Lucifer was practically escorted to 'Transfiguration' class. At this point, he didn't need to establish dominance anymore. Anyone thinking of provoking him had to consider two questions: 'Was their skull harder than the Basilisk? And were they more reckless than the Basilisk?'
Anyone meeting both conditions might tug a tiger's whiskers, But Hogwarts didn't seem to have such heroes. In class, the Chamber and the Basilisk were still unavoidable topics.
Even Professor McGonagall couldn't keep the discussion from drifting.
"I believe many of you witnessed Mr. Morningstar's battle with the Basilisk.
You can now appreciate how vital advanced 'Transfiguration' is... He remained in a completely safe position the entire time, the Basilisk never came close."
"Professor McGonagall!"
Hermione Granger practically shot her hand into the ceiling. Once called on, she asked eagerly, "The puppets I heard Lucifer controlled, were those 'Transfigurationspells?' What's the incantation? I really want to learn it!"
Many students stared at McGonagall with shining eyes. A spell that could summon hundreds of powerful puppets instantly, perfect for group battles, who wouldn't want to learn it?
She smiled faintly, "Well, that question... is best answered by Mr. Morningstar sitting with you himself."
She, too, wished to see just how deep Lucifer's understanding of 'Transfiguration' truly ran.
The boy had been zoning out, absent-mindedly twirling a lock of Hermione's unruly hair between his fingers, when he was suddenly called on. He blinked, momentarily stunned, but still rose to his feet, while Granger sat obediently, in this class, asking questions while standing up habit was long gone.
But he hadn't caught up just yet, "Professor, what... what were you saying again?"
Professor McGonagall's face darkened instantly, "Daydreaming in class? Gryffindor, minus one point. I said, Miss Granger is curious about the spell you used to animate the stone guardians... She doubts it's a Transfiguration spell. Explain it to us."
"Oh. Right."
Lucifer didn't care about the point deduction in the slightest. After all, he'd just earned three hundred ninety points for his house, he was currently untouchably smug.
"Granger, you need to understand the definition of 'Transfiguration' first."
The girl haughtily rolled her eyes, as boys and girls alike chuckled around.
"Any spell that alters the state of an object falls under Transfiguration. A stone statue... is lifeless by default, but under the spell it gains the ability to move. Of course that counts as 'Transfiguration'... though it's also one of the ten summoning-type branches."
"As for learning this spell..." Lucifer paused, lips curling slightly, "Once you earn an Outstanding on your NEWTs, you'll basically meet the minimum requirement."
"So hard?!"
A collective hiss swept through the room, lungs emptied in synchronized despair. Lucifer shook his head gently, "Actually, not really. It's just that by the time you reach fifth or sixth year, you'll finally start learning spells that grant sentience, or partial sentience, to inanimate objects. Once your foundation's solid, it's not difficult."
"Then how do you control hundreds of puppets at once?" Seamus asked, fascinated.
"Well... how do I put this..."
Lucifer frowned slightly, struggling to put it into words. After thinking for a moment, he finally said, "Don't think of it as 'controlling. These aren't Muggle marionettes. Think of it as...the spell links my thoughts directly to the constructs... When an idea forms in my mind, they move on their own to make it happen. Because I will it, therefore they act..."
Hermione looked baffled. Every student stared as if he'd just spoken in riddles, everyone except Professor McGonagall, whose eyes shone with approval.
That one sentence alone revealed Lucifer's understanding of magic's true nature, 'far' deeper than most witches and wizards ever attained. Magic was will made manifest, projecting itself into the world through magic power. No need to overcomplicate it with theories.
"All right," Professor McGonagall interrupted before anyone could spiral further into confusion. "You may remember Mr. Morningstar's insight, but do not overthink it now. The day you grasp even a fraction of it... 'Hogwarts' curriculum' will no longer pose any difficulty for you."
With that, she finally began the actual lesson. After class, Seamus saw a suit of armor in the corridor and had a sudden burst of inspiration. Seeing no sign of Filch, he discreetly pulled out his wand and cast:
"Piertotum Locomotor!"
BOOM!
A violent shower of sparks erupted, and the armor exploded into hundreds of metal fragments, clattering across the floor in a deafening avalanche. The noise echoed through every floor of the castle.
Professor McGonagall, who had been answering a student's question in the classroom, nearly jumped out of her skin. Thinking another monster had appeared, she burst outside, only to find Seamus standing frozen before the wreckage, looking utterly horrified.
She immediately understood.
"FINNIGAN!" she roared. "Destroying school property, 'spell-casting' in the corridor, Gryffindor, minus ten points! And detention tonight in my office!"
"...Yes, Professor McGonagall," Seamus mumbled miserably.
Not far away, Zabini, who had been lingering just to watch the show, couldn't help snickering.
"Finnigan, with talent like yours, even those undeserving Morningstar's house points, Gryffindor's only hope of keeping those at all rests entirely on luck...."
Cackling, he dragged Nott and Rosier away with him. Lucifer rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'Was Seamus perhaps the descendant of some strange magical creature? Should I... capture him for research?'
"Lucifer! Come on, we'll be late for the next class!"
Before he could decide, Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the greenhouses. Today was another day of caring for the Mandrakes. Compared to the infants they'd been at the start of the year, they now looked like 'thirteen- or fourteen-year-old' human children, full evolution from clownish gremlins to outright menaces.
Their screams had grown stronger with being matured too. Ordinary ear-muffs were no longer enough; only specialized dampening ear-plugs could guarantee safety.
Or... one could simply do as Lucifer did: yank one out, knock it unconscious, and continue on peacefully.
By the time the bell rang, Hermione no longer wanted to thank these man-children for waking her. The students practically fled greenhouse. The Mandrakes were torture, they had bitten so many fingers that half the class looked 'half-mauled!'
On the way back to the Great Hall for lunch, Lucifer and she ran into Snape. At first he thought it was coincidence, but then Snape deliberately called out to him.
"Morningstar..."
The man who normally wore a perpetual scowl was suddenly smiling. It was absolutely more disturbing than if he'd burst into tears.
Hermione instinctively stepped two paces back, "Professor... please don't."
Snape wanted to snap at the foolish girl, but he had something to ask from the boy she was using as piece of human meat, so he swallowed his pride and 'forced' his tone gentle.
"That was a very large basilisk. Disposing of it must be troublesome. Do you... need my assistance?"
"Professor..." Lucifer smiled politely, lulling the cowering bushy haired girl with a pat on her head, "I would welcome your help, of course. I'm only worried that your hands might not be... clean."
Snape wasn't wrong. A basilisk fifty meters long, covered head to tail in a hide with terrifying magical resistance, was far more troublesome to process than a handful of dragons.
Yesterday, Lucifer had planned to start dismantling it, but the moment he looked at the sheer size of the thing, he felt his scalp go numb.
So he simply froze the whole creature with an 'Ice-Sealing Charm', turned it into a massive basilisk-shaped ice sculpture, shoved it into Nazarick's Tomb, and decided he'd let Aoyuki deal with it... whenever she had the emotional capacity.
Now, with Snape volunteering as free labor, Lucifer was more than happy to accept. He didn't doubt Snape's skill. He doubted the man's integrity. Letting him handle the basilisk?
Lucifer suspected he'd lose more than a few brain cells the moment he turned his back.
