"How are you both not affected by this? Don't you have a keen nose? McGonagall had a fit last year," Ron asked pinching his nose.
"It's just a smell, Ronald..." Hermione started.
"Just ignore it. I've learned to dull my senses. Think of something you like to take 'your mind' off it." And, Lucifer finished.
"I like the smell..." came a high pitched voice from the toilet behind Lucifer. Myrtle drifted through the door upside down while staring, lovingly, at him.
Hermione frowned and turned back to the potion, tuning out everything that was happening around her.
"I thought ghosts couldn't smell," Lucifer asked, now being intrigued.
"Oh, we can't..." Myrtle said with a sad smile, "But I like the smell... We now have something in common!"
"Ermm... okay, year sure..."
Myrtle giggled, did a loop in the air and dived down into a toilet.
"You need to let her down easy mate," Ron said. "I don't want to be trapped in here with a moaning ... well, Myrtle."
"Or hard. Break her heart, it shouldn't matter!" Hermione said icily.
She didn't see the dumb struck faces the boys were giving her at the moment as she was too busy stirring the cauldron instead of Lucifer.
"You know, maybe Dobby wants to help, but 'just isn't very good at it," Lucifer said, getting less and less enthusiastic about his retort as he said.
"How can you say that, Lucifer? The bloody thing broke my arm!"
"I was just giving him a chan-"
"But you caned me for teasi-" Hermione stated, not finding his double way of attitude in life.
Lucifer quickly covered her mouth with his palm before she could say anymore. "She's joking, of course...." The boy half-smiled bitterly, only he quickly whipped his palm away from her mouth. "Did you just lick me?!"
Hermione cackled mischievously as he wiped the saliva on his robes.
Then, he stood up and announced that needed to go and do something. "I'll come with you," She said, her eyes looking at his bum.
"No. Sorry, ... I need to do something alone.. you should concentrate on making the potion," Lucifer said, while going his way towards the library to find some books on magical beasts.
On his way up, he was joined by none other than Lavender Brown. She walked up to him, without a word, and took Lucifer's forearm into her hands.
"How is my 'boo? You didn't hurt yourself in the match, did you?" Lavender leaned her head on his shoulder as he sighed in annoyance.
"I'm not your 'boo'....Brown," Lucifer did his best, to conceal the desire to push this girl's face into the cold wall.
"Not yet.."' she mumbled under her breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing!" Lavender said with a cheery smile as her arms slithered around Lucifer's waist, "You were so cool during the match, and I'm just glad you didn't get hurt!"
Lucifer slapped her hands away, so she switched where those limbs were. They now rested on the boy's cheeks as she stood in front of him.
Lavender let one finger slide down his front and stop just before she got into dangerous territory.
"I want you.." she whispered into his ear seductively.
"And I want you... to leave," Lucifer said, but Lavender's eyes only grew.
"Playing hard to get... like it! I"lI see you around, baby..." She booped his nose then strutted off with a sway in her step.
Lucifer sighed and made his way to the library, removing this entire conversation from his mind.
xxxxx
The news about Colin being attacked and now lying in the Hospital Wing spread through school faster than a Wildfire, as everyone knew about it by Tuesday morning.
The air was suddenly thick with rumor and suspicion.
The First Years all moved around in groups, as though scared of being attacked if they ventured off alone.
Ginny, who said she sat next to Colin in Charms class, was visibly distraught. Lucifer noticed that Fred and George tried their best to help, but they were going about it the wrong way.
They took turns covering themselves in 'Fur and Boils' and jumping out at her from behind statues.
They only stopped when Percy, apoplectic with rage, threatened to write home to Molly and tell Ginny about her nightmares.
In other parts of the Castle, away from the teachers prodding eyes, an underground trade of talismans, amulets, and other protective items swept across the school.
Neville in particular bought a large, evil smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal, and a rotting newt tail before the other Gryffindor boys could point out that he was in no danger, as Neville was Pure-Blooded, so he was unlikely to be attacked.
