, wasn't on the Quidditch team and had nothing else majorly important to be doing, so Lucifer came to realize that he was just lazy, plain and simple.

Ron Weasley was a Pure-Blood, he knew that, so he wondered if all Pure-Bloods were like this, thinking that because they grew up with magic all their life that they would have an easy time, or if this boy was just a special case.

xxxxxxx

In first-year Defence Against the Dark Arts, Quirrell had finally dropped the act entirely. He let the students read on their own while he sat slouched in his chair with his eyes closed, pretending to nap.

Neither the Gryffindors nor the Slytherins bothered to acknowledge him anymore.

They just got on with their usual self-study, ignoring him completely.

If Hermione hadn't already had a top-tier personal tutor by her side, she would've long racked her brain with Lucifer out-- a way to get Quirrell kicked out and replaced by someone competent.

Even Snape teaching the class would've been leagues better than this.

Lucifer mused to her, and if all else failed, well---why not bring in a few minor offense criminals dying in Azkaban for a parole or reducing their sentences?

Death Eater or not, they might actually teach you something. Any other white-collar personality Professor would probably be less effective than them, to be honest.

As soon as the bell rang, students packed up and fled the room, not even sparing Quirrell a perfunctory "Goodbye, Professor." It was like he didn't exist.

Not that Quirrell minded. That was exactly what he wanted. Who the hell wanted to 'teach', anyway? The only thing on his mind was getting his hands on the Philosopher's Stone.

In the past, Lucifer would sometimes hang around after class, asking fake questions to earn a few points. But today he had more important things to do and spared Quirrell the trouble.

He told Hermione to head back to the common room while he made his way upstairs. The books he'd borrowed from Dumbledore last week were finished, and he planned to return them and borrow new ones.

Over the past few weeks, he had checked out more than a dozen books from the headmaster--each of them insightful, even the most basic ones. Anything Dumbledore considered worth keeping was bound to be 'valuable.'

Some were rare publications only circulated among elite wizard, absolute treasures.

Lucifer had kept himself in check lately. None of the books he borrowed had anything to do with 'Dark Magic.'

Because power didn't lie in the spell-it lay in the 'person.' The Killing Curse could be learned by anyone. It was even listed in the Restricted Section.

But people still feared the name 'Voldemort.'

On the other hand, Dumbledore, armed only with Transfiguration and Light Magic--could still suppress the Dark Lord with ease.

That said everything.

Light magic required patience, study, and discipline. Dark magic was raw, brutal, and simple. But neither was superior.

Soon, he arrived at the entrance to the headmaster's office. The stone gargoyle guarding the passage came to life and grinned at him.

"Password~"

Lucifer stared at it, puzzled. His coming to the Headmaster's office to return books was hardly anything new.

In the past, he had to speak the password each time. But after a few visits, the stone gargoyle by the entrance got used to seeing him, it would jump aside the moment he approached, no questions asked. A silent agreement, smooth and easy.

So... why was it asking for a password today?

Though a bit confused, Lucifer spoke the latest password he knew: "Fizzy Honeydukes."

"Wrong," the stone gargoyle said with a sly grin. "Dumbledore changed the password just this Monday. Sorry, Morningstar boy---if you don't have the new one, you're 'not getting in."

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. "So that's why you're acting up. Lying in wait for me, were you?" Then he added with a trace of indignation, "But I didn't need a password the last few times. By that logic, I should be able to walk in now, too."

The gargoyle shook its head wildly. "That was then. This is now."

"I heard a troll got into the school yesterday. I've got to protect the Headmaster now. From today on, nobody gets in without the password."

"Not even Dumbledore himself?" Lucifer asked dryly.

"No exceptions," the gargoyle said, full of certainty.

Lucifer gave a meaningful nod. "You'd better remember you said that. Or I'll write it down in 'Hogwarts: A History'---how guardian of the Headmaster's office says one thing and does another. I'm sure future students would love to read about a stone sentry that breaks its own rules."

The gargoyle nearly choked on imaginary sweat. If it could 'sweat', that is.

"You little snake... Truly a Slytherin."

If his reputation-etched in stone for a thousand years-were tarnished in the official school record, it would be ruined forever.

"Kid..."

"I don't feel like talking anymore," Lucifer cut him off flatly. "I need to guess the password."

