Chapter 12 - Chapter 12 - Camping with HufflePuffs~

Dumbledore had found out after Snape's budget 'request' had been gently denied. As for Lucifer... well, he'd caused it. Of course 'he' knew.

Not that Snape suspected him. His eyes were locked on Quirrell like a vengeful hawk.

The result? Quirrell had been so paranoid he didn't even dare enter the Great Hall for meals anymore.

xxxxxxx

On the day before the Quidditch Match, Lucifer and Hermione were outside in the freezing cold, for whatever reason, during a break period, huddled up, reluctantly in Lucifer's case, to a blue flame in a jam jar that she had conjured up.

They weren't sure if it was okay with the Hogwarts staff, so they were huddled around the fire, blocking it from view. Good thing they were, because Professor Snape saw them and limped over towards them, "What's that you've got there, Potter?"

"Quidditch Through the Ages, sir," Harry responded, showing the cover to the book. Of course, he was also here, the boy got nothing better to do, Hermione was his friend, and she'd lended him her collection.

"Library Books are not to be taken out of the school, give it to me," Snape held his hand out.

Harry was very reluctant to hand it over, it's a purchased material, however he didn't want to argue, and get points deducted again for Gryffindor'----for a moment, he was torn what to do.

To his dilemma, and relief, Lucifer spoke up, "That's not a rule, is it Professor?" he asked, in a polite tone, but his smile wasn't fooling Hermione at all.

Snape glared at him, "And how would you know that, Morningstar?"

"I've seen the entire list of school rules, and that's not one of them," he said, with a smirk.

"Fine, then " he sneered and walked away.

"What a jerk he is," Ron said, shivering from the cold. The Blue Fire wasn't that helpful, but it was better than nothing, "Why do you suppose he's limping?"

Unlike Hermione and Harry, who'd been casted a warming charm by Lucifer, he was seriously about to be frozen in broad daylight weather.

"I dunno," Harry muttered, giving a wicked smile, after checking Snape was gone, "but I hope it's really hurting him."

There wasn't much response, besides Ron chuckling from beside him.

Hermione, and Lucifer were seated a couple of spaces away from the two, as she muttered whispering into her best friend's ear, "Thanks Daddy, I feel warm now," and, then turned her head slightly to look over at his face, "Have you really seen the entire list of school rules?"

"...." Lucifer, this made him remember what an outrageous thing happened inside the girl's bathroom, which may have blown away his sleep at nights, and wasted the hours by just staring at the letter, he received from Mrs. Granger, after coming to Hogwarts.

----It made him doubt this girl's attitude in life because, something very terrible might have occurred to Hermione, two years ago. This girl needs psychological help, but she wasn't ready for it yet, and her Mum expected him to look after their pumpkin.

"Yes," he said and looked at the girl's face while slightly worried inside, only, Hermione was wide-eyed, "I am not sure about your blue flame though..."

"You really like to play with fire, don't you? Wasn't it you who said, it should be fine, Hmm?" She asked him, wiggling her eyebrows, but wasn't quite good at it.

"Haha..." Lucifer gave a small laugh in response, and moved his head in a similar position like Hermione did just a moment ago, "Baby, I always like to play with fire" he said, this in a very low voice, which caused the girl's body to shudder lightly in response, and then she turned her face, in the opposite direction, with a tinge of pink on her cheeks.

But he didn't care much, and motioned to the blue fire, Hermione had conjured for them, "If you weren't also sure, you shouldn't have done it either...."

"I just wanted to help..." she trailed off, looking quite far away.

"Also, I will lend you the handbook, it could prove beneficial to know them all, for any 'future rule breaking'," It was, Lucifer, who said this, while looking around, with a mischievous expression.

Hermione shook her head, knowing that, she would likely be breaking some rules in the future.

xxxxxx

That evening in the Gryffindor Common Room was noisy.

They were all sitting near a window and Hermione had been checking over their homework, hers, Lucifer's which she had written half off.

Well, she had also been looking over Harry's homework, since Lucifer's rest what he did write obviously did not need assistance----

She only helped on the basis if Harry would not let Ron copy his work, and the boy agreed instantly because he was late in doing the homework but felt sorry for his best mate all the same.

He couldn't compromise on this.

.....Their conversation, after Harry had been caught up on homework, had shifted to why Snape had been limping.

They talked in hushed tones about it, so as to not draw attention to themselves, "So why do you think he was limping?" Harry asked them.

"Could be a Potion gone wrong?" Ron suggested.

"Snape is a Master at Potion-making, he wouldn't let himself get caught like that," Lucifer reminded those two with a roll of his eyes.

"Maybe... you think he tried to get past that three headed dog?" Hermione asked slightly wondering, giving an innocent look.

"Now, that's big brain thinking right there," Lucifer said, causing her to redden on her cheeks a little, "Might be using the chaos to his benefit..."

"The only question is, why would he do that?" Hermione asked Lucifer more than the other two, besides she didn't even know why Ron was sitting with them, like in a circle of sorts?

It was Harry who gave her an answer, though, "Whatever was taken from Gringotts by Hagrid before the break-in, it had to be...."

"That's actually what I was thinking too," Lucifer said, "but for himself? Or someone else? Besides, didn't Quirrell look suspicious, I felt like he was acting the whole dropping on the stone scene...."

"That's not possible, he couldn't be a good actor." Hermione emphasized the main point of their DADA professor being nothing more than a joke.

None of them had an answer and decided to just retire for the night.

xxxxxx

The next morning arrived almost too soon for some students.

The first Quidditch match of the year was about to begin. There's a saying in the Muggle world---'Sports are the wars of peacetime, without guns and bombs.'

At Hogwarts, Quidditch might as well be 'war' between the four houses. It was their most direct form of competition.

Tensions began to mount days before the match. Players were shadowed by classmates or older students wherever they went, to prevent sabotage. No one was allowed to eat anything unless a "tester" sampled it first.

The sheer level of security even left Lucifer astonished. Harry, for instance, was flanked by three towering fifth-years. The scrawny Seeker was completely swallowed up by them.

And Slytherin's Seeker, Terence Higgs, had it no easier---he had Marcus Flint himself acting as his personal bodyguard.

"Isn't this a bit much?" Lucifer couldn't help but comment, as he passed the Slytherin table.

"It's 'essential', Morningstar," Adrian Pucey said, one of Slytherin's Chasers, turning to him with a solemn face, "Two years ago, when I made the main team, you Gryffindors slipped me a high-grade laxative. I thought my intestines were going to fall out!"

Lucifer blinked. "Gryffindor? That sneaky?"

He didn't particularly like the bold, reckless lions, but this seemed... 'uncharacteristic'. Most of them were fairly straightforward. Backstabbers type were rare.

"They're the worst!" Pucey growled through gritted teeth, as if his pain Muggleborn could never understand, "It was 'your' Beaters---the Weasley twins---who did it. Just because Marcus broke Wood's nose the previous year they took it out on 'me'. I had nothing to do with it!"

"...." Lucifer.

Well. Case closed. Turns out Slytherin struck first-exactly like he expected.

Figures.

xxxxxx

At nine o'clock in the morning, the Great Hall was already packed.

Outside, weather was bright and biting cold, but that did nothing to quell the little wizards' passion for Quidditch. Everyone was buzzing with anticipation for a spectacular match.

The savory aroma of grilled sausages wafted through the hall, enough to make anyone's mouth water.

Today was practically a festival of sausages: there were white sausages made from veal, Thuringian sausages paired with tangy sauerkraut, and even Italian sausages oozing with gooey mozzarella.

Lucifer's favorite? Definitely the Thuringian sausages with sauerkraut. The richness of the sausage balanced perfectly by the sour crunch of the kraut-it was a harmony that reminded him of his butler, Sebas's who dishes he missed dearly.

Watching how much he enjoyed the sauerkraut sausage combo, Hermione quietly took mental note.

Next time she wrote to her mother, she'd ask her to learn how to make that dish. That way, when the holidays came, she could invite Lucifer over for a proper feast.

He was thoroughly enjoying his breakfast. But not everyone at Gryffindor's table was that relaxed however, Harry Potter looked like his brain was full of static. The buzz in his head completely shut down his appetite.

Ever since that Charms class incident, Hermione and Ron had practically become strangers. They didn't speak, didn't glance at each other---it was like the other simply didn't exist.

Thankfully, the fallout hadn't affected Harry and Hermione's friendship.

In her eyes, Ron was a hopeless case. All he did was play and slack off. Harry, at least, was salvageable---he asked questions, and more importantly, he listened and learned.

To help Harry integrate better with the team---and also to boost Gryffindor's chances---Hermione even had bought a copy of 'Quidditch Through the Ages' and lent it to him.

After diving into the book for the past few days, Harry had a new level of 'respect' for the sport.

For instance, there were over seven 'hundred' ways to foul in Quidditch. And most of the nastiest, most dangerous ones? Aimed squarely at Seekers. 'What did Seekers ever do to deserve that kind of hate? Steal someone's chips?'

To make matters worse, Harry couldn't stop thinking about a strange suspicion---he'd noticed Snape limping, and he was increasingly convinced it had something to do with that corridor on the third floor. But what had he been doing there?

What was hidden in that corridor? Was it some kind of treasure Dumbledore was protecting?

"Harry, you've got to eat something," Hermione said gently, easing on her bossy tone.