"They went for Filch first," Neville told them, his round face fearful looking as ever, "and everyone knows I'm almost a Squib."
Lucifer simply didn't understand why Neville even now had such a hard time with magic. A wand works with its owner, it chooses them, so he didn't understand why the boy started to struggle again, wasn't he fine at the start of the year classes? 'Is this matter of low confidence?'
He had also noticed that in the First Year, Ron had trouble with some spells, for a good reason to boot, the wand wasn't his to begin with.
And, now he currently had an even better reason for his spells not working for him, Ron broke his wand from crashing into the dark 'Whomping Willow'.
Lucifer looked around at his fellow students and just shook his head.
Many of them must've been 'Half-Blood or 'Muggleborn.' He wasn't sure what he could be known in the Wizarding World, but Lucifer figured being a celestial, must come under the Isle of 'Pure-bloods.'
_________
Ten minutes later after Potions' class ended, Lucifer stepped into the headmaster's office.
A round table had been conjured in the center, already laid with teapots, cups, and trays of delicate pastries. Dumbledore greeted him warmly and gestured for him to sit.
"Mr. Morningstar'," the old man began, "allow me to thank you on behalf of Mrs. Norris and Mr. Creevey for your advice on using 'MoonClave' manure' with Dittany for growth of the mandrakes."
Lucifer tilted his head, voicing the question that had been bothering him, "Professor, even if the mandrakes in the greenhouses here weren't mature yet... 'couldn't you' have simply purchased them elsewhere? Surely with your contacts."
The 'first year' petrified victim or forbid if more... would be laid stiff and lifeless for nearly a year-until the school's own crop gets matured. The fact that victim' Colin's parents had not stormed Hogwarts in outrage... well, that was a miracle in itself.
Dumbledore sighed, "At least in Britain, Hogwarts is the only source. All mandrakes harvested here are sold directly to the Ministry each year to brew countercurses. By now, there are no stores of the raw plant left. And, for other countries.... demand and supply is very 'controlled, if you know what I mean."
He fixed Lucifer with a steady gaze. "Tell me, Mr. Morningstar--what is your own opinion of the attacks?"
Lucifer shrugged, "This all seems very 'convenient', as if telling me entire world's Mandrakes' are gone to make this specific disease run... It was done by multiple people."
Dumbledore blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of the reply.
As Lucifer savored a spoonful of lemon sherbet ice cream, he added casually, "Oh, and by the way, Professor Snape asked me to keep an eye on Professor Lockhart. He suspects 'DADA' might be the culprit."
Dumbledore's denial was immediate and firm, "No. He is not the one. Throughout the entirety of the Halloween feast, Lockhart never once left his seat. And besides... the nature of that message does not fit with a 'RavenClaw' graduate."
Lucifer raised a brow. So Gilderoy really comes under to be Dumbledore's camp, "So the Chamber really exists, then?" He pressed.
The old man paused, then inclined his head, "I believe it does. I do not know where it lies, but legends are seldom without some seed of truth."
He steepled his fingers, "The story you all heard from Professor Binns, it goes that Salazar Slytherin quarreled bitterly with Godric Gryffindor over admissions. Before leaving the school, Slytherin constructed a hidden chamber. It was sealed so tightly that only his true heir could one day open it, releasing a dreadful creature to purge the school of all deemed unworthy of magic...."
"Absurd! Utterly laughable!"
The voice came from the wall: Phineas Nigellus Black, his painted face twisted in disdain. "Hogwarts has stood for a thousand years! If there truly was an heir, why would they only appear now? During my tenure as headmaster-and long before me-the school was thoroughly investigated. There is no 'Chamber', only childish superstition!"
For once, Phineas' words were echoed by several other painted headmasters.
A bearded wizard chimed in, stroking his chin. "Indeed. During my time, I scoured every inch of the castle. No secret chamber, no monster. Even if Slytherin had left some scheme behind, surely it could not endure a millennium."