Snape's chest rose and fell, livid. Yes, he would absolutely "skim a little off the top," but did boy have to say it so bluntly?! Dropping all pretense, he shot a glare in every direction, scaring off the curious little wizards who had been eavesdropping. Then he leaned close and spoke in a low growl:
"Morningstar, I am the Head of Slytherin House. That basilisk is an heirloom of our Founder. Even if you won't hand it all over, I should at least get a share, shouldn't I? Eating alone won't earn you any 'friends' isn't that right, Miss Granger...?"
"Professor, you're mistaken."
Lucifer corrected him very seriously, while the person in question gave Professor Snape a dirty look.
"First of all, Salazar Slytherin's personal property has nothing to do with Hogwarts... There are piles of dark-magic inheritances sitting in the Chamber of Secrets, why don't you ask Dumbledore for those?"
"There's dark-magic inheritances down there?" Snape froze, muttering, "Why... why didn't Dumbledore tell me?"
Even Hermione stared at him pityingly. 'So, Professor Snape doesn't know much either.'
"Don't look at me like that," Snape snapped, cheeks flushing, "Inheritance can be discussed later. The basilisk, I'm getting a share. That's non-negotiable."
"No."
Lucifer refused instantly. "I wrestled that basilisk out of Voldemort's hands. What's wrong, Professor? Planning to collect interest on behalf of your for----"
"Nonsense!" Snape nearly jumped before he could finish his words, "This has nothing to do with... with 'him! Just tell me what you want in return for basilisk flesh and fangs."
Lucifer clicked his tongue. "See? Isn't being straightforward easier? Nobody gets free handouts from me. Professor, my nifflers are starving, you know. It's been ages and only a dozen 'little ones have' birthed. Their future population depends entirely on you."
Snape's face turned sickly pale, then faintly green. He had resisted for months, resisted the temptation of the 'Strengthening potion', resisted the lure of physical enhancement, only to wind up here again: trapped, cornered, and apparently destined to brew bizarre potions for Lucifer Morningstar.
Tormented by indecision, Snape struggled silently while Lucifer patiently waited, completely relaxed.
"...Fine. But I want some of the materials first. And then I'll brew your 'Liquid Luster Tonic'."
At last, after nearly two months of resistance, he caved.
"I can't give you the materials yet, they're not processed," Lucifer said bluntly, "But I'll give you one vial of the 'Strengthening potion' now. The rest will be payment-on-delivery."
"...I want the basilisk eyes."
"They're destroyed, Blame Fawke's," Lucifer said without hesitation.
The potions master looked as if someone had stabbed his heart.
"Sacrilege... utter sacrilege! Does that chicken even understand what it'd wasted?!"
Lucifer laughed, "If you really want basilisk eyes so badly, you could always hatch and raise your own. Just... keep your eyes open while it hatches, if you're feeling brave. In any case: you'll get some flesh, three fangs, and part of the gall bladder. Oh, plus one extra condition."
"...What condition?" Snape asked warily.
The boy's expression was unreadable, even to Hermione who looked utterly perplexed at the black market dealing on the status of breeding gold loving Nifflers, "You'll know when the time comes. It's a small matter."
Snape hesitated, but in the end reluctantly nodded.
Lucifer immediately produced a vial of the 'Strengthening potion', no theatrics, no delay.
This Potions Master had a sudden, powerful urge to mug him. If he could just get his hands on boy's vault of treasures, he could feast for a lifetime.
Too bad... he wouldn't win.
Lucifer was in a great mood.
As for the basilisk materials, he planned to break down part of the creature with Aoyuki over the weekend, no point having Snape deliver potions while he himself couldn't uphold his side.
His reputation mattered, after all. But before that, something far more important needed to be done.
Publicity.
...
The next morning, students got their hands on the 'Daily Prophet' and were stunned. On the front page was a large illustration of a basilisk, beneath a bold headline:
"Shocking! Hogwarts Exposed as a Serpent's Nest, Twelve-Year-Old Wizard Saves the Future of Magical Britain!"
The article (Evelyn's gift, have her man get deserved recognition) detailed the Basilisk incident as though the reporter had been standing right there, describing the spells Lucifer used, how he decapitated the creature, every detail astonishingly accurate.
And in the 'final' section, the reporter's tone turned biting:
"It is well known that Hogwarts is considered the safest place in the world under the leadership of Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the century....Yet under his very nose, a basilisk carried out four attacks, one 'fifty years ago', costing a student their life, and another on last year's Halloween."
Fortunately, the latter incident claimed no lives.
Last weekend, when danger struck again, the one who stepped forward was not the esteemed Headmaster, but a second-year student!'
Had Mr. Morningstar not lured the Basilisk away from the Castle, preventing it from roaming freely inside, one can hardly imagine how many innocent students might have died.
Killing is effortless for a basilisk, one brief moment of eye contact is enough to claim a life. This is no exaggeration: 'Mr. Morningstar has saved the future of magical Britain.'
Mr. Lucifer Morningstar should be awarded the Merlin Medal, 'Level One Merlin Medal, no less!'
...
The Great Hall fell into stunned silence. Professors and students alike were reading the newspaper, each reacting differently. The Heads of Houses felt a little awkward.
The article didn't name them directly, but logically speaking, if not Dumbledore, it had to have been them who intervened.
"Clearly it was Morningstar who had his dragon block our path," Snape, muttered, disgruntled.
Unfortunately for him, Flitwick happened to overhear who shook his head helplessly, "Mr. Morningstar''s decision was the correct one. Without someone keeping the students in check, chaos could have escalated. We simply failed to notice the basilisk 'first."
Meanwhile, the students, having finished reading the newspaper, all glanced at Lucifer. At that moment, he felt his cheeks flush.
"Hehe, Lucifer, you're blushing!" Hermione teased brightly, noticing his slight discomfort. Even the little lions around him seemed to smile knowingly.
"Who's blushing?" He patted the girl lightly on the head, scowling in mock annoyance, and put the newspaper away while continuing his breakfast.
It wasn't the praise in the paper that made him blush. Lucifer was honest, what they wrote was all true. No reason to feel embarrassed. It was because he'd 'tricked' Dumbledore again, and that tiny pang of guilt made him feel a bit off.
No matter how brilliant the work, even the finest brew must be marketed. Without spreading the news properly, he'd never get a 'Level One Merlin Medal' before graduation.
....Evelyn Greengrass had done her piece brilliantly. He had to make the 'Ministry of Magic' and the review committee understand just how monumental his actions had been.
Inevitably, that meant throwing a little shade along the way. 'Old Dumbledore, don't worry. I may have tricked you, but I'll make it right eventually...'
Lucifer thought to himself, and with that resolve, he shoved the guilt completely aside. Outside, parents of many students saw the newspaper and, combined with letters sent from Hogwarts, were breaking into cold sweats.
'A basilisk at Hogwarts? What kind of environment are our children living in?'
'How is Dumbledore even running this school?!'
"Fortunately, my family doesn't receive this paper, or I would have to pack my bags entirely..." Hermione shuddered with dread, and then sighed quietly to herself in relief.
Owls flew across the country carrying complaints and letters of thanks, from enraged parents to accolades for Lucifer. The castle roof was constantly crowded with them, even during class.
Dumbledore's office became impossible to enter. Owls simply flew in through the corridor windows, dropping letters straight onto the Gargoyle. The already eager gargoyle was nearly bursting.
Day by day, Dumbledore kept giving him more work for no reason; by now, he was so full of letters he could barely eat!
Inside the office, Albus was utterly stunned. He had intended to quietly handle the basilisk and 'Chamber of Secrets' incident, but he hadn't expected the story to spread so quickly, let alone hit the Daily Prophet.