"I don't feel like eating," Harry mumbled, staring at his empty plate, almost miserably.

"Just some toast at least," she coaxed, placing in front of him.

"I said I don't want anything," Harry said, slightly frustrated, but it was just nerves talking.

"Actually, you said you weren't hungry," Ron said, trying to lighten the mood. All Harry did was glare at him.

Seamus, sitting nearby, took it up a notch---he directly handed over a slice of toast slathered with peanut butter, then topped it with a grilled sausage smeared in ketchup.

"You know, the longest Quidditch match in history lasted 'three months.' Even Hogwarts' longest game went on for days. If you don't eat now, you could literally starve out there."

Harry caved and took a bite.

xxxxxx

By ten-thirty, it felt like the 'entire' school had migrated to the Quidditch pitch. Lucifer and Hermione made their way up to the very top of the stands, where view was the best---you could see entire field clearly from here.

Neville, Seamus, Dean were holding up a giant torn bedsheet thanks to Scabbers, that read "Potter for the Win!" in shifting, glowing paint, with an embroidered Gryffindor' lion by magic growling---Other banners and cheering props quickly followed.

Directly across from them was the Slytherin stand, who, of course, wasn't going to be outdone. Their side erupted in magical banners and swirling sigils, the air practically shimmering with charm--fueled rivalry.

For a moment, the whole stadium felt less like a sports venue and more like a dueling arena between two houses.

Daphne wasn't a hardcore Quidditch fan---she saw it more as an occasional distraction than anything thrilling. But her Slytherin 'pride' ran deep.

....Under the coercion of her friend, Parkinson, or more like bribery, she had prepared a massive banner and asked Slytherin's prefect Avery to enchant it into the sky.

The banner was a full twenty meters long and four meters wide, with a coiling green serpent along its borders. In the center, bold silver letters read: "Slytherin Champions."

Lucifer thought for a moment, then decided he might as well add a bit of flair to his own. He drew his wand and cast a bright spell at Neville's giant bedsheet.

Instantly, the embroidered Lion sprang to life---its magistic body writhing realistically, and its giant head bursting beyond the banner's edge, growling menacingly in the direction of the Slytherin stands.

Slytherin, despite their spirit, didn't have a response 'ready' for that. No one on their side could match that kind of spellwork----

The effect was immediate, Gryffindor morale surged. Even Hermione felt like she's not that aversive watching this blood bath of a sport. She was standing beside Lucifer, looking quite anxious, "You alright?"

"No... what if something bad happens to Harry?" She looked at him worriedly.

"He'll be fine," Lucifer said like it was fact.

"How do you know?" She asked, looking almost mortified that he was nonchalant about it.

"Because you saw Potter on that practice broom, he's a natural," Lucifer said, while looking at her, which caused her expression to get soft. She nodded and then charmed the paint on the bed sheet so that it flashed 'different colors.'

At exactly eleven o'clock, the players from both teams emerged from the tunnel onto the pitch.

Gryffindor Quidditch Team came out, as did the Slytherin Quidditch Tem, and they met in the center of the stadium. Oliver and Marcus shook hands, but each looked like they were trying to rip the other's arm off.

Amid thunderous cheers, Madam Hooch blew her silver whistle, and with her included, 'fifteen' broomsticks soared into the air.

"The Quaffle goes immediately to Gryffindor's Angelina Johnson---she's one 'brilliant' Chaser, that one, and quite the looker too-" Next thing everyone heard was Lee Jordan's commentary of the game,

"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall snapped almost immediately.

"Sorry, Professor!" he yelped.

This daring commentator was none other than Lee Jordan, a third-year Gryffindor and close friend of the Weasley twins. So of course, his commentary was going to be just a 'tad biased.'

"Johnson streaks down the pitch, passes-caught cleanly by Spinnet! She's a new addition this year, scouted by Captain Wood himself---uh-oh, here comes Flint with a pretty 'illegal' move and-oof! He steals the Quaffle! Is he going to score-NOPE! Ha!"

Right from the get--go, game was full of explosive back-and-forth action, and the crowd loved it.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve---back to Johnson and - no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes---

"----Flint, flying like an Eagle up there - he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and they take the Quaffle - that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor right there, nice dive around Flint, up off the field and, OUCH---that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger----"

"Quaffle taken by the Slytherins that's Adrian Pucey speeding off towards the goal posts. But he's blocked by a second Bludger---sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which - nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes-- she's really flying - dodges a speeding Bludger - the goalposts are ahead - come on, now ---+

"Angelina - Keeper Bletchley dives - misses - GRYFFINDOR SCORE!"

Gryffindor cheers filled the chilly air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

"Budge up there, move along," Lucifer heard from the side. He turned and saw the giant man, Hagrid, whose Ron said name of seconds later.

Hermione squeezed in closer to Lucifer, to give Hagrid the room he needed to join them.

"Bin watchin' from me hut," Hagrid said, patting the binoculars around his neck. Lucifer found it a bit hard to understand him at times, harder than when Hagrid had been leading them across the lake for the Sorting, "But it isn't the same as bein' in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?"

"No," Lucifer said, looking back and squinting to where Harry was hovering around, "Potter hasn't had much to do, yet."

"Kept outta trouble, though, that's something," Hagrid said, raising his binoculars and looking skyward towards Harry.

At its core, Quidditch was a three-ball game: the Quaffle for scoring, Bludgers for brutal beatings, and the Golden Snitch to end it all.

Seekers didn't really get involved in the regular gameplay---unless a Bludger tried to eat them alive.

Harry and Slytherin's Seeker, Terence Higgs, both hovered high above the chaos. They looked like hawks circling over a battlefield, eyes narrowed, scanning the skies for the elusive Snitch.

To the Gryffindor students who hadn't seen Harry train, his performance was jaw-dropping. He was flying as confidently and deftly as Higgs-maybe even more agile----

Lee Jordan took the chance to hype him up: "Potter is 'unbelievably' agile-it's hard to believe he's only been flying for two months! Look at that feint! He's completely shaken Higgs! Brilliant move!"

"Of course, part of it's the broom as well. Compared to the old Cleansweeps, Nimbus 2000's acceleration and handling are---"

"Jordan!" McGonagall had to step in again to keep him from turning the commentary into a product review.

Pfft!

Lucifer, who'd been listening with mild amusement, suddenly snorted with laughter---just loud enough to be heard over the game.

Hermione, completely focused on the action, turned her head in surprise, "Oye? What are you laughing at? Wasn't this match supposed to be serious?

Lucifer glanced at her confused look and found it even more amusing. He smirked and replied, "You should know what a car is, right?"

She nodded cautiously. What is he implying...? Her family owned a car, when she was small, they'd even went camping on a long road trip.

Lucifer continued, "Well, there's a group of people I know, who 'know' everything about cars.... From horsepower to torque, engine specs to tire types-every detail memorized. But here's the funny part..." he held out his hands, his grin turning devilish. "They can't afford any of them... I feel like Lee Jordan's exactly that kind of guy. And honestly? I respect it. The way they talk like experts, even though they'll never get behind the wheel---it's impressive."

---Hermione finally got it-and collapsed sideways against Lucifer's shoulder, giggling uncontrollably. Her laughter was light and bright, she knew it wasn't funny, and she shouldn't at other people's poverty, but resemblance of Lee Jordan never once himself playing Quidditch was too much, and it spread like wildfire.

Lucifer hadn't lowered his voice. Every student nearby heard---and it wasn't long before it started rippling outward towards the enemy stand about Muggle World's machine cars.

Soon, the entire Slytherin section was roaring with laughter. Their stands had turned into a sea of mirth.

---The commentary stand and Professors' box were just east of them, and Lee Jordan glanced over, puzzled.

Slytherin was only ahead by ten points---was that really something to be grinning so smugly about?

Just then, a student with a mouth full of mischief shouted using the Sonorus Charm, "We really admire how you can talk like a pro when you can't even afford a Nimbus!"

That did it. The professors' expressions twisted awkwardly. They clearly wanted to laugh---but knew they shouldn't.

Lee Jordan flushed bright red. Still, that jab sobered him up a little.

----Hermione shot the boy on her side a murderous glare, it somehow turned into a squabble just because she laughed a little, Lucifer's mouth twitched, what? Of course, he didn't intend his little teasing talk to turn so spicy against--- Jordan whose commentary became a tad more restrained, though his bias remained painfully obvious.

"Oops.... It's Gryffindor's fault for talking loud, sharing intel to the enemie----"

"Johnson's taken back the Quaffle---she's flying full-speed! Throws it---Bletch misread the move, what a brilliant feint-Gryffindor scores!" Gryffindor cheers echoed through the frosty air.

Professor McGonagall clenched her fists under the desk, silently cheering "Yes!" when Angelina Johnson scored.

Who would've guessed that the stern, unsmiling Professor McGonagall, renowned for her strict sense of fairness-was also a 'diehard' Quidditch fan?

Had it not been for an old injury in her youth, she might've led a team to win the Cup herself!'

Suddenly, a gasp swept through the stands. Lucifer looked and immediately caught a glimpse of something small and gold shimmering in the Sun----

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan continued his commentary, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasley's, and Chaser Bell and speeds towards the---- wait a moment - was that the Snitch?" He'd also found that golden touch.