But Dumbledore remained calm. "My friends, remember--the 'four founders' were magicians of incomparable brilliance. The castle itself still stands as proof of their craft, functioning perfectly even now. That we cannot find the chamber does not mean it does not exist."
He let his eyes rest on them one by one, "And do not forget what happened 'fifty' years ago. An innocent girl had died as a result, whose parents still hadn't forgiven me." At that, silence fell across the portraits.
"I see..." Lucifer's face darkened.
"Any threat to our students must be taken 'seriously," Dumbledore continued. "I believe the Chamber exists. And I intend to find it--and end whatever danger lies within once and for all. Perhaps when our petrified student Mr. Creevey is revived, he will give us answers."
Phineas muttered darkly, "I still say it's nothing but an elaborate prank by some 'upper-year student."
But Dumbledore ignored him, turning instead back to Lucifer, "I have also consulted with Newt about what creature might it be---Medusa, Gorgons, Basilisk, Cockatrice, Catoblepas, Billywig, Lethifold, even the clumsy Wampus cat, and others specialised with Dark Spells--- for petrification.'However we couldn't reach a fool proof conclusion."
"What about the Basilisk? Isn't that too much on nose itself? Slytherin, Snakes, Parseltongue?"
"Yes, it's a 'likely' identity but Salazar Slytherin was a cunning wizard', and you could very well be mislead cause of the same points you reached...
Mr. Morningstar', there is also something else. You have... changed again. In a way that reminds me of an ancient legend."
Lucifer spoke before the headmaster could. "You mean ancient magic."
Dumbledore's smile deepened, and he removed his spectacles, polishing them slowly with a handkerchief. "Precisely. Your aura, your growth--it resembles the few accounts of wizards who once wielded such forces. I had thought ancient magic long vanished from the world. And yet, here you are..."
Lucifer leaned forward. "I wouldn't call myself adept. Barely scratching the surface. Professor, do you have any thoughts on how one ought to approach such magic?"
The old man's hand stilled. His blue eyes grew grave. "Every record warns the same: ancient magic draws upon the very forces of nature itself... To study it, to wield it, is perilous. My advice, Mr. Morningstar, is this: 'tame its wildness. Preserve its essence--but soften its form."
Lucifer's lips curved faintly, "An elegant answer."
When he left the Headmaster's office, the sun was already high-nearly to set. Dumbledore had spoken at length that evening, offering not just knowledge, but philosophy.
In his view, whether one was learning or dueling, the 'mindset' was paramount. Magic, he said, was not about rushing headlong into power, nor about chasing the most destructive spells--it was about mastering what 'fit the self.' And above all else, he held love as the most profound force in existence, a conviction strong enough to turn belief into strength.
Lucifer acknowledged that the words weren't entirely wrong. Eve in her youth had warned him from the very beginning that emotions shaped power.
But to him, 'love' was only one fragment of that spectrum--hardly the whole truth.
So he listened, yes. But selectively.
Dumbledore, Grindelwald--he would take what was useful from each. Yet in the end, his path was his own. If he faltered, it would be his mistake to correct. 'A puppet who blindly echoed his teachers was no more than a hollow scholar, a shadow with no will...'
xxxxxx
"Lucifer..." The soft, cautious voice made him pause at a corridor corner on the second floor.
Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott were walking toward him. Seeing the direction they'd come from, he already guessed, "You went to visit Creevey?"
Hannah nodded, her face troubled, best friend too wore a similar look.
"We tried," Susan said, "but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't allow anyone inside. We could only glimpse him from the doorway. He looked so..."
"...so much like she was dead?" Lucifer finished dryly.
Both girls froze, their expressions twisting. That 'bluntness-did' he have to phrase it that way? They had been carefully skirting around those words, searching for something gentler.
Hannah let out a half-laugh, half-scoff, "'Morningstar, you really have a way with words."
"You're missing the point," Lucifer countered, shaking his head. "I said like. Which means not. Colin will be fine when your 'Head of House' shows her handiwork. Don't let this haunt your minds..."