Now, every wizarding family in the country knew. He had no choice but to cancel his planned trip to the Ministry and focus on answering the flood of irate parent letters.
The next day, he didn't even need to go to the Ministry. Fudge arrived at Hogwarts with a massive escort of Aurors and several Ministry officials.
Inside Dumbledore's office, Fudge was still wiping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, flushed from the stress.
He had just learned from Dumbledore that everything reported in the paper was true.
"Cornelius, fifty years ago Hagrid was expelled for allegedly opening the Chamber of Secrets... It's now proven he was innocent; the Ministry should restore his wizarding status."
"Albus... that's not the point here."
Fudge, maintaining respect and restraint, sighed, "You need to consider how to explain this to the public... The children are safe now, yes, but who would willingly have Level-50 magical creatures living in the same castle as their kids?"
"Minister, that's a rather insightful observation," piped up a short, plump middle-aged witch in a pink sweater, her voice shrill but filled with admiration, "This time it was a basilisk, what next? A dragon? Or perhaps a venomous leopard? Werewolves?"
"We can't just look at the surface. We must examine the underlying causes," Dumbledore replied, frowning slightly. His sapphire-blue eyes flashed a sharp glint before returning to their usual calm.
Fudge's lips twitched into a small smile, though he waved dismissively, feigning humility, "Dolores, you exaggerate. I only worry for the children's safety. After all, I am Minister of Magic. Albus, I hope you don't take offense?"
"Of course not," Dumbledore shook his head, "I can assure you, the castle is safe. Apart from the basilisk, no other dangerous magical creature could remain hidden for centuries. Your concern is unnecessary."
Fudge bristled inwardly.
'Unnecessary? I'm the Minister of Magic! My responsibility is the entire magical population of the British Isles! How could I not consider them?!'
Still, he had no desire to clash with Dumbledore, at least, not now.
"Very well. I'm willing to trust you, Albus," Fudge said, changing the subject. "But may I meet this little hero? He's the key to the incident. If he assists you, and the Ministry speaks on his behalf, public anger should subside considerably."
"I'll summon Mr. Morningstar right away."
It was Lucifer's first time meeting Cornelius Fudge. As for appearance and physique, there wasn't much to say. Compared to the pink toad beside him, the two looked like they belonged in a "food analogy," one like a beef meatball, the other like a pork meatball.
He barely sensed any kindred magical aura from Fudge. Green velvet suit, impeccably tied tie, shiny, polished face, hair slicked and stiff with way too much setting spray, he looked less like a Minister of Magic and more like some washed-up Muggle politician.
And that pink toad, Lucifer swore to his own Dad, she was eyeing Headmaster's chair---that if this thing ever became a Hogwarts professor, he'd shove Voldemort straight into a Dementor's rear. Just looking at it was painful, let alone having to see it every day. He could hardly contain himself.
When he entered, Fudge was observing him too. His first thought: 'what a handsome boy'. It reminded him of his own youth. Once upon a time, he had also been a school heartthrob...
Though this was Fudge's first direct meeting with Lucifer, he already knew a fair amount about him. They had crossed paths indirectly several times. Notably, all the Auror equipment updates in past two years were the work of this 'second-year student', Lucifer's alchemical touch was everywhere.
Last time Fudge came to Hogwarts, it was because of the conflict between the boy and Lockhart, which escalated into the largest fraud case in recent UK magical history. It nearly gave him a nervous breakdown.
Then there was the ruckus over 'Magical History Chronicles', a pure blood woman daring to redefine her own background. Countless complaints were lodged, and yet there were just as many expressions of support. That Greengrass house was backing this very boy to boot.
Frankly, Fudge didn't like Lucifer's troublemaking personality. He wished everyone would quietly do their jobs and stay out of trouble. Students should focus on studying; why stir up so much commotion? It made Fudge's life harder.
Yet he knew reality forced him to like Lucifer or at least appear friendly and approachable. He had powerful pure-blood supporters behind him: Greengrass, Rosier, Nott, and even the 'Valentine family.'
Internationally, now the 'boy's Matriarch's' influence and reputation outshone Fudge himself.
Since taking office, Fudge's appearances in international news had been rare. When Evelyn published an article, it went global. Many people he needed to maintain ties with had been photographed with her in 'The Daily Prophet.'
....She even listed "Lucifer's" name in her family section under those papers. As a politician, it was all about playing to your audience. A seemingly reckless but dangerously connected Pure-blood' woman of 'Most Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass', could be a nightmare if underestimated.
With that awareness, Fudge lowered his posture to make good ties. Lucifer walked in, gave Dumbledore a greeting, nodded to them, and said nothing further.
Fudge took it as a lack of recognition and stepped forward warmly, extending his hand.
"Child, you must be Morningstar? Truly a remarkable young man. I've often heard your name. Thank you for providing the Aurors with such excellent bracelet's equipment, dramatically reducing casualties."
"This is Cornelius Fudge, 'Minister of Magic," Dumbledore introduced. "He's here regarding the basilisk incident. This lady is Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Umbridge's expression soured. Dumbledore only introduced these two, clearly choosing not to acknowledge her.
In truth, Umbridge had two grievances: 'first', she didn't want an introduction; second, Dumbledore didn't even realize she deserved one.
"Minister, good day." Lucifer shook Fudge's hand politely, showing no disrespect. If there were ever a day for confrontation, it would be in the future. Now, there was no need for an attitude.
"Good child. It's a pleasure to meet you," Fudge said warmly, his smile gentle, almost like a relative.
"Much obliged," Lucifer replied modestly, then turned his attention to Amelia Bones, with a curious probe.
"Miss Bones, I have heard a lot about you from Susan, and Madam Greengrass..."
"Only good things I hope," she smiled faintly.
Dumbledore blinked, somewhat surprised at how it was going, "Mr. Morningstar, you know Amelia?"
"Albus, you've forgotten," Bones smiled lightly, "Evelyn Greengrass is one of the few friends I have. We had exchanges indirectly..."
Hearing that, Dumbledore recalled, "Ah, yes... the mind does fade with age. You and Gringotts girl once cornered several Gryffindor boys in the washroom so thoroughly they didn't dare come out."
Lucifer stared at Bones in surprise, he hadn't expected her to have such a close connection with his future wife, or better 'mother-in-law.' Astoria seemed to have friend-zoned Nott', while her older sister was dreaming if it was alright to like boys as well, and maybe, just a dream, an idea, if Tracey could be friendly, they would "hang out" together.
"Ahem... Dumbledore, some things really don't need to be remembered so clearly," Bones said, feeling awkward under Lucifer's gaze and quickly changing the topic, "Now, please tell us about the basilisk."
"Yes," Umbridge chimed in, her voice dripping with that fake girlish coquetry, "I've grown up all this time and never seen a basilisk. Does such a creature really exist?"
Just moments ago, the group had been chatting and laughing together. Umbridge felt completely excluded, reduced to the same level as the Auror guards.
"Shall we see it here?" Lucifer didn't even glance at her, directing the question to Fudge instead. Umbridge's face turned a mix of pale and green at the blatant snub.
"Uh... sure, here's fine," Fudge hesitated for a moment but nodded.
"Headmaster, please expand the space," Lucifer told Dumbledore, "This little room won't do..."
With a gentle flick of his wand, Dumbledore instantly expanded the office to more than five times its original size. Lucifer pulled out a dragon-hide bag, cast an 'EnlargementCharm', and with a thunk, the massive basilisk head dropped onto the floor, luckily, its hollowed-out eye sockets aimed directly at Umbridge.