The Golden Snitch had appeared---

It zipped past Adrian Pucey's ear, and Harry spotted it first, immediately diving after it.

He was fighting, figuratively, the Slytherin Seeker, cause Higgs saw it too, and wasn't far behind.

But Harry's flying skills and speed were a cut above---he began pulling ahead.

All of the Chasers and both Keeper's stopped moving to watch the struggle that was two Seekers fighting to try and get the Snitch. Harry was faster, obviously, because of his new broom, the Nimbus 2000.

He was gaining the Snitch. His fingers were almost within range to clamp down on the little Golden ball----

'WHAM!~'

A roar of rage could be heard in the Gryffindor Stands. Lucifer smiled at Marcus Flint's obvious about his blatant Foul---

Sending Harry spinning off course.

The Golden Snitch vanished instantly, slipping away like a whisper in the wind. Gryffindor had just missed their best chance to end the match.

"FOUL!" Madam Hooch roared furiously, penalizing Flint and awarding a penalty shot to Gryffindor.

The Gryffindor stands erupted in boos and curses.

Flint, however, didn't care in the slightest. He even grinned up at the Gryffindors, taunting them.

Which, of course, only made the insults louder.

"Send him off, ref! Red Card!" Dean was yelling non-stop.

"This isn't football, Dean," Ron had reminded him, "You can't send people off in Quidditch, and what's a Red Card?"

"As, he said you can't send people off in quidditch which means they are allowed to play dirty if that's not against the rules---So, what Slytherin's are doing is actually clever instead of doing reckless things like those Gryffindor's," Lucifer countered their biased way of thinking.

Lee was finding it difficult to not take sides, "So, after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating----'

"Jordan!" Professor McGonagall growled in a warning voice.

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul---" He was growling, practically spitting his words.

"Jordan, I'm warning you! If you can't commentate properly, go dig Blasted-end Skrewts!'

"All right, all right..."

Lee Jordan grumbled and fell quiet.

"---Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession," Lee reluctantly said in the most unbiased way he could manage at that moment.

The match continued for about two minutes when Lucifer looked back at Harry and saw him jerking around sideways and back 'n' forth on his broom. "That's an odd tactic he has implemented. Is it a display of dominance?"

Hermione gave him a quick smack on the shoulder, but looked as well, "What is he doing?"

Lee was still commentating as though nothing was wrong, "Slytherin now in possession---Flint with the Quaffle - passes Spinnet - passes Bell--- hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose - only joking, Professor," he quickly added when McGonagall was about to reprimand him, "Slytherin score---oh no..."

"Gryffindor is currently trailing by forty points. No worries, though----Potter has a much sharper eye for the Snitch than Higg---what's going on with Nimbus 2000?"

Suddenly, a new disturbance rippled through the crowd. Harry's broomstick began bucking even more wildly, spinning and twisting in midair. He barely managed to stay on.

Just as it calmed for a moment, it began trembling violently again----

Hagrid also looked up and saw Harry having no control over his broom.

He was suddenly thrown off it, but still had a hold of it as he dangled dangerously in the air, "Dunno why he's lost control, can't nothing interfere with a broomstick except powerful Dark Magic."

Hermione suddenly seized Hagrid's binoculars and began scanning the crowd, more specifically, the teacher's stand, "I knew it," she gasped, "Snape - look!---"

.....Lucifer's eyes at her words darted to Professor's box. Quirrell's lips were moving rapidly, chanting under his breath. Snape's were too.

The two were locked in a silent, magical tug-of-war, neither realizing the other was casting spells as well.

Both of them were targeting Harry's broomstick---using it as a magical conduit for their duel.

'Unbelievable.' Lucifer seethed inwardly.

"He's doing something, probably jinxing the broom," Hermione was really getting suspicious, and wanted to throw hands. What should we do?" She asked him to do something.

"Leave it to me," Lucifer said, gripping his wand in reverse, hiding it inside his sleeve, and began chanting too---

But his target wasn't Harry's Nimbus---there was barely room for 'two' in that magical mess. He'd aim elsewhere. He set his sights on the rogue Bludger.

Manipulating objects with willpower was a talent of his---even before getting a wand, now that he had a wand, this was child's play.

Under Lucifer's influence, the Bludger shot forward with renewed speed, slicing through the air with a sharp whistle.

George Weasley jumped, startled by its sudden charge, and swung hard with his bat.

The force of the blow rattled up his arms. Groaning in pain, he turned attention back to Harry and saw him being flung about like a dog shaking a toy with its mouth---The crowd watched in horror as Harry was dangled from his broom.

He saw Marcus Flint score five more times in the confusion as everyone awaited for Harry to either regain control of his broom----

Up in the professor's box, Quirrell didn't even notice. A wicked smirk tugged at his lips. His eyes were locked on Harry's shaking broom.

Dumbledore wasn't here today. If he could just knock Harry off... from that height, the boy would splatter like jam.

It would be perfect revenge---'for his master.' But just as quickly as the smirk appeared, it vanished.

Snape's eyes had swept toward him.

Quirrell pursed his lips, falling still.

His focus had been divided between Snape and Harry's broom.

Snape's focus was now on him and the broom. Neither of them noticed anything else---least of all a certain ball. The rogue Bludger, having been smacked between several players, now curved in a strange, eerie arc.

Lucifer's eyes lit up. He added one final surge of power, boy had previously robbed Snape who remained foul mood, and didn't answer his questions related to Potions, so it was obvious----

Targeting useless Quirrell, who now was muttering curses, which left him enraged----it was like the Professor betrayed something even worse.

The Bludger nearly flew out of the pitch's boundaries--then, with a weird, unnatural tug, it snapped back and shot straight at Quirrell's head.

The sharp whistle of wind grew louder and sharper behind him, but by the time Quirrell sensed something was wrong, it was too late.

'BANG!'

The heavy Bludger slammed into the back of his skull with bone-crunching force. His body flew upward, tumbled over the row of seats, then rolled down the stairway---bouncing and spinning down from the very top of the professor's box.

He didn't stop until he slammed into railing at the bottom. Had that railing not been there, he'd likely have plummeted several stories onto the pitch below.

"Professor Quirrell!"

Professor Flitwick nearly fainted from shock. He rushed over to check on him as chaos broke out among the faculty.

"I'm going to see what's going on,"

Lucifer told Hermione, and pushed through the crowd toward the professors' stand, "You keep eyes on Harry, for any other interference----"

"Got it!"

----Professor McGonagall and Flitwick were kneeling beside Quirrell, who was already unconscious. Professor Sinistra from Astronomy had sprinted back to the castle to fetch Madam Pomfrey.

Lucifer leaned in close. McGonagall, clearly worried, didn't spare a second to question why a first-year student was in the professor's box.

That dull thud from earlier had made even his teeth ache. If anything, it proved that Quirrell's head was made of solid stuff.

"Professor," Lucifer said after a moment of observation, "You should take off his turban. If there's a wound under there, it might get infected if it stays wrapped..."

"You've got a point," McGonagall and Flitwick nodded in agreement.

"No need!"

Just as they reached for his turban, Quirrell woke up. Eyes bloodshot, he sat up abruptly, struggling to his feet.

"I'm just a little dizzy. Nothing else."

Then, to everyone's stunned silence, Quirrell hobbled away-limping with a twisted, almost grotesque gait-off the stand without a word.

"...A medical miracle," McGonagall murmured as she watched his receding figure.

Lucifer heard her whisper and nodded solemnly. 'Quirrell...Truly a man with a death wish. Snape's jinxing, I could understand---but what was he targeting Harry for?!'

Harry stopped getting thrown about, as Hermione used the binoculars, looking over at the teachers, more closely, she had been a clear witness of what unfortunately conspired with Quirrell, she'd hoped it to be Snape, what a wasted opportunity----

"Clever boy...!" She praised Lucifer nonetheless.

"Neville, you can look again," Ron said to the pudgy faced boy, who had been crying into Hagrid's jacket for the past five minutes.

---Harry began to speed towards the ground, neck and neck with the Slytherin Seeker, who pulled up before getting close to the ground, but he pulled up at the last second.

xxxxxx

With Quirrell out of the picture, and Snape momentarily distracted, both were ride off, and Harry's broomstick finally returned to normal.

He dived sharply---so suddenly that Higgs thought Harry had lost control and paid him no attention, staying focused on spotting the Golden Snitch.

Then, to everyone's shock, they saw Harry clutch his mouth as if he were about to vomit... and out popped the Snitch.

Just like that, in the most absurd way imaginable, the match was over.

Gryffindor won 170 to 60. Slytherin was devastated. Gryffindor, on the other hand, was celebrating like it was Christmas morning.

No one could have predicted Harry's "mouth skills" were that good---he had caught the Golden Snitch with his mouth. Flint accused him of cheating, but Madam Hooch didn't entertain the complaint.

The rules never said how the Snitch must be caught.

As the crowd gradually dispersed and everyone made their way back to the castle, discussions about the match filled the air---but so did speculation about what had happened to Professor Quirrell.

Many students had seen him get nailed in the head by a rogue Bludger, and it wasn't pretty.

For a regular person, that kind of hit would've meant immediate unconsciousness or worse. But not only did Quirrell stay conscious, he refused medical treatment and limped back to the castle on his own.