And it wasn't just the two of them. All of Hogwarts Castle was restless-they could very well be next in line to be attacked, after all.
Hannah bit her lip, "But the culprit hasn't been caught. Which means it could happen again."
Understandable. They were still just teenage girls, facing the shadow of death. Fear was inevitable. But Lucifer, in truth, wasn't worried.
The castle was still guarded by the 'Founders'' ancient enchantments. Hogwarts protected its students fiercely; in its thousand-year history, the number of children who had actually died inside its walls could be counted on two hands.
That Creature had attacked two times now this very year. Yet no one died--'only petrifications.' Was it sheer luck? Hardly.
First, Salazar Slytherin's order accordingly to history books had not been 'kill' indiscriminately. Second, Hogwarts itself shielded its wards in unseen ways.
However, Dumbledore had just listed him with a rare tragedy, Better to soothe her fears before it gets worse.
xxxxxx
The Heir of Slytherin would purge Hogwarts, cleansing it of those unworthy of magic.
The accusation cast a fresh shadow over 'Slytherin House.' Already distrusted, they were now regarded with suspicion and fear. Even within their own ranks, whispers stirred. If the Heir is one of us, 'who is it?'
Malfoy. Rosier. A few other ancient-blood families-all were rumored candidates. And yet, every one of them loudly denied it.
None wanted that mantle. This wasn't admiration--it was a 'curse. For if Lucifer ever decided one of them was the Heir, who would shield them from his wrath?
The lesson was reinforced swiftly.
Just days ago, Anthony Goldstein of Ravenclaw had mocked a group of terrified 'Muggle-born Hufflepuffs', letting slip that word.
The next morning, his mouth twisted, one eye drooping, limbs stiff and unresponsive. Now he lay in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey declaring he was under a powerful curse---two weeks of immobility, minimum.
A curse.
And many students had been there that night, when Lucifer had corrected Dumbledore with that casual remark: "Not petrification... a curse."
The connection was obvious. And suddenly, no one wanted to test Lucifer Morningstar's patience again.
Of course, no one dared suspect he had been behind Anthony Goldstein's "curse." Absolutely no one.
If blame was to be placed anywhere, it was on Goldstein himself--'loose' tongue, careless words. He had provoked the wrong person, and the outcome was inevitable.
"Lucifer, do you actually think Malfoy could be the Heir of Slytherin?"
Hermione held a massive copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' against her chest, curiosity written across her face.
Lucifer shook his head for the umpteenth time, "From my observation? No..." He leaned back lazily, "Like I said, If Draco Malfoy had that kind of authority, he wouldn't keep it quiet. He'd flaunt it, brag about it--and last night, he practically fell over himself when Dumbledore mentioned Goldstein'. With that level of 'subtlety? The boy couldn't possibly be the Heir."
"Malfoy as the Heir?" Daphne snorted, taking a bite of cake. "If it were him, the first one to be attacked wouldn't have been Mrs. Norris, It would've been Weasley."
"Ron?" Hermione frowned, tilting her head, "Why Ron? Wouldn't it make more sense for Harry?"
Daphne rolled her eyes, "Please. Weasley is the biggest obstacle standing between him and Potter. Remove Weasley, and Malfoy would have free rein to hound Potter every day..."
"Draco and Harry, Drarry...."
Lucifer rapped Hermione lightly on the head with a finger. "Stop reading those cheap novels--you're starting to think like one."
Daphne giggled and stuck her tongue out, mischievous, while Astoria sighed like a weary little adult. Her sister was growing less dignified by the day. Clearly, the younger sister was the sensible one in the family.
"Malfoy also has an alibi," Astoria added quietly, "On the night of the feast, he was with his two shadows the entire time."
"So then," Lucifer asked casually, "who do you think it could be?"
"I'll say it 'outright," Daphne declared through a mouthful of cake. "If anyone's the Heir, it's you, Lucifer. None of the others are even worthy of the title."