The ferocious head, still stained with blood around the sockets, radiated a deadly aura. Umbridge screamed and collapsed backward, while Fudge, standing too close, nearly shouted as well.
Umbridge reacted faster, shocking Fudge into stumbling backward. A single armchair slid over just in time to catch him. Surveying the room in relief, Fudge found the one responsible and nodded gratefully at Lucifer.
A good man indeed, if not for the boy, he would have ended up making a 'fool' of himself like Umbridge.
With just this one act, who could doubt that Lucifer had slain the basilisk? No one, certainly not him!
Amelia Bones and the other Aurors held their breaths, staring at the colossal creature. Just the head was nearly half the size of a dragon's body, imagine the full basilisk in all its terrifying glory.
Even a small creature of that size would be deadly; let alone a basilisk whose mere gaze could kill. The Aurors' eyes on Lucifer now carried awe and confusion.
How could such a disparity exist? They, second-years, could barely manage a few complete attack spells.
"Mr. Morningstar... you may... put it away now," Fudge said.
Lucifer raised an eyebrow, feigning hesitation, "Minister Fudge, I think you should take a photo with the basilisk... Publish it in the newspapers. That would reassure the public and prove Hogwarts is safe."
Fudge's eyes lit up instantly.
Though he was greedy for power and sometimes clueless on major matters, when it came to public reputation and image, his brain switched on immediately. He sprang from the chair, looking at Lucifer with a softer, more sincere gaze.
"Mr. Morningstar is right. The public deserves an explanation."
Seeing Umbridge still sprawled on the floor, Fudge frowned, "Dolores, how long are you going to stay there? It's just a head, you really fainted over that?"
'You're no better than me!' Umbridge silently cursed both Fudge and Lucifer for releasing the Basilisk head, but outwardly she obediently moved aside.
"Albus," Fudge said warmly to Dumbledore, "let's take a photo together, it will do us both good. At least parents won't send angry letters in droves anymore. Derrick, where's your camera? Get it out!"
A burly Auror quickly produced a camera usually reserved for evidence and crime scenes. Who would have thought it would one day be used to photograph the "Minister of Magic?"
"Cornelius, in reality, all those angry letters were absorbed by my owl postboxes. I regret not seeing what they actually said," Dumbledore said, standing beside Fudge, "By the way, Cornelius, the basilisk caused severe damage to the castle. The school's funds are already tight."
"No problem. I'll help you request additional funds when we return," Fudge replied readily. After all, it wasn't his money, and it was a chance to earn public goodwill and boost his approval ratings.
With that promise, Dumbledore immediately wore his professional smile and exchanged a glance with Lucifer. In unison, they muttered under their breath:
"Old fox!"
...
"Mr. Morningstar, once again, thank you for your 'courage and fearlessness.' The children of Hogwarts are the future of the magical world. If a mass casualty event had occurred, the consequences would have been unimaginable."
Fudge snapped dozens of photos, taking so many that both Lucifer and Dumbledore grew impatient. Finally satisfied, Fudge, in full display-mode, clasped the hero's hand and showered him with flowery, grandiose words.
Lucifer wanted to use Fudge for his own purposes but had no desire to be tortured in the process. He quickly shot a glance at Bones.
Last night, Mrs. Greengrass, (no correction, it should just be 'Miss Greengrass') should have already signaled Bones, or she wouldn't have come all this way today.
Sure enough, facing a possible hint in getting a major backer, Amelia restrained her smile and spoke, "Minister Fudge, I feel verbal thanks alone aren't sufficient. If the media interprets it as the Ministry being indifferent to students, that would be bad."
Fudge, completely lacking independent thought, immediately changed his expression and hurriedly asked, "Bones, you are absolutely right. How do you suggest we resolve this?"
"Show the Ministry's respect, especially by formally honoring Mr. Morningstar," Amelia said seriously, her work robes were not able to completely cover the feminine curves which huffed up and down, as she spoke with vigor, "I suggest the Ministry apply for a 'First-Class Order of Merlin' on his behalf."
"First-Class Order?!" Umbridge almost screamed, but Fudge reacted even faster than her.
"Isn't... isn't that too much? Of course, Mr. Morningstar, I do not deny your contribution." Fudge first reassured Lucifer, then leaned toward Bones and whispered, "A First-Class Order for a child? Amelia, are you mad, or are my ears deceiving me?"
Above all, Fudge was personally uncomfortable. He had been a diligent "Minister of Magic" for years and hadn't yet received a 'First-Class Order himself?!
Bones remained calm, a picture of procedural authority, "Age has never been a criterion for the Order. Only the magnitude of one's contribution counts... Tilly Toke saved a village and received a 'First-Class Order'. Peter Pettigrew delayed Black and saved a street, he received a First-Class Order."
Dumbledore, for his part, looked somber. He could only wander in sadness even after, knowing the 'full truth', he was powerless by Crouch's blasphemy job. He had done his very best in the Wizengamot, and at least was able to get him a cell where a handful of Dementor's hovered.
"This... you make a compelling point,"
Fudge said awkwardly, unsure how to respond. "But a 'First-Class Order of Merlin' is significant. It's not a decision I can make alone."
"Which is why I said only to submit the application," Bones replied calmly, "It shows the Ministry's position. Whether it's approved is for the judging committee to decide."
Fudge's expression relaxed slightly. Amelia Bones secretly glanced at Lucifer. Seeing no displeasure on his face, she let out a quiet sigh of relief.
He had long been mentally prepared for limited help from Susan's Aunt after their indirect deal. She, like Fudge or Barty Crouch, was fundamentally a politician, exchanging favors was normal.
But Amelia Bones differed from the others in that her moral baseline was exceptionally high. Evelyn described, her, in simple words, an "Scarily Honest bitch," she would help within the rules, without unscrupulous measures for personal gain. Such a person might not make the best friend, but as a partner or ally, she was reliably "fair in any deal."
"Very well," Fudge said, convinced. "I will submit the application to the committee. Personally, I hope you receive the Order, Mr. Morningstar, but I cannot make any guarantees."
Lucifer responded with polite humility and, as Fudge turned to leave, stopped him, "Minister, I'd like to offer a suggestion."
"Oh? Please go ahead," Fudge replied, smiling despite his inner irritation.
He glanced at Umbridge, "Minister, you represent the Ministry. Your secretary represents your image. By extension, your secretary also reflects the Ministry... I suggest appointing a more competent and presentable witch as secretary..."
Lucifer continued, eyes on the now-flushed woman, "Especially when meeting officials from other countries, don't make them think the British magical world is full of... 'this."
"I am not a secretary!" Umbridge snapped, unable to maintain her girlish voice, "I am the Senior Assistant to the Minister of Magic! A high-level administrator of the Ministry!"
Lucifer looked at Amelia, quite puzzled as if he heard wrong, and couldn't believe it, "Miss Bones, does the Ministry even have this position?"
Amelia replied carefully, adhering to regulations. "Legally, Senior Assistant is not an official Ministry title. Ms. Umbridge's role should be considered as the Minister's Office Director and private assistant."
"Oh, so she's a director," Lucifer said, suddenly understanding.
One of the Aurors who had been taking photos quietly added, "She's the only one in the whole office, is she really a director?"
The comment made the Aurors burst into laughter. Umbridge's eyes darkened; she nearly fainted from embarrassment.