Surprisingly, people started to admire him. At least in terms of pain tolerance and sheer resilience, they were willing to call him the 'toughest' around.

xxxxxx

As they reached Hagrid's hut---small only compared to his size, Harry knocked on the door. With a bark from his dog, Fang, Hagrid opened up.

Harry stepped in with a greeting.

Lucifer's eyes from behind froze as he glanced around inside, eyes wide with surprise. Hermione looked at him, confused---it was rare to see that expression on his face.

----Even during the tension with Quidditch incident, he had kept his calm. What was in Hagrid's hut? She peered inside. It was an ordinary space, even a bit shabby---

Reminding Ron of home.

Inside Hagrid's hut.

"Whazz wrong, Lucif'r?" Hagrid asked, scratching his head as Fang quieted down, "Something off with my house?"

Lucifer shook his head, gathering himself from the moment of shock, "No, I just didn't expect...you'd live so 'luxuriously'."

Luxurious? All three including Hagrid turned to him, intrigued, studying his eyes. There were rumors among the Gryffindors that Lucifer's eyes could see things others couldn't--- Some even claimed he could see through magic itself and, used them to get on the top of the class, explaining his strong affinity.

Hagrid looked just as puzzled. "Comfy enough, sure, but luxury, eh? Hardly."

Lucifer pointed around the room, "That dog bed and blanket are made of unicorn hair, the wind chime is crafted from mermaid---scales, and those, are those Bowtruckles? There by the fire, are those fire-dwelling salamanders?"

He named what he recognized.

The hut was filled with more magical items than just these. There were jars on windowsill, all radiating magical energy, likely containing venom, blood, or saliva from magical creatures.

Hagrid's eyes brightened. "Aye, lad! You fancy these little critters?"

"No." Lucifer shook his head decisively, "But I do like the 'materials' they provide."

Obviously, Harry, Ron and Hermione didn't fully grasp the value of these items, though they eyed Fang's bed with a tinge of envy... They knew the worth of unicorn hair, which fetched ten Galleons per strand.

That seemingly ordinary bed could cost a thousand Galleons.

"Oh, alright then." Hagrid chuckled, used to such reactions from wizards, though certain pock-faced exceptions adored the creatures themselves, "So, how's Hogwarts treating you after defeating Slytherin? I've heard you're doing great in your classes...."

"It's great, Hagrid!"

Ron leaned forward, grabbing one of Hagrid's oversized biscuits.

"It was Snape," Hermione explained to everyone present. "I saw him through my binoculars---he was muttering a spell at Harry's broom. I was going to go stop him, but halfway there, Quirrell got hit by the Bludger, and Snape stopped casting. Then Harry caught the Snitch."

After the match, they couldn't resist Hagrid's enthusiastic invitation. This was also the perfect opportunity to tell Harry what she'd seen---

"Rubbish," Hagrid said gruffly, not buying it, "Why would Snape do something like that?"

"I think he's trying to steal whatever's on the third floor," Harry suddenly said, dropping the bomb in a casual tone.

Hagrid stiffened. mid-reach, the sudden lapse causing a biscuit to drop onto Hermione's head, "What did you say? Wait---how do you know what's on the third floor?"

"Ow!" She rubbed her head, exclaiming, "Professor Snake was muttering under his breath, he wouldn't take his eyes off of you!"

"I don't," Harry said honestly, shaking his head, "But on Halloween, I saw Snape limping down from upstairs. His leg was injured. I think he got bitten-by the three-headed dog."

"You know about Fluffy?!" Hagrid was utterly stunned now, dropping his teapot in shock.

"Fluffy?' That's the mad dog's name?" Hermione latched onto the detail immediately, wide-eyed. who was nearly sitting on Lucifer's lap, because that sofa, could only fit three people.

"Uh... yeah. I bought him off a Greek fella. Loaned him to Dumbledore to guard---" Hagrid cut himself off mid-sentence. He looked from Hermione to Lucifer, Ron and Harry---all of them staring at him with bright, curious eyes-and clamped his mouth shut.

"Yes?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Now don't ask me anymore," he said gruffly, "that's top secret, that is."

"But, Snape is trying to steal it!" Hermione said in a loud voice.

Lucifer remained silent, to be honest he lost interest, because these people weren't even trying to suspect the innocent looking, Quirrell.

"I'm not telling you anything more."

"Snape's a teacher here," Hagrid added defensively, "Maybe'is attitude is harsh, but believe me, of everyone at Hogwa's, even including Dumbledore, he's the one who least wants you harmed."

Ron grumbled, "Then why does he act like he wants to feed Harry to a troll?"

"Snape is trustworthy. Dumbledore relies on him a lot," Hagrid emphasized, "Even if he hated James-"

"James?" Harry perked up immediately, "Hagrid, are you saying Snape knew my dad?"

Waving a massive arm as if trying to shoo away the topic, Hagrid muttered, "That was just some old grudge. Has nothing to do with you. Just forget about Fluffy. Forget what he's guarding. That's between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel-"

"Nicolas Flamel?" Hermione gasped with scandalous excitement, another name unlocked, she instantly jotted it down in her mental notes.

'Smack!'

Hagrid looked right cross with himself, and slapped his own face, loosening his grip on right palm, as another of his stone-like biscuits dropped onto Hermione's head.

"Ow!" she exclaimed, rubbing that same spot again, "That hardly feels like trust...I know a Jinx when I see one, Hagrid," Hermione explained, while Lucifer was inspecting her tiny bump whether she'd suffered any brain damage at the hands of rock-hard biscuits----"I've read all about them and you've got to maintain eye-contact when it's a vocal Jinx, and Snape wasn't breaking eye-contact."

"I'm tellin' ya, yer wrong!" Hagrid said hotly, and physically pushed them out of the hut, "Jus' 'cause he knows about the Dark Arts, don' mean he knows any powerful Dark Magic," he tried to defend the potion master, but Ron just glared at him in response,

"---Besides, Snape wouldn't try to kill a student. Now listen to me, all four of yeh - yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous."

After they left Hagrid's old hut, Lucifer couldn't stop himself any longer, and tried to make these fools understand, "If we go by your logic, then I also saw Quirrell doing the exact same thing.... The moment he got hit by the Bludger, Harry's broom went back to normal. Doesn't that make him a 'suspect' too?"

"Quirrell?" Hermione blinked, stunned, and even the boy who nearly fell off his broom, breaking his bones looked shocked. Could Quirrell... really pull that off?

"If he was responsible, then why would Quirrell go after Harry?" She asked, frowning.

Lucifer shrugged, "Beats me. I don't really care about the why either...."

"What are you even saying, Lucifer?"

Harry shook his head immediately, "There's no way, it was Professor Quirrell. It's definitely Snape, he has been nothing more than a bully to me." Immediately cutting off any new theories and retorted loudly, he really didn't like that awful Snake.

And, Ron also gave his two penny worth of thoughts, "Yeah, he is a git, besides, Quirrell can't even speak without stuttering!"

Lucifer wisely chose to ignore these two boys, and looked at Hermione with a dazed expression instead, "It's always the quiet ones..." a low voice was heard.

The bushy-haired girl, knew what Lucifer meant, that's why she just sighed inwardly, and started playing with her locks unconsciously, "Sure, he's not the strongest wizard, but he's never done anything to Harry. He has no reason to try and hurt him."

Then she offered Lucifer a sympathetic smile, "I get why you think that way, though... He's been changed recently in answering your questions in Potions." Her face looked 'green' with envy.

"Anyway, I'm more worried about that thing on the third floor. By the way, Hermione, Lucifer---do either of you know who Nicolas Flamel is?"

Harry's curiosity was now burning at full force. What kind of treasure would Dumbledore go to such lengths to protect?

Hermione furrowed her brows. She'd read a lot of books, but not one had ever mentioned that name.

Lucifer went deep in thought, checking over his memories, coming up with nothing as of yet.

xxxxxxx

They returned back to Gryffindor Tower to work on some homework before turning in.

"What are you studying? This book doesn't seem to be of our curriculum. Is this another fourth-year stuff?" It was Hermione, who asked Lucifer this question, because, this boy had already completed his work ten minutes ago.

....But, he was still reading something, which made her slightly curious.

"No" Only, Lucifer was quite busy thinking, and didn't give much of a response, "Hey! I was reading that!" When, he tried to be vague earlier, Hermione had enough of this attitude, and snatched that book away quite fiercely, then used her right hand to move the pages randomly.

"Building different rooms inside our mind....? What's this?" It's just, she got slightly confused after reading this, and looked over at Lucifer, who was sitting beside her on the sofa.

".....It's Occlumeny. The Sorting hat used that word, so I'm trying to lo-"

"So, is there anything important that you've learned?!" Hermione, also had a competitive nature, and she didn't like being overtaken by her opponent.

"....." Lucifer, "It helps to prevent other wizards from knowing your thoug----

"I'm going to borrow this for a while, okay?" She cut him off in the middle of his talk, when she heard such terrible news.

".....Yeah, but you don't have to look that sca.... right, it will also help with your migraine." This dialogue, seemed to have forced Hermione to take an oath of silence.

And, there was no response for several minutes,"...when did you notice?" Even her eyes seemed to have become watery, after hearing those surprising words, with a slightly anxious tone.