He had a strategy, of course. Dumbledore's passwords were almost always sweets from Honeydukes. Reciting every candy in the shop's catalog would surely crack it. It was a game of numbers.

"Chocolate Frogs."

"Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans."

"Lemon Snowdrops."

"Creamy-err... something with eucalyptus oil and-mint...?"

"Jelly Slugs."

'Click.'

The gargoyle groaned as it reluctantly shifted aside. The guess had been correct. And once the right password was spoken, it had no choice. Even if Voldemort himself showed up, or Grindelwald, it still had to let them through.

Lucifer cast it a sideways glance, the corner of his mouth curving upward as he started up the spiral staircase.

'Nice try, he thought smugly. 'Trying to outwit me? Guess Ravenclaw's famed "wisdom" isn't all that impressive after all.'

Still, he thought with a twitch of disgust, 'Jelly Slugs? Really, Dumbledore? That's just vile. Right behind Cockroach Clusters on the "Why does this exist?" scale.'

"Good afternoon, Professor. I'm just returning some books."

When Lucifer entered, Dumbledore was hunched over his desk, quill scratching away. At the sound of his voice, he looked up and smiled warmly, setting the quill down.

"Mr. Morningstar, you read too fast. At this rate, you'll clear out my entire collection before you even graduate."

Lucifer glanced at the towering bookshelves, stacked to the ceiling. "Not likely," he said, shaking his head, "At my current pace, I'm behind. I'll have to work harder...."

Dumbledore chuckled helplessly. "To be honest, even I haven't read every book in here. Many of them belonged to past headmasters and headmistresses."

Lucifer shrugged, not finding it worthwhile, "I'll get through as many as I can. I've got plenty of spare time," He climbed the ladder and carefully replaced two books he was returning in their original spots. After scanning the shelves, he selected two more:

"The Nature of Magic"

"Ancient Scripts and the Power Within"

Books in hand, he turned to leave---but Dumbledore called out to stop him.

"Professor? Is there something else?"

"Nothing much," Dumbledore replied, still smiling gently. "I just wanted to apologize."

Lucifer blinked. 'Apologize?' He frowned, thinking hard. Then he asked cautiously, "You're not taking back Hermione's muggle-born funding, are you?"

Honestly, that was the only thing he could imagine Dumbledore apologizing for.

"....."

'Is this what I've become?' he wondered, half amused and half dismayed, 'A man so pitiful that a student thinks I'd apologize just to reclaim a few hundred Galleons?'

"Mr. Morningstar," he said with a sigh, "They are Hogwarts funds, Miss Granger can continue using that money without worry."

Lucifer gave a sigh of relief, but Dumbledore continued, "I'm apologizing for something else. I received your... feedback this morning. Your concerns about the school's security."

His brain clicked into high gear. In a flash, he realized what had happened.

He 'had' noticed Professor McGonagall lurking nearby during breakfast but hadn't thought much of it.

Apparently, she'd relayed his words to Dumbledore, and now here they were. As long as it wasn't about Hermione's funds, he didn't really care.

Besides, if there were any issues regarding exchange policy for Muggle-born, since goblins didn't find paper money much worthwhile, and needed to be given extra for crossing the limit--- if galleons became a problem in her studies to acquire more materials, Lucifer would gladly took up the matter himself, paper, gold, silver, titanium, vibranium, adamantium etc.. mweh.

It didn't concern him.

"Professor, of course I trust you," he said smoothly. "The troll incident was just a freak accident."

In all fairness, Dumbledore's term as Headmaster had seen its share of chaos, sure---but the only actual fatality had been a house-elf. And even that had happened after the creature was portkeyed off school grounds.

---Involved in Dark Mark incident.

So technically, Dumbledore could promise student safety without jinxing himself. It wasn't really a flag.

Dumbledore nodded with a faint smile. They chatted a little while longer before he finally took his leave.

After Herbology class ended that afternoon, Lucifer headed straight for the Forbidden Forest. To avoid unnecessary trouble, he'd cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself beforehand.

But even so, as he passed Hagrid's hut, the boarhound Fang-tied at door-began barking wildly at thin air.

"Woof! Woof woof-whimper...!"

Mid-bark, his voice turned into a whine. Lucifer had turned to glance at him, with his red eyes.