Lucifer looked oddly at the Auror, John Dawlish, Fudge's loyal underling, the perfect "pig teammate" in his mind. Having such a subordinate was Fudge's fortune, he could visibly feel the wizard had good 'control over his magic'.'
Fudge looked at Umbridge, as revolting as a pink toad, and could not help but nod slightly. From his perspective, her sycophancy was disgusting... yet so effective it was almost irresistible.
After all, she wasn't actually a secretary, and dealing with the "tigress at home" was already a struggle, he had no patience or energy for that. Yet boy's words, combined with Umbridge's earlier abysmal performance, stirred a strong wave of aversion in Fudge.
And as the boy had said... if his secretary were a golden-haired beauty with 'flowingwaves,' lumps of fat on her chests, even doing nothing would lift his spirits and improve his public image.
But Fudge wasn't foolish enough to admit, in front of so many people, that he disliked Umbridge. He forced a smile, "Talent selection in Ministry is based on ability. Appearance doesn't matter, not at all. Nevertheless, Mr. Morningstar, I will consider your suggestion.... Next time, we can discuss it further. Albus, we must take our leave now and have tea another day."
He nodded politely to Dumbledore and departed with his entourage. Lucifer glanced at the clock on the wall. With only a bit of morning classes left, he decided to stay in office here.
"Headmaster, you'll definitely cast a favorable vote in the 'Order of Merlin, won't you?" He asked eagerly, seated opposite Dumbledore, nibbling on the small cakes on the table.
White Wizard's influence and position, any organization he joined wielded significant power. One supportive vote from him could sway countless others, "Last time, Minerva helped you with the application for that Fantasy potion, and you refused," Dumbledore remarked, surprised, "Why are you so eager this time?"
Lucifer shrugged nonchalantly, "How's it the same? Before, it was an uncertain 'second-or third-class' medal, on the level of Lockhart. This time, it's a First-Class Order, on par with you. I told you before: except for a 'First-Class Order', I have no interest in anything else."
Dumbledore was speechless.
He had a gut feeling: the commotion with the Basilisk might have been orchestrated by Lucifer, all to push for the First-Class Order. Otherwise, why not deal with it directly in the Chamber of Secrets, instead of making a spectacle?
But it was only a hunch. Even so, Lucifer killing the Basilisk was a fact. Finding the Slytherin legacy and learning it, and even letting Voldemort suffer a major setback, these were all facts. Dumbledore could find no grounds to oppose him.
"You seem quite flattered," Dumbledore teased, "So your interest is because I hold a 'First-Class Order?"
"Of course," Lucifer said, waving his hand, "Heroes of the world, just the Headmaster and Lucifer Morningstar. Maybe I would be scorned as being raised in 'Dumbledore's camp..."
"Much obliged for the recognition," Dumbledore replied warmly, ignoring the terrible words like raised and slaughtered like a pig, "I naturally won't vote against my student. But even with my support, your age is the greatest obstacle."
The boy's smile was radiant hearing the reason of possible denial, "No problem, I have other connections."
.....
In the Potions classroom, Snape was dumbfounded upon hearing Lucifer's request.
"I haven't even received a Merlin Order myself, and you want me to lobby on your behalf?"
Lucifer waved dismissively, "It's not that you don't want it, you just, like me, disdain 'second- and third-class awards... I refuse to believe that after so many years as Slytherin Head and a nationally renowned Potions master, you have no valuable connections.... Professor, this was a condition you promised me. Are you reneging?"
Snape's teeth gritted, body leaning forward as he glared at the brat, "This is what you called 'a small matter'?"
"Is it really that big?" Lucifer tilted his head in genuine curiosity.
"Do you realize how many favors I'll owe to lobby for you?" Snape scoffed, "I know several old masters, all crafty, shrewd foxes. They won't budge without adequate compensation."
"I'll give you satisfactory compensation, Professor."
"Just that batch of materials?"
"No, also my future support," Lucifer smiled, pointing to himself, "The gratitude of the 'strongest' in the magical world, doesn't that count as valuable?"
Snape's eyes deepened as he studied the boy. After a long silence, his hoarse voice finally came, "Such arrogance... 'fine, consider it an investment..."
Lucifer, satisfied with the answer, left, on the way to the Gryffindor tower, he saw Hermione heading toward McGonagall's office?
....
On the 'fifth' floor, he saw a red-haired girl emerging, a playful grin on her face.
"Ah!" Ginny gasped, launching herself into the air, only to be gently set down in an empty classroom.
Upon seeing Lucifer, she lunged at him, attempting to bite, and cursed in a language Molly would scold her for, but he deftly dodged.
"You monster! You nearly scared me to death!"
Lucifer smirked, using his arm to pin her head gently, "Miss Weasley, your courage isn't so small, you were trained directly by Voldemort himself."
"Lies! He hardly taught me any spells!" Ginny protested, "All he did was sweet talk. I'd rather wish Harry not become a charming boy like his Dad..."
"I think you've learned enough," Lucifer said, giving her a light tap on the head, making her cry out in pain.
"Ow, You brute!"
"And the info? Why haven't I received it yet?"
Ginny had no choice but to blush awkwardly, "Give me more time. Don't be so impatient," she said, already guessing why Lucifer was so irritable today. She had been trying to distract him with jokes, but it hadn't worked.
Under his relentless questioning, Ginny finally confessed the truth. It wasn't that she had been slacking off or forgotten her friend's orders.
The problem was simply that George and Fred were unbelievably difficult to handle. The occasional bit of leverage she had on them wasn't enough to threaten the twins at all.
Once, when she tried acting deliberately suspicious, the sharp-minded pair immediately noticed. It took a tremendous amount of effort just to divert their attention elsewhere. After that, Ginny became much more cautious. But recently, with all Quidditch training for next year, she hadn't had much chance to interact with them at all.
"You're useless," Lucifer grumbled, mussing up her hair without mercy, "And here I was putting high hopes on you. Is this really all it takes to defeat you?"
Ginny shook off his "devilish claws" in irritation, "And what are you going to do, huh? You planning to just steal whatever it was?"
Lucifer pinched his chin and looked her up and down, "Say... if I turned into some dark witch and kidnapped you, then used you to negotiate with George and Fred for an exchange... do you think they'd spill their secrets?"
Ginny stared at him. 'What an arsehole, Hermione was truly right. Compared to him, even Voldemort seemed like a pure, harmless schoolboy...' If she were really kidnapped by Lucifer first, she'd never be able to fool the twins afterward.
"Hey! You really have the nerve to trick me like that? If they tell Mum about this, I'll definitely get scolded! Why don't you just kidnap them instead?" Ginny snapped.
"That won't do." Lucifer shook his head.
"Those two are among the very few people at school I can actually call friends. Many Gryffindors either want me to prove my loyalty, work to get points, or fears me, but Fred and George still invite me to sneak into the kitchens with them, no interior motives...How could I possibly kidnap my friends?"
Ginny's eyes widened, "But you're perfectly fine kidnapping me!?"
"You're not my friend," Lucifer said with an eye-roll, "You're a little maid. Completing your master's task is what you're supposed to do."
She angrily whipped out her wand, "I'll fight you!"
"Relax your strength," Lucifer murmured, tapping a finger in her direction, and Ginny collapsed into a transfigured sofa like comfy chair that was heavenly a softened dough.
"Still think you can take me on? You're getting bold."
He squished her cheeks like kneading bread, then tilted her chin up.
"I'll give you Summer vacation. I want to know how they can tell where I am exactly... If you still can't get the answer... I really will kidnap you."