"For the last two days, you have been going to sleep early, and during the practical less----

"I see, well there's no need to worry," Hermione said, while taking out a dark blue coloured flask, and shook it lightly, which made a small noise, "I'm taking the pills for it." she, said while looking into Lucifer's eyes, hoping to God, that he would believe her, because she had never heard the name of Merlin from her childhood, and just by staying at the boarding school for a while couldn't change her old habits so easily.

"Okay." Lucifer nodded his head, after taking a second look at Hermione's bottle. He didn't see any problem, if she's taking her medicine, those headaches will probably go away.

This response seems to have made, Hermione feel quite relieved inside her heart, and then she quickly put that flask back inside her pocket.

xxxxxx

In the Forbidden Forest...

The elixir was nearly ready, Lucifer sent Kaka away, deciding to handle the final phase himself.

The moment he added the dragon heart, potion began to boil violently, releasing a terrifying amount of heat as clouds of white vapor billowed upward----He cast a light wind spell to disperse the steam without disrupting the potion.

About thirty minutes later, contents of the cauldron had been reduced by half. The color had transformed into the deep 'blood-red hue' book had described.

The thick, slightly viscous liquid shimmered like flowing, molten gemstone.

"Is this stuff even... safe?"

Lucifer asked himself cautiously. This wasn't just any potion---it was imported, and far too dangerous to take lightly. He took a close look and confirmed, just to be sure, "The color checks out... Smell---a faint sharpness with a hint of blood, as described."

That's exactly what he smelled.

"Fuck it. Drink it--no hesitation."

With assurance of immortality, Lucifer felt less nervous, or maybe a bit excited, would he really die, the thought was... 'thrilling'. He took out a balance scale and began portioning the potion.

Each dose was precisely five ounces-about 140 grams. One batch yielded seven doses, enough for seven uses. Without hesitation, he grabbed a vial and downed it.

The thick, syrupy liquid stuck to his throat, refusing to go down. Lucifer had to gulp several times before it finally slid into his stomach. His eyebrows twisted into a knot, 'just like a pint of long-coagulated goat's blood.'

Before he could even complain further, the potion took effect.

It was like a volcano erupted inside him, spreading molten heat throughout his body. Lucifer's face burned crimson... Steam began to rise off his skin. Even in near-freezing temperatures, it felt like he'd stepped into a sauna.

He quickly shifted into action mode, fearing the potion's power might dissipate, he immediately underwent a sequence of "bizarre ritualistic poses."

Individually, they were meaningless. But when performed under the influence of the Vitality Elixir, they enabled Lucifer's body to absorb its effects much faster and more efficiently.

----While wizards like Dumbledore and Voldemort could overpower dragons and sphinxes without blinking, that didn't mean their 'physical essence' was stronger than those magical beasts. They were still humans---just smarter, and more deeply attuned to magic.

The potion's principle was simple: by ingesting the essence of high-tier magical creatures, one could elevate their own life force. The benefits went beyond raw strength---it enhanced mental clarity, magical stamina, and even extended lifespan.

Over the next ten minutes, Lucifer completed the sequence of movements three times. With his sharp memory, he'd already committed every step to heart.

----Each round of poses burned off some of the potion's energy, and gradually, the raging heat inside him began to cool.

An hour later, his body temperature had returned to normal, and energy had been completely drained. He ended the session in a rather bizarre pose and couldn't help but mutter aloud----

"Train your form to mirror the crane, scriptures in hand beneath pine trees."

"I seek the Way, but none can answer-clouds drift in the sky, water rests in the jar."

.....What the hell was that?

Lucifer was full of question marks, ---every word made sense individually, but strung together? None of it clicked. "It's nothing," he exhaled a mouthful of foul air, finally finishing the set, "Just philosophical for a moment...."

Despite having pushed himself through an intense hour of physical training, Lucifer felt better than ever. His body brimmed with vitality, his mind felt clear, and his thoughts sharp----

As for his magic...

"Diffindo."

His wrist flicked like lightning, and a flash of light shot from his wand, instantly slicing a tree into a pile of splinters that rained down onto the forest floor----

"My spells feel more... 'vicious' now,"

Lucifer observed, he wasn't surprised in the slightest. That's to be expected. When your mental state shifts, the energy within your spells does too.

Now that his physical endurance has increased, magical growth will accelerate. He could start learning some larger-scale magic, his body would be able to slowly start getting used to other worldly, godly essence.

Lucifer nodded---he liked to go back to celestial state. If overwhelming strength could solve a problem, why waste time on clever tricks? Simpler, more brutal solutions were often the best---He took out another bottle of the 'Strengthening Elixir.'

Just one bottle had made this much difference. What if he took them all? He'd be unstoppable! Maybe, he could even defeat the old bastard---

Sensing where his thoughts were headed, Lucifer quickly chided his own rashness, "There's still residual potency from the last dose... I'll need time to absorb it---at least a week before next dose....Fine."

He regretfully tucked the bottle away, quickly tallied up his potion ingredients.

Everything else he either had on hand, could gather in the Forbidden Forest, or buy from Diagon Alley.

The only things he was missing were sphinx eyes and dragon hearts--the two key ingredients. He had six more vials of the potion left. Taking one per week would get him right up to Christmas break.

Effects would stop showing after twenty or thirty bottles---so the road ahead was still long.

Missing ingredients... and the first person Lucifer thought of was, Potions Master, Slytherins Head of House.

But he soon gave up on that idea.

Not because he couldn't steal from him---he had already stolen the last of both those ingredients from Snape's stash. But Snape wasn't stupid. The man had probably hidden what was left, and it wasn't like the shelves would magically restock just for Lucifer to loot.

----Better to wait until Christmas and source the materials from Diagon Alley or Knockturn Alley.

After packing up his cauldron and scale, he left the Forbidden Forest with a spring in his step.

His body felt great, better than ever---but he was starving. Lucifer could eat an entire 'Griffin' raw if it stood still long enough.

xxxxxx

The new week arrived with a biting chill. Outside the castle, a relentless, drizzling rain cloaked the grounds in gray.

Lucifer was grateful he'd finished brewing his fortifying potion just a few days earlier-had he delayed any further, he'd have had to stop, pack it up, and wait for sunlight to return before continuing.

The damp had crept indoors too, and the dormitory now reeked of moisture.

Clothes, bedding, even curtains everything felt soggy. It was driving Lucifer mad with irritation.

And it was precisely during this bout of frustration that he did something extraordinary:

He accidentally invented a spell.

Before the stunned eyes of Harry Potter and the others, moisture in the air and even from blankets and clothes began to gather into a single point.

----Mold stains lurking in dark corners were pulled free, sucked toward the center. Before long, a greenish, melon-sized orb of condensed water and mildew hovered in the middle of the room. The air felt noticeably drier, clearer. It was working.

Had he really just created a new spell?!

Lucifer could hardly believe it. He'd merely thought to himself: 'If only I could squeeze all the moisture out of this place.'

And just like that---it worked.

Really, what did he think spell invention was? Some complicated, ritualistic nonsense? No--if you have a clear goal, your magical power supports it, and you catch a flash of inspiration... boom. A new spell.

Lucifer really got it.

This wasn't like solving arithmetic problems where you needed strict logic and structure. Magic wasn't bound by reason---it was pure willpower made real.

In some sense, magic was really just 'I think, therefore it happens.'

His frustration had reached a boiling point---and in that moment, he'd inadvertently invented a very practical household spell.

Lucifer tossed the water orb into the washroom, then sat back down and focused on that same feeling. Before long, he succeeded again-but in reverse.

Now the room began to re-dampen.

Two new spells, born from frustration:

"Moisture Banish & Mildew Cleanse" a dehumidifying and purifying spell.

"Dampening Mist Enchantment" humidify and re-moisten an area.

Lucifer was over the moon. These two humble domestic charms had him smiling all day. And when he was happy, Hermione was happy to learn two new "original spells."

The two of them giggled through their entire Transfiguration class like children. Professor McGonagall kept glancing over, half-suspecting they'd been jinxed.

"I don't know, Professor," Lucifer said innocently. "I just feel really good today. Like laughing."

"Me too," Hermione added, "When he smiles, I can't help smiling back."

McGonagall pressed a palm to her forehead. 'These two idiots are beyond saving....'

xxxxxx

That afternoon, Lucifer and Hermione went for a walk on the grassy grounds outside the castle. That's when he spotted a familiar figure emerging from the Forbidden Forest: 'Professor Snape.'

Lucifer's eyes lit up. Grinning slyly, he led her straight into the man's path.

"Good afternoon, Professor."

Snape took two instinctive steps backward and glanced suspiciously at the sky. By every astronomical measure, the sun still rose from the east. 'So why-why-is Lucifer Morningstar voluntarily greeting me?'

Sure, their relationship had improved recently, but he still treated him like a

Gryffindor' brat, one who's good at Potions, and needed his guidance according to Dumbledore.

Only when asking specific potion---related questions would he show anything resembling flattery---and even then, strictly professional.

'This sudden pleasantry? Definitely a trap.' Snape was on full alert.

But Lucifer just kept smiling like a harmless kitten, stepping closer despite Snape's retreat.

"Professor, you must've noticed---something was tampered with during Saturday's Quidditch match. Harry's broom, the Nimbus 2000-it was cursed."

Snape's eyes narrowed, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Lucifer, undeterred, went on casually:

"Well, rumor has it... Harry thinks it was you. Said someone saw you muttering under your breath while staring at his broom. If Quirrell hadn't been injured, Harry would've gone splat."