Despite being hidden from sight, dogs-especially hunting breeds-had a keen sense of danger. Fang could tell that if he kept barking, he might just end up as the star ingredient in a pot.

"Fang, what are you barking at now?"

Hagrid came hurrying over from his pumpkin patch. All he saw was Fang curling into himself, whimpering and covering his snout.

Lucifer was already slipping silently into the Forbidden Forest.

The Disillusionment Charm had its drawbacks. While it distorted light to hide the caster's form, it did nothing to conceal scent. If someone-or something---relied on smell, the charm alone wouldn't cut it. For proper stealth, a spell to suppress scent was essential....

Unfortunately, Lucifer had yet to encounter any such magic, in fact his body odour was one of his charms to woo his lustful desires.

The Wizarding world had long harbored a certain arrogance toward magical creatures---most didn't bother developing magic specifically to evade them. Even with someone like Newt Scamander challenging the status quo, the 'prejudice ran deep.'

"Maybe, I should start creating my own spells..."

Previously, he had never considered inventing his own spells. Not out of a lack of ambition---but because it felt like something far beyond his current level. Or perhaps... 'simply unnecessary'. Surely that was something to tackle after he'd mastered more conventional magic.

"But, Creating magic or tailoring existing spells to suit yourself better, is a vital part of magical growth...."

"Developing and adapting spells will force you to think more deeply.... I'll come to understand the essence of magic itself." Lucifer made a mental note of it---his first official consideration of magical innovation.

Children, by nature, were bundles of energy and mischief. Teenagers were even worse-restless and distractible.

Yet Lucifer, from the very first day, he regressed into a human body, had been relentless in his pursuit of knowledge.... Not just attending classes, but training every single night without fail.

While others played through their school years, he studied them into the ground. Once adulthood came with its distractions and burdens, the gap between them would only grow wider.

----With that kind of dedication, even a fool would accomplish something. And Lucifer was no fool, he knew, he was immortal, but still maybe----

He hadn't tried 'Avada Kedavra' on himself just yet, soon sure----When Lucifer arrived at the clearing where he'd brewed potions the night before, he spotted a house-elf standing over the cauldron, staring into it.

"...Ando?" Lucifer called out tentatively. The elf jumped like he'd been struck by lightning and immediately began bowing nonstop.

"Master Morningstar! Ando was not slacking! Ando was not daydreaming!"

Lucifer glanced into the cauldron. The potion's color was exactly as expected. Satisfied, he smiled and nodded. "I know. It's progressing nicely. Good work."

"Master Morningstar is too kind! Not hard work at all!"

Just one polite word of recognition was enough to send the elf into overwhelmed gratitude. Lucifer couldn't imagine what kind of treatment, this warrior breed'd endured to make submission so instinctive. Shadow of Lady Galadriel, Elrond, or even Legolas was nowhere to be seen, completely forgotten in history.

Still, he had no intention of interrupting the workings of another species, made for fun by his old man.

He benefited from it---and he was no idealist. He wasn't about to betray his own Celestial purity.

Crouching beside the cauldron, Lucifer stirred with his wand, infusing it with magic. The potion, previously bubbling faintly, immediately surged into a boil.

He added a new round of ingredients.

Under the afternoon sun, the mixture shimmered a striking violet-red. By the third day-once heart of a Fire Dragon was added---it would turn deep 'crimson.'

After a final check, he instructed Ando to watch over it carefully, then turned to leave.

Over the next two days, the Forbidden Forest might as well have become his second common room. Morning, noon, and night, he'd swing by the cauldron to check its progress.

Though he had no clue how effective this prized potion would be, brewing process had already taught him a lot. He was gaining experience---and even more questions.

Under normal circumstances, he might have taken those questions straight to Snape. But lately, the man had been... volatile.

It was like the Potions Master had hit wizarding menopause. His temper was foul, his patience thinner than Peeves' excuses.

And the targets of his wrath weren't limited to 'Harry' or the younger Gryffindors anymore. Anyone outside Slytherin was fair game. Even the other professors were baffled.

What had pushed Severus Snape into such a foul mood? Only Lucifer and Dumbledore knew the truth.

xxxxxx

1 Extra Chapter - 200 Power Stones..