"Uuugh! Bully!"
....
Meanwhile, at the same time.
"Professor, only you can help me."
In McGonagall's office, a certain bushy haired girl spoke with a bright, polite smile, the face of a proper student who looked as if she had never caused a single problem in her life. The British wizarding world's elite all came from a very small circle, but even that circle split into smaller social groups.
Albus Dumbledore's friends were not necessarily Professor McGonagall's friends, and Hermione was certain that McGonagall's popularity far surpassed the Headmaster's.
Dumbledore inspired genuine love from some, but he also invoked fear and dislike from many others. He was simply too 'far above ordinary' wizards, too unreal, too powerful, yet always so gentle.
That contradiction gave many people the courage to resent him. But Professor McGonagall in chocolate brown eyes was different.
Her reputation was as solid as Newt Scamander's, though Lucifer had told her that old Newt was a hermit with social anxiety, while McGonagall had spent decades teaching generation after generation of students.
The students she taught, the parents she knew... To the muggle born witch Hermione, she was far more reliable than Dumbledore.
And after hearing her request, McGonagall not only viewed the young witch as inconsistent, she actually felt kind of worried.
'This is what a RavenClaw shouldbe', she thought, 'Miss Granger gives me a reminder of teaching Lily again..'
Could the Sorting Hat have probably been mistaken? No, this is also a sign of immense loyalty and bravery.
She even differed from the average Gryffindor in that her loyalty was enormous, so large that she practically came to hell her best friend, gaining Professor's vote in securing 'First Older, Merlin Medal', if she could for the Morningstar boy.
Was that a problem? Of course not.
Both RavenClaw and Gryffindor valued house pride, and McGonagall even admired how straightforward Miss Granger was about it.
Far better than the type who desperately becomes your friend, only after seeking for your own benefit.
"Miss Granger," she said warmly, "rest assured. Without his arrangements, the basilisk would never have been dealt with so smoothly. A 'First-Class Order of Merlin' is entirely deserved."
Hermione was moved. Professor McGonagall was truly an honest, wonderful person, she didn't even have anything to give her yet, but the teacher had already agreed wholeheartedly. This made the bushy haired girl feel she had correctly judged her intentions.
No, this wouldn't do. She hated being freeloaded, she also never freeloaded from others. Otherwise, she always felt a lingering sense of debt. So, this time, whatever benefit came of it, Hermione would pester Lucifer to give her a present, and Professor McGonagall would have to take it, whether she wanted it or not.
"Professor, besides the Merlin Medal, I actually have something even more important to discuss with you..."
The brunette's expression turned serious. McGonagall straightened instinctively, signaling her to continue.
"This year was almost awful, you know as well as I do that we students were left defenseless yet again. The monster was Basilisk, and we didn't even have a competent Defense Against the Dark Arts'' teacher yet again, I'm certain other Wizarding schools children will surpass Hogwarts, at this rate."
McGonagall nodded, then she sighed while pushing her glasses back, "Lockhart, Quirrell. Well, everyone wants their school... to be the best magical school in the world. There's no way around that, it's only natural. Cause of the Daily Prophet', the school's reputation had taken a hit..."
"Yes exactly, which is why we must act carefully." Hermione's expression was that of a student utterly devoted to her school's welfare, and McGonagall felt an odd sense of familiarity.
It reminded her... of the time Albus had explained the 'Yearly-Prefect' system to her, a concept come off from this girls' brains...demanding perfection...'
"You always come up with the strangest ideas," She said with a small smile, "Alright, what's your plan? The professors are already working hard for the students. Mr. Filch hasn't left the castle for weeks, but I suppose even that isn't enough to satisfy your schemes, Miss Granger..."
Hermione shook her head candidly, "Professor, I'm not bothering you. I'm bothering the 'students... no, that's not right. I'm doing it for the students...Do you know what the biggest problem at Hogwarts is right now?"
"What is it?" McGonagall asked, intrigued.
"Too few exams!" The girl slammed her hand on the table in frustration, "Only one final exam per year, how is that acceptable? You cover so much knowledge every year, and one sheet of paper can't possibly summarize it all. You were a student once, you must know... that a lot of students cram in 'the first half' of the month, pass the exams, and then immediately forget the material. A perfect example is Harry Potter...!"
"Once they develop that habit, the amount of knowledge they actually retain until graduation is minimal, mostly only the magic and information they use regularly."
As Hermione spoke more openly with conviction, McGonagall's expression grew grave. She knew her students were ambitious and that many crammed before the semester started or before exams, but as a professor, she could only advise, they couldn't monitor every student every day.
"So you think that as long as there are enough exams, students won't just study at the last minute, but stay in a consistently tense, focused state throughout the year?" McGonagall asked, finally understanding why the girl complained about too few exams.
"Exactly."
She nodded her twice, making her curls fly everywhere behind the wooden chair's headrest, "Not only must we increase the number of exams, but we also need to raise their importance.... Following Muggle school methods, all exams are divided into three levels: the lowest, quizzes; mid-level, tests; and the most important, exams."
"Each level would count for a certain proportion of the year's total score. I believe that if this system runs for just a year or two, students' average grades will 'significantlyimprove', and they won't forget what they've learned immediately. They'll retain far more knowledge than before."
McGonagall lowered her gaze, deep in thought. If they implemented Miss Granger's system, students would indeed suffer, quizzes every month, tests every two months, and the final exams. But... if they suffered now, wouldn't it be for their own good in the future?
At that moment, Minerva made up her mind, and she offered Hermione a cup of gillywater, with a plate of Newt ginger biscuits.
"Miss Granger, I will seriously consider your suggestion. It's about time the students were challenged a bit more.... However, I will also give you one extra chance to consider your subjects over the Summer. I believe the burden is quite hassling."
Delighted that she was not just being taken as face value, and her opinion would be considered, she said thanks, while getting deep in thought.
xxxxxxx
"Didn't you see Slytherin's statue in that magical photograph?" Daphne snorted, "Ugly as a monkey. And the Dark Lord, he can hardly be called human anymore.... Last time in the 'Forbidden Forest', Lucifer told me he slithered like a snake. I thought he'd lost his bones...."
Astoria looked utterly exasperated.
"Big sister, most people don't care about appearances. As long as they become powerful, they couldn't care less whether they look good..."
"But I care," Daphne said with complete seriousness this time, "Imagine us looking neither human nor ghost, but demons how can that be anything but villainous? I would get too embarrased to even appear in front of him...."
Let alone her goal of making harmony between Tracey and Lucifer.
Astoria' fell silent. 'She wants to manage even our aesthetic appeal?' She liked beauty too, yes, but she wasn't this obsessive.
The two argued endlessly, neither able to convince the other. In the end, they had to call in "judge", Granger.
Astoria was confident; after all under her Mother's teaching, she understood very well the "importance of power." But the thorny know-it all betrayed her instantly.
"No! If we are that ugly, how is Lucifer supposed to take us out in public? I don't agree."
When Lucifer found them huddled into the Courtyard with a simple Point--he spell, girls were whispering furiously, Astoria was sprawled on the lawn grass, doubting life itself.
"What's wrong with her?" He asked, glancing at the listless 'first-year' witch. Hermione Granger, the oldest, and wisest among everyone present here explained their argument.
Lucifer listened, then stared at them in disbelief, "Are the three of you really this bored?"
xxxxxxx
Astoria was curled on a single sofa made of lawn's grass itself, reading a 'fashion' magazine with full concentration, noting back cut exposed dressed, and pursued her lips. Only when a 'familiar' warm hand landed on her head did she look up.