Snape nearly choked on his own rage.

He'd risked everything to counteract Quirrell's dark curse-and now he was the 'suspect?'

"Nonsense!" Snape barked, furious. This was beyond unfair. It was like accusing a 'Squib' of killing Dumbledore with the Killing Curse.

"These idiotic accusations-who's been spreading them? Tell me! I'll deduct house points until they cry!"

He was dead serious. If Harry didn't shut his mouth soon, Snape would gladly lock him in detention for weeks.

"I'm not sure exactly," Lucifer said innocently. "One of the Weasley twins, maybe? But if it's all a misunderstanding, maybe you should just clear it up with Harry? Save your reputation, you know."

"Explain myself... to 'Potter?" Snape let out a strangled laugh of disbelief.

"No. Now that he's made the accusation-it's no longer a misunderstanding. He's absolutely right. I am trying to kill him. Him, and Weasley too. Perfect!"

With a dramatic flourish, Snape swept past them, storming off toward the castle.

Hermione blinked, "Lucifer... you're not worried Harry already suffers enough in Potions? I thought you two were kind of friendly?"

Lucifer waved her off.

"Relax. Even if Snape explodes, he won't actually hurt Harry. He'll just... 'torment' him a little. This is about Ron Weasley. He still owes you for calling you a friendless know-it-all."

"Ahhh," Hermione nodded in understanding, her cheeks burning.

xxxxxx

By Tuesday, Snape had found his chance for revenge.

As he strode into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, every Gryffindor stiffened like prey sensing a predator.

"Professor Quirrell suffered a head injury during the match," Snape said coldly. "Not that it matters. Even a Moke would pity his brain."

A grim joke. A Moke was a rare, shrinking lizard. Not exactly brainy.

Hermione turned beet red, though, she got the reference. Quirrell's brain was apparently so unimpressive that even a Moke would pity it.

"More importantly," Snape continued, "he also fractured several bones falling down the stairs. Refused Madam Pomfrey's treatment. So... for the next two weeks, I'll be teaching this class."

Harry's face turned ashen. It was true what they said: You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.

At this point, Harry would've gladly returned to Quirrell's boring essays and stammering lectures.

"Potter," Snape drawled, like speaking to a misbehaving pet, "Tell me-which charm is most effective for banishing a pack of ghouls?"

Oh no. Same setup. Same Snape.

Harry stood up, robotic.

"I don't know, Professor."

"Of course you don't."

The Slytherins burst into laughter. Malfoy went red from the effort of holding it in. When it quieted, Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry.

"You should realize by now that it's not just Potions where you're woefully behind. The same goes for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"This is basic knowledge. Even Weasley beside you could answer it blindfolded."

Ron clenched his fists so hard his knuckles went white. He wanted to punch Snape square in the face-but he didn't dare.

"Turn to page fifty-nine!" Snape snapped.

"Learn the Banishment Charm. And remember---next time you face a ghoul, don't go swinging a club like a Neanderthal. You're a wizard, not a caveman."

Lucifer immediately thought of Fred and George whacking Bludgers with bats. So did Harry, a few seconds Hermione also got it...

Exactly how many people had 'Snape insulted with that one question?'

xxxxxxx

Turns out, Harry's nightmare had only just begun. The ridicule before class was merely the warm-up.

After introducing the traits and weaknesses of ghouls and having the students jot down the banishment incantation, Snape stepped outside and dragged in his specially prepared "teaching aids"-two live ghouls.

Despite their terrifying name, ghouls weren't particularly dangerous. They were only classified as XX-level threats, the same as a Bowtruckle or a Puffskein.

These creatures were small, with slimy dark greenish-black skin, protruding fangs, and a few wisps of hair clinging to their bold beads.

They lived in damp, dark places-like sewers and attics-and fed on spiders and moths.

---Wizards never bothered to wipe out ghouls. In fact, some even kept them around for amusement, treating their wailing screeches like "music."

Handling such low-level creatures was simple---either physically or magically.

"Potter," Snape said with a sneer, "why don't you give the class a demonstration?"

Harry wasn't nervous. He figured these little things couldn't be that tough. What he forgot, though, was that Snape's real job was teaching Potions. He was a master in the field.

These two ghouls weren't your average attic gremlins. Snape had found them just the night before and fed them some rather 'interesting' potions. Now they were bursting with energy-and rage.

The moment Snape lifted the 'Petrificus Totalus' spell, two ghouls, eyes glowing red, lunged at Harry and kicked him in circles-literally.

By the time they were done, Harry was too stunned to even think straight.

'Wait a second', Harry thought. 'Aren't ghouls supposed to be skittish and non-aggressive? Since when did they kick like mountain trolls?'

He didn't even get a chance to cast a spell.

"Tsk. Looks like our dear savior isn't quite so gifted when it comes to handling basic magical creatures," Snape sneered, his smirk practically radiating joy. "Don't worry, Potter. I'll give you something more your speed next time."

Malfoy looked like he'd just had Christmas, his birthday, and every holiday combined. If only Snape could clone himself and replace every professor, Malfoy would be the happiest boy at Hogwarts, getting front-row seats to Potter's misfortunes every day.

And the disaster wasn't over yet. After Harry got trounced, the next unlucky volunteer was Ron.

Sure, Harry would probably eventually surpassed Ron in later years, Lucifer mused---but for now---

----Ron actually had the upper hand.

Being raised in a pure-blood family meant he'd been exposed to magic from birth. At the very least, he knew a few useful spells.

Especially against ghouls-after all, there was one living in the attic at his house. And when his brothers bullied him, Ron often went up there to take it out on the poor thing.

Ron confidently raised his wand and cast the banishment spell.

Good news: it worked.

Bad news: it was pathetically weak.

One of the ghouls rolled backward twice before standing back up like nothing had happened.

Ron tried again, but this time he completely missed. With both ghouls closing in and grinning nastily, he panicked. One snatched his wand. And just like that-Ron joined Harry in the "pummeled by ghouls" club.

The class erupted in laughter. Even Gryffindors couldn't hold back. Ron looked downright tragic-his hair was a mess, his robe was gone, and everyone got a clear view of his bright red underwear.

The girls groaned in disgust while giggling uncontrollably.

Harry wanted to laugh too-but Ron was his mate. He forced himself to keep a straight face, though his lips twitched.

Snape, finally satisfied, retrieved one of the ghouls and left the other for student practice.

By the end of class, everyone had a turn-except Lucifer.

Snape waved him off with a snort, "Your spells are too forceful. If you break my teaching aids, what am I supposed to use next class?"

Don't assume ghouls were only for first-years. At Quirrell's current teaching pace, even third-years could make use of them----

After deducting five points each from Harry and Ron and leaving them with some 'choice words', Snape strutted out feeling utterly refreshed.

Apart from the two battered victims, everyone agreed it had actually been a great class, Hermione carefully put away the strands of her unruly curls which had been plucked by the ghoul~~

----Her face was scornfully red in anger, and she'd even tried to step on what could be called it's foot 'twice' in retaliation, only for it to grin non-chalant, her face darkened, as she banished the ghoul.

And not just this class---anyone who had Snape as a substitute came away with the same conclusion.

Sure, the man had a mouth like acid and hair like engine grease, but he actually 'taught'. Everyone got hands-on experience. And defeating a magical creature? That sense of accomplishment was leagues beyond copying down lecture notes.

No wonder Snape applied for the 'Defense Against the Dark Arts position' every year.

Before anyone realized it, students were starting to hope Quirrell wouldn't return. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Snape just kept subbing the whole year?

Some even speculated Quirrell might never come back. After all, getting smacked in the back of the head by a rogue Bludger flying at top speed? He could very well be permanently out of commission.

---No one was shocked. With the kind of turnover that job had, Quirrell just became another statistic. Even the professors were numb to it by now.

If he was dead, maybe they'd get a feast out of it.

While everyone was quietly excited about the prospect of "Professor Quirrell's Memorial Dinner," two weeks later, the man himself returned from the dead---much to everyone's disappointment.

He didn't look dead, though---just pale, like he'd spent the fortnight battling a nasty illness.

The students weren't happy to see him. Neither was Snape!'

Snape had just gotten a taste of what it felt like to teach DADA. Barely two weeks in, and it was 'snatched away?'

----Only one person seemed pleased by Quirrell's return.

Lucifer Morningstar.

----DADA classes would be resumed after the Christmas holidays.

xxxxxx

Christmas was close upon them as it entered mid-December, and Hogwarts had found itself blanketed with pure white snow, three feet of it to be precise.

Very few Owls managed to make it through the roaring winds outside to drop off mail. Most mail arrived mid-day or evening when the winds died down a little bit.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. The Gryffindor Common Room and Great Hall were warm from the fire they had constantly going, but the corridors and classrooms were chilling to the bone.

xxxxxx

When the next morning came, Hogwarts awoke to a breathtaking sight: the grounds had been blanketed overnight in a fresh coat of shimmering silver.

The season's first snow had arrived.

Excited young witches and wizards spilled onto the grounds, eager to start snowball fights and make snow angels. Their laughter echoed across the hills and courtyards.

The Weasley twins, however, found themselves in detention---not because of the snowball fight itself, but because they'd enchanted several snowballs to chase Professor Quirrell across the courtyard... and smack right into the back of his turban!'