Astoria nodded timidly, as though agreeing was the safest choice.
Even Hermione gave a shy smile, "Honestly speaking... if it weren't for the attacks, I'd have thought it was 'you too."
"..." Lucifer sighed and changed the subject, "By the way, 'flu' outbreak in Gryffindor's going pretty bad, huh."
Hermione perked up at that, "Indeed, it's been spreading like wildfire. Percy's been trying to keep order, but no one wants to take Madam Pomfrey's potions--they say they taste awful. He practically forced Ginny to drink another goblet yesterday."
"Ginny? That girl again, wasn't she quite extroverted at the station last year?" Lucifer asked with casual interest.
"The youngest Weasley girl? She's sick as well?" Daphne raised her fingers.
Astoria nodded. "Her symptoms are worse than most. She's been drifting off a lot, daydreaming in lessons. Professor McGonagall even scolded her last week."
Three days later, Snape himself went to the hospital wing, checking on Colin Creevy's condition and Dumbledore arrived moments later.
Neither professor lasted long inside--Madam Pomfrey threw them both out with sharp words.
"If you want answers, come back 'when they are cured," she snapped. "My patient needs rest. He hasn't eaten in days--nutrient potions or no, the boy possibly cannot endure more stress."
The great wizard and the Potions Master left, muttering, but students all across Hogwarts were cheered by the news that Professors actively wanted the matter to be dissolved.
The shadow over the school seemed to lift. Professor Sprout and even greasy old bat received a few heartwarming letters of encouragement distributed all round between Hogwarts children.
Snape snorted as he plucketed and watched the Hufflepuff girl go shakily away after delivering hers, "These brats really don't have any brains or malice..."
xxxxxx
It was the Second week of December, Professor McGonagall came around and collected the names of the Gryffindor who were staying at Hogwarts for the Winter Break.
Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Lucifer all signed her list upon hearing that Malfoy would be staying this year, and it couldn't be more perfect to hear in the form of disguise, the girl power of group insisted to 'verify' words uttered by Greengrass.
"I still don't understand why I can't kidnap Malfoy, and just use Veritaserum on him." Lucifer said as the group walked back to their booth next to the window.
"It's illegal." Hermione pointed out.
"So is using the Polyjuice poti...Ow!" Lucifer said rubbing his right arse cheek, where he just got smacked by the bushy-haired girl, clutching onto his forearm.
"I'd rather not stoop down to 'kidnapping people!" Hermione glared at him, while crossing her fingers trying to suppress the urge of hitting him again.
"Sure..." Lucifer sighed, while taking an internal note, if the girl's ready to get violent, she must have been healed properly.
The Potion was only half-finished, but that wasn't an issue. They were still short the Bicorn Horn and Boomslang skin, and the only place to get that quickly was Snape's private storeroom.
"What we need," Hermione said, her eyes flickering down on his crotch for a second, but then looked back up, matching his gaze, "is a diversion. Then one of us can sneak into Snape's storeroom and get what we need."
"...." Lucifer.
"....." Hermione made a blank face, her cheeks started to turn red, and then looked down at her shoes.
Not daring to look up.
"I can handle that...."
"Really, will you feed me again?!"
"What is she on about now?" Ron was pretty confused, so did Harry.
"....I know exactly what to do. I've been reading into the higher grade spell books a little, and know what will cause an... 'explosive distraction."
Lucifer gave a simple reply instead.
"....A-Alright, you will cover the diversion, just please be careful with whatever you have planned?" Hermione asked while trying to hold out before she lost it.
"It's me... I make no promises," Lucifer shrugged indifferently, which caused Hermione to doubt him even more.
"Then...I...ah ...do I have to steal the ingredients?" She really didn't want to become a thief, the innocent her was punished just days before, and turned over a new leaf.
"You do."
"It's okay, then....." she sighed in relief.
Both Harry and Ron looked oblivious to what these two people were talking about, but neither looked like they were going to complain.
__________
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