"Lucifer, are things done?" she asked softly. Her clear, bright eyes sparkled with anticipation. "'The First-Class Order... everything's settled, right?"
As among the closest to Lucifer, she naturally knew what his recent goal was. She sincerely hoped this time he could succeed all at once.
"Fudge agreed to submit the application. Dumbledore, Professor Snape, and even McGonangal was pursuaded by Hermione. They said they'd help contact some old circles. With our side working too, we're basically certain to win..."
Astoria nodded happily. "I'll tell Mother later. This time must succeed." She didn't know exactly how wealthy her family truly was, but one thing she understood: the Greengrass family never worried about money.
Problems that could be solved with Galleons were never problems at all.
And even among 'Merlin Knights,' surely a few were always in need of funds... Lucifer nodded cooperatively, "Your mum adores you. If you step in, everything will go smoothly."
Astoria knew he was flattering her, but she still felt pleased. Taking advantage of his mood, she made a small request, "Lucifer, I want to go see Daphne and the others."
"Right now?" Lucifer glanced at the clock, "Maybe wait a bit. In half an hour, your sister and Hermione will be out of Charms' class. Flitwick had asked them, Luna, and a few others to check 'first years''s exams for revision."
"Noooo." Astoria tugged lightly on his sleeve, voice soft as cotton, "Let's sneak over. Don't tell Daphne."
Lucifer's expression froze. Recently, he realized Astoria had awakened... a 'remarkable hobby. This wasn't the first time she'd asked to do things secretly behind Daphne's back.
Midnight snacks. Sneaking to the Forbidden Forest to see unicorns. Even 'wizard's chess!' Nothing dangerous, yet she insisted on doing them secretly. According to Astoria, Daphne was too loud, too childish, always needing Lucifer to take care of her, which made younger one want some quiet of her own.
Yet he couldn't help feeling... this wasn't the whole reason. But when he met Astoria's pitiful 'big-eyed stare', he agreed anyway. The girl cheered, put away her magazine, and pulled him out of the common room.
[PS Note: Astoria as 'Kirsten Stewart.]
The weather was cold but brilliantly sunny. The Black Lake was calm and clear, even the Giant Squid poked its head out for a sunbath.
"Lucifer!"
They had only made it halfway when someone called out. Susan Bones stood among a few "RavenClaw" girls, waving at him warmly. Lucifer nodded with a courteous smile, and Astoria, seeing she didn't come over, turned away without concern.
But just as she turned, Susan silently mouthed: "12 o'clock. The Kitchen entrance. Don't be late."
Lucifer blinked. His expression turned strangely complicated. Truly, there's always someone more skilled. The student becomes the master!'
....
In the Forbidden Forest, three unicorns played with Astoria while he reclined lazily in a floating chair, enjoying the quiet.
This was one of the rare times Astoria could run around freely. However, part of Lucifer's consciousness was focused to digest Slytherin's legacy. Many of the 'flesh-altering' dark magic principles were inspiring. If these could be applied to 'slimming' potions... wouldn't that be a perfect "ethical use"? Dividing his attention like this was something he'd long grown used to. It even greatly improved his combat ability.
Combined with silent wandless casting and instant spell release, it allowed him to unleash an overwhelming number of spells in a short burst, And that was exactly how a 'second-year student' had fought a basilisk.
Lucifer unleashed a 'final' spell, and the Unicorns moaned in pleasure, leaving Astoria flushed, cheeks pink from running beneath the setting sun. Sweat dotted her forehead, and the afterglow made her look like an exhausted but delighted little fox.
He cast a series of protection charms around them, preventing cold air from triggering sickness after exertion. The thoughtful act filled Astoria's heart with a sweet and secret warmth.
Midnight arrived. At twelve sharp, Lucifer quietly approached the entrance of 'Hogwarts kitchen.' Susan had arrived ahead of him, standing in the corridor with posture straight, a bag hanging from her hand.
"So you had me come here at this hour just to stand around in the cold?" He teased the moment he saw her eyes checking over.
"Of course not." Susan rolled her eyes, though she was only a few months younger than Hermione. Yet somehow her demeanor carried a poised, 'mature allure' Some people were simply born to be elegant witches rather than little girls.
She pushed open a door, and the two stepped out onto a balcony terrace.
The girl dragged two tables together, then took out several cakes and an entire roast chicken from her bag.
"Today is just to thank you, for 'Reducto curse' you taught me," Susan smiled, "You also killed the basilisk. It's not only me who owes you a safe school. Every Muggle-born student can rest easier... These are all made by me. they taste bad, just say so. I'll improve next time."
"Then I'll taste them carefully," Lucifer said, raising a brow. He took a bite of cake, chewed thoughtfully, and nodded, "The texture is soft, I like that. If it were a little less sweet, it would be perfect."
Susan memorized the note immediately, treating his preference as critical information, "Try the chicken too.nIt's better than house-elves' cooking. Very juicy."
She lifted her chin proudly, "I learned from Hannah Abbott's mother herself..."
Lucifer gave a thumbs-up and devoured the roast chicken and two cakes quickly. He leaned back and let out a satisfied breath, "Well, I accept your gratitude. And stop calling me 'Professor'"
Susan nodded, equally satisfied. This was exactly what she liked. If he had brushed it off with false modesty, it would have made her feel indebted. Now her sentiment had been expressed, regardless of proportion, and her mind was clear.
"Don't rush. One more gift," She spread a sheet of parchment on the table. A drawing. Sunshine streaming in through a classroom window. A red-haired girl kissing the right cheek of a certain black-haired boy sitting beside her. Both smiling.
It was drawn in soft cartoon style, but even a fool would know who the pair was meant to be. Lucifer took the parchment seriously, folding it gently.
"I like this gift. I'll frame it and enchant it to move..."
"You thought exactly what I did." Susan sighed with regret, "Sadly, my animation charm skills aren't good enough yet."
"It's not a difficult spell. I'll write down the technique. Just practice for a while." He then handed her a sleek book, "WhatsApp."
Susan, upon receiving it, immediately began playing with the enchantments. A cold gust reminded her they were still outdoors, and she hurriedly dragged Lucifer back inside.
"Study it slowly when you're back home. If there's a problem, just contact me through the spellbook...."
The girl who had Auror blood in her squinted slightly, angling her words with calculated precision, "So you're giving me this because you don't want to meet me, is that it?"
"So you're looking for trouble," Lucifer muttered and flicked her forehead.
"Ow." She covered her head, "I was joking. You can't tell?"
"I'm an idiot then. I don't get jokes."
Susan had no rebuttal for that. She turned away dramatically and walked toward Common room entrance. She took a single step,
And he caught her by the wrist.
"Realized you were wrong now?" She smirked back smugly.
"No," Lucifer said. "That chicken was good. Make me two more next time."
The little Bones heiress was stunned into laughter, "I'll make you ten. May you choke on them!"
"That'd be great. Now hurry to bed. Don't ruin your classes tomorrow."
She bit her lip, then stepped forward without other doubts and hugged him, warm breath whispering at his ear, she pecked it for two seconds, and finally said "Thank you, Lucifer."
"Last time," he said, patting her back gently.
"Fine. Last time."
Just then, the Hufflepuff common room door swung open, Hannah and Eleanor emerged. Lucifer immediately froze. Susan Bones stiffened slowly, as if gotten petrified.