Lucifer witnessed the whole thing and could only shake his head in amazement. 'Now that was bravery---lobbing magical snowballs at a just recovered DADA professor, who might have had cursed Gryffindor' seeker....'

(----From author's pov, Lord Voldemort himself. It made me wonder... years down the line, when one twin died and the other was left shattered, would anyone trace that fate back to this cheeky incident?

Knowing Voldemort's pettiness? Very possible.)

xxxxxx

"Morningstar! Snowball fights are boring. Let's build a snowman instead," Daphne Greengrass' said, suddenly popping up behind him like a snow spirit.

She was bundled from head to toe in winter white-fluffy down coat, matching trousers, a cozy hat with little white pom-poms dangling on either side.

----Honestly, she herself looked more like a snowgirl than anything she might build.

"How about we invite Hermione too? We can have a contest-see who makes the cuter snowman."

Daphne immediately agreed and even urged him to go fetch her, which might be real goal in the first place.

Though Daphne and Hermione were getting along better than they had at the start of term, their relationship still had a competitive edge--- They bickered often-though strangely, it seemed to bring them closer.

Lucifer jogged back toward the castle, grumbling internally about how inefficient wizarding communication was. No messaging charms, no devices---he still had to go chase people down on foot.

'That mirror artificact in Knocturn Alley was rare. Maybe it was time to invent something....'

He'd been dabbling in alchemy lately---perhaps this was the perfect excuse to develop a magical communication tool.

As expected, Hermione was in the library, nose-deep in a book. Without preamble, he grabbed her by the sleeve and dragged her out.

When she learned they were building snowmen, she hesitated. But Lucifer's reasoning---"you need balance to study efficiently"-- Otherwise, she would slowly forget what she'd leaned to the heart, finally won her over.

And once she stepped into the snowy wonderland outside the castle, her eyes lit up with wonder.

They each took a spot and began sculpting snowmen, while Lucifer played the impartial judge. Not wanting either of them to suffer from the cold, he cast gentle warming charms on their hands.

----The snow might melt a bit faster, but at least their fingers wouldn't freeze.

As he enchanted their gloves, he gently held each girl's hand--warm, soft, and faintly fragrant. Both girls flushed pink and immediately snatched their hands away, muttering under their breath. 'Sly....!'

Suddenly, the air split with a whoosh!

Without turning, Lucifer raised his wand, and the snowball hurtling toward him reversed mid-air and zoomed back along its trajectory.

'Thwack! Thwack!'

Two yelps of pain followed.

"Morningstar! That's cheating!" Fred clutched his head, wincing, "Who uses magic in a snowball fight?!"

Lucifer finally turned, looking completely innocent, "But didn't you two enchant snowballs to chase Professor Quirrell earlier? I saw it with my own eyes. And besides-we're wizards. Isn't that the whole point?"

The twins exchanged a look... then identical grins spread across their faces.

"Alright then, Morningstar'. Let's settle this with a proper magical snowball duel!" George declared, already pulling out his wand.

In an instant, over a hundred snowballs lifted off the ground around them, floating menacingly. It was quite a sight---and it caught the attention of half the courtyard.

Hermione and Daphne readied their wands to assist, but he stopped them.

"No need. Just watch me handle this."

With a flick of his wand, Lucifer tapped the ground. The snow shifted and rumbled... then surged 'upward!'

Right before the stunned Weasleys, snow formed into a towering ten-meter-tall snowman, complete with stubby arms and an oversized, goofy smile---?!

The giant scooped up a snowball larger than either twin and hurled it with casual ease.

Fred and George blanched.

----Their enchanted snowballs looked like fluffy marshmallows in comparison! With matching shrieks, they split and sprinted in opposite directions. The snowman hurled ball after ball with astonishing accuracy.

Fred was the first to get caught---snow spilling into the seams of his robes and making him shriek like a banshee.

Up on the front steps, Professor McGonagall witnessed the whole scene-and instead of scolding anyone, she smiled warmly.

'If only he showed this level of skill during Transfiguration class', she thought. 'I'd give him ten points on the spot.'

High above, in the ivory tower, Dumbledore stood at the window, gazing out over snowy grounds.

He watched the towering snowman, the giggling children, and the way sunlight made world glitter.

And he smiled.

'This... this is what it's all about. Looks like Harry will have a powerful friend, Miss Granger is the "key" for that boy to fight against Tom'

xxxxxx

Gryffindor prided itself on loyalty, especially the Quidditch team.

So while watching Fred and George Weasley get chased all over the grounds by a giant enchanted snowman was undeniably hilarious, even if Lucifer was still a Gryffindor'---how could others lions from Quidditch team, possibly just stand by and watch one of their own be "bullied"?

"George! Fred! I'm coming!"

The first to jump in was their best mate, Lee Jordan. He gathered all his strength and conjured a massive snowball, nearly as large as the one thrown by Lucifer's snowman.

Then, with a flick of his wand, he launched it using a Levitation Charm---only for the snowman to lazily smack it into powder with one gigantic paw.

Fred, who had just crawled out of a snow pile, burst into laughter. "Lee, you idiot! Use Multicorpus Eiectus, not a floaty charm!"

"Oh! Right!" Lee suddenly realized.

The other Gryffindors quickly joined in the action. Some hurled enchanted snowballs at the giant snowman, while others, inspired by Lucifer, tried to transfigure their own mini snowmen.

But none of theirs came close in size or intimidation.

In no time, the Hogwarts grounds turned into a battlefield: snowballs flying through the air, animated snowmen chasing after laughing students.

A couple of Slytherins weren't about to sit back and watch "Weasely Twins" win, were enraged. They'd suffered a lot under their hands.

It didn't take long before impromptu snowball fight turned into a full-blown duel between 'Slytherin and Gryffindor.'

Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws quickly retreated to safer distances, worried about catching a stray snowball. Once safely out of range, they made themselves comfortable and began spectating with relish----

A few of them even clicked their tongues regretfully, lamenting that they hadn't brought any snacks. A snowball war with front-row seats? It deserved popcorn!'

Eventually, even Hermione and Daphne abandoned their snowmen and jumped into the action, chaotic mixture of each fighting for their own House.

After a tiny snowball, the former threw into the crowd, she quickly noted she was fighting against her own house?! Darn it----! She was a traitor to Gryffindor's?

----Slytherin had fewer people, but with Lucifer's towering snowman, they who were hiding using it, held the line to fight against the Twins.

Gryffindors, siding with Fred and George, couldn't take down the snow giant---but they could 'tank' it.

Then, just as the tide was turning, Lucifer conjured another colossal snowman.

----Immediately, the Gryffindors raised their wands in surrender and magically waved a flag in the air.

"We're done. We're done."

How were they supposed to win when one guy's spellwork outmatched their entire group combined?

Off to the side, younger students from all Houses stared at older years with a peculiar mix of awe and judgment.

"Look at that first-year," one whispered. "And you lot can't even manage a proper 'Silencing Charm...'"

The accused upperclassmen all turned away, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with their underclassmen.

The "war" came to a peaceful end as the sun dipped below the horizon. Tired but exhilarated, the little witches and wizards trudged back to the castle, ready to eat dinner and then enjoy a long, warm soak in the baths.

Back in the Great Hall, Lucifer had just started eating when a slip of parchment slid in front of him.

"What's this?" he asked, glancing at the short list of names.

"That's the sign-up sheet for staying over the Christmas break," explained a fifth-year male prefect leaning over from other side of the table, Lucifer recognised without looking up, knowing it to be Percy, "If you're planning to stay, just write your name down."

"Oh, I won't be going, my caretaker is busy at her managing work," Lucifer replied, casually writing his name, then handing the parchment over to Hermione.

She barely looked at it before tossing it toward Lavender.

"Hey," Hermione leaned in with hopeful eyes, "do you have any plans for the break? Want to come over to my house? Our neighbourly grandma has got two English Short-Tail cats who can do backflips."

Lucifer blinked.

"...What?"

There was something about the way she said it that 'felt' very off.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said gently, though he truly did feel bad turning her down, "I've got a lot going on this break. I just won't have the time."

Lucifer still held a Realm to rule over, torturing billions of souls, even though Tottingham Road was hardly a one hour trip.

"Oh..." Her little face visibly deflated.

"I swear I'll visit during the summer, if I have time," Lucifer promised, "If not, maybe next year, I have lots of work pending---dont worry, I'll definitely visit Dominic theatre, and that supposedly 'Maid's cat cafe' you keep bragging about."

That perked her right back up. Three weeks for Christmas was nice, that way maybe she wouldn't be much sad this year----but two whole months of summer, of course only after her family gave permission?

Plenty of time for Lucifer to stay at her house for six weeks and still have time for a getaway together.

Actually... she decided it was more 'cost-effective.' All Hermione had to do was wait, when his schedule cleared up, besides she couldn't fathom, what were these so called "work pending", leaving him this busy.

Anyway, she was smiling again. Lucifer finally relaxed. As he continued eating, his mind shifted back to business.

xxxxxxx

This was the final week of classes before Christmas holiday, and he really was swamped.

In the Muggle world, this Christmas was going to be huge. A certain someone was preparing to gift the Western countries a "present" so massive that it would practically redefine the meaning of "freedom and democracy."

Lucifer ought to pay a few visits here and there to Soviet Union---Russia.

Magic was wondrous, sure. But when it came to lifestyle comforts and the variety of hobbies, Muggles had wizards beat by a mile.

Meanwhile, in the magical world, he'd already used up all of his latest batch of Strengthening Potion.

Big thanks to Professor Snape for the "donated" ingredients.

But he'd need more ingredients for his own treasure collection, and future uses. Luckily, he'd prepared to visit another country for travel during the summer break.

Late that night, he found himself once again roaming the school corridors for what must've been the 'hundredth' time this semester.

He was heading out-again-to stock up from the Forbidden Forest. This time, he wasn't going to linger around the edges. He was going deep.

He had his eyes on something special.

Acromantula venom.

That stuff was pure magical gold-liquid treasure. Even if he didn't use it personally, it would fetch a huge price on the market----

----He was planning on doing all kinds of shady business.

This time, Lucifer didn't bother with the secret passageways. He strolled straight out the main entrance around from Slytherin dorms, casual as you please.

By now, he'd memorized the castle's patrol patterns. Filch and Mrs. Norris mostly stuck to the upper floors---especially the area near Gryffindor Tower.

After all, those reckless lions were the most likely to sneak out after hours.

----So, Lucifer didn't even go back to Gryffindor tower tonight, it's not like anyone did a roll call, and was roaming to check out an area that was exclusive for Slytherin's.

Under Disillusionment charm----

RavenClaws preferred to study quietly in their common room. Hufflepuffs might wander, but usually only made a beeline for the kitchens.

Slytherin dorms really were too far off the main path to bother with by Filch and his cat, under the Lake, in a dungeon no less, which meant central building was often left completely unwatched----

Meaning, cause of Gryffindor's loud behaviour, makes it easier for Slytherins to sneak out at night.

----What a horrible thought, Lucifer wondered if he should tell Professor McGonagall.

Tonight, after a day of snowfall, the sky was especially clear. Moonlight bathed the castle in silver, and he flinched as the cold hit. Then, adjusted naturally, next second.

----Cause of living for eons under harsher environment, temperature didn't even matter to Lucifer at all anymore, he could suffer under it, and no harm would be come to his health, but it didn't mean he had to.

So, he cast a Warming Charm over himself, no need to abuse when it's not necessary, before continuing, sighing in relief. 'How contradictory....'

The Scottish Highlands were 'much' colder than London. Back at Lux, even in winter, temperatures rarely dipped below zero, from what he heard. But here, it was already -10°C and dropping.

Just as he reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Lucifer suddenly paused. He sniffed the air.

Something smelled... amazing. Meat broth? And roasted meat?! The rich, savory aroma slammed into his senses like a truck.

His eyes narrowed. 'Who the hell is out here making food this delicious in the middle of the night?'

That had to be illegal. It was practically criminal to drop 'food bombs' like that this late.

His first instinct was to glare toward Hagrid's hut. But nope. No chimney smoke, and the lights were off.

He sniffed again. 'The smell... it was coming from the forest?' Lucifer's expression shifted to one of disbelief.

What the hell kind of creature cooks gourmet food in the Forbidden Forest at night? Someone's out here having a midnight picnic?

Poetic, really.

Intrigued, Lucifer pressed forward into the Forbidden Forest, curious to see which eccentric soul had chosen to fire up a grill in subzero weather. The aroma only grew stronger the deeper he went, and now wisps of smoke curled visibly above a dip in the landscape. After climbing over a small ridge, he finally spotted the culprits.

Three bundled-up figures were bustling around a makeshift campsite.

They'd arranged stones and firewood to prop up a bubbling pot and a roasting rack. The pot was simmering with broth, while the grill sizzled with meat and-of all things-long baguettes. None of them noticed Lucifer sneaking up behind them.

That is, until a calm voice cut through the night.

"Well, well... someone's certainly making the most of their evening. Beef and onion stew, roast lamb, and sausages? Very ambitious. Who knew winter camping could smell this good."

The reaction was instant.

The three figures shrieked like they'd been struck by lightning. One toppled flat on her back, another dropped into a panicked crouch with her arms over her head, and the third slipped and nearly went headfirst into the boiling pot.

Lucifer reacted swiftly, extending an invisible force to pull the girl away from the stew in a rather dramatic, mid-air flip. 'That pot smelled too good to spill.'

Now safe and steady, the wrapped-up girl finally got a good look at him.

"Morningstar?!"

The one crouched on the ground, still shielding her head, blinked, then looked up with visible relief. Then she scowled.

"Bloody hell, Morningstar, don't sneak up on people like that! I thought we were about to get caught!"

She pulled the girl from the ground.

"Eleanor, it's fine. He's in our year."

Lucifer now recognized them. The one he'd saved was Hannah Abbott, the fiercely independent Hufflepuff. The grumpy one was Susan Bones, also in his year. The last girl, the one he didn't immediately recognize, looked older but younger.

...Second year, probably. Name escaping him.

"Hi. I'm Eleanor Ashworth, Hufflepuff, second year."

Introductions were exchanged around the fire.

"Lucifer Morningstar. First year, Slytherin cum Gryffindor'"

With that out of the way, he turned to Hannah, who gasped at his house's names, "Okay, what gives? You've got a perfectly good dining hall not ten minutes from here. What on earth possessed---you to haul all this into the forest and start cooking like fugitives? Did someone in the kitchen offend you?"

Lucifer actually had a bit of a rapport with Hannah. They shared History of Magic, and he'd borrowed her notes more than once.

"You're the one who's been offended!" Hannah and Susan rolled their eyes in perfect unison.

Hannah huffed. "The house-elves' food is... fine, I guess. But it's always the same. I've been eating those same roast potatoes and shepherd's pie for months now. I needed something different. But we obviously can't cook in the dorms, not with Filch and Mrs. Norris prowling around.... That cat's nose could sniff out a breadcrumb from three floors away. So yeah, Forbidden Forest it is."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying your cooking is better than the house-elves'?"

"Obviously." Hannah puffed up with pride, or her chests, "I love cooking."

He leaned in, skeptical. "Prove it."

Before anyone could protest, he grabbed a bowl and ladled himself a generous helping of the stew. No hesitation. He took a sip.

"Mmm. Alright, I'll give it to you---this is good. The sweetness of the onions, the richness from the butter, the beef is fall-apart tender... this is practically wizarding comfort food at its finest."

"Oi!" Hannah sputtered. "I haven't even tasted it yet!"

The other two rushed to grab their own bowls before Lucifer devoured the whole pot.

Well, now that dinner was happening, might as well do it right. Lucifer transfigured a large stone into a sturdy round table and neatly set the stew, bread, and grilled meats across the surface.

He tore off a chunk of bread, dunked it into the broth, and took a bite. The crust had been crisped from the fire, but once soaked in soup, it turned gloriously soft and flavorful. A bite of lamb followed. It was 'divine!'

Hannah wasn't exaggerating---her cooking was leagues ahead of the house-elves. Hogwarts meals were passable, sure, but they lacked spark. This stew, on the other hand, had character. Warm, satisfying, slightly wild.

"Herbs," Hannah said, catching his curious expression. "I add herbs. A lot of magical ones can be used as culinary spices. You'd be surprised."

"You mean... this taste... is from potion ingredients?"

"Sort of. I even used tambour mushrooms."

Lucifer's eyes widened. Tambour mushrooms---named for their tough, drum-like caps that gave off a tapping sound when struck. They were better known for "potion work" than cooking.

But here? They were the secret ingredient. "Did not see that coming," he admitted, impressed.

He gave her a dramatic thumbs-up, "Hannah Abbott, I, Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil, officially crown you Hogwarts' Supreme Little Chef."

Hannah blushed furiously, waving him off, "It's not all me. Susan helped too! That pasta she made last week---I'm still dreaming about it."

Lucifer's head turned immediately. Puppy-eyed stare activated.

Susan looked alarmed. "Don't look at me like that. We didn't bring the ingredients tonight."

He tried again. "Next time you plan a feast, let me know. I can get ingredients. I'm tight with the kitchen elves."

The girls exchanged looks.

Claiming to be "tight with the kitchen elves" in front of Hufflepuffs was a bold move--almost suspicious. But the way Lucifer demolished his share of the food told them all they needed to know.

His appetite was deadly serious.

And really, foodies stick together. By the end of the meal, Lucifer had earned a new label.

'Glutton.'

But a welcome one.

"I doubt we'll get another chance this term," Susan said with a sheepish laugh, "Holidays are right around the corner, and if I keep eating like this, I'll need an invisibility cloak just to fit through the common room door."

"By the way," she asked, "what brings you to the Forbidden Forest tonight?"

Lucifer of course wouldn't lie, "Collecting ingredients. Diagon Alley shops don't always have what I need---and what they do have isn't as fresh. Forest-grown herbs have better potency. So I figured I'd come do some foraging myself."

"Careful, though," Hannah warned, "It's not just magical herbs out here. You know there are dangerous creatures too, right? Don't go too deep. Just stick to the edge, alright?"

Lucifer smiled at this kind-girl, "Don't worry. I've got it under control."

xxxxxx

Author's Note

I was really surprised, when I read the comments, and saw the milestone of 200 stones was really completed.

Next time, I will draft the bonus chapter's length, similar to the normal one.

See you on tomorrow's update.

I forgot to inform, that I will have regular classes in the morning from now on, so the updates will be at night instead.