And neither of them had any explanation that would sound innocent. He finally understood the saying: 'things reverse when they reach the extreme.'
Yesterday had been smooth sailing. One triumph after another. Yet once the clock passed midnight, fate slapped him back into reality. Hard. No warning. No warm-up. Just 'straight into a bloody disaster?!
The corridor fell into a dead, suffocating silence. Susan Bones, facing away from the doorway, hadn't noticed a thing. She remained there, savoring what she believed to be a tender, private moment.
Hannah Abbott, however, had walked into a scene she would be remembering until the day she died, her best friend had betrayed, the girl had told she just liked the Gryffindor boy normally, as a fangirl.
She could only stare, frozen, as if lightning had struck her thoughts into ash. Beside her, Eleanor breathed rapidly, cheeks burning red. She was angry on Hannah's behalf... but even more than that, she was dazzled by the drama of it all.
'And what a drama it was?!'
She knew Hannah and Lucifer had been getting closer. The girl had disappeared multiple times lately, hours at a time, only returning right before curfew. Eleanor didn't even need to ask. The answer was written all over her face.
And now, at midnight, searching for a snack, she had walked straight into... this. A jackpot. A front-row ticket to emotional carnage.
Would Hannah attack? Could she beat her best friend Susan Bones, her 'Sweet Santa Claus?'
Would Lucifer step in? Would spells fly? Who should 'she' help? They were both Eleanor's friends. What if Lucifer helped Susan instead? Questions slammed into her mind all at once, and her brain short-circuited.
Lucifer let out a breath. Seeing Hannah standing there like a stunned statue, he chose to speak first, "Yo. Out so late, where are you heading?"
Only then did Susan turn around. She spotted the two girls, yelped softly, and withdrew from Lucifer like she'd been scalded, hands wringing in anxious guilt.
"We came... to watch a show," Hannah replied, voice drifting like the undead, "Otherwise how could we witness such a heartwarming scene?"
Eleanor stepped back instinctively. She had never seen Abbott like this. The bubbly girl, usually gentle as a breeze, now resembled an elegant ghost prepared to curse someone into oblivion. Susan frowned slightly, her gaze flickering between Lucifer and Hannah, unsure how to explain the situation.
The boy under the fire sighed again, as though burdened by yet another headache, "Well, since you caught us, you'll have to keep this a secret."
Hannah blinked at him, stunned a second time. Secret? From her? She was the one who shouldn't know! What about Granger, Greengrass' girls, did they know?
Lucifer continued, tone perfectly calm, "You can't let anyone find out that after the attack on Fletchley, Susan developed trauma from the 'Basilisk incident... You know, Huffepuffs were rarely targeted by any student... Tonight's hug was just her finally letting go of her fear after learning I'd killed it. You know how fierce her Aunt is, Susan needs to learn to maintain authority. You're smart and considerate, best friends of all else. I'm sure you understand, right?"
Silence. Then realization lit Hannah's brain. She replayed the logic.
...It made sense. Too much sense.
Justin, and other students had nearly died. Lucifer had saved everyone. Susan was also taught a spell by him. If her family was killed by 'You-know-who,' wouldn't she be emotional too? Maybe she would have hugged him harder. Maybe kissed him, even... Immediately, guilt took over her anger. She felt foolish for assuming anything else.
Lucifer asked again, gently, as if nothing had happened, "Anyway... Hannah, where are you two headed?"
"Ah... well, Eleanor and I were hungry, Susan was missing. We thought, she had gone to the kitchen for something to eat, maybe we should enjoy ourselves."
"Then hurry," Lucifer nodded, "Sleeping hungry is miserable. Watch out for Filch and Mrs. Norris, they're patrolling the third floor. I'm heading back. Good night..."
He nodded politely to all three and walked away with unhurried steps. He didn't run. He didn't rush. But he vanished faster than any of them could react.
Downstairs, Lucifer wiped the cold sweat off his forehead. He had just escaped a battlefield.
A real one. And he had 'barely' survived. If Hermione or the older Valentine Veela girl had walked into a situation like this... Dearest, his life was too long. Lucifer would be tortured instead, good knowing you...
In the staff dormitory, Hagrid's hounds, snoring and massive rumble somehow aligned with Lucifer's dread. The man jerked upright, sneezed loudly... then fell right back asleep. Meanwhile above, Susan finally spoke, sweet smile, eyes gleaming with mischief.
She hadn't expected Lucifer to be so sly and cunning, no, that boy was definitely a play boy, and knew how to ride on multiple boats. The discovery delighted her more than it upset her.
"Hannah, remember... keep this a secret. I don't want to look weak, have fun eating muffins," She winked and disappeared through the bronze door.
Hannah stood stiffly, brain still working overtime. She turned to her friend Eleanor, the one with a better brain, "Is... what Lucifer said true? I didn't know Susan was feeling the past trauma of her family."
Eleanor sighed, shaking her head like a wise old sagez "Look girl, anything Lucifer says is probably true. For now. But think about it. Boy's looks, talent, reputation... do you think Susan might start liking him for real?"
Hannah paled instantly.
She had already been struggling against Granger and, Greengrass, how could another competitor suddenly appear? And not just anyone... Susan Bones. Popular. Smart. High-ranking.
'Rumored to have rejected both Justin and Ernie Macmillan...!'
"What do I do?" She whispered, panic rising.
Eleanor patted her shoulder solemnly.
"Besides your 'milkers' and Cooking, I don't know. Your situation is beyond me, let me read a few romance novels first. Maybe I'll figure out a plan."
Hannah stared at the second friend she had made, then down where she couldn't see her own legs.
Eleanor sighed again, "Love is war. I need to study strategy, maybe make friends with RavenClaw?"
The innocent Abbott, 'country bumpkin girl' returned to Hufflepuff Common room with no appetite left, dragging along a growling-stomached Eleanor who mourned the loss of a perfectly good midnight snack.
Morale was low. Hunger was high.
xxxxxxx
By the next morning, however, the news of the Basilisk incident exploded far beyond teenage romance. The 'Daily Prophet' published a full front-page spread: a photo of Lucifer Morningstar, Cornelius Fudge, and Albus Dumbledore standing beside the colossal basilisk head, accompanied by a rare, solemn letter of apology from Dumbledore.
It worked like a charm.
Most citizens didn't need detailed explanations, they needed acknowledgment. An apology. Responsibility taken. And since the crisis was already resolved, public fury immediately began to cool.
The Ministry seized the moment to redirect attention.
In the same issue, Fudge publicly affirmed that he would personally nominate Lucifer Morningstar for the 'Order of Merlin, First Class', calling the proposal "a bold and forward-thinking initiative" and "a product of the Ministry's new reform era."
If the nomination succeeded, Lucifer would become the youngest 'First-Class Merlin' recipient in history. The rarest version of the award. The same honor held by legends, war heroes, and magical innovators.
He instantly became a national sensation. At Hogwarts, muggle born students like Justin Flint-Fletchley who was originally slated to attend "Eton College" stared at him as though a Nobel Prize winner were casually attending their math class. Lucifer paid them no mind.
Between meals and lessons, he spent nearly all his time working. With his beast loving wife, Aoyuki, they both stripped the basilisk apart piece by piece: organs, flesh, hide, and most importantly, venom, sorted with almost obsessive precision.
'Dark-elves' brought selected parts to Nicolas Flamel to aid in research.
With the basilisk and Salazar's spellwork as ammunition, Lucifer expected breakthroughs in blood magic, alchemy, and enhancement rituals